Mothers and Daughters Pt. 01

The Park

The darkened subway tunnel surrendered to the brilliant sunlight as Nate climbed the concrete stairs two by two. His eyes squinted reflexively as he emerged into the St. Pauli Station glass dome entrance. Nate reached for his sunglasses and stepped through the doors onto the sidewalk. The sparse Sunday morning traffic let him cross the wide boulevard without waiting for the pedestrian signal.

Summer was in full swing, and the empty park was bursting with bird songs and the scent of irises as Nate walked down the gentle grassy hill. The quiet park would soon fill with families and lovers under the promise of another hot, clear day in July. German cities make the most of the land, and in this case, the popular urban park was actually the rooftop of a multi-level underground municipal parking complex. Two glass vestibules on opposite ends of the grassy slope covered elevators and stairways that descended to the hidden parking levels below. A young couple was leaning on the vestibule ahead to his right. Nate would soon walk right past them. He sized up the couple as two teenage girls – unkempt, maybe homeless – a rare sight in this upscale neighborhood.

Nate kept his head forward, but trained his sunglass covered eyes directly on the two girls as he assessed them as a low threat. As he walked passed, he realized they were young, attractive women in their mid-twenties, but their clothing betrayed a life on the street. Their faces were clean and fresh – that post-pubescent, unblemished skin youth take for granted. They had not been on the street for very long.

One of the girls casually turned toward Nate as he walked past, and Nate stopped dead in his tracks. He now turned to face her, staring unguardedly for several seconds until she lost her nerve, and she turned away, retreating to the false protection behind the clear glass vestibule.

"Briana?" Nate called out to the girl's back. His tone betrayed his skeptical curiosity – he was almost certain it was her, but these circumstances were wrong. The girl froze with her back to Nate. Her companion snapped her head toward Nate upon hearing Briana's name, and then she looked back to Briana. All three remain frozen in some weird time hiccup.

It had been over ten years, but there was no mistaking that face. High cheekbones, deep set bedroom eyes, and a cute button nose. Nate estimated the odds of someone else looking just like her who freezes when hearing the name 'Briana' to be a bazillion to one. So he said it again, this time with certainty. There was not a whisper of doubt in his voice now. "Briana!"

She turned her head back slowly, but kept her feet planted with her back still facing Nate, twisting into a profile position. Her stretched white T shirt clung to her torso, revealing a compact, trim body; pleasantly bustier than Nate had remembered a decade ago. She was eighteen back then. Womanhood had been kind to her, filling out her youthful figure with all the right curves.

The seat of her jeans were faded and threadbare, but Nate didn't think that was the way she bought them. "Briana," he said a third time, taking off his sunglasses so she would recognize him "what are you doing here?"

Now Briana moved her feet, and turned to face Nate, except she couldn't meet his eyes, and she stared instead at the ground between them. The knees of her jeans were worn and torn through. The plain white cotton T shirt was thin enough to see the contours of her bra straps. Her clothes were badly stained, especially near the bottom and left shoulder of her shirt.

All three people stood motionless for a few seconds. Fifteen feet separated Briana from him. The unidentified blonde girl remained still to the side of the clear vestibule. "It's me," he said, open his palms toward her, "Nate."

"I know," Briana mumbled, still looking down. Nate realized she was ashamed to be seen in these circumstances.

"What are you doing here?" Nate asked again.

Briana waited a long time. "I ..." Briana finally spoke, but stopped. "We ...," she started, looking left to her friend. Briana stopped again.

Nate now looked carefully at her friend for the first time, he only then did he realize how attractive she was. Her long blonde hair was matted and messy, but her face was clean and fresh – a supermodel's face with penetrating eyes, high cheekbones, and sensual lips. She wore navy blue shorts and a short sleeve button up pale yellow blouse that was missing two buttons at the top. The blouse had a large stain down the right side and right arm. She was slim, even skinny. Through all the dirt and rumples, her plain beauty still shone.

Without answering his question, Briana asked "What are you doing here?"

"I live here," Nate gestured to the pie shaped glass apartment building across the street from the bottom of the park.

"You live ..." Briana stopped. "You and your family?"

