Wait for Me in Vienna (21 page)

“I thought you might like it,” Thomas said.

“Yes, it looks lovely,” Johanna said demurely. She was excited. The restaurant was so charming, but she didn’t want to appear overly enthusiastic.

“What shall we drink?”

She looked at the wine list and opted for a glass of Sauvignon Blanc.

“The same for me,” said Thomas when he gave his order to the waiter. Then he buried his face in the menu, peeking at Johanna, who was perusing the menu, too. They took a moment to quietly contemplate the restaurant’s offerings.

“Did you find something?” asked Thomas after a while.

He didn’t actually need to look at the menu, because he’d already inspected countless restaurants, along with their menus, photos, and reviews, on the Internet. As a result of his obsessive research, he’d practically memorized the menu.

“Yes, I’m going to have the fish. And you?”

“I’m going to order the filet mignon.”

“Sounds good.”

They raised their glasses tentatively and tapped them together.

“Cheers.”

“Yes, cheers.”

Thomas wanted to toast to their future together, but he didn’t dare. There was a certain melancholy in the air, yet at the same time, an almost overpowering magnetic attraction between them.

“What have you been doing besides working?” asked Johanna as she spread the freshly made vegan tomato spread on a slice of bread.

“Like I said, mostly just working. Right now, we’re working on setting up a branch office in New York City. I’m responsible for the project, and there’s a lot that needs to get done. The plans for the new building have been drawn up, and problems are always arising. The whole thing has been running me ragged.” He bit into the bread smeared with tomato spread that Johanna had handed him.

“Sounds interesting. In New York, you said?”

Thomas nodded, and Johanna seemed quite pensive.

“Other than that, I’ve been running a lot. I started swimming again, which is especially fun in the wintertime. I haven’t been going out very much. I missed a ton of parties because of work, and I haven’t really felt like going out. Most evenings, I’ve just wanted to stay home and kick back.”

He sipped the Sauvignon Blanc, which he didn’t really like, but he wanted to follow Johanna’s lead. He wished he could have told her he’d been on a safari in Namibia, completely renovated his apartment, learned to play guitar, and invented something fantastic to benefit mankind, like a robot that could do all your work for you or a cure for AIDS. The only highlight of the last few months, however, was a four-day business trip to New York when he’d been too busy to see much of the city at all. In fact, his life had been rather pathetic, as he’d already noted.

Johanna relished the idea that he hadn’t gone out very much, that he had suffered, too. If she’d realized that earlier, she might not have spoken so enthusiastically about her “great” life when they were in the car. In reality, it hadn’t been nearly as great as she’d pretended. The waitress brought their food.

“Mmm, that looks delicious.”

“It makes me happy to see you happy,” Thomas said as he cut into his steak.

This statement embarrassed Johanna, and her face got red. “How are your parents?”

“Very well, thank you. Unfortunately, my mother’s friend passed away. It hit my parents pretty hard, but it hurt my mother the most.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you. They just left on vacation. It’ll be good for them to get away.” Thomas laughed suddenly. “They’re constantly on the go anyway, because they’re kind of complicated people. When it’s warm here, they fly someplace cold, and when it’s too cold here, they fly to Mauritius or the Maldives.”

“They have time and money, so why not?”

“Exactly,” he said.

Johanna had never met his parents, but on their first date at the café, it had been obvious that he was close with them. At that time, Johanna had been reticent in regard to her parents, and although Thomas had been curious and asked about them, she’d revealed little. Now that he knew she was Martin’s sister, Thomas was aware that her parents had died, but he didn’t know all the details, because Martin never talked about it very much. Johanna was looking forward to meeting his parents one day. Actually, she would have been thrilled to meet them back when she and Thomas met, because he spoke of them so fondly. But they had known each other for just a few short days then. Who knew where this evening would lead to; who knew what would happen after their lovely meal? She’d already decided to keep her heart at a safe distance. She held back the full force of her feelings to keep herself from being sucked into chaos once again.
This time I will be much more cautious
, she promised herself. However, it became increasingly difficult to stick to her plan, because the burden of the past became lighter with every passing minute she spent with Thomas. It became irrelevant, almost difficult to remember. Thomas put his hand on hers lightly, and she allowed him to do so. She enjoyed his warmth and the tingling feeling that pervaded her body.

