A letter from Herman, in response to this one, arrives at the Plaza Hotel in Boston the day after Danny and Frankie arrive.

Dear Frankie & Danny,

When I had asked for the both of you to write me letters, I didn't expect for you to write one together! That was probably the most entertaining letter I've ever read. Thank you!

And thank you for looking out for a good sailor or two -- I do admire a man in a uniform. (There's just something about the cut of their trousers.) You've made me long for the open sea with your adventure so far. It sounds as if there is much fun to be had on a ship: the people, the sights, the food. Did that gorilla-chef ever give you any more trouble? Hopefully not, as I would very much like to welcome Danny back home as I remember him: in one piece.

So, despite the small size of your cabin, you seem to have made the most of it. I can't think of anything else to do in such close confines than while away the time...perpendicularly. ...I imagine Uncle Leon had the same idea? Surely being on a ship with women from all walks of life is something close to paradise.

It's funny you should ask about any new additions to the Klub, as I was going to tell you straight away that Fritzie and Frenchie have returned. Can you believe it? I will let you take a few moments to allow this news to sink in.

....

Yes, it really is true!

The Emcee is especially glad to have them back, not only to fill the gaps in the stage company with you being away, but you know that he harbors some deep-seated affection for his wayward girls. They are none the worse for wear, I think, which is wonderful. Sometimes it feels as if they had never left.

And now comes the part where I tell you about things that, had you been here, you would have found out about even if I hadn't told you.

The moment Fritzie returned, she had sort of...set her sights on me. (You remember how she was, and she is still like that, so you don't have to worry there.) It rather started out as a game, really, playing around and flirting with me until I blushed to a crisp. I could flirt with her, too, but she always seemed to have the upper hand. Then there came the nightly dreams about her -- I don't have to explain what kind of dreams, do I? -- and I could not get her out of my mind. I will admit that I became infatuated with her, but not in the romantic sense of the word at all, as one might expect from me, I suppose. I simply wanted to know what it would be like to have sex with her. (Was that statement shocking enough for you?) And every time Fritzie and I found ourselves in the same space, the air between us was always electrically charged, as if one wrong (right?) move would send us colliding into each other in a ball of flames.

Well, it finally came to a head one day when I was trying to work at the piano. I was already distracted by thoughts of Fritzie when she appeared and joined me on the bench. And I can't exactly remember how it started, but... We ended up fucking on the piano. That was in fact the dream I had been having, you see, and I told it to her, but I didn't think she could be so...accomodating? She was sitting up on the keyboard and she had her legs around me, and each time we moved there came some random chord that seemed to echo our shouts. It was...quite poetic. Needless to say, our poor old piano received a workout that it most likely had been dreading since taking up residence in the Kit Kat Klub, but I can't say that I have any regrets. Fritzie was amazing.

And she's looking forward to your return.

And now, for some reason, the Emcee has set his sights on me. Oh dear.

With that in mind, I think I should end this letter here. Hopefully the both of you have had a lovely journey, and that Boston welcomes you with open arms. I will write again before Christmas!

Much love as always,
Herman

She's sitting on the keyboard. She's not really supposed to be doing that. It's an old piano.

Notes... abrupt, jarring, discordant, all over the place.

All over me, all over her, all over each other.

- Be careful what you wish for, Herman dear.

Her skirt rides up to her hips, her hands grab at my hair. I'm pulled in and our mouths meet hard.

- Because I promise you, you'll get it.

My pianist's fingers reach between her dancer's legs and she sings out.

High heels dig into my back.

Buttons undone.

Notes... all over the place--



Oh dear God.

What...? Where...?

Oh.

It's 4:00 a.m. and I'm wide awake now. It's cold...but I'm overwhelmingly hot.

Egads, that Fritzie.

An odd night, to say the least. I have always believed in an afterlife, in ghosts and spirits, in ethereal beings and the supernatural in general. But even after working in a handful of old dance halls and theatres that allegedly had ghostly tenants, I had never in my life encountered one so...real...until tonight.

It was actually a pleasure to meet Frankie's brother, of whom she speaks so fondly... But I had to keep reminding myself that he is no longer on this Earth. No matter how real his apparition seemed, he was still gone. And he is gone, completely, now that he has found peace.

Peace.

After closing down the club, I make a quiet exit to find some peace. I know that it still exists in Berlin in the wee hours of the night, when there is stillness and silence, where the shadows are not forbidding but embracing. And there is one place where my feet are leading me: church.

