Love Virtually (17 page)

One minute later

Re: Leo?

But why
did
you talk about all those things? I thought you wanted to go on a pub crawl, like in the old days.

Three minutes later

Re: Leo?

You can't bring back the old days. They're called old for a reason. New days can never be like the old ones. And if you try to make them like that, you'll come across as old and jaded, like those people who long for them. We shouldn't always look back to the old days. Anybody who does is old and backward looking. Shall I tell you something? I wanted nothing more than to come home—to Leo.

Fifty seconds later

Re: Leo?

It's great that I've now become your home.

Two minutes later

Re: Leo?

Seriously, Leo, what do you think of me and Bernhard, after all Mia and I have told you? Please be honest!

Four minutes later

Re: Leo?

Gosh! What sort of question is that for half past midnight? And anyway, I thought you were trying to keep your “real life” at a safe distance from me. But since you're asking, I think you have a smoothly functioning marriage.

Forty-five seconds later

Re: Leo?

“Smoothly functioning”: is that some kind of snide comment? Is there something wrong with that? Why do all my closest friends seem to be telling me that a “smoothly functioning” relationship is a bad relationship?

Six minutes later

Re: Leo?

It wasn't meant to be a snide comment, Emmi. If something functions smoothly it can't be all that bad, can it? It's only bad when it stops functioning smoothly. Then you'd have to ask yourself, “Why isn't it functioning smoothly anymore?” Or, “Could it possibly function any better?” But I really think I'm the wrong person to talk to about Bernhard and your marriage. Mia's probably the wrong person too. But Bernhard, yes, I think Bernhard would be the right one.

Thirteen minutes later

Subject: (no subject)

Hey, Emmi, have you gone to sleep?

Thirty-five seconds later

Re:

I really want to hear your voice, Leo.

Twenty-five seconds later

Re:

I'm sorry?

Forty seconds later

Re:

I really want to hear your voice.

Three minutes later

Re:

Do you really? How do you imagine we might do that? Should I make a recording and send it to you? What do you want me to say? Would a microphone test do—“one, two, three, testing”? Or should I sing a song? (If I happen to hit the right note, I can sustain it and it doesn't sound all that bad.) You could accompany me on the piano . . .

Fifty-five seconds later

Re:

Now, Leo! I REALLY WANT TO HEAR YOUR VOICE NOW. Please grant me this one wish. Call me. 83 17 433. Leave a message on the answering machine. Please, please, please! Just a few words.

One minute later

Re:

And sometime I'd love to hear
you
say those sentences you write in caps. Do you scream them? Are they ear piercing? Shrieking?

Two minutes later

Re:

O.K., O.K., I have the following suggestion: you phone me and read one of your emails to the answering machine. For example, “Do you really? How do you imagine we might do that? Should I make a recording and send it to you? What do you want me to say? . . .” etc., etc. Then I'll call you back and say: “Now, Leo! I REALLY WANT TO HEAR YOUR VOICE NOW. Please grant me this one wish . . .” and so on.

Three minutes later

Re:

I've got an alternate suggestion. Agreed, but let's leave it till tomorrow. I've got to get my voice back in order first. And I'm exhausted. Answering machine session tomorrow evening at 9 o'clock—with a good glass of wine. Is that O.K.?

One minute later

Re:

O.K. Good-rest-of-night, Leo. Thanks for being there. Thanks for having intercepted me. Thanks for existing. Thank you!

Forty-five seconds later

Re:

And now I'm chucking my laptop out of bed! Good night.

The following evening

Subject: Our voices

Hi Emmi,

Are we going to go through with this?

Three minutes later

Re: Our voices

Definitely. I can't wait.

Two minutes later

Re: Our voices

What if you don't like my voice? What if you're shocked? If you think, “Is that how the guy spoke to me the whole time?” (Cheers! I'm drinking a French
vin de pays
.)

A minute and a half later

Re: Our voices

How about the other way round? What if you don't like
my
voice? What if it makes your toes curl? You might not want to talk to me anymore. (Chin-chin! I'm having whisky, if that's all right with you. I'm too nervous for wine.)

Two minutes later

Re: Our voices

Let's use the two emails we've just sent each other. O.K.?

Three minutes later

Re: Our voices

But they're quite difficult emails, they're mostly questions. When you're talking to someone for the first time, questions are quite hard to say out loud. Particularly for women. Women are at a vocal disadvantage with questions, because their voices have to go up at the end of a sentence, i.e., they're forced up into the higher registers. And if they're nervous as well, they might make gurgling noises. Do you know what I mean? Gurgling sounds stupid.

One minute later

Re: Our voices

LET'S START NOW, EMMI! I'll go first. You speak in five minutes. Let's email each other when we're finished. And we won't listen to the answering machine UNTIL AFTERWARD. Understood?

Thirty seconds later

Re: Our voices

Hang on!!! Your phone number, if you don't mind.

Thirty-five seconds later

Re: Our voices

Oh, sorry. 45 20 737. Right, I'm going now.

Nine minutes later

Re: Our voices

Done. Your turn!

Seven minutes later

Re: Our voices

I'm done. Who's going to listen first?

Fifty seconds later

Re: Our voices

Both at the same time.

Forty seconds later

Re: Our voices

O.K. And afterward we'll email each other.

Fourteen minutes later

Re: Our voices

Why haven't you written, Leo? If you don't like my voice, you could at least tell me to my face (or in-box, rather). I think the choice of messages put me, as a woman, at a disadvantage. And that rasping tone isn't me, it's the whisky. And if you don't write to me now I'll finish the whole bottle! And if I get alcohol poisoning I'll send you the hospital bill!

