Wait for Me in Vienna (27 page)

46

The first thing Thomas was aware of, before he was fully awake, before he rolled from left to right to look out the window to see what kind of weather awaited him, was Johanna’s call.

“Really? You’re flying to New York?” he exclaimed, springing out of bed like an eleven-year-old boy allowed to sit on the back of a motorcycle for the first time.

A little later, as he brushed his teeth, he started to consider all the things he wanted to show her: the Empire State Building, Rockefeller Center, the Statue of Liberty, the Brooklyn Bridge. Thomas brushed over the sink. Broadway and Times Square, Fifth Avenue, Wall Street . . . Johanna probably wasn’t that interested in the world of high finance, but they at least had to see it. Thomas spit out the rest of the toothpaste as he thought about all the restaurants he could take her to. As he adjusted his tie, he thought of countless trendy bars where you had to make reservations, a standard practice in the city. He left his hotel room punctually and made his way to the office. Spotting tourists climbing onto a hop-on, hop-off bus tour, he contemplated buying tickets for Johanna’s visit.

At the office, Thomas’s uncle was waiting for him, checking over some reports.

“Well, it seems you have everything well under control here,” he said as he patted Thomas on the back. “I knew I could depend on you.”

“Thank you!”

“Come on, let’s go get some breakfast,” said Mr. Lehmann as he opened the door.

New York, 9:30 a.m.: I went to breakfast with my uncle today. He definitely doesn’t appreciate food the way you do. I love to look at you during mealtimes—my uncle, not so much. His mouth is like the nozzle of a vacuum cleaner, sucking up his food quickly, then loudly smacking his lips. I had to scarf down my food to keep up with him. Even though it was breakfast, he seemed so stressed out.

I love how you can study a menu for hours on end, how you take your time to lovingly move your food here and there on your plate, until it’s artistically arranged, how you enjoy balancing colors, how you so fully perceive the smells of spices, some of which I didn’t even know existed before we met. I love that you enjoy my egg dishes and with every bite, you say, “Mmm.” Above all, I enjoy your presence. In short, having breakfast with you is a heck of a lot more fun than with my uncle. Kisses.

Forever yours,

Thomas

Vienna, 5:04 p.m.: I’m very glad you prefer my company over your uncle’s. This is quite reassuring and makes me incredibly happy. It’s probably reassuring to your mother as well. Otherwise, we would definitely have to rethink our relationship.

By the way, that idiot couple wrote an extremely malicious e-mail to my boss, Chef Meyer. How they think they can get away with such nasty slander against my coworkers is still a mystery to me. But Ms. Geyer can’t make sense of their critique, and neither can Paolo, the idiot couple’s guests, or I. At the wedding reception, their guests filled out our catering questionnaire after their meal, and they rated our dishes and service as “Excellent.” The boss suspects that the couple was just trying to get a discount after the fact.

What are we doing tonight?

Kisses,

Johanna!

PS: Your egg dishes are the best!
:)

New York, 10:30 p.m.: I seduced you tonight. You goaded me into it with your allusion to my egg dishes. We went to a gourmet restaurant, the most highly acclaimed restaurant in the area, where a simple appetizer starts at around twenty-five euros and goes up from there. The waiters walked around, dressed up like penguins. It was a bit too snobbish for us, so we left after entrees and put off dessert until later.

You looked so seductive in your stunningly beautiful, dark-blue cocktail dress. From the beginning of dinner, I found myself unable to focus on the food or your face; I couldn’t stop looking at your unbelievably sexy neckline. My fixation didn’t escape you, and you shamelessly took advantage. You batted your eyelashes naughtily as you drew attention to your décolleté by lightly and oh-so-innocently stroking it with your lovely fingers.

Shortly thereafter, we pounced on each other in the cab. Of course, we didn’t go all the way. After all, we were sitting in the backseat of the taxi with the driver eyeballing us in the rearview mirror. A few minutes later, after we went up the elevator to my apartment, we gave into our passion.