It is a modest, unassuming church run by a small sisterhood of nuns and one priest, and they leave the doors open for everyone at all times. When I arrive on their step at well after two o'clock, I find only two other people inside the dimly lit chapel -- a gray-haired woman kneeling in a pew near the pulpit, and a man doubled up in the back fast asleep.

The scent of incense, flowers, and candles pervades the air. I step softly on the well-worn marble floor as every little noise seems amplified by the close atmosphere. I walk down the centre aisle, my eyes raised toward the altar draped in a white shroud, and the old wooden crucifix looming above it on the wall. There are little orange votive candles surrounding a statue of the Virgin Mary. I light two of them, and then slide into the nearest pew to sit and think.

I have not been to a proper Sunday Mass since I was a child. I have not recited a proper prayer since... Well, that was not so long ago. Prayers never leave you. The words always come back.

I kneel on the cold floor, my hands folded over the back of the pew in front of me, and I bow my head. I move my lips, but only those in Heaven can hear me.

Vater unser im Himmel,
Geheiligt werde dein Name.
Dein Reich komme,
Dein Wille geschehe,
wie im Himmel so auf Erden.
Unser tägliches Brot gib uns heute.
Und vergib uns unsere Schuld,
wie auch wir vergeben unsern Schuldigern.
Und führe uns nicht in Versuchung,
sondern erlöse uns von dem Bösen.*

I have never asked for much. I have never asked for what I feel I do not deserve, and even then, I have done without. I have many things to be thankful for already -- friends whom I love, friends who love me, a roof over my head and the means to live comfortably. But I ask You now...please, please let me know that the love of my life and our son are with You. I have faith that they are. I have faith that their souls are safe. But peace is what I seek. Peace is what I am asking for. I once was at peace, when she was with me. I once was at peace, when I heard her create music. I once was at peace, when I knew we were to bring life into this world. But no amount of love and comfort has been able to bring me peace after I lost her. I do not know what else to do but to ask You for the answer. Please hear my prayer.

Amen.

I remain kneeling. My legs become numb and my shoulders sore, but I stay. An eternity is a long time, and it feels as if I have been in this position for just as long.

I finally raise my head and discover that my cheeks are damp. And then out of the corner of my bleary eye, I see two wisps of smoke slowly rising toward the Virgin Mary's bowed head. The two candles I had lit were extinguished although the rest are still burning. There is no draft in the chapel.

Coincidence. Mere coincidence.

I am strangely calm during my long walk home.


( *Our father, who art in heaven... )

With Adam gone, the Klub remains its old, raucous self, while I dwell on the absence of one person. I tend to do that. It isn't as if his leaving will produce some catastrophic change in our daily and nightly routines. Still, he'd become a thread in this existence. A thread that unraveled and run itself out.

Ah, well.

Ophilia still has her Francine to take the sting off, I suppose. And Kost...? I don't know. Sometimes I cannot help but think that we have things in common, even if we don't speak to each other that much. Her temper when she's drunk leaves much to be desired, however. But she is often aloof, as am I. Love has brought her grief...as it has done so for me...

It was almost a year ago that I was the saddest I'd ever been. But I promise to not let my grief overshadow everything and everyone else.

With Fantine away, Helga has taken up most of the cooking duties again, but that only puts a bit of a strain on the rest of the staff and the band -- which is almost threadbare, since Hans is with Fantine. And at this point, I am anxiously awaiting the day Danny gets well enough to come back and play.

In other affairs... I suppose some people might be surprised if they ever knew for sure what happened between Victor, Ophilia, and myself. They might think that it was unlike me. Not that I worry what other people think. Personally, I am thoroughly convinced that it was merely a matter of time.

Also, I cannot wait to see Ophilia's new home. I hope she invites us all for a housewarming party, or else we shall have to invite ourselves.

Well. Time to immerse myself in work.

I can hear voices in Hans's room next door. One of them sounds like Adam's. Yes, that's his laugh.

I pull the covers up around my head and make no move to see how anyone is doing this morning -- and I feel selfish for it. After all, Danny came into the Klub last night bleeding from a knife wound, and Adam and Ophilia had escaped a fire that burned down their apartment.

Why do I suddenly feel as if I don't care? Or that I can't be bothered? I'm sure they're all fine. I did my part to help already, so there's no reason I shouldn't stay in today and continue to sleep.

This isn't like me. At all...

Victor confuses me. There. I admit it. If I could just be open with him about everything, why I keep holding back, then perhaps I can rest more comfortably. Easier said than done, as per usual.

