The Evil Hairdresser of Rostock-4

 

Translated with google from german to english

The Evil Hairdresser of Rostock-4

Bärbel + Christiane

 

The doorbell rings again and again. <I don’t want to see that asshole!>

Then she carefully opens the door.

Standing before her is a crying Bärbel, her blonde hair shaved close to the skin.

They lie in each other’s arms for an eternity.

The next morning, Bärbel got up early and is sitting in the kitchen. She’s reading Christiane’s diary. “You really did write everything down.”

Christiane just nods and puts the kettle on for coffee.

“Then I should tell you what they did to me in prison.”

“You don’t have to. It hurts both of us.”

“But I have to, and it belongs here.” “Please leave it.” “Too late, Christiane! I wrote everything down. And we have to find others. At some point, that bastard will have to pay everything back.”

The doorbell rings, and Christiane puts on the cap that’s within easy reach next to the door. It’s Zofia Kurnaz. Christiane smiles. “Could you…”

“Of course I can, Zofia. Just tell me something?”

“Christiane? The hat! Your hair! What’s wrong?” “Nothing, everything’s fine.”

“Let me through, girl!” she orders.

In the kitchen, she sees Bärbel sitting. “Miss Bärbel!” she cries in horror and turns to Christiane, who has taken off her hat. She sits down. “Olaf?” They both nod.

Then the doorbell rings again. Christiane doesn’t respond. A thunderous crash against the door.

“Oh no, I have to open it.” Harald and Heinz storm in.

“You weren’t at work and no one told us why.”

Only now does he recognize Bärbel and turn to Christiane. He is absolutely speechless.

It’s Heinz, who asks very quietly: “Who was that?” “We just wanted to get our hair cut short and now it looks like this,” Christiane tries to reassure him.

“Don’t talk nonsense, girl! Who?” Bärbel just looks out the window at Olaf’s salon.

The two follow her gaze. “Him?” “Heinz, come with me, I think there’s something to do there.”

The two stomp off. “Wait!” Mrs. Kurnaz says sharply. “You’re doing more damage than they’ve already done.” “Who are they? If anyone hurts a hair on those two girls, they’ll be in trouble with half the shipyard. And that’s obviously what happened!” “Harald! Wait, she’s right. Sit down.”

Christiane explains the situation to them in a few words.

“Then we’ll just have to wait. But I’ll think of something.”

The two stand up. Bärbel hugs Heinz. “Thank you for not leaving us alone.”

“Mr. Harald,” Zofia speaks up again. “He loves his new Wartburg. (very expansive car)”

Olaf and Susanne

Saturday evening, there’s a knock on Olaf’s apartment door. He gets up and looks into the hallway.

A fist is stuck in the door. At the second knock, the door flies off its hinges and several men are standing in his apartment. Olaf panics and runs to the back door. Susanne screams: “Olaf, wait! Take me with you!”

But Olaf doesn’t even think about it.

You two take care of the apartment,” says a dark voice.

The rest of the crew follows Olaf. He jumps into his Wartburg, turns the key, and the engine starts. First gear and full throttle. The engine roars, but the Wartburg doesn’t move a millimeter. Olaf looks ahead, irritated. A masked man stands in front of him and has lifted the car so that the wheels are off the ground and spin. Suddenly, the rear of the car is lifted as well. It tips to the side and crashes onto the pavement. The windows shatter. It’s turned onto its roof, and Olaf tries to find something to hold on to. It goes up again and, with a loud crash, lands back on its roof. The remaining windows scatter across the courtyard. Then the scare is over.

Meanwhile, Susanne has managed to escape through the kitchen into the stairwell. She rushes down the stairs into the salon and is met at the bottom by two strong men. One twists her arms behind her back and the other stuffs a rag in her mouth as she tries to scream. She shakes her head wildly, her chin-length blonde hair flying back and forth. She is pushed onto one of the two barber’s chairs and held in place. The other grabs the hair clippers, pulls off the attachment, and switches them on. With wide-open eyes, Susanne stares at the blade glinting in the moonlight. He starts at the front of her head and pushes the blade back through her thick blonde hair. Thick, medium-length strands fall onto the cape and onto the floor. He shears several strips back on the top and sides. Then they let go of her and disappear silently. Susanne stares into the mirror in front of her. The entire top of her head and part of the sides are completely shaved. She has excruciating pain in her right shoulder, her right arm is dislocated, and her collarbone is broken.

Two days later, several police cars race onto the shipyard grounds. The officers fan out. A short while later, they return with Harald, Heinz, and four other men, all with their hands handcuffed behind their backs.

Christiane comes out of her office. “What’s going on here?”

“We’re arresting these men for burglary, aggravated assault, and serious property damage,” an officer explains.