Oh, how I miss your passion, how I miss you. If I could, I would take the next plane to be there with you, and I would immediately rip off your clothes. I love you. Kisses.

Forever yours,

Thomas, who is now consumed with desire and longing for you, as he overlooks the beautiful lights of the city, but can’t truly enjoy it without you.

47

Johanna got up early. When she read Thomas’s e-mail, she almost choked on her cheese Danish. On the one hand, she was moved, and on the other hand, she was so hot and bothered she had to open up her bathrobe and fan herself. He missed her and her passion? That was so arousing, so hot and sexy. It had been far too long, but Thomas would come home eventually, and then they could do everything they’d missed. They would stay in bed the whole day and, in between showers, eat delicious food, drink wine, and enjoy their togetherness. Unfortunately, he wasn’t coming back tomorrow, or the day after tomorrow; no, it would be a while before they would see each other again.

Johanna became quite sentimental and pushed the rest of her cheese Danish to the side of her plate. Thomas’s birthday was coming up, and she hoped to be in New York to celebrate the special day with him. After becoming lost in thought, she noticed the chipped polish on her toes. She was definitely in need of a pedicure, and yes, Thomas definitely had to come home again soon.

He was so shocked he thought he might faint dead away. All of a sudden, there she was, attractive as ever, enveloped by a cloud of perfume, dressed to perfection in a smooth black leather jacket, and showing off her shiny, bleached teeth as she smiled. She whispered, “Hello, Thomas,” before she dropped into an armchair, her heady Gucci Première fragrance radiating to every corner of the room.

“May I?” she asked when she’d already made herself comfortable; it wasn’t a question but more of a polite declaration requiring affirmation.

“What are you doing here?”

“Well, I got no response from you on Facebook and knew that you were here in New York,” she said as she crossed her long legs, which were covered in shiny black silk stockings. Thomas knew she didn’t wear panty hose; Clarissa wore only gartered stockings.

“Sorry, I haven’t been on Facebook for a long time, but you know that’s it’s over between us. I find it quite inappropriate that you simply barged in here. What do you want from me?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say I just barged in here. I have a job interview.”

“A what?” asked Thomas angrily as he sank noticeably lower into his big office chair.

“Yes, your uncle wanted to find someone for your new advertising campaign, and sweetheart that he is, he naturally thought of me.”

Well, now, isn’t that just sweet as shit of Uncle?

“You? But I don’t think you’re suited for the position. Clarissa, please appreciate the fact that I insist our paths should be separated professionally as well.”

“Now you’re just being selfish, don’t you think, Thomas?” she said, playing with her fingers.

“No, not at all. Besides, I cheated on you, and now you’ve decided to drop in for a visit?” Thomas surprised Clarissa with his belligerent attitude, but she didn’t comment on it.

“Oh well, you met someone else. What the heck; that’s in the past. I forgive you. Besides, I cheated on you one time, too,” she said, dusting off her pristine leather coat. Then she stood up.

“You still shouldn’t take this job.”

“That decision is better left up to me, don’t you think?” Clarissa purred as she walked closer to Thomas.

The Gucci perfume bit Thomas’s nose. He stood up to show her out. “Do what you want, but please keep your distance from me. Out of respect for Johanna, I don’t want to have any contact with you.”

“Ah, you’re back with her. I thought she no longer wanted to see you when she found out how you’d lied to her. Well, obviously she couldn’t say no. Who could? Who can resist your animal magnetism?” she said with a smile as she stepped toward him.

“Please, go now,” he said. If she’d been standing any closer to him, he would have been able to feel her breath on his face.

She tilted her head, stared into his eyes, then left.

Thomas scratched his ear and sat back in his chair. He was extremely upset that his uncle would do something like this. He tried to call, but his uncle didn’t pick up. Maybe he expected his nephew’s call and didn’t want to discuss the matter. No way in the world was he going to let Johanna know anything about this. Being apart was already stressful enough; he didn’t want to make it any worse, so he vowed never to breathe a word to her about Clarissa’s sudden and inappropriate reappearance. Big mistake.

