The blind side of the heart - By Julia Franck Page 0,21

mother and be set to work clearing cupboards of the debris left by moths.

Martha sometimes asked Helene: What do you want to be when you grow up?

But she knew the answer; it was always the same. I want to be a nurse like you. Helene pressed her nose against Martha’s shoulder and breathed in her sister’s scent. Martha smelled like a warm roll and only very slightly of the vinegar that she rubbed into her hands when she came off duty. Helene observed Martha’s smile. Was she glad of Helene’s ever-reliable answer? Did it flatter her to think that the little girl wanted to be just like her? Next moment, however, Helene realized that Martha’s smile had nothing to do with her answer. Martha was stroking the gold-embossed lettering on the cover of her book.

What a lovely present.

Let me see.

Close your eyes, yes, that’s right. You can read it blind.

Helene felt Martha taking her hand, but did not guide it to the book. Instead, she found that she was feeling Martha’s stomach and her navel. Martha’s navel was set in a little hollow, unlike Helene’s, which stood out like a button. Helene squeezed both eyes tight shut and felt Martha taking her finger and pushing it into the pit of the navel.

There, what can you decipher?

Martha felt the slight curve of Martha’s belly. How soft her sister’s skin was. Unlike their mother’s belly, which spread out, particularly below the navel, Martha had a beautiful stomach with only the gentlest swelling. Helene felt Martha’s ribs and thought of the gold letters on the mustard-coloured book. She had deciphered them in secret long ago. Byron, said the letters. So she said: Byron.

Byron. Martha corrected Helene’s pronunciation. Keep your eyes closed and go on reading.

Helene could tell from her sister’s voice that Martha was pleased with her ability to read blind. Go on reading, Martha told her for the second time. And Helene felt Martha taking her hand and guiding it over her belly, circling, running Helene’s hand over her hips, stroking them. Read.

A Selection of Lyrical Poetry.

Helene had noticed the gold letters and had been wondering for some time what exactly lyrical poetry was. But then Martha took her hand again and placed it on her bottom rib.

Can you see under my skin too, little angel? Do you know what’s underneath the ribs here? The liver lies here.

Sisterly knowledge. Remember that, you’ll have to learn it all later. And this is where the gall bladder is, right beside it, yes, there. The word spleen was on Helene’s lips, but she didn’t want to say it, she just wanted to open her eyes, but Martha noticed and told her: Keep your eyes closed.

Helene felt Martha take her hand and guide it up to the next rib, and finally still higher, up to her breast.

Although she kept her eyes tightly closed and couldn’t see, Helene noticed her own feelings and how hot her face was all of a sudden. Martha was still guiding her hand, and Helene clearly felt her nipple and the firm, soft, perfect curve of the breast. Then down into the valley below, where she felt a bone.

A little rib.

Martha didn’t answer, and now her hand was climbing the other hill. Helene peered through her lashes, but Martha’s eyes weren’t on her any more, they were wandering aimlessly, blissfully, under her own half-closed lids, and Helene saw Martha’s lips opening slightly and moving.

Come here.

Martha’s voice was husky; with her other hand she drew Helene’s head towards her and pressed her own mouth on Helene’s. Helene was startled; she felt Martha’s tongue on her lips, demanding, she could never have imagined how rough and smooth at the same time Martha’s tongue on her lips would feel. It tickled, it almost made Helene laugh, but Martha’s tongue grew firm and pressed on Helene’s lips as if searching for something. That tongue opened Helene’s lips and pushed against her teeth. Helene had to breathe, she wanted air, she opened her lips, and now Martha’s tongue was filling her whole mouth. Helene felt her sister’s tongue moving about in it, back and forth, pushing at the insides of her cheeks, pressing against her own tongue. Helene thought of their last walk beside the Spree, and how Martha had told her to stay a few steps behind her and Arthur. Suddenly she noticed that her hand was lying on Martha’s breast all by itself, while for some time Martha’s hands had been moving in her hair