Wait for Me in Vienna (20 page)

25

The temperature was hovering just above freezing on an April evening, and all was calm in the city. Life was good for Vienna’s 1.73 million inhabitants.

Thomas decided to go for another run. He’d already had to replace his running shoes once this season, which wasn’t a good sign. Outside of work and jogging, he didn’t do anything else.
You’re pretty damn pathetic
, he thought to himself relatively often, but it didn’t seem to change anything. Running helped him clear his head; with sneakers on his feet, he felt freer with every step. Running was easy; very little could go wrong.

It was icy cold, far too cold for April; as he ran, Thomas recalled the New Year’s Eve he’d spent alone at home, despite tons of party invitations. He’d had no desire whatsoever to go anywhere. It didn’t make any sense to make a big fuss about having a happy New Year’s, because he didn’t believe that his new year would be all that happy. So he’d fallen asleep before midnight in front of the TV, a whiskey glass in his hand as tipsy revelers danced merrily on the screen.

Thomas coughed; he knew he should really slow down a bit, but he was fixated on a high-intensity training program he’d started. So he ignored the creeping cough and kept pushing; nothing short of complete collapse would dissuade him from his training goals. He gave it his all, going even faster. A feeling of satisfaction flowed through him before he hit the wall, before his body’s limits could stop him. His masochist tendencies were evident to all but himself.

Johanna left her apartment to meet Paolo at the theater. Johanna looked gorgeous, wearing her velvet dress, beautiful brown boots that she had bought on sale, warm black leggings, and a coat. She’d been thinking about Thomas a lot that day; she wasn’t sure why. The thoughts just popped up in her head. It didn’t really surprise her when she thought about him again now, even though she didn’t want to. She thought of him most when she saw loving couples, prepared a Stefanie meatloaf, drank gin and tonics, heard salsa music, hung out with Martin, or inadvertently heard Travis’s music. She even thought about him when she brushed her teeth; there was hardly a moment when she didn’t think of him, and there didn’t seem a lot she could do about it.

Johanna turned the corner and stopped at the window of a spice shop she’d never noticed before; inside, there were small glass jars of saffron, pepper, nutmeg, sea salts from various parts of the world, paprika, and other colorful spices. She looked at the building number and made a mental note to come back. As she did, Thomas was running as fast as he could down the sidewalk on the other side of the street.

He glanced up at the spice shop, and at just that moment, Johanna noticed him. Their eyes met and Thomas pulled up short, staring at her from across the street. He waved hesitantly in her direction. She didn’t wave back, didn’t move an inch, but neither did she run away.
A good sign
, thought Thomas. He let a red-and-black streetcar pass between them, hoping he hadn’t just imagined her. When it was gone, she was still there.

“Johanna,” he said breathlessly, after he crossed the street to speak to her.

“Thomas!”

They looked at each other like they had at the salsa club, at the Travis concert, like they had the first time they’d laid eyes on each other at the cooking school. Johanna averted her gaze as the memories of the disastrous birthday party caught up with her.

“I’ve wanted to talk to you for so long,” he said.

When Johanna moved away, he stepped closer.

“I wanted to break up with Clarissa back then. Honestly, I was going to do it on Sunday. She flew into town just before the party, and I didn’t want to disrupt the celebration by telling her right then.”

Johanna was silent; she didn’t yell or curse at him like she’d intended to. She looked at him and found she wasn’t able to say a thing. She took a step away and then several more. Thomas followed behind, pleading with her as she walked faster and faster.

“I’ve been thinking about you this whole time. I miss you desperately. I would have loved to . . .” Then he paused.

She stopped and shook her head.

“Johanna, please, you have no idea how much I’ve missed you. We didn’t know each other for very long, but it seems like an eternity for me, as if I’ve known you forever. I miss your smile, your presence, the way you move, your facial expressions, how you wrinkle up your nose when you don’t like something . . . I love to read the last text you wrote me, that said you definitely wanted to see me again . . .” He took her hand.

“But if I can’t trust you, why should I have any feelings for you?” she asked, and stared at the ground as if she was searching for cracks on the sidewalk.

“I swear that you can trust me. I’ll prove it to you,” he said as he pulled his cap off his head.

