November Sky (5 page)

“Laura, I’m not afraid of death. Every one of us must die. Some sooner, some later, depending on when our time is up. It can happen anytime. But until then, I want to live an intense life on the edge, to feel with every cell in my body that I exist. I love thrills and hate monotony. I volunteered for the paratroops in the military. I’ve got my parachuting license and I’m still in a club.”

He turned to me, enthusiasm glistening in his eyes.

“Parachuting is an insane experience every time. The thrill when you jump out of a plane and go into free fall, and then this incomparable feeling of hovering above the earth when the chute opens—it’s indescribably beautiful. That’s pure freedom and adventure.”

He took a long drink from his water bottle and looked at me eagerly.

“If you want, I’ll take you along to our next jump. Anyone can make a tandem jump with an experienced teacher. Everybody who’s taken the plunge so far has loved it.”

I pretended to be interested, but deep down I was terrified. I would never get into a plane, let alone drift in the air of my own free will . . . I had acrophobia. It took a lot of self-negotiating just to walk near a balcony railing. He’d really found the perfect match in me! How does it go? Opposites attract? My need for security, uniformity, and the most manageable life possible, without any surprises, versus Nick’s insouciance, spontaneity, and risk-taking—I couldn’t imagine we’d ever be able to reconcile all that, even as mere acquaintances. And nothing else was possible anyway. I felt I had to let him know this here and now.

I wiped my hands on a paper napkin and jumped up as Nick eyed me with surprise.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to develop our chance acquaintance any further. We’re too different. It’s better if we just pack up and you take me home.”

I averted my eyes and started clearing the containers and plates scattered over the blanket. Nick jumped up lithely and took my arm.

“Hey, did I say something wrong? Why do you want to go home right away? We
did
want to go for a walk. Come on, it’s ten minutes away from Josefsthal by car, and there’s an idyllic hiking trail with sensational waterfalls. Besides, there’s a lot you don’t know about me yet.”

He threw his hands into the air and then put his hand over his heart with a beseeching look. “Laura, don’t leave me now. You’re breaking my heart!”

I had to laugh. I just couldn’t figure him out. Nick appeared to be the typical lady-killer, drove a showy car and raced around irresponsibly, and yet he didn’t in any way seem to be a superficial, unscrupulous sort of womanizer. He had style and a sense of humor, and he’d invested a pile of time and energy in seeing me again and presenting me with a few unforgettable hours. And strangely enough, he still wasn’t tired of my company. I cleared my throat. In my heart, I knew I did not want to go home at all.

“All right, then, we can drive over to those waterfalls. But I want to find out who you are at last, and what else you do besides drive a Corvette and jump out of airplanes.”

Half an hour later I had the picture but still felt completely confused. I also felt incredibly stupid for not recognizing him. But how could I? Early-evening TV series were not my thing, and I’d never seen the films he was in. I rarely went to the movies and watched TV even less. I preferred the cinema in my brain that came from reading. Nick confessed that his full name was Dominick Vanderstätt. For the past two years he’d been a star in a very successful TV series with the promising title,
(Not) A Nerd to Love
. He’d also had numerous film roles, although he’d never seen the inside of a theater school in his whole life.

“I took economics at university. My parents own a film production company and I was to join it after graduation. But one of the directors they worked with convinced me to take some screen tests. They were looking for a lead actor in a new series and wanted a face that wasn’t ‘used up.’ It sounded exciting to play a character other than myself. I just gave it a shot, and bang! got the part. Since then I’ve been playing this uncommunicative, up-tight computer freak, whose boss is in love with him. She gets him to talk, buys him new clothes, and sends him off to the barber. But the whole thing bites her in the ass when suddenly every woman has the hots for the guy. We’ve just finished the second season. The ending’s still open.”

