Edda Pt. 01

EDDA Part one - I catch and lose a Dutch Kiwi

Note that in New Zealand students typically reach 18 years of age while at High School or College before they commence University

Prologue

There is a saying 'that you can't beat Wellington on a good day' and the capital was certainly living up to that on this chilly winter's day with a clear blue sky and no wind for a change.

Martin had just completed a satisfying meeting tying up some legacy items attached to his deceased father's business and was now travelling back up the coast to where he had been staying.

Unfortunately it was rush hour and he was finding himself having to negotiate his way up the crowded rail platform thronging with people, who unlike him, did this every day. Somehow he felt he was interfering with their normal pattern of behavior.

Everybody seemed to know exactly where the doors would be when the train stopped and he found himself having to apologize as he jostled his way around groups of people. He fancied being somewhere near the front of the suburban electric unit and tried to find a door position there.

He came to notice in front of him a tall elegantly dressed blonde woman, who was herself threading through the crowd in the same direction. Eventually they found themselves unintentionally both standing in the same group waiting for that same door to magically arrive when the unit pulled in.

She was now standing side on to him. She had a smartphone in her hand and was intently listening to something on her ear buds. She was dressed for the cold in fashionable corporate attire, tan overcoat, a skirt showing some ornate chunky designer shoes below in contrast to her more austere garb above. Her other diversion from austerity were subtle blue-violet streaks in her well cut shoulder length hair. The woman glanced up and into his eyes. Suddenly before him was the most impossibly beautiful woman, with piecing blue eyes, flawless skin framed by the harmonious tinted hair. It was a strong face, not necessarily a pretty one but striking and with strength in a manner that it would take the breath away from any red blooded young bloke. This was a beautiful but dangerously attractive young woman. Martin picked her age as around late twenties maybe, and possibly a lawyer or some such professional.

In return, the woman saw glancing back at her an equally tall, erect well-groomed man in his mid-sixties. Silver hair well cut and shaved sides with deep intense hazel eyes. She glanced back at her phone as the train arrived.

The unit squawked to a stop in front of them; the doors parted and Martin gestured the woman on first, she glanced back offering quick thanks and moved onto the carriage. At this stage Martin thought he had recognized the woman and for his next action he had a purpose. As the woman took a seat he ensured he sat in the seat alongside hers. He noticed a little discomfort from her when he did this and he mumbled an apology.

Eventually the passengers settled down in the carriage and the train began to pull away. Martin turned to the woman who was still intently concentrating on her phone. She was sitting serenely upright, gently rocking with the motion of the carriage. "Excuse me; you would not be, by some chance Henneke Oostendorp. The woman stopped and stared at him. "Do I know you? Are you stalking me or something?"

Martin replied, "No, certainly not; I only noticed you for the first time as I was coming up the platform. But in answer to your first question, I have to say, that in all said and done, it is a pity you cannot recognize me; I am you father."

With that Henneke dropped her phone and unplugged it span off across the aisle. There was a small commotion as she retrieved it. She was now staring at Martin opened mouthed. "You, you're an Architect? Are you Martin Andersen?"

"All that," Martin replied.

"Oh my god, how did you recognize me, I have not seen you since I was 8 years old?"

"You look like an exact replica of your Mother when she was your age, sans tinted hair of course. I have seen photos of you over the years."

"What are you doing here? I thought you lived in the States?"

"I came back about three years ago."

"Why? I thought you were big over there?"

"Burn out. Massive fall from grace, I have come back to conduct a practice at a more manageable level."

"But you won that big international prize for that New York building."

"Pritzker Prize."

"That's the one."

"Mum was always bragging about it, she said it was the Nobel Prize of Architecture."

"I don't really want to talk about it, except to say that I would not have won it without Edda. It's hard to explain, my motivation was always something about impressing her... I don't know."

"Henneke was suddenly angry, raising her voice. I don't understand what the fuck you are talking about. You walked out on us. Mum loved you so much she was a total mess; you fucked up our family."

