Every Seventh Wave (13 page)

e) In every fifth email I give you subtle reminders that you and I are both “spoken for,” and thus have no future together.

f) I've been saying good-bye to you for two years.

g) My powers of attraction are finite. There's absolutely no need for you to see me again.

h) My life motto is objectionable: “I'd like as many (interesting) women as possible to keep me in their hearts.” (Can I make a confession, Emmi? I'll take the uninteresting ones too. Just so long as there are as many as possible.)

i) I'm a man.

j) But I don't smell of that Evercrumby and Fish thingummy.

k) And so to my penultimate question: WHY ARE YOU STILL WRITING TO ME?

The following morning

Re:

Because I have to answer your penultimate question. Because that's the way the game goes. Because I'm not going to give up so close to the end. Because I never give up. Because I can't lose. Because I don't want to lose. Because I don't want to lose you.

Five minutes later

Subject: And apart from that

And apart from that you write really sweet emails.

Sometimes.

And it's not often that you're humorless and boring at the same time.

Three minutes later

Subject: What's more

O.K. I never found you boring! (Apart from when you write about what you and “Pam” have in common.) And looks aren't everything, Leo. That used to be one of your refrains, remember?

Seven minutes later

Subject: O.K., O.K.

All right, all right, all right, so you
are
good-looking! We know that, everyone knows that! Has that satisfied your vanity?

One hour later

Subject: (no subject)

Fine, Leo, just give it all a little time to sink in.

Two hours later

Subject: My penultimate question

Maybe what you're waiting for is my penultimate question.

Here it comes: Are we actually going to stop the day after tomorrow, or will we keep writing to each other? I mean, from time to time, when one of us feels like it? We could still say good-bye to each other to make it official, also for “Pam”'s sake, so that things are clear-cut as far as she's concerned.

Oh, but hang on, you're “nowhere near” saying good-bye to me; you're just going to put your feelings on ice for awhile. Whatever. Are we going to keep writing? Or would you rather not be disturbed from now on, from “Pam” on, shall we say? Just tell me, and I'll stop looking in my in-box. Or I'll disconnect from the Internet. No, that wouldn't work, I've got seven new clients who want me to design their websites—they'd prefer me to do my work online. Whatever. Are we going to keep writing, Leo? Could you do it despite “Pam”? It could be anytime. But are we still going to write?

Ten minutes later

Re:

Dear Emmi,

Yes, let's. On the condition that you mentioned in your third sentence, “when one of us feels like it.” I'm going to be honest with you, Emmi. I can't say whether I'll feel like it, when I'll feel like it, how often I'll feel like it. And if I do feel like it, whether it's a good thing that I actually do it. Never wait for an email from me, please! If one does come, then I felt like it. If it doesn't then maybe I did feel like it, but thought better of it. The converse is also true. We mustn't ever again go mad in expectation of email, or find ourselves feverishly drafting replies. Write to me, Emmi, if you feel like it. And if I feel like it, I'll write back.

Three minutes later

Re:

That email wasn't sweet at all, Leo! But I understand what you're saying. And I'll comply. Enough for today, bye-bye.

Now I feel like shutting up. Tomorrow is another day. Even if in some respect it will be our last.

The following morning

Subject: Final question

Dear Emmi,

How should I have behaved back then, what should I have done, what would have been better? Back then, when your husband begged me to disappear from your life, not to wreck your marriage, to “save” your family. “Boston” was the only sensible solution, wasn't it? What other decision could I have taken, what would have been the right one? This question has been torturing me for eighteen months. Please tell me!

One hour later

Subject: Final answer

Perhaps you couldn't have made a better decision on your own. But you shouldn't have been making that decision on your own. You should have allowed me to help you make that decision. You should have let me in on the situation with Bernhard, since he was too cowardly to do so himself. It wasn't YOUR responsibility at the time to “save” my marriage, or to end it. It was ours, mine and my husband's! Your secret pact with him, and your mysterious flight to Boston robbed me of the opportunity to take the right steps at the right time. And yes, you should have fought harder for me, Leo. Not like a hero, not like a good guy, not like a “real man,” simply like someone who trusts his own feelings. Yes, you're right: we didn't know each other back then, we hadn't even met. So what? I maintain that our relationship was already quite developed. It's true that we hadn't lived together in the traditional sense, but we'd experienced each other, and that counts for more. We were prepared to kiss each other blind, so sure were we of our mutual devotion. So close was our attachment. But you, you wouldn't commit. You gave up on me out of some misplaced sense of chivalry. Without even putting up a fight. THAT'S what you could have done differently. THAT'S what you could have done better, Leo dear!

Ten minutes later

Re:

I wanted the best for you. Unfortunately it never occurred to me that
I
might be the best. Unfortunately. Pity. Missed opportunity. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry!

Five minutes later

Subject: My last question

Will you come and see me, Leo?

Fifteen minutes later

Subject: (no subject)

Don't be shy to write back.

Five minutes later

Re:

What was that delightful answer you wrote in capital letters a couple of days ago, when faced with a similar situation?

WHAT FOR?

One minute later

Re:

I don't call that an answer. That's another question, but I'm afraid you don't have any questions left, my dear. You've used them all up, on inanities. Now you've got to take a risk. Will you come over? Or more precisely: will you come over today? Yes or no.

Twenty minutes later

Re:

You're putting up a good show, Leo dear. No “yes.” No “no.” And yet this really has to be YOUR decision. You can choose, you needn't think about it even for a moment.