I vaguely recalled a photograph of the character “Herbert the Nerd,” which I’d seen in a newspaper I thumbed through at the hairdresser’s. The left-wing young man with the fuzzy beard, the dreadful haircut, and the helpless look behind giant dark-framed glasses bore no resemblance at all to the Nick walking beside me. Apart from his talent, he must have a top-notch makeup artist. Now I understood the weird incident with the traffic lady: He’d given her his autograph. And Chris, my faithless, sneaky friend, must have instantly known when she saw him that her man-shy colleague had somehow expedited a film star into the ditch. Stupid cow that I was, I thought she’d almost had a heart attack only because of his good looks. Just wait. I’d give her an earful.

We were walking slowly uphill alongside a brook, with small and large waterfalls splashing everywhere. I couldn’t have dreamed up a more romantic setting.

Nick confessed why he’d concealed his identity for so long. “I found it downright refreshing to meet an attractive female who didn’t freeze up or giggle in embarrassment, want my autograph, or hit on me without any inhibition. My very first thought, after I got up out of the ditch in a rage and saw you standing on the shoulder in your chic dress, was this: Oh, God, a woman! She’ll either start bawling immediately because of the accident, or, if she recognizes me, she’ll fawn over me and text her friends. But I quickly realized that you didn’t have a clue who I was and were definitely not the type to burst into tears. Instead, you were as pissed off as I was and gave me a proper dressing down. I couldn’t stay angry. You looked ridiculously cute in spite of your fury. Of course, the pièce de résistance was your profound knowledge of car makes.”

He gave me an almost embarrassed look. “I couldn’t get you out of my head, and I could have kissed that mechanic in the shop when he gave me your address and said you were single. And then today, when your reaction was fairly cool and you didn’t come rushing outside right away, I really appreciated having to make an effort with a woman. But I was afraid you’d refuse to come with me.”

He stopped and held out his hand. The path had grown steep and was cluttered with roots and stones. My medium-height summer shoes were not particularly right for this walk. “Hold on tight so you don’t slip!”

When the path leveled off again, we were still hand in hand, and I found the feeling immensely beautiful—his big right hand fit quite naturally with my left one. At the same time, my inner warning light was flashing red. This man was about to break my heart, if not so brutally and intentionally as Tim did. My appearance on Saturday night was definitely at its best coming from the wedding, but I couldn’t imagine he’d still find me cute in more intimate moments. And given his job and what he’d just told me, I could only assume there were many female partners available to him, all of whom were probably flawless.

I certainly wasn’t one of those long-legged gazelles I’d always secretly admired: the tall, willowy, elegant, confidently stylish women, who I imagined wore dainty lace underwear beneath their designer rags, and who knew exactly their effect on men and had no problem undressing in front of them.

I didn’t want to impress any men. That’s not to say I didn’t pay attention to my outward appearance. I had a job where I had to present myself as convincing, competent, and likable, so I used makeup, went to the hairdresser and aesthetician, and wore fashionable clothes that hid my problem areas. By necessity, I’d learned to be an expert and knew all the pertinent tips from the fashion magazines. But I didn’t consider myself a woman who turned a man’s head. I’ve never managed to accept my naked body and haven’t gone to a public swimming pool since that disastrous trip to Croatia. I wanted to spare people the awful sight of my butt and thighs. When swimming in the summer, I usually went alone on my bicycle to one of the isolated lakes in the area, where there’d be no danger of anyone seeing me in my bathing suit. I only took sunbaths in the seclusion of my balcony. Tim had done a great job on me. But how could I convince Nick that we had no future together without telling him about that horrible experience? His voice snapped me out of my brooding self-torture.

“Is my being here the reason for that grim face? Or are you shocked that I’m really Herbert the Nerd? No, I’ve got it: You don’t like hiking. I’ll sing a little song to cheer you up.”

He started off with made-up words to an oldie by the Boomtown Rats and sang with amazing accuracy, “Tell my why she don’t like hiking,” and then broke off. “Or you prefer something in German?”