“Your skin is so soft; it feels so good.”

“Yes, I use good hand cream,” Johanna said, giggling; she was trying to cover her embarrassment. “Tell me about your New York project,” she said, then ordered another glass of wine.

The evening at the restaurant ended with dessert—a chocolate mousse, which they shared. An hour later, they drove back to the city. They listened to a band called Minor Alps. Thomas was familiar with the band, but Johanna had never even heard of them. He wasn’t the typical fan of Top 40 music, and she appreciated his taste in music and got accustomed to it fairly quickly. The band’s folksy musical style kind of suited him; she liked it for that reason alone. The evening had passed so quickly; the trees seemed threatening in the darkness. A half moon glowed in the sky, and the street was empty, eerily so. It was hard to imagine that, from Monday to Friday between seven and nine in the morning, desperate drivers sat in traffic here, trying to get to work on time.

“Would you like to come up for a drink?” Johanna said, giggling with embarrassment. “I’ll show you my apartment,” she continued, then anxiously waited for Thomas’s response.

It didn’t take him long to consider her proposal.

“Absolutely,” he blurted. He didn’t actually want to say that. He wanted to simply smile and nod, because that would have been a somewhat cooler, more controlled response. But his euphoria won the day.

Johanna’s beautiful lips parted in a broad smile. Thomas smiled back at her, unable to contain his delight.

“You have a beautiful place here,” he said as he examined her living-room wall, on which a few select photos hung. “Where was this photo taken?” he asked fondly, pointing at a portrait of Johanna seen from behind. Before her lay the sea, the impressive play of colors varying from blue to shades of green. Johanna wore an airy pastel dress that blew in the wind. She looked so heavenly; she could have been a fairytale princess.

“That was in Portugal.” She brought him a glass of white wine since she had no beer. She obviously wasn’t prepared to entertain gentlemen callers. “Or would you prefer juice?”

Thomas shook his head. “No. I should be safe with one more glass of wine.”

“That’s probably the only photo of me that I like.” She put down the glass and sat down on the couch.

“Who did you go to Portugal with?”

“I was there alone; I was just traveling around.”

“All alone? Very brave of you.”

“Well, it wasn’t exactly dangerous!” She laughed as she tucked a large throw pillow under her arm for support. It was pretty much the only real trip she’d taken in years, and she’d wanted the experience all to herself. “Have you gone anywhere lately? I mean, besides New York.”

“No, nowhere. Normally, I travel a lot, but I really haven’t lately.”

Johanna knew that Clarissa was mostly likely in New York. The thought that Thomas had been in the same city didn’t sit well with her, but she dared not ask about that; she didn’t want to spoil the mood between them, not now when she was trying to get to know him again. It was going pretty well so far.

“For my next trip, I’d really like to go back to Ireland,” Thomas said.

“Oh, yes, I can totally understand why you’d want to go there.”

“Does that mean you’d come with me?” he asked as he held up his glass in another toast.

She scrutinized Thomas closely, examining his somewhat emaciated face, and thinking how some thick Irish stew would do him good; he could afford to put some meat back on his bones.

Then she simply said, without weighing the numerous pros and cons, “Why not?”

“Soon?”

“How soon is soon?”
A vacation with Thomas?
Her pulse started to rise. Was she jumping the gun by agreeing to that so quickly?

“We’ll see,” he said, secretly considering all his options as Johanna inched closer to him.

She felt the need to be near him.
If we were together on vacation, then . . .
she thought,
then . . . the possibilities would be endless.

Thomas happily noticed her leaning toward him. He didn’t want to make Johanna feel rushed and kept a gentlemanly distance so as not to enter her personal space. Still, he was waiting for any hint that he should move closer. He was like a puppy that sat, patiently wagging his tail, at the front door before finally being allowed to come back inside the house. Seeing Johanna moving a tiny bit closer was definitely an invitation, a clear sign that she was ready for him to move closer. He knew he had to do something. So he took her hand in his and stroked it tenderly. Then she yawned—it seemed suspiciously contrived.