"No," Nate explained. "Theresa and I split. Sarah and Dillon are back in Canada. They're in university," Nate offered for her benefit.

"Oh my!" Briana's face lit up at the sound of the kids' names as she looked into Nate's eyes for the first time. "They were so small,"

"I know," Nate agreed. "It's been what, eight years?" he asked

"Ten," she corrected without hesitation. He did the math – that made her 28 years old. She looked younger than that. He would have guessed 22. All the kids looked younger to him, but that wasn't it. Briana had that youthful look every woman would kill for.

"I heard you were at school in London."

"Yeah," Briana looked down to the ground again as her face lost all its brightness. "That didn't work out so well."

"Sorry to hear that," Nate offered genuinely. He paused for a moment. "So, really, what are you doing here?" he asked again.

"Can I tell you over a coffee?"

"Sure," Nate answered automatically. "But the café across the street doesn't open early on Sundays," Nate realized. "You'll have to settle for my home brewed espresso."

"Works for me," Briana smiled weakly. She spoke to her friend in German. Nate waited patiently as the girls spoke to each other. The friend did not want to come up for coffee – she would wait in the park.

Briana asked about Sarah and Dillon as they walked together through the park toward the apartment building. Sarah was finishing her third year bioengineering program with. Dillon was finishing his second year in computer gaming design. They were both living away – Sarah in Toronto, and Dillon on a scholarship in Chicago.

Briana was thrilled to hear the updates about the children she cared for so many years ago. She loved those kids. She took care of them after school each day until Theresa or Nate came home. It was usually Nate, as Theresa's job kept her late most days. Other times Nate was away altogether on trips, and Briana often stayed with the children until late. Nate led Briana across the street toward a small plaza where empty park benches and tables waited. They crossed the plaza to the left side of a triangular glass wall and approached the main door. Nate swiped his wallet past a card reader beside the front door. The card reader detected an RFID card he carried inside his wallet, and after he entered the security passcode on the keypad, the electronic lock clicked and sounded a faint buzzer, and Nate opened the door open for Briana and followed her through. As she stepped past him, he noticed a distinct body odor that comes from wearing the same clothes for too many days in a row.

Nate ignored the elevator, as always, and climbed the stairs that circled around the square glass elevator shaft, taking the steps two by two to the second floor. Briana trotted up the stairs behind him. He turned right at the first floor and led Briana down the long hallway to the third last door on the right. He unlocked the door with a key and ushered Briana in. She whistled quietly in appreciation for the accommodations Nate was keeping. "Nice digs," she offered. It was a spacious two story apartment. They entered onto the lower floor with a kitchen, living/dining room, a powder room, and a bedroom Nate used as an office. Upstairs, beyond Briana's view, was a large bedroom loft and a full bathroom.

Nate prepared the stovetop espresso maker while Briana walked through the living room to a door on the far glass wall. Curtains were drawn across the glass wall except for the closed door. She opened the glass door and stepped out to the balcony. It overlooked a narrow street with a string of closed shops and businesses visible on the far side. When Briana looked hard to the right, down the wall of the building, she could just see her friend waiting in the park.

Nate pulled out his Samsung smartphone from his pants pocket, pressed a few buttons, and then tucked the phone into his front shirt pocket. It forced an unnatural bulge in Nate's shirt, but it served a purpose. "What's your friend's name?" Nate asked as he joined Briana on the balcony.

"Pavlina," Briana answered without taking her eyes off her friend. Palvina had not noticed Briana on the balcony – she was sitting on a bench with her back turned partly toward Briana.

"So Briana," Nate rested his elbows on the balcony beside her, "what's going on?" Briana had to turn away from the distant park to reply. She looked at Nate for a long while, gauging how much to reveal. Nate regarded her silently, waiting for Briana to take the next move. She was pretty, but not what Nate would call gorgeous. He always liked her eyes – they had a spark in them.

"We got fucked over," Brianna finally explained. "Friends stole my stuff, and cops arrested us on a bullshit charge."

"They don't sound much like friends to me," Nate offered coldly.

"Yeah," Briana nodded. "Not anymore."

"I'm guessing they never were," he countered with a flat tone.