Henneke had caught the attention of a number of passengers with her anger. Embarrassed, she returned to a normal voice."Lotte and I have not seen Willem for years. He took your part and cut us off."

"He was a bit older; I think he would understand things you could not have been able to at the time.

"What are you talking about..?" Henneke did not finish as Martin cut her off.

"How is Edda anyway?"

"She has Motor Neuron Disease."

"Oh god... for how long?"

"I don't know exactly. She had to get a wheel chair this week."

"I don't know much about Motor Neuron, could, it have been it as a result of her brain injury?"

"Don't know, I doubt it."

"Shit, shit, shit!!"

"It might have helped if you were around. Why did you leave?"

"It's complicated. We can't talk here; I'll just say this for you to ponder. I am you biological father, but I am not for your younger sister. "

"They sat in silence for a while, gently swaying with the motion of the carriage. Henneke seemed to ignore the revelation."

"Then as the train was slowing to a station Henneke began to rise gesturing awkwardly that she had to go. "

Martin rose as well, "listen we cannot just leave it like this, he took out is wallet and deftly flicked a card. Call me on my phone tonight. I am staying at the beach just up the line. Come up .. bring your partner, whatever. My treat, I do dinner and wine, you bring yourselves."

"Happy families?"

"I hope"

The first smile, a gesture. A reach for a touch that ended in mid-air.

"Bye Daddy," fleeting sarcasm accompanied by a smirk which finally relaxed into a warm genuine smile as she slid sideways through the door along with the other passengers.

The train moved off and he caught sight of Henneke again, walking briskly along the platform leaning forward into the crisp cold air. He noticed her briefly wiping a tear from her eye but smiling to herself.

***********

Chapter one: My Dutch Kiwi

My Dad had a little song, he sometimes sang; it went like,

If you want to be happy for the rest of your life

Never make a pretty woman your wife...

I think the last time I heard him sing it was just after he first met Edda. He was just needling me. I said he was jealous. I was an only child and sometimes my Dad and I seemed like brothers.

Before I had ever gone out with a girl, I remember once asking Dad about the song. He said pretty girls can be vain, proud and arrogant and think they are better than everyone else, even their boyfriends. No matter how good you are to them they always think there is someone better around. They have plenty to choose from because guys like to score them. In the end they neither want to make you happy nor themselves when it comes down to it. At the time he didn't seem to be talking about anyone in particular.

Eventually I did find out from my Mum that the song did have a tragic origin for him though he never spoke about it. Before he married my Mum he had a six year tempestuous relationship with a Woman. It ended with him being blindsided when she hung herself at the home of a married man she had been having an affair with. My Mother was a nurse and they met just after the event. It was never said but I wondered about the effect on Dad at the time. Perhaps falling in love with a nurse was not a coincidence.

There was always one photograph of his former girlfriend that hung in his den. She must have been a raven haired stunner. Think Elizabeth Taylor. I use to stare in wonder at that photograph; I think I fell in love with her myself. I even fantasized that she had been my real Mum. Don't get me wrong I loved my Mum to bits but Mum was, well Mumsie.

But Dad did warn me a about Edda, yes he did.

I was an intense child and somewhat of a loner. It's not that I could not have friends; I just did not need them. I had my projects. My Dad used to make sure I did get out and about. It was difficult for me at times but I thank my dad for that.

At varsity I had been a real serious student. I was like that through my teens really. I did not chase a social life. A social life just came to me. Whatever I did I was focused and determined. At high school, with my Dads encouragement, I swam competitively, I did martial arts; I got the grades. And when I was not doing anything else I was drawing. I always loved the bush and mountains and much of my drawing was inspired by that. I was never into the money; I was just interested in stuff, any stuff. It is a big wide world out there and I was always curious about what made people tick and why they made the things they did.