Three minutes later

Re:

Of course I'm thinking of you. Of you and what you wrote on Thursday. “Seeing you: fine. Seeing you ‘one more time,' one last time: shit!” That's pretty much the opposite of your position today. Why now, all of a sudden? Why should I come over? If you don't give me an answer, I'll provide one myself.

One minute later

Re:

Your thinking is all wrong, Leo! O.K., when you've made your mind up I'll tell you. So are you coming over to my place, Feldgasse 14, third floor, flat 17? Yes or no?

Eight minutes later

Re:

Yes.

Fifty seconds later

Re:

Really? Are you sure?

Forty seconds later

Re:

Those were two unauthorized questions. But I'll answer anyway: No, Emmi, I'm not sure. I'm absolutely not sure. I've rarely been this unsure in my life. But I'll risk it.

Two minutes later

Re:

Thank you, Leo! You can put all your various horror scenarios and other visions out of your head. It'll be a short meeting. Ten minutes, let's say. I'd just like to have a whisky with you. Only the one, really! (You could have a glass of red wine instead, if you like.) And then—and that's the real reason for my invitation—I'd like to give you something. The handover won't take longer than five seconds. And then, my dear, you'll be free to go.

One minute later

Re:

What do you want to give me?

Two minutes later

Re:

Something personal. A souvenir. I promise you, there won't be any grief, no scene, no tears. Just a slug of whisky, a little handover. And then: good-bye. It won't hurt. Relative to the situation, I mean. So, come on then!

Forty seconds later

Re:

When?

Thirty seconds later

Re:

At eight?

Forty seconds later

Re:

Eight. O.K. Eight o'clock.

Thirty seconds later

Re:

See you at eight, then!

Forty seconds later

Re:

See you at eight!

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Two weeks later

Subject: Signs of life

Hello Emmi, how are you? (It would be nice to be able to use a different phrase for once. But what?) It would do me a world of good to know that you're all right. I think about you often. Whenever … I think you know what I mean. Thank you for that!

Leo.

Three days later

Re:

Hi Leo,

Good to hear from you. Did you feel like it, then?

Did you really feel like it? Or was it just the usual silence-breaking, separation-pitying, conscience-assuaging, distance-defying crap? Yes, Leo, I'm all right. (Why do you assume, by the way, that the best I can feel is “all right”?) Well, the truth is I don't feel all right enough to ask in return how you are. I don't want to know. Because it wouldn't do me a world of good if I knew that things were going twice as well for you as “all right.” And I'm assuming that's the case.

Long-distance greetings from,

Emmi

One week later

Subject: Now

Dear Emmi,

Yes, I did rather feel like it.

Night,

Leo

One day later

Re:

Glad to hear it!

Night,

Emmi

Two weeks later

Subject: What a coincidence!

Hi Leo,

Is “Pam” by any chance a tall, slim, long-legged blond beauty? A bit like your sister, Adrienne? About my age? Two or three years younger, maybe? My accountant's office is around the corner from your house. (No, Leo, that's not why I chose him!) And just as I was passing your front door, one of those lanky, I mean, one of those very tall, good-looking women with pale makeup shot out of it, like a mail-order model on a shoot for a winter collection. She was so American-looking, the long neck, the tan-colored shoes, the bulky, square handbag, the chiseled chin and tornado-like jaw movements, the way she chewed gum. I bet that's how people learn how to chew gum in Boston. It must have been “Pam.” You can imagine how surprised I was! It's such a small world, don't you think?

BW,

Emmi

Three days later

Subject: Pissed off?

Are you pissed off with me, Leo? Don't worry, my next meeting with the accountant isn't for another six months.

One hour later

Dear Emmi,

Obviously I can't demand that you do (or don't do) anything. But I would ask you to refrain from making any more purely coincidental accountant-related reconnaissance trips to my area. What good does it do?

Best wishes,

Leo

P.S. Pamela never chews gum, neither in the North American style, South American style, nor in the style of anywhere else in the world, for that matter.

Three hours later

Re:

It must have been a mouthful of cheeseburger, then. Chill out a little, Leo. You really can't take a joke, can you? So what if I recognize “Pam”? So what if I know her? We might like each other, we might become the best of friends, go on holiday together, compare our diary entries on Leo Leike. And then the three of us could live together in a house-share. Or the five of us, and I could look after the children in the evenings … O.K., I'll stop now. I don't think you're finding any of this particularly amusing, are you? Nor am I, to tell the truth, when I get right down to it.

Wishing you pleasant, undisturbed days with plenty of nice terrace time at flat 15.

Your

Emmi

P.S. I'm going on vacation!

One week later

Subject: The seventh wave

Hello Leo,

I'm sitting on my balcony in Playa de Alojera on La Gomera, looking out over the pebbly cove with its black sand and salty tongues of surf, far out to sea and farther still, all the way to the horizon separating light blue from dark, sky from water. You can't imagine how beautiful it is here. You two should definitely come sometime. It's as if this place was created especially for people who have just fallen in love.

Why am I writing to you? Because I feel like it. And because I don't want to wait for the seventh wave in silence. Yes, here people tell the story of the indomitable seventh wave. The first six are predictable and evenly spaced. Each determines the next, each is created on the back of the other; there are no surprises. They're in rhythm. Six approaches, however different they appear when looked at from afar, six approaches—and always the same destination.