"You're probably right," Briana looked past him across the street vacantly. "I guess you never can tell." But Pavlina could tell. Pavlina saw it coming. She warned Briana she didn't trust the boys, but Briana just scorned Pavlina's paranoid silliness.

"When did this all happen?"

"I met Pavlina in Amsterdam last month. We hooked up with a couple of guys." Nate wondered if 'hooked up' included sex. He guessed it did. "Long story short," Briana continued, "we woke up one morning – the guys were gone, and so were our wallets and phones."

"Amsterdam," Nate noted, "that's five hours from here. How did you get to Hamburg?"

"Pavlina met someone who was driving to Copenhagen. We hitched a ride this far." Anticipating his next question, she continued. "Pavlina is originally from Prague, but she can't go back there for some reason. She's trying to get to Berlin. We made it this far."

"And you're tagging along."

"No," Briana snapped defensively, as if Nate had somehow insulted her. "I'm trying to go home, but I don't have a passport." Nate didn't understand how that answered his question. He assumed Briana's passport was stolen. Unfortunate, because the boys who stole it probably only wanted cash. They would have tossed the passport.

"Have you been to the consulate for a new passport?" Nate asked.

"No," Briana rubbed her eyes with the palms of both hands. She was visibly tired and upset. "The cops took it. I have until Friday to pay a huge fine, or they issue a warrant for my arrest." Clearly there was much more to the story. Nate left the balcony and went back to the kitchen to pour out two espressos. He shouted out to Briana, asking her how she likes her coffee. "Cream and sugar," she called back from the balcony.

Nate returned with two cups, set them down on a small, round, white metal table, and retrieved two folding chairs from the corner of the balcony, and set them up so they would look through the balcony's wrought iron balusters. He gestured Briana to take a seat. She sat down in the left chair and picked up her coffee. "I only have milk," Nate apologized, "no cream."

"This is good," Briana smiled after the first stip. She started to tell him the story. Briana and Pavlina were found by the Hamburg police on Saturday morning sleeping in a train station. The Hamburg cops have no sympathy toward tourists who bum around – probably for a good reason. They charged Briana and Pavlina with trespassing, and confiscated their passports. Briana always slept with her passport on her, so the Amsterdam boys didn't get that.

Briana had to pay a 5,000 Euro fine within one week to get her passports back. Nate had heard of this problem before. The official name of the program was 'Ausländer equitiable Behandlung' (Foreign National Equitable Treatment, or AeB in Germany), but Nate just called it institutionalized extortion. If you pay a steep fine, the charges are dropped, all is forgiven, you get your passport back, and you must leave the country immediately. It only applies to misdemeanor charges. Serious criminal charges proceed through the normal judicial system, often with the foreigner being remanded in custody for the entire time.

Nate worked with an American who had been stung by the AeB program. He had an unpaid speeding ticket, and as a foreigner, was processed under the AeB program. He paid the 200 Euro speeding ticket and a 5,000 AeB fine, got his passport back, left the country, and re-entered Germany a week later without anyone raising an eyebrow. He still works with Nate in Germany.

If you don't want to pay the AeB fine, your only legal option is to stay in country, hire a lawyer, and fight the charges, but the costs of defending a simple misdemeanor charge become prohibitive. First, you have to apply for a special visa, because the moment you are arrested, your tourist or work visa is void. Second, the special visa forbids you from working or traveling. So you must wait for months, maybe years for your day in court, while paying for a hotel room and an expensive lawyer, and you have no job. Everyone just pays the AeB fine and leaves – even if they are certain they can beat the original misdemeanor charge. Technically the AeB is an administrative program, not a judicial one, so there is no criminal record, no conviction. Just pay a city fine and all is forgotten.

The third way out is to flee. Then your case is referred to the criminal justice system, and the police issue a warrant for your arrest. They don't exactly hunt you down, but if you are ever stopped by German police, you will be thrown in jail for months, maybe years while you await two trials – the original misdemeanor charge, and the AeB skip trial, which they call fraud. Only the desperate and stupid risk that route. Nate knew Briana wasn't stupid, but he didn't know how desperate she was.