Going to varsity, psychology was my thing initially. I have retained an interest in environmental and behavioral psychology. At the time that did not seem to add up to a career but it led me into Architecture. I was quite intensely academic about my approach in those days. This did not make me a nerd or a geek. At that age, I was also into fashion; I was into music, creative arts in general really. I had money and I guess I was not badly presented. I did not chase women. They just appeared. They had to be into what my thing was at the time or I just ignored them. I suppose I was always like that with people generally. I did not make friends with people easily although curiously people seem to make friends with me.

That might have made me appear arrogant or lacking empathy but that was not true. I was focused and driven. If the woman had the drive and the passion I had in the subject of the day, we hit it off.

It was my last year of my masters when I met Edda. Well sort of met. I was tutoring at the time and I often spilled out with the students into a varsity café deeply engrossed in whatever project or study was exciting us at the time. It's funny that although I often had trouble conversing normally with people, I was at home pontificating to a bunch of students. I guess, being so didactic made me an enthusiastic tutor. With the students, we would argue ourselves in ever decreasing circles until we were all in danger of disappearing up our own orifices. We felt academic, creative and cool. Others might call us wankers. As a group we could be quite impenetrable.

I did not know Edda. She was not part our group. She was just someone I noticed. Most people would notice her actually, unless they were blind. Tall willowy and blonde she had the air of a fashion model rather than a student although she at least did dress like she belonged at varsity. It was just that it was always a little sexier. What you might see in one of those more cult orientated fringe fashion magazines; all greys, blues and blacks with a flash of red perhaps.

Looking back on it I think I might have sealed my fate one day when I just happened to be passing her. I remember it as clear as a bell. I was feeling elated about something and she was looking pretty cool in how she was dressed and made up. As I passed I smiled directly at her, I winked tilting my head, gave her the thumbs up and just said "looking good!" She said nothing; looked a bit shocked actually, I smiled again and walked on. Sooo, I'm a wanker but she always remembered the day too, when she got a compliment from a total stranger.

I remember I would be deep in conversation and I would just catch her out of the corner of my eye. In the café, in the quad, in the bookshop, increasingly she just seemed to be there. Often she would be with a guy or girl but mostly solo. There were a lot of students on campus; I was starting to wonder whether it was just me or was I being stalked.

One day I was with a group of students letting them in on phenomenology in Architecture. I had just read a text by Norberg Schulz. The discussion was quite intense and academic. Eventually the students left. I was waiting for someone else so I stayed alone with my coffee. Edda must have been behind us eavesdropping on our conversation because she suddenly appeared beside me. She leaned over the table her hair partly pinned up but fashionably untidy and peered back at me with her piercing blue eyes.

"Don't you think that approaching architecture from a phenomenological point of reference you are debasing the intrinsic quality of architecture?"

Well I responded to the query in in a true academic and thoughtful fashion, "what, fuck?"

Silence

"Who the fuck are you?"

"I'm sorry, my name's Edda. I couldn't help hearing your conversation. I've read that book. I'm from the Netherlands, my Grandfather and Uncle are architects. I kind of grew up with De Stijl, Doesburg, Mondrian ... you know the sort of stuff. I am not sure what sort of direction these post-modern guys are really taking us."

Silence

I don't want you to think that I do not respect Women but having seen her around, the picture I had in mind was someone that I did not think would interest me at all. There might as well have been a roll of drums because suddenly there was this woman staring into my eyes that seemed utterly both intellectually and aesthetically desirable.

I panicked. I desperately wanted to know her but I was tongue tied. As confident a wanker in my own realm I might have been, I just did not know what to say to her. I stuttered something about Norberg --Schulz being a modernist; that was a mistake.

It launched Edda, "ah, but he opened the gates Hermeneutic Phenomenological approach. Fuck, objectivism is the same really. It's all smoke and mirrors. People just start making assumptions and calling them truths. Welcome to the world of the architecture of lies dressed up as the philosophical approach."

I had a feeling I was out of my depth with this fascinating Woman. The contradiction of my earlier impression of her and what just happened seemed to be a slam dunk case for what she was arguing. I wanted to know this woman but I had a strong feeling that I had to regroup my thinking if I was going to impress her.

