November

Danielle showed up when I needed her most. I was living in Munich in a large, raggedy student housing complex. It was beautiful but it was lonely; my neighbors were all German boys who meant well, but spoke rapidly and confused me with their requests. When she showed up that first day and rang my apartment’s nasal doorbell, I assumed she was German too, an impression that continued after we started talking, since she introduced herself in absolutely flawless Deutsch, said she’d moved in across the hall, and asked to borrow a cup of milk.

Natuerlich, I said, and poured it out for her, wanting to be friends but not knowing how to make small talk, exactly. But Danielle saved things, like always: she squinted at me, cocked her head, and said, in English, Wait. Are you American? 

And all at once everything was better. I so badly wish she could tell me whether I’m being accurate, whether it was really milk she wanted or a screwdriver or what, could laugh about it with me now. Danielle’s giggle consumed rooms – it filled the cement halls of that apartment building, along with the jingling of Bruno’s collar as he ran up and down the hall, turning a series of toys into fluff. My boyfriend Nader and I went on walks with them in the English Gardens, and occasionally Bruno would spend the night with us, drooling on the bedsheets as he waited for Danielle to return. When she appeared at the door, his tail would thwack the sides of it in violent paroxysms of happiness. 

It’s rare to have someone who you’re always so happy to see. She was game for everything; we went to both Oktoberfest and Fruehlingsfest together. We giggled in our dirndls when strange men asked if we were sisters; we semi-ironically rode through the haunted house roller coaster, our mixture of shrieks and laughter filling the place. She came to my improv troupe’s practice once and slyly whispered one-liners that brought down the house. Over curry or pancakes or cocktails, we could talk for hours. 

Although our friendship began because we were the two Amis at the end of the hall, I think we would have had just as much fun in other towns. And we will, I guess – I really do believe she’s still around, part of the grass and the woods and the trees, the wilderness she loved so well.