TE23 Double Feature

Marzahn, Mon Amour

Katja Oskamp

missing. The apology. Ironically, the very person whose feet had achieved an unrivalled level of neglect did not apologize. Not even his wife or his daughter offered an apology; they obviously didn’t feel the need for any explanation about what I had to tend to. There they stood without a word, to the left and right of the chiropody chair, with Herr Hübner whimpering in the middle. After I’d washed his feet, I examined the extent of the neglect more closely under the magnifying lamp. ‘Your husband hasn’t trimmed his toenails for a long time,’ I said to the plump woman, as I liberally disinfected Herr Hübner’s feet.

‘Nope,’ she said, rolling her kohl-rimmed eyes.

I took my biggest clippers out of the cupboard. His nails–claws several centimetres long– could only be trimmed bit by bit. I needed the full strength of both my hands and had to stand up from my stool for greater leverage. Herr Hübner’s whimpers became louder and he acted as if I was trying to take something valuable away from him. The plump woman patted his arm lovelessly and the flat-faced one made a cursory attempt to do the same. The plump woman said, ‘It’ll be over soon’ and ‘It’s not that bad,’ and the flat-faced one agreed. Meanwhile they glanced at his feet with wrinkled noses and a look of repulsion on their faces that they managed to hide from Herr Hübner but not from me. Their eyes told me that something must have gone badly wrong in my life for me to be forced to earn my money doing such repulsive and herculean work.

‘He’s not my husband!’ replied the plump woman with an indignant laugh.

‘So he’s not your father, then?’ I asked the flat-faced one.

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