I suddenly decided I would not wait for whoever I was supposed to meet but I was not going to let this opportunity slide. "Hey listen I have a tutorial," I lied, "I would really like to pick up this conversation with you. Doing anything Saturday? I'm going down to 'Reggae in the Park' It would be cool if we could make a pair." That was no lie.

She dazzled me with a toothy smile and just said, "Ok. That's cool." I got her address and phone number, turned round and tripped over the chair behind me as I left.

Somebody out there must have been pissed off when they arrived and found I was gone.

**********

I picked up Edda from her flat on the Saturday. My wheels, at the time were a Suzuki Jimny LJ10 4x4. I got it for when I went bush but it was very cool to drive around the city. We made it to the concert which was a boozy affair. The music was tolerable and the smell of weed hung heavy in the air.

Well, I arrived with Edda but all these guys seemed to want a piece of her. I found myself being ignored. Apart from a light conversation in the car we hardly spoke to one another. Finally she was lying on the grass, in tight embrace, French kissing some guy. It totally fucked me off. I just left, no goodbye, no nothing; collected my Jimny and went home.

We did not have cell phones in those days. I did not hang around the phone at home. Apparently Mum took a couple of calls at my parents' house and she asked me who 'Betty' was. I shrugged it off.

Suddenly Edda had stopped appearing around me on campus. No loss there thought I, until a woman I had never seen or met before approached me in the Café, called me a wanker and loudly told me how arrogant and mean I was, abandoning her friend at the concert.

I was with a couple of graduates at the time and both looked at me with quizzical smirks. I had not had a girlfriend for a couple of years and they had assumed I was a monk. This was news.

It was weird; I felt both guilty, sorry and pissed off all at the same time.

"OK, OK, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'll ring her. Just tell her if she goes out with me, it's me, just me; it's not with all the other tom cats in town."

What was I saying? To all intents, Edda was a total stranger to me. I had hardly spoken to her and it all sounded like we had been having a lovers quarrel.

I went home and thought about it. Maybe I was a bit presumptuous. I ended up thinking it was my entire fault. She was beautiful, obviously intelligent and she had a touch of exotic about her; perhaps it was her accent or clothing.

I decided if I was going to make a play for her I was going to go all out. First I would send her flowers. I did that and the expenditure was a real commitment for a student. In it I put a note apologizing profusely and explaining that I had not gone out with anyone for two years; my last relationship was a disaster and hurt me deeply and I only wanted to be with someone who I believed there was a chance for a future.

I was done with playing the field. If, after I was so rude, she was looking for the same things as me and was prepared to give me a second chance , give me a bell... and I gave her a time and my number.

And she rang and it was bang on time to the second. Damn, that girl must have had an atomic clock and those flowers, they scored, big time.

She was free on the Friday so I thought that maybe I could cook for her then we could go out. I said I would be down at the pool first because every Friday I did laps to keep fit. Edda liked that and said she would too and said she would meet me there.

I had probably done about 4 laps when I heard my name called from just above me. Peeling back my goggles, there was Edda. She said she was just going to get changed and disappeared, so I got out of the pool grabbed my towel and waited. I was standing close to the female change when she came out wearing a light one piece. Sorry, I was stunned, I couldn't help it. That suit!! I eyed her from the top to the bottom. Her hair was tied back; she had no makeup and did not need it. For a blonde she was tanned. She had large but serious eyes with high cheek bones and full lips. She was large breasted but very much in proportion to a long lean body. Her erect nipples, her navel roll and mons were all accentuated by the swimsuit and this human creation was mounted on a solid foundation of long dancer's legs.

I suddenly became conscious that her reaction to me was exactly mirroring mine. I was also conscious of my rapidly erecting appendage. Hastily I strategically moved my towel but not before Edda had covered her mouth with her hand and turning away was attempting to stifle her giggles.

Turning back she blurted, "well you obviously have a swimmers physique but I bet that thing down there would slow you down," stifling more giggles as she nodded toward what I was concealing with the towel.

There was nothing for it but a hasty retreat into the pool.