And he belted out from Schubert’s
Die schöne Müllerin
, “Wandering is the miller’s joy.” Also with a revamped text—“Wandering brings our Laura frustration. She no like perambulation”—and that gave me a severe laughing fit. I stopped walking and gasped for air. I begged him to lay off.

“Only if you keep laughing so nicely. You look terrific when you’re happy.”

And with those words he pulled me closer to him. I leaned on his chest for several seconds, smelling his exciting scent—a mixture of aftershave, deodorant, and a trace of fresh male sweat—and enjoyed the feel of his hand on my back. I looked into his eyes and observed that a gorgeous amber color flickered around his dark pupils. Oblivious of my surroundings I sank into his tender gaze. As his lips were approaching my mouth, I woke up from my hypnotic state. I stepped back in near panic and promptly caught my heel in the rocks. I’d have hit the ground if Nick hadn’t held me tight. Thank God his searching look was not angry!

“I’m gradually getting the feeling you don’t find me simpatico. You’d rather fall on the ground than let me kiss you. Or have I got bad breath?”

I felt like a complete idiot. Out of pure embarrassment, I gulped and stared intently at the rocks underfoot. I finally pulled myself together and looked him directly in his questioning face.

“Nick, I . . .”

I still wasn’t clear about whether I should really tell him the reason for my contradictory behavior. He must have taken me for a terrible prude. But since he showed no trace of wounded vanity and seemed really concerned that I didn’t sink limply into his arms, I owed him an explanation. I took a deep breath and told him the whole ghastly story about Tim and me, including his remark about my physical inadequacies.

“Since then, I’ve never let a man come near me. Nick, it’s really not your fault. I think you’re tremendously appealing. But I couldn’t bear falling for it again.”

After finishing my confession, I was prepared for him either to laugh at me or think I was crazy. In any case, I assumed he’d want to whisk me off home and I would have guaranteed he’d never want to see me again. As I spoke, his face got increasingly dark, and when I finished, he clenched his fists.

“What is this asshole’s name and where exactly does he live?”

With that degree of anger on Nick’s face, Tim was in acute danger of losing his life, and I was glad to be able to say honestly that, as far as I knew, he’d flown off to Sydney after our trip and still lived in Australia. I didn’t hate him anymore; he was of no consequence to me. But the psychological damage his words and behavior had caused lingered. I astonished myself by entrusting Nick with the painful secret I’d so carefully guarded until now, and felt grateful that he didn’t mock me for it. His affectionate gaze did me good. He cautiously reached for my hand again.

“It’s something to be proud of, the fact that you got into my car today. May I have your cell number now?”

I gave it to him and with secret pride stored the numbers he dictated in my address book; he threw in the casual remark, “It’s my unlisted number.” Then he looked at his watch with regret.

“We should slowly work our way back. I’ve got a business dinner date with my agent.”

We walked back the same way, and Nick almost scared me to death when he suddenly ran ahead, skillfully climbed a thick tree trunk, gingerly stood up in a fork, and then balanced himself over the stream on a strong branch. Terrified, I held my breath. He stopped right over the stream that was filled with jagged boulders and began to bob up and down as he beamed down at me from up there. I was petrified and stared at him in a state of shock. He could slip any second. I implored him to come back down. He landed on the path in one jump.

“You were afraid? Nothing’s going to happen to me.”

“How do you know? You could have . . .” I stopped and shook my head. He flashed me a carefree smile. That was probably just a little demonstration of what he meant by “going to the edge” and “thrills.” I didn’t get it. To me, playing with your life and health was dangerous nonsense. But I didn’t say anything so as not to appear stuffy and ridiculous.

He made no further moves on the way to the car, which made me only partly happy. As we drove home, he regaled me with funny stories about shooting the series and anecdotes about his colleagues. We arrived at my apartment building far too quickly. Nick got out, held the door open for me, and scanned the facade of the unimpressive row house where my cozy second-floor apartment was. He regretfully refused my spontaneous and completely innocent invitation to come on up and have a drink.