The Green Suitcase

Düsseldorf, Germany, 1975. She’s been circling the suitcase lying on her bed, open, for hours. Finding small chores to do around the house to avoid packing, she even clipped her toenails. Her husband bought the set of luggage as a wedding gift knowing that they were leaving everything they knew for a better life. She never liked this shade of green, dark, mucousy and old. Perhaps it’s because she hates how this small suitcase looks that she can’t bring herself to put anything in it. She would have picked something far more tasteful with leather seams and a more vibrant colour, especially for the kind of trip they were making. Traveling across an entire continent, over an ocean and into that other world. It seems more fitting to celebrate such a move with tasteful luggage. At least it will appear that they are going out of choice and not out of necessity like the ornately dressed movie stars she would watch gliding across the movie screen. With their perfect curls, bright red lips and exquisitely tailored suits. She has to pack. They’re leaving in the morning and they are sleeping at her sister’s house tonight. Dinner is in three hours.

She opens the closet door and stands there, staring, thinking; wondering what her life will be like in a place she’s only ever been told about. Will they dress the same? Will the food taste good? What do they eat there? How will she ever make friends? Will her English be good enough? Will she learn it quickly? As these questions roll through her mind, she is paralyzed. Not from fear but from sheer sadness. She will leave and nobody will miss her. Nobody will ask her to stay or if she even wants to go. Her dear, sweet husband never even asked her so much as told her that they were moving to the country his brothers immigrated to and they will live with the shorter one and his wife. Her hands start taking dresses, shirts and skirts off the hangers and tossing them on the bed like an assembly line worker that has done the same task so many times over that it becomes robotic and soulless. She is not thinking about packing or moving or time, she is lost in memory or fantasy, she can’t tell the difference anymore.

It’s in this moment that she begs for time to stand still. For it not to move forward so quickly. If it would only hold on for just a while longer she could go back in time, in memory, to carefully select all the happy memories, perhaps there aren’t as many as there are sad and hard ones, but the ones that she needs to take with her on this long journey from home; the ones that will carry her through the challenges of creating a new life. She remembers her grandfather, his playfulness and colorful way of loving, and his mustache. Oh how she loved his mustache! He was so good to her, good to her in a way that so many others were not. She feels tears building up just behind her eyelids. What would he say if he was here? He would ask the questions she wished her family did. He would make sure she was ok and ready to make such a journey. He would tell her to go, to be a good wife and to one day be a good mother and to be strong. These daydreams and memories push her along to finish packing. One hour left until they have to go.

Dinner is delicious, as always. Her and her sister learned to cook at a young age not because they wanted to but because they needed to. They loved cooking for each other, especially now that they were so far from their shared history, creating their own stories as women and wives. Their husbands are talking about things that only men find interesting, inhaling drink after drink. They are celebrating, after all. As the men get louder and laugh more, the sisters share simple conversation. Mostly about the preparations in moving, what kinds of things they are taking, where they will be living, avoiding the words they know will thrust them into tears. They share glances every now again, their eyes low, sad, saying more in these silent pauses than their mouths ever could. Her sister gets up to wash the dishes but she is numb, unable to move. If she moves, gets up to help, it will be the last time they will stand in front of the kitchen sink laughing, talking, complaining about their husbands, her sister washing and she is drying. Her husband puts his arm around her, gives her a squeeze and laughs with their brother-in-law. She can see that he is excited to get moving, to start creating something new, and to see his brothers. Her heart sinks deeper. He will have his brothers and she has to say good-bye to her one sister. Tears are welling up again. She gets up and moves to the kitchen. The dishes are almost done. She helps put away the last of them. They keep chatting quietly about things she can’t recall and then they both let it wash over them. They need to say good-bye. 

Their hearts are vibrating, bodies shaking and the tears are endless. They have no words, nor do they need any. They stand there, clinging on to one another for what feels like a lifetime. Both of them reliving their childhood, their uneasy years as teenage girls and all the decisions they had to make when they were much too young to know any better. They cry harder, still holding each other. Her sister whispers the words ‘I love you’ quietly, gently into her ear. She can feel each letter trickle down her spine, reaching every cell in her body and softly landing right in the centre of her heart. These are the words she needed to hear. She’s ready to say good-bye. Just as they’re wiping the tears and the snot from each other’s faces, laughing at what children they are, a few friends stop in to say their good-byes. Everyone is laughing, drinking, reminiscing and she feels happy, finally, a little bit excited for what’s to come.

One of their friends brought a video camera. He just picked it up on the weekend and is eager to try it out. He is filming for the rest of the night. She watches him capture these precious last hours and is thankful that this night has been recorded into history, her history.

Everyone drinks too much and ends up sleeping in various corners of the small apartment. She doesn’t sleep at all as she is feeling eager to leave, finally, after all that she’s been through, this could be her chance to create the life she feels she’s always deserved. She is still sad and terrified but is trying to stay positive and to see the possibilities in this new adventure. The sun is coming up. She’s so tired but knows the time has come.

The apartment is groggy with remnants of the night before. Their friends are still laughing, sitting, drinking coffee, eating whatever they could find in the fridge. Her sister sits in the bathroom with her as she puts on mascara and curls her hair. They talk like they always do, no mention of good-bye. When they join their friends in the kitchen, everyone is hugging her husband, kisses on both cheeks, well wishes on their journey abroad. She works her way through the open arms and smiling faces. Good-bye, see you again, write as soon as you can. Her sister stands near the door, gives her a gentle hug and a kiss on the lips, looking into her little sisters eyes. Again, nothing needs to be said between sisters. She goes to put her shoes on and as she bends over, sees the green suitcase, sitting patiently by the closet. ‘This is it’, she thinks. She looks up and her friend is recording every last gesture.

Her husband grazes the small of her back and takes the luggage down to the cab. She picks up her small bag, walks to the door and pauses. She turns around to face the camera, lifts the green leather case just in front of the lens and blows a kiss good bye straight into her past. She runs down the stairs and her life changes forever.