“And when did that happen?” “Saturday, around 10:00 p.m.”

“I’m afraid I have to disappoint you. These men were with me at my sister’s playing cards.” “Six men and two young ladies playing cards? I’m not laughing.” Christiane takes off her hard hat and strokes her short hair.

“First of all, I’m not your young lady, I’m Mrs. Christiane Schmidt. Do you understand? And who are you anyway?” The police officer flinches.

“Police Sergeant Hempel.” “And secondly, you’ve never played cards in a large group with two women?” “No,” he stammers. “Then you’ve really missed something in your life. And now let my men go, or I’ll report that we couldn’t meet our target because of you. Police Sergeant Hampel!”

A nod to his men, and the shipyard workers are released.

Harald approaches her, takes her in his arms, and squeezes her so hard she can’t breathe.

“You’re getting better and better, girl.” “Damn it! I’m not your girl.”

He runs his paw through her short hair. “And I’ll get used to it, too.”

In the shipyard, such news spreads very quickly.

Christiane suddenly receives respect from people she would never have expected.

Helga Krapp

Meanwhile, Bärbel has learned the address of Ingrid and Helga Krapp from an acquaintance at the registry office. She cycles to one of the large apartment buildings.

Only Krapp is at the doorbell. “I’m Bärbel Schmidt, and I’d like to talk to you about Olaf Böhmer.” “But not me.” “I’m a victim too.” “So what!” “And my sister, too.” It takes a while, then the doorbell buzzes. A very young woman opens the door, perhaps 19 years old, with short blonde hair, although her ears are already covered by a few centimeters. “My mother is going for a walk in the woods; she’s done that often since then.” They sit next to each other on the couch in a small living room with a cup of coffee. Helga examines her. “May I?” She strokes Bärbel’s close-cropped hair with the flat of her hand. “Olaf Böhmer?” Bärbel nods. “My sister and I are gathering evidence against him. And we know we have to be very discreet to protect his victims and their families.” “That bastard and his girlfriend, that hag.” Helga’s tears well up, and Bärbel hugs her.

She begins to tell her story:

My uncle Hubert, my mother’s brother and my surrogate father, was arrested by the Stasi. A woman came by and told us that Hubert was going to be transferred to Bautzen and what was going on there. She could arrange for Hubert to stay in Rostock until the case was resolved. But it would cost 4,000 marks. We should both bring the money and some time to Olaf Böhmer’s salon tomorrow at 8:00 a.m.

“4,000 marks? And some time?” “Olaf will definitely want to cut both of your hair. It’s always an additional service from him and doesn’t cost anything extra.”

“But we were at the hairdresser just two weeks ago for a fresh perm. He did it without cutting it because our last visit to the hairdresser cut our hair much too short.” “I’m not interested,” says the fat woman, stands up, puts a piece of paper with an address on the table, and leaves. We raised the money with great effort and the help of friends. On the way there, we kept wondering why he wanted to cut our hair, and Mom said she’d take care of it. It was out of the question. After some hesitation, we finally went into the strange, old-fashioned salon.

Mom pressed the envelope with the money into his hand, and I opened the door.

“Wait! There are still two haircuts scheduled.” “No, thank you, that’s really not necessary.” The fat woman closed the door again. “But it’s part of the agreement. Or your Hubert will be on the transport to Bautzen tomorrow.”

Mom and I just looked at each other in horror. Then she nodded, and so did I.

“If you ladies would please take a seat right now.”

The fat woman combed both of our hair. Luckily, our hair had grown back nicely after the last hairdressing disaster. Mom had larger, soft curls over her ears, while I had more of these small, curly curls down over my shoulders with long bangs over my eyebrows. We sat there next to each other, each with a huge cape tied around her, only our heads and necks showing. Then she came along with a camera and took pictures of each of us from the front, sides, and back, while this Olaf spun our chairs around. She then turned our chairs to the side so we were sitting directly opposite each other. Olaf stood behind Mom and jerked the old chair up and down a few times. He stood behind her with a large comb and scissors. She looked directly at me. Starting at her forehead, he picked up a wide strand of curls with the comb and grasped it with his fingers, right at the roots. Dick’s curl spilled out between his fingers two fingers high. Snap, snap, snap. Exactly three quick snips along his disgusting fingers and the soft curl fell over her face and onto her cape. Snap, snap, snap, the next strand fell.

Snap, snap, snap! Again and again.

Strands just two fingers long remain (= about 2 inch). Again and again.

I can still hear that horrible sound today. Snap, snap, snap!

Everything: the top, the sides, the back of her head. Always snap, snap, snap!

My mother, sitting completely stiffly on the chair, directly opposite me.