48

Vienna, 9:03 a.m.: Yes, after another crazy, strenuous, passionate, exciting, love-filled, rewarding, and carefree night, it was a little difficult to start my day, and working was a challenge. Of course, I know it was the same for you. But I would like to mention that, although you’re a part-time Avenger, you are just a little older than I am. After all, making love for hours every night can be strenuous for the elderly. This can result in both bags under the eyes and being in an extremely good mood the next day, even for the young. These things never escape Paolo’s attention. But don’t worry, I never kiss and tell.

Are we going to talk on the phone today? I miss your voice.

Kisses,

Your overseas girlfriend

The morning sun reflected off Thomas’s computer screen. He had trouble reading Johanna’s e-mail, so he closed the blinds. He hated to block the sun, but sometimes he couldn’t read his e-mails any other way. His American coffee tasted horrible today; it was much too weak, as if someone had diluted it with a gallon of water. It was afternoon in Vienna, so he tried Johanna’s number. She should be reachable at this time.

“You sound tense,” she said. “What’s on your mind, sweetheart?”

Thomas denied anything was wrong. This woman had kind of a sixth sense, even over the phone; she was incredible in so many ways.

“Well, that’s good. I thought that you might be calling to tell me that you can’t come home in three days.”

“No, no, everything’s all set, the flight’s booked. I would never ever cancel this trip. I miss you like crazy,” he said.

“Same here. My bed is so empty without you.”

“The stuffed animal and my sleep shirt don’t help?”

“Well, the stuffed animal isn’t as warm as you are, won’t even taste my gourmet meals, never asks me how my days are going, and has absolutely no skill when it comes to doing certain things that couples are prone to do every once in a while.”

“Like cleaning the house?”

“Yes, exactly, cleaning the house.” Johanna giggled. “Besides, it always has the same silly smile plastered across its face, which drives me crazy . . . Really, I’m counting the hours.”

“Me, too. According to my watch, there are seventy-three hours and, wait . . . twenty-four minutes left till we see each other. But who’s counting?” Thomas said with a laugh.

“You’re funny.”

“Good. Let’s keep writing e-mails to each other until then.”

“Okay. Let’s.”

“Perfect.”

“Absolutely.”

“Well then . . .”

“Okay, should we hang up now?”

“Yeah, sure. Right?”

“Well then, let’s hang up.”

Johanna was the first to hang up. Thomas was surprised she’d really done it.

Johanna noted certain unsportsmanlike conduct the next time she jogged with Paolo.

“Well, if you want to go running with your boyfriend, then you’d better train at least six times a week over a period of several months,” he said as he ran nimbly next to the klutzy Johanna.

Show-off
, Johanna thought; though jogging wasn’t her thing, at least she dazzled in her choice of bright-pink running shoes.

“There’s no such thing as someone who can’t run,” he said as he watched Johanna with amusement.

She couldn’t reply because she was gasping for air, but if she could have, she would have told him off.
This asshole doesn’t look all that cool when he’s running, either
.

After half an hour, they finished.

“Well, that was about two-and-a-half miles. That’s nothing, really,” he said, dismissing the distance they had covered.

“Well, you’re not all that athletic, either. When Thomas runs, he does ten miles easily.”

“Hey, your superhero is a damn marathon runner,” said Paolo defensively as he tugged at his damp T-shirt. “Plus, he inherited his athleticism, his muscles, so I couldn’t possibly keep up with him, because my build is too slight. I got as far as I have by training my ass off; I wasn’t lucky enough to be blessed with the body of a Greek god.”

“I’m just saying . . .”

“And I’m saying you better not go running with Thomas because he’ll probably stop putting you on a pedestal.”

“Whew. You’re mean today,” she exclaimed, and pointedly turned away from him.

“I’m sorry. You’re right; that wasn’t nice.”

“I forgive you,” said Johanna, “because, though I hate to admit it, you do have a point.”

“You want to get another cup of coffee? It’s on me . . . as a thank-you for your fair-mindedness.”

“Sure. Why not? I think I can even run there.”

“That’ll work.”