“You can lay your head in my lap if you want to.”

Johanna didn’t have to be asked twice. She laid her head on his thigh. He tenderly stroked her hair, which felt like precious silk in his hands. It was odd, but it was also miraculous that Johanna seemed to trust him this much. He never would have expected that. It almost seemed that his French daydream had come true. Suddenly, she sat up.

“I have something I want to say to you, Thomas.”

He looked at her in shock, then smiled in amusement as she continued.

“You need to start eating again and get back to the old Thomas!”

Thomas started to laugh, and Johanna punched him in the ribs. Luckily, it was a very gentle, ladylike swat.

“I mean it!” she said. “Your legs are bony and uncomfortable. A little meat on your bones would do you good.” She lifted her fist for another punch.

He held her hand tightly, she struggled, and then he held her face and carefully gave her a kiss. It was soulful at first, then passionate, just as it should be for two lovers who hadn’t kissed in months. They didn’t let each other go, and the kiss lasted, with a few short breaks, for at least an hour. They were both so lost in it that time seemed to stand still, as if the clock had stopped ticking altogether. The world could go on whether it rained or snowed, whether it was sunny or cloudy, whether a nightingale or lark sang, whether it was morning or night. They’d never know; they were lost forever in this kiss.

They changed positions a few times due to stiff necks and numb toes and fingers. At first, she lay on top of him, then she lay beside him, then they sat up again. Then he kneeled next to her. He didn’t want to lie on top of her, because he thought that he would still be too heavy. Despite his recent weight loss, he still weighed 165 pounds compared to his former weight of 187 pounds. His former weight was exactly right for the athletic Thomas. He’d looked dashing, sexy, masculine, and he’d felt good. Despite his weight loss, he felt better than ever at this exact moment. They were both happy. The evening had led to the kiss, the countless kisses.

27

The next morning, both Thomas and Johanna woke up in their own beds. They’d thought it best to take things slowly. Johanna sprawled out over her bed and reached for the other side. It was empty; she knew that already, but she needed to convince herself again that Thomas wasn’t there. He wasn’t. He’d gone home the previous night. He would have loved to stay, and Johanna would have loved for him to as well. Despite their passionate kisses, they hadn’t been able to express their true desires or throw caution to the wind, especially after all they’d been through.

Thomas couldn’t sleep at all that night. He was too agitated. His feelings were out of control. So, he went for a walk around five o’clock in the morning. He soaked in the beauty of the April morning, which he had never truly perceived before. A common redstart whistled his first tune, then robins, blackbirds, and wrens joined in. The great titmouse and the chaffinch completed the chorus, along with the sparrow, who sang the bass. The breeze blew in beneath the little birds’ wings, and they flew off. The leaves rustled quietly, accenting the song like yin and yang. Then came the sound of what seemed like a babbling brook, but in reality it was a fountain, water whispering over stone.

Thomas sat on the bench in front of the fountain, beside a closed café. Two passersby crossed the plaza; here and there he heard the drone of cars. A delivery truck parked in front of the café, carrying fresh bread and rolls through the back door. The driver wore a dark uniform and carried precious goods, almost like James Bond on a secret mission. Thomas caught a whiff of the fresh bread and inhaled deeply. He usually didn’t go out walking at this time of the morning, and neither did anybody else; the streets were nearly empty. Back in college, if he’d been out at this time, he probably wouldn’t have been sober enough to appreciate it. Now, older, sober, and in love, he could hear eager birds singing loudly and clearly. Thomas was so happy that he beamed like the headlights of a new BMW. His inner vitality and new lust for life seemed to affect everything he saw. He felt he could even uproot trees with his bare hands. He moved energetically down the street with no real destination in mind.

Around nine o’clock, Johanna’s cell phone rang. Paolo wanted to know everything.

“Every detail, sweetheart. Tell me everything. I’ve made myself a big pot of tea, and I’m waiting for your story with bated breath. Come on now, honey, dish all the dirt,” he said cheerily.

Johanna sighed, bit her lip, and thought dreamily about last night. “There isn’t that much to tell, exactly, but it was so, so intense.”

“What happened?”

“We talked and we kissed.”