In her two-plus years as a caregiver, Briana had developed an easy rapport with Nate – a bond of trust and friendship. She easily slipped back into that trusting nature as she relayed her story. Neither Briana nor Pavlina had money. Nate asked about her mother. A flash of something – fear or guilt – Nate couldn't read it – crossed Briana's face, and she said no, she could not contact her mother. That surprised Nate, because he knew Briana and her mother had been very close. He met Briana's mother twice, both times with Briana there. Nate's impression was Briana and her mother shared a strong mother-daughter bond, but Briana explained she could never ask her mother for help. She didn't say why. There never was a father in Briana's picture, at least not one that Nate ever knew of, so he didn't ask.

Nate asked where they slept last night. They didn't, according to Briana. They were up all night. As was Nate, for other reasons. He loved the Hamburg music scene. He was at music clubs until after four in the morning. Then he had a coffee, and visited the local farmer's market. Nate was walking home through the park when he happened across Briana and her friend.

"So," Nate summed up, "you have no place to stay, no money, and no food, and you need to come up with five thousand euro by Friday."

"It's worse than that," Briana said. "I have to prove to them I have a plane ticket home when I show up to get my passport back, so I have to pay for the airfare too."

"And what about Pavlina?" Nate asked.

"Same thing," Briana shrugged. Doubling the already impossible feat was pointless, so she just shrugged.

"So you go back to Canada," Nate ventured, "and Pavlina goes to Prague?"

"Uh, hello!" Briana scorned sarcastically, "we have no money."

"But if you did," Nate was simply seeking understanding, "that's what would ..."

"Nate," Briana interrupted with a sparkle in her eye, "are you offering?"

"Oh, no!" Nate stammered, trying to backpedal out of his unintended gesture of goodwill. "I was not offering. I was just just ..."

"You were just ..." Briana mocked him coyly. "Just what?"

"Well, you know," Nate faltered. "Just understanding."

"Is that just what you were doing?" Briana asked with a little girl's lilt in her voice. She put her coffee cup down on the small round table and stood up. Briana positioned herself in front of Nate, who was still seated. She leaned forward, resting both her palms on each of his thighs, and brought her face within a few inches of his. "Sounds like an offer to me," and she kissed him lightly on the lips. "Remember that night when your wife wasn't home?"

Nate had thought about that night for a long, long time. Theresa was away for the week on a rare business trip. Nate had worked late, and arrived home after the kids were already in bed. Briana was watching TV. Nate sat beside her on the sofa, and they talked about life as they often did. It was near the end of the kids' school year, and Briana had turned eighteen and announced this would be her last year looking after Nate's children. Soon summer would arrive, school would be over, and Briana would no longer see Sarah and Dillon – or Nate.

Talked turned into flirting, and flirting turned into casual touching. Nate remembered Briana leaned across his body to reach the TV remote control, and in her stretch across him, her T shirt pulled untucked from her jeans. Nate put his hand on her bare skin, slipped it around her back, and drew her in close. They kissed each other passionately. Kissing became into petting. With his hand still behind her back, Nate unfastened the clasp of her bra, and slid his hand underneath her shirt from her back to her front, and started fondling her perky, firm, C sized breasts. She sat up, grabbed both sides of her shirt, and in a single, swift motion, Briana pulled her shirt and bra together over her head and tossed them to the floor.

She was five foot four, slim, brown hair with the most beautiful deep, brown eyes. Her breasts stood firmly at attention. The topless Briana wrapped her hands behind Nate's neck and they resumed necking while Nate cupped the perfect eighteen year old breasts with both hands. He played with her stiffened nipples while she kissed him hard.

The warning bells sounded as Briana unzipped Nate's jeans, and she slid her trim, juvenile hand down his crotch and wrapped her slender fingers around his bulging cock. Nate gently pulled away. He wanted Briana badly, but the risk was too high. It was not his marriage – by then he and Theresa were just going through the motions. He was worried what would happen if his own children learned he had fucked their dearest babysitter – right there in their own house while they slept. Nate pulled Briana away, looked into her eyes, and he explained how badly he wanted this, but how wrong it was. They dressed in awkward silence, and Nate called her a cab.

"Ever wonder what could have happened to us if you hadn't stopped me from fucking your brains out that night," Briana asked, and she leaned forward slightly, letting her lips touch his. "Now's your chance to find out," she whispered, and kissed him again.