“Put that back on, you’re going to catch a cold,” she said, and he complied immediately.

He stood in front of her, sweating. Johanna didn’t like his beard, and his body looked thin and frail. He didn’t look like the old Thomas at all.

“Please, Johanna. I’ve barely survived these last few months!”

“Well, how do you think I felt after everything you did to me?” she cried as tears welled up in her eyes.

Thomas touched her face, and suddenly the overpowering intimacy they’d lost took root again. It felt like they could start anew. It felt like there had never been any pain between them, like there’d only been the cooking classes, the concert, and the salsa dancing; no Clarissa, no birthday party. Everything suddenly felt so familiar that Johanna could no longer submit to reason, because her heart spoke a different language, giving her commands, which for the first time seemed sensible; she listened to her heart for the first time. They moved closer to each other and kissed tenderly. It was a cautious kiss, filled with uncertainty.

“I’ve missed you so much,” said Thomas.

Every muscle of Johanna’s body was tense. She didn’t know whether this was right or wrong.
But it feels right
, she thought as she breathed in the familiar scent of his body, and she thought of dancing with him at the Salsaria again. She relaxed and fell into his arms, then looked at her watch.

“Paolo’s waiting,” she exclaimed.

“Go then,” Thomas said with a smile. “We’ll meet again soon?”

“Yes.”

“Tomorrow?”

She looked at him and thought,
What did I just do?

Thomas’s expression was full of hope as if to say,
Please don’t let me down.

She couldn’t resist. She nodded, then hurried down the street.

Unbelievable
, Johanna thought, as she made her way toward Paolo and at the same time called his number.

“Paolo, I’m so sorry. I’m running late, but I’m on my way now. Can you pick up the tickets? I have to tell you about something totally weird that just happened—not actually weird, but really amazing!” she cried into the telephone.

From down the street, Thomas watched her go. He bent over and sighed in relief.

“What happened?” asked Paolo as Johanna turned the corner, panting. She hung up the phone when she spotted him, then leaned against the crumbling walls of a building, struggling for breath.

“I’m sorry,” she said, gesticulating wildly.

“Don’t worry, calm down. The play doesn’t start for another ten minutes. We’ll be right on time.”

“I saw Thomas.”

“Thomas? What? Where?
That
Thomas?”

“Just now, and we even kissed!”

“Really, Johanna?”

“Yes, he was jogging. I ran into him on the way to meet you.”

“Just like that? Just ran into him? So what happens now? And you guys kissed?”

“Yes. And it was so intense. The whole moment and the kiss.”

Paolo grinned.

“Well, actually the kiss was a little strange, but we did kiss and that’s what counts!”

“What did he say? Did you guys have a chance to talk?”

“Just for a minute. He said a lot, considering how fast it all went. And then I couldn’t resist. Oh, I’ve really missed him.”

“No kidding, silly,” Paulo said as he took Johanna by the arm. “You knew each other only for a short time, but the way you talked about him, I could tell you were madly in love . . . um, you still are, right?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Now what? What’s going to happen with you two?”

“I don’t know, but we’re meeting again soon. Paolo, I’m going to see him again.”

Right then, the theater bell summoned them for the third and final time.

26

At six o’clock on Saturday morning, Thomas was up and about. He shaved his beard off, then he made an appointment to get a haircut. That was his plan. This was the end of Neanderthal Thomas. He’d been thinking all night about what he could do for his second first date with Johanna. He racked his brain and eventually settled on the unimaginative but effective idea of going out to dinner. He couldn’t call her yet; it was too early. He had to wait. So, he made himself a proper breakfast of ham and eggs and tried to read the newspaper on his tablet, but he couldn’t focus; thoughts of her were buzzing around in his head. He had to ease his mind somehow. He wanted to write everything down; he wanted to put into words how relieved and happy he felt. Thomas was in love, and he had been in love for a long time. He grabbed a notepad and started to write.