“And what else did you do? You can’t tell me that you just chatted and kissed the whole night.”

“Well, we went to a really fancy restaurant, but we didn’t talk very much at first; we were both being kind of shy. I didn’t know what to talk about, and I think he was in the same boat. We talked only about boring, trivial things.

“Oh, so then that’s when you kissed?”

“No, that happened later, when we went to my place.”

“So you brought him to your place and nothing happened except kissing? That could only happen to you.”

“We kissed for a long time, and it was beautiful, Paolo. I miss him already!” She sat on the couch in her yellow polka-dotted bathrobe.

“Well, he must be a hell of a kisser,” said Paolo, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

“Oh, yes,” she gushed as she lay down on the side of the couch that Thomas had sat on. She stroked the couch softly with her hand.

“And when are you going to see each other again?”

“We haven’t made plans yet, but I’m certain we will soon. I can’t wait to see him again. I could call him now . . . Well, I don’t know, that would seem too desperate, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes, it would; don’t do it. Oh, Johanna, your evening sounds lovely. I hope he thinks so, too,” said Paolo, regretting the last part as soon as he’d said it.

“What do you mean, you hope he thinks so, too?”

“No, forgive me, I didn’t mean to say that. You know I’m an eternal pessimist.”

“Yes, you are, so don’t infect me with your cynicism. I want to try to see things between Thomas and me in a whole new light and forget what happened back in the fall.”

“Yes, that’s a good plan. Please excuse me, I really didn’t mean it like that.”

“It’s okay, Paolo. I understand. But I have the feeling that it could get really serious between us. I’m pretty sure he thinks so, too.”

“That’s wonderful,” said Paolo.

Stretching out on the couch, Johanna searched for Thomas’s masculine smell. Maybe there was still a hint of him somewhere on one of the pillows.

Thomas paced around his apartment, holding his smartphone with his right hand and an old coffee cup in the other with the slogan, “I’m a genius, but nobody notices it.” It was a ridiculous relic from his student days. He couldn’t decide whether he should contact Johanna right now or wait till later. He wanted to know how she’d slept, what she dreamed of, what she was wearing, how she looked right now, how she smelled; he wanted to know everything, but what interested him the most was what she thought about their fledgling relationship. Did she think that there was any chance for them at all? A seed of doubt started to grow inside Thomas. Did she see things the same way he did? He needed to know right now, so he scrolled to Johanna’s number, but then chickened out and wrote her a text message instead.

My dearest Johanna, I hope you slept well. I hardly slept at all ;-) I thought of you the whole time.

Thomas deleted it; it was far too sappy.

Dear Johanna, I hope you slept well. Can I see you?

Not sappy enough. He deleted it once more, and then started over.

Dear Johanna, last night was so beautiful. Do you have plans for today? Kiss, Thomas.

He decided the text was half-cheesy, half-good, and sent it off. She texted back, fast as lightning.

Hello, Thomas, no plans. And you? Kiss, Johanna.

He wondered if she’d been staring at her cell phone, waiting.

It’s good you don’t have plans. Should I make plans for us?

Johanna wrote back,
No, don’t make plans.

Thomas was perplexed. What did that mean?

I’m making plans :)
, she followed up quickly, and he calmed down again. Johanna tortured him by letting a half hour pass before making a proposal.

Let’s meet at the Naschmarkt to pick up some groceries, and then we can make brunch together at my house?

Yes, or we can eat at my house. I live just around the corner from the Naschmarkt.

When?

In one hour.

Great. I’ll be counting the minutes till I see you there. Kiss.

Johanna pined for him; he counted the minutes. She kissed the phone and held it to her bosom, rereading the lively texts they’d exchanged over the last eight minutes. She tried to read more into the texts, something she had a bad habit of doing. She possessed a knack for overinterpretation, which wasn’t always to her benefit.

A short time later, they found each other at booth N23. The Naschmarkt had thoughtfully designed the booth numbers so that any moron could find his date. Yelling, food samples, and crowds of people made the Naschmarkt—the heart of Vienna—a unique place. It was more of an open-air cultural fair than a farmers market. The offerings were incredibly diverse. Outdoor seating was hard to get, even on the wintriest days. You were lucky to score a free table any time of the year. The market offered a wide variety of multicolored vegetables, fresh fish, cheeses from around the world, Italian antipasti, and Asian delicacies. It was a paradise for food lovers, with a palette of delicious goodies that left nothing to be desired. Just strolling through the market was a pleasure.