She can’t look in the mirror, but she sees the pile of her blonde curls in her lap. The first tears well up in my eyes. But eventually, he’s finally finished.

“Okay, now to the young lady. She’s probably already impatiently waiting to be served. Would you like Susanne?” “Of course.”

She grabs my chin with her fat fingers and pushes it upward. I feel the scissors right up against my forehead. There’s a crunching sound, the first fringe curls fall into my face.

She straightens my head again and cuts somewhere in the back of my long hair. At some point, I feel the scissors high on the back of my head. The right side, half of my ear, is visible. The left side all the way to the front. My long curls land on the cape in front of me. Now my mother is crying. I hear a loud humming sound. He grabs my mother’s short hair at the top and pulls her head far forward.

A hair clipper! He places it at the nape of her neck and pushes it up over the back of her head. Then he places it at her forehead. The short hair falls in thick clumps onto the cape and the floor. A trail of devastation remains. He shaved her hair 3 mm short! It was so horrific!

Then it was my turn.

Bärbel hugs her again, and the tears flow uncontrollably.

“You have nothing to fear. Olaf will be in the hospital for the next few months with various broken bones, and his Susanne won’t be going out in public anytime soon.” Helga moves even closer and returns the hug.

“Thank you. Thank you for letting me get this off my chest and talk to someone.”

The tears stream down her cheeks.

 

 

Christiane

Zofia Kurnaz has stopped by again for a drink. The two of them love the old lady and are always happy when they can help her. Their thick notebook lies on the sofa. “Tomorrow, the works council elections are at the shipyard. And Christiane has been nominated,” Bärbel says proudly. “I’m happy for you.”

“Oh, Zofia, no chance. No one can get past the party. I’m just the token girl.” “Just wait and see, girl. That’s what your Harald always calls you.”

A mischievous grin.

The next morning, Christiane packs her bag. “Have you had your speech?”

All the shipyard employees are gathered in the shipyard’s large hall.

First, a woman, then a man, gives a speech as candidates. Then it’s the turn of the current long-standing works council chairman; his speech lasts almost an hour. He speaks mainly about the progress that has been made in recent years thanks to the party’s leadership. Subdued applause.

Christiane is the last of the candidates to speak. She shyly approaches the microphone with her prepared speech. She nervously runs her hand through her short hair, and the sheets of her preparatory speech fly off her feet.

“Ms. Schmidt! Now please!” the acting chair challenges her.

There’s no chance to sort the papers.

“Yes, of course, Mr. Chairman. Please excuse my mistake.”

“Dear colleagues. Oh, nonsense!” she breaks off.

“You know me, at least some of you even know me personally.” Her gaze wanders to Harald.

“We are a team, and a particularly good team.” She looks back at Harald.

Loud applause. “Please, I didn’t mean it like that. But you helped me through a very difficult time. I am very grateful to all of you for that.”

The room is completely silent. Christiane swallows and grabs her hair again.

“Perhaps, as works council chair, I can repay you a little of your help. Thank you.”

Silence. Everyone stares at her speechless. What happens now?

One man applauds, another follows. Another, and…

The hall roars. Harald storms onto the stage, a usher tries to hold him back.

Suddenly, the doors fly open, and a horde of police officers with batons in their hands appears.

“Those up front! The one with the short hair! Arrest them immediately!” one yells, pointing at Christiane. Unfortunately for him, Heinz is standing in front of him and turns around.

“I’m a lieutenant colonel in the State Security Service. Don’t hinder our work.”

“And I’m Heinz.” At the same time, his fist lands on the officer’s nose, sending him flying a few meters. “Come on, guys! That’s our girl!”

And then twenty shipyard workers rush toward the police officers.

On stage, Harald is throwing a punch. Someone is about to hit him on the head from behind with a club. He only sees a small fist fly past his face and hears the crack of a nasal bone. Harald turns around and looks into the grinning face of Christiane, who is rubbing her sore ankle. “I’ll have to be careful with you in the future.” Someone from the shipyard administration manages to get through to Christiane. He whispers something excitedly in her ear. She looks at him in disbelief, and he nods a few times. Christiane grabs the microphone.

“Stop!” No one reacts. “Stop! Immediately!” Now the fighting gradually breaks down, and everyone looks at her.

“It’s over.” “What’s over?”

“The border. The wall is open!”

Epilogue

How could it be otherwise? Christiane and Harald are now married and have already had children. Bärbel and Heinz are still childless, but happy.

Olaf and Susanne had to answer in court and were sentenced to prison terms based on Christiane’s diary and the testimony of some of those affected.

Zofia Kurnaz has moved back to Poland.

Then a letter arrives from Zofia.

END?