Thomas took a much-needed jog during his lunch break. He hadn’t jogged much recently. He’d been logging extra hours at work so he could afford to take time for a trip to Vienna, but it wasn’t easy for him to be so dedicated to his uncle’s company these days. He’d already had a long conversation with Mr. Lehmann, who insisted that Clarissa was best suited for this job. Why invest time and money to set up auditions when they already had the ideal candidate, someone who perfectly matched the target market and blah, blah, blah, blah. The cards were stacked against Thomas, and he couldn’t talk his uncle out of it. However, they did agree that Thomas wouldn’t be involved in the shoot and the ad campaign. He didn’t even want to see any of the photos or copy. Mr. Lehmann understood immediately and asked about his new girlfriend, whom he’d already heard about from Thomas’s mother.

Thomas realized he really had to arrange another meeting soon so that his parents could get to know the real, healthy Johanna. Thomas had postponed it, then forgotten about it; now he wasn’t even in Vienna.

New York, 2:02 p.m.: Do you think you could make as good an impression on my parents as last time? I mean, this time we could try to stay even longer than forty minutes (including the time spent in the bathroom). What do you think?

By the way, we’re planning to go to the movies today. You won, and we’re going to see the newest tearjerker chick flick starring Jennifer Aniston. Oh, can’t you see how much I love you?!

Vienna, 9:00 p.m.: My dear boyfriend,

Sometimes I love you so much, sometimes a little less, and sometimes not much at all. The last describes how I feel right now. I would have loved to be flu- and virus-free when we visited your parents. Did you forget how sick I was and how much I threw up?

What’s more, my sweet beloved, the new movie starring Ms. Aniston wouldn’t qualify as a tearjerker at all—she looked amazingly sexy, as Paolo recently mentioned. Therefore, I can’t allow you to see that film ;-). We can discuss it over the phone at your leisure, unless you have to work because it’s the middle of your workday now.

Kisses,

Your tearjerker-chick-flick-loving girlfriend

New York, 3:27 p.m.: Even though I’m so prone to putting my foot in my mouth, even when writing (see earlier e-mail, yikes!), I find writing less hazardous and nicer than phone calls, but maybe that’s just a matter of taste. No, really, I love e-mailing you. None of the other e-mails I receive are nearly as delightful, loving, sarcastic, exquisitely nasty, and written by someone so close to my heart, who I miss around the clock. But I’ll call you later, before you go to sleep. Well, after we’ve gone to the movies, perhaps. And I promise you I’ll never watch that film; depriving myself shouldn’t cause too much undue suffering. I’ll be with you in twenty-six hours.

Kisses

Vienna, 10:00 p.m.: Your call has to wait, I’m out and about. We’re looking at bridal gowns.

Looking at bridal gowns
, Thomas thought. He felt something in the pit of his stomach, right near his liver. It wasn’t a bad feeling; his stomach didn’t feel tense. It was a pleasant, warm feeling that emanated from his gut, then permeated the rest of his body and warmed him from head to toe. What did it mean? It probably wasn’t for her, although she would look gorgeous in a wedding gown. Then it hit him; this had to be for Linda.

Thomas couldn’t stop thinking about Johanna in a wedding dress. S
he’s definitely the right woman for me to marry
. But it was too soon. He didn’t want to make excessive or premature demands on Johanna or himself. Still, he could imagine it in about six months, and he pictured how stunning she would look when she stepped slowly down the aisle toward him. Then he spilled his coffee, effectively ending his daydream.

It was the traditional Night of the Wedding Dresses in Vienna, and many shops stayed open until midnight. Linda and her bridesmaids quickly agreed upon the dress. It was a charming, floor-length, off-white gown with delicate lace and red embroidery at the neckline.

“Not completely white?” asked one of her girlfriends uncertainly. Linda shook her head emphatically.

“No, definitely not; I like it in off-white with the exact same embroidery.”

No one dared to question her choice; they all agreed with Linda, since the cut and style were quite becoming.

“Wow, so that’s that. I can’t believe it. Now I just need matching shoes, a veil, a