I do care.

A tall man dressed in a tan overcoat stands at the foot of a grave. The winter wind whips his blonde hair about and freezes the trails of tears that streak his cheeks.

He'd been standing there motionless for the past twenty minutes.

When he arrived, he bent down on one knee to clear away the withered flowers, and to replace them with a bouquet of white roses tied with a red ribbon. He wiped dirt and debris from the name carved deep into the headstone. And he knelt there for a while, his hand splayed on a mound of dry soil, blades of brown grass between his fingers. Perhaps hoping to feel something. Anything. When he felt nothing but the earth beneath his palm, he stood up.

There he remains, standing at the foot of a grave. It answers no questions, although he listens for them. It brings no new life, although he offers it half-opened buds.

But the roses will wither again, the ribbon will blow away, dirt will encrust the stone that bears his love's name.

And he stands so still he can almost feel the planet revolve under his feet. He wishes it would stop, and turn backwards, so he could take that night back. A wish that goes ungranted.

Ten more minutes pass before he turns around, his hands in his pockets, and walks toward the gates, not bothering to wipe away his frozen tears.

With the last of the patrons gone, and after sending Danny and Frankie away to do their dirty work (they happily obliged), I remain downstairs in the Klub to close up.

I rather like the place after hours. One can still feel the energy that was once there just hovering in the air, gradually disspating like the cigarette smoke. It's quiet, except for the occasional squeaky floorboard beneath my feet, and the soft swish of the broom sweeping up the debris the evening's merrymaking.

Speaking of merrymaking, I think tomorrow morning I shall procure for ourselves a little Christmas tree. Perhaps some decorations as well.

And suddenly my head is filled with the swirling memories of past holidays, and everything that comes with this time of year. I can never really let go.

The sweeping done, I head backstage to shut off all the house lights, vaguely wondering where Victor had disappeared to, as he'd said he wanted to go over some sheet music.

Well, this Halloween was certainly interesting. I think everyone's costumes were absolutely splendid. Perhaps the most ambitious was Dolores, who showed up as...Danny. And Frankie kept the Greek tradition alive by not wearing anything under her shift.

However, not everything was fun and games. Fraulein Kost was not in the best of spirits. Ophilia told me that something drastic had happened between them. I felt it was not my business to inquire any further, and I was sure that Kost was not about to tell me anything deeper regarding the situation. Instead she wanted to drink, which, of course, she was free to do. But in all honesty, I did not want her to get drunk. She had gotten ahold of the rum and nearly finished it before I knew it. And after that, things simply went downhill from there.

I should have known better not to tease her. Then again, I didn't even realize I was teasing her. I just wanted to find a way to get her to listen to me so I could take her home. I'm still sore from both her physical and verbal affronts. In fact, I think the verbal hurt more than the physical. And I don't think she believed me when I apologized. She was too drunk.

Fortunately, the evening was salvaged by the appearance of Victor.

Ahh, Victor. It was difficult not to flirt with him. And what a surprise it was for me when the flirting seemed to actually go somewhere. It could have led to something else had I not been dead tired, but I must remember that he himself is only just getting back on his feet.

How did a biologist from Montana end up in a nightclub in Berlin? I have no earthly idea. But hopefully he will stay for a while. I suppose that tomorrow we shall see how he can fit into our nightly stage production.

Ophilia has been rather ill all evening, so she is staying in my room tonight. I discreetly changed out of my costume in front of her. Sometimes I think I should not have to be so discreet with her.

I am spending the night at Danny's apartment, since he has attached himself to Frankie. And I do believe that something special was happening tonight, and that Dolores is involved, what with her having dressed up as our New York Yank, and Frankie's penchant for pinstripes, and Danny's penchant for anything female.

I must say...Danny really is a bit of a slob.

And his mattress has a slight dip down the center. No comment about that.

I don't mind the persistent scent of marinara sauce wafting up the stairs, though.

The best thing that has ever happened here in quite a while: Helga has returned. I have not felt this happy in so long... Just to see her face again was enough. She's changed a little bit, though, I think. But that could just be my imagination.

So, hopefully our little "family" will settle back into some sort of routine.

In the meantime, I have searched high and low for a Halloween costume. Last year's attempt at livening up the Klub was a success if I do say so myself. Maybe more patrons will come in dressed up as well.

I was a vampire...I'm looking for something not so gory this time...maybe something...heroic...? Hmm...

Ah...of course!

With my purchased bundle of clothing and accessories, I rush back to my apartment, grinning like an imp.