All the things I would do for you, my dear Johanna:

1. Hike up Mount Everest without an oxygen tank. (I would climb it if I could)
   
2. Shave my legs
   
3. Sing lullabies until you can’t bear to hear them anymore
   
4. Accompany you for hours on end when you go shopping (luckily, you’re not the shopping type, but I would do it for you if you were)
   
5. Give you a massage until I got tendinitis
   
6. Dye my hair blonde or pink or any color you want
   
7. Pick you up anywhere and take you anywhere you want to go
   
8. Never let you out of my sight
   
9. Be sad when you’re sad and happy when you’re happy
   
10. Go bungee jumping
    
11. Watch
    Sex and the City
    ,
    Twilight
    , or
    Buffy the Vampire Slayer
    with you
    
12. Warm your feet when we go skiing
    
13. Bring you flowers I picked myself, just because I’m thinking of you
    

Thomas’s cell phone rang, so he put down his pen and closed the notebook. It was his mother calling, so this could take some time. He decided to continue the list later.

Johanna’s night was just as short on sleep. She was so excited that, since seven in the morning, she’d been peering expectantly at her cell phone every five minutes. She went through the phone’s settings a few times to make sure that she had decent reception and the ringtone could be easily heard—it was set on the maximum volume. Then she prepared some peppermint tea.

It was already light outside, and the sun struggled to peek through the cloud cover. Not even cloudy weather could bring her down today, though. She looked outside. Her apartment was a fifth-floor walk-up. This was okay because of the bargain she’d gotten on the rent—plus, all those stairs were great for toning her butt. From her living room window, she could see directly into a church’s small courtyard, and every weekend she’d watch newlyweds celebrating. She figured she’d see even more weddings there in the summer, because the chapel looked very romantic. She often sat at that window, soaking in the hustle and bustle of Saturday morning and/or cheerful afternoon wedding parties as she sipped a cup of tea or coffee. She would often ask herself,
How long does love last? Until death do us part?
That was a rather long time, considering life expectancy these days was over eighty years.

Thomas made his way to the hairstylist.

“We haven’t seen you in a long time. We were getting worried,” said the receptionist.

She took Thomas’s jacket and cap and freaked out a little when she saw his wildly overgrown hair—completely understandable, since she was so well-groomed herself. She could have been a walking, talking advertisement for the salon instead of its receptionist.

“Yeah, I had a lot to do . . . to be completely honest, I kind of let myself go, as you can obviously see.” Thomas gave her a charming smile, a smile that few people could resist. The old Thomas was back.

The assistant led him over to the sink area and plied him with coffee and magazines. Thomas checked the time; after getting his hair cut and styled, he was going to call Johanna.

She stood under the shower as the warm water streamed out. She put her cell phone on the washing machine, right in her line of sight. She soaped up, looked over at her phone, adjusted the shower nozzle, looked again, washed off the shower gel, peered at her phone again, then shampooed her hair . . . and of course that’s when her cell phone rang. She stuck her shampooed head out of the shower, grabbed a towel, and rushed over to pick it up.

“Hello,” she said, trying to sound casual. But her voice sound croaky, and she almost dropped the phone on the wet floor.

“Hello, it’s me,” he said. Pause . . .”Thomas!”
Doesn’t she recognize me?

“Hi.”

“Did you sleep well?”

Johanna replied in the affirmative, a little white lie.
I lay awake all night; I was too excited to sleep.

“I want to take you out to dinner tonight,” he continued as he stroked his newly shorn hair nervously.

She was distracted momentarily as she adjusted her towel, which had almost slipped off.

Why won’t she answer? Maybe dinner isn’t such a good idea? I should have been more original; I knew it.

“Yes, I would love to.”
He wants to take me out for dinner!

“I’ll pick you up, then. How does seven o’clock sound? I’ll make a reservation.”
Please say yes . . .

“Yes, that sounds perfect. Where are we going?” Johanna reached for another towel and threw it on the puddle she was making on the floor.

“Let me surprise you.”

He wants to surprise me, oh . . .”
Should I wear something special, or does it not matter?”
Oh my God, where are we going? I hope nowhere too fancy.

“Whatever you like; you don’t have to dress up. Just wear whatever you feel comfortable in.”

Maybe my red dress . . . It looked fabulous.
Johanna giggled nervously; she was half-naked and talking on the phone.

“Good. Seven o’clock it is.”

“Perfect, see you then. Oh, please send me your address. You don’t live with Martin anymore, right?”