Thomas and Johanna walked around the market carrying a woven wicker basket. It was an heirloom she’d inherited from her grandmother, and she didn’t realize how trendy it was; several people were walking around with expensive new retro baskets that looked like hers. Johanna and Thomas bought flatbread, antipasti, hummus, bananas, grapes, and apples.

“We’ll make a fruit salad,” she said excitedly as she purchased a few apples.

“You’re the chef,” Thomas said with a smile as he carried her basket like a gentleman. He watched his companion with pleasure as she smelled the fruit, picked out spices, and tasted everything offered to her.

“I think we have everything,” she said with satisfaction, then gave him a kiss on the cheek.

He pulled Johanna close and gave her a proper kiss.

“Good, then, let’s walk back to my house,” he said as he pointed to a side street.

The view across the rooftops was breathtaking from Thomas’s apartment. You could see St. Stephen’s Cathedral, the red and gray of old and new buildings, the cars that cruised down the street or stood still in traffic jams, honking wildly. You could also see the peaks of the Kahlenberg Mountains and the ultramodern DC Towers, which rose dreamily into the steel-blue sky. Johanna couldn’t help but admire Thomas’s condo.

“Your place is huge, and this terrace is awesome. How long have you lived here? You never told me.”

“A long time now. Yeah, the apartment is great; I love living here.”

“Is the terrace all yours?”

“Yes, it’s completely mine,” he laughed as he unpacked their groceries.

“You can lie outside all day, read a book, listen to music, enjoy the sun. You can work on your tan, or you can sit in the shade if it gets too hot or you want to stay out of the sun for some reason. There’s even a huge outdoor table for when you have friends over . . . Wow!” Johanna just couldn’t get over it.

“You’re welcome to sit out here whenever you like,” said Thomas as he stood at the terrace door watching Johanna’s delight.

“Crazy.” She leaned over the terrace and looked down. The apartment must have cost a fortune.

They walked into the kitchen.

“Is this place yours, or do you rent?” she asked as she popped a grape into her mouth.

“I was renting at first, but after a while, I bought the place. I loved it, and it was time to invest in something, because the economy wasn’t stable. Savings accounts are bad investments when interest rates are so low,” he said as he took a plate and knife out of the cabinets. “I don’t invest in stocks, and real estate usually doesn’t lose its value.”

“Wait a second, let me do some of that,” Johanna said, and took the cutting board and knife out of his hands. “I’ll make the fruit salad,” she declared. “You can set the table if you’d like.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Thomas as he carried the napkins, dishes, silverware, and glasses into the living room.

Johanna followed him with the breadbasket.

“You have a ton of books!”

“Yes, I’m very proud of my collection.”

“Those books by Thalia are complete crap,” she said, and then went over to the CD section; next to it were vinyl records. “Want to put on some nice music for us?”

“What would you like to hear?”

“Surprise me; you’re the one with great musical taste.”

Thomas appreciated the compliment. Between the ages of sixteen and eighteen, he had dreamed of being a famous DJ. When he’d told his parents he wanted to drop out of school, go to London, and do
something
with music, they dashed his dreams. His parents weren’t impressed with his vague musical plans and forced him to stay in Austria. The only reason they were successful was because he was still a minor. Thomas was grateful about it nowadays, because though he loved music, he wasn’t really a born DJ, and the nightlife would have been exhausting for him after a while, especially after his thirties. He couldn’t imagine playing music until he retired—an aging wild man running around with teenagers until three in the morning. Thomas looked for an old U2 CD.

“Do you like their music?”

“Yes, definitely,” she said as she chopped the fruit into neat little pieces.

His kitchen was outfitted with the latest high-tech gadgets. Johanna was sure that Thomas barely used them. She suspected that some of them had never been used at all. They were just state-of-the-art decorations in this perfect kitchen, glistening under the bright kitchen lights like all get out.