Two minutes later

Re: Our voices

Emmi, I'm speechless. I mean, I'm astonished. I imagined you to sound quite different. Tell me, do you always talk like that, or did you disguise your voice?

Forty-five seconds later

Re: Our voices

Talk like what?

One minute later

Re: Our voices

Unbelievably erotically! Like the host of some love and relationships program.

Seven minutes later

Re: Our voices

That sounds all right, I could live with that! You don't sound so bad yourself. The way you talk is much bolder than the way you write. Your voice is really smoky. My favorite part was “Is that how the guy spoke to me the whole time?” Especially the words “guy” and “spoke.” It's the “y” in “guy.” Your “y” is quite sensational, it's not an “ai” or a “ye,” in fact it's hardly a sound at all. More of a murmur, a whisper, as if you're exhaling the smoke of a joint through your teeth. I think we underuse the letter “y,” don't you? You should use the “y” as often as you can. And in “spoke,” it's the “spo” bit I liked. It's wicked, the way you say it, and damn sexy, like a challenge to . . . well, who cares what, but it's a challenge that you would accept. “Spo,” at least the way you say it, could be the name of a new potency pill. Not Viagra, but Spo, with the voice of Leo Leike—it could be a big hit.

Four minutes later

Re: Our voices

What stunned me most of all, Emmi, was how you say the word “toes.” I've never heard such a graceful, soft, dusky, clear “toes” before, and I'd never have imagined you would say it like that. No shrieking, no gurgling, no crowing. A really beautiful, soft, elegant, sleek, gentle, tiptoed “toes.” And “whisky,” that sounded really classy too. The “wh” like a rope swishing through the air; the “ky” like a key to your . . . hmm . . . bedroom. (My bottle of red wine's almost finished, can you tell?)

One minute later

Re: Our voices

Keep drinking, Leo! I love it when you're a bit tipsy. That and hearing your voice turn me on . . .

Twenty minutes later

Re: Our voices

Leo? Where are you?

Ten minutes later

Re: Our voices

Hold on. I'm just opening another bottle. This French
vin de
pays
is good, Emmi! We don't drink French
vin de pays
often enough. Not often enough, and not enough of it. If we drank more French
vin de pays
more often, we'd all be happier and we'd sleep better too. Your voice is very erotic, Emmi. I like your voice. Marlene had a very erotic voice too, but different. Marlene is much colder than you, Emmi. Marlene's voice is deep, but cold. Emmi's voice is deep and warm. And she says, “whisky, whisky, whisky.” Let's drink one more to us! I'm on French red. I'm going to read all your emails again, Emmi, and they'll sound completely different. Until now I've been reading all your emails with the wrong voice. I've been reading them all with Marlene's voice. For me, Emmi was Marlene, Marlene at the very beginning, when everything was still possible. All there was, was love—nothing else. Everything was possible. How are you, Emmi?

Five minutes later

Re: Our voices

Oh no! Do you have to drink so fast, Leo? Can't you hang on a bit longer? If your head's already hit the keyboard I'll just say good night, my friend. It's wonderful being with you. Wonderful, but sometimes—and especially when it's just getting interesting—distinctly short (mainly because of alcohol). Ah well, at least I have the answering machine message. Before I go to bed I'll treat myself to a few more rounds of Leo Leike's “Is that how the guy spoke to me the whole time?” I'm sure it will help against the north wind.

Twelve minutes later

Re: Our voices

Don't go to bed yet, Emmi! I'm still awake, I'm feeling fine. Come to me, Emmi! Let's have another drink. Whisper “whisky, whisky, whisky” into my ear. Say “toes.” Show them to me. I'll say, “So those are the famous Emmi toes of the famous Emmi feet with the famous size 6 1/2 shoes. I'll only put my hand on your shoulder, I promise. Just a hug. Just a kiss. Just a few kisses, nothing more. Totally harmless kisses. Emmi, I have to know what you smell like. I've got your voice in my ears, now I need your smell in my nose. I'm being serious, Emmi. Come over to my place. I'll pay for the taxi. No, you don't want me to do that. Who cares who pays for the taxi? Hochleitnergasse 17, flat 15. Come over! Or do you want me to come to your place? I could come over to yours! Just a sniff. Just a kiss. No sex. You're married— unfortunately. No sex, I promise. Bernhard, I promise! I just want to smell your skin, Emmi. I really don't want to know what you look like. We won't turn the lights on. Completely in the dark. Just a few kisses, Emmi. Is that so awful? Is that cheating? What is cheating? An email? Or a voice? Or a sniff? Or a kiss? I want to be with you now. I want to have my arms around you. Just one night together with Emmi. I'll close my eyes. I don't have to know what you look like. I just need to smell, kiss, and feel you, very close. I'm laughing with happiness. Is that cheating, Emmi?

Five minutes later

Re: Our voices

“Is that how the guy spoke to me the whole time?” Night-night, Leo. It's good to be with you. Astonishingly good. Amazingly good!!! I could get used to it. I have gotten used to it.

CHAPTER EIGHT

The following morning

Subject: (no subject)

Good morning, Leo. Bad news. I've got to go to the South Tirol. Bernhard's in the hospital. The doctors think it was some kind of heatstroke. I've got to drive down and fetch the kids. I've got a headache (too much whisky!). Thanks for a lovely evening. I don't know what “cheating” is either. All I know is that I need you, Leo, I need you very badly. And I need my family too. I'm off now. I'll be in touch again tomorrow. I hope you feel O.K. after all that
vin de pays
. . .

The following day

Subject: Everything O.K.?

Why no message from Leo? I just wanted to let you know that we're back, and Bernhard was able to come home too. It was a circulatory collapse, but he's already back on his feet. Please email me!!

Two hours later

Subject: To Mr. Leike