“No, but I’ll send you a text. See you soon.”
Woo-hoo! We have a date.

“Bye, Johanna!”
Thank God, she said yes.

The phone call had sounded very calm and relaxed. They had both expected it to be different, especially after such a long time, and it wasn’t as smart and vibrant as something out of the movies; after all, neither of them had a script.

The rain lightly pelted Thomas’s windshield. He was on time, thanks to his navigation system, which led him easily to Johanna’s street. Without much traffic, it was only twelve minutes from his place. From a distance, he could see her already, but Johanna hadn’t spotted him yet. She didn’t know the kind of car he drove now, so she scrutinized each vehicle that drove by or stopped on her street. Thomas had exchanged the wrecked BMW for another one, the same model, but he didn’t get much for the wreck. He’d had to put down several thousand dollars and would be paying this one off for a while.

Johanna’s jacket was wet from the light drizzle. She stood nervously at the edge of the road, chewing her fingernails down to the quick, then reminded herself again that she should relax and focus on the car that was slowly approaching. Thomas wanted to get out, but then decided to just reach over and open the front passenger door from the driver’s side because she was already standing there.
Maybe I should’ve gotten out
, he thought. He greeted her uncertainly.

“Hello.”

“Hello.”

And then there was radio silence, the dreadful awkward pause. They didn’t know what to do; they didn’t exchange a little kiss, not even on the cheek. Johanna buckled up her seatbelt and Thomas put the car into first gear. The BMW rolled down the road. This new situation was something of a challenge. Being close to each other again felt normal, but it also didn’t. They had to straighten things out before they could figure out how to be together again. The past was like an old log that blocked their way; it wasn’t a huge log, but still an obstacle obstructing their ability to move forward.

“Let’s get out of town. I know a great restaurant a few miles outside city limits, on the Danube.”

“Sounds good.”

“How long have you lived in your new place?”

“For about two months. Living with Martin was just a way for me to jump-start my life. He and Linda needed their privacy again.”

Johanna scrutinized Thomas’s right hand on the gearshift; his veins stood out a little, his hands looked tender, but not feminine—soft but masculine.

“How’s Martin?”

When Thomas asked that question, it suddenly occurred to Johanna that what happened the night of the party had caused a rift not only been between her and Thomas, but also between the two best friends. She hadn’t spoken with Martin about it, never questioned him on the topic. He just naturally and lovingly looked after his sister’s best interests.

“He’s taken over a new project at work, and he’s having a lot of fun with it.” Johanna thought it would be best not to say much more and to ask Martin how he wanted to handle the situation.

“Linda’s okay, too?”

She nodded. “Yes, she’s doing very well.”

Thomas became aware of Johanna’s perfume when she got warm and took off her jacket. He had offered to turn on the AC, but she declined. Thomas wasn’t familiar with the perfume. It smelled like a flower garden. He imagined a large meadow in Provence filled with wild, colorful flowers; in the middle of the field, he and Johanna were having a picnic, drinking Champagne that she’d brought especially for the occasion. They lay on a white cotton blanket; she laid her head on his legs and he lightly massaged her temples. She smelled so good and smiled at him . . .

Where did such a corny fantasy come from?
he asked himself. It was really out of character for him; normally, he wasn’t prone to these romantic flights of fancy.

“So you never run into Martin?” Johanna asked, putting an end to Thomas’s ludicrous French daydream.

“Sometimes, at parties, but I haven’t been very social the last few months. I had too much work to do.” Thomas changed the subject; it hurt him that his relationship with Martin had been so strained. “And you, Johanna? What have you been doing?”

She began to tell him about her new duties in the cooking school, the move into her new place, and totally exciting weekends—none of which were really that spectacular. But she didn’t want Thomas to know that.

Thomas was jealous.
So she hasn’t missed me at all
, he thought to himself.
She was doing fine all along.

The restaurant was idyllic, with couples tucked in private booths; it seemed to be fully booked.

“Follow me,” said the hostess. She put them at the back of the restaurant, where they had a small separate area all to themselves.

The menu was promising, and the selection was limited to three or four dishes in each category: appetizer, entrée, main course, and dessert. The ingredients were 100 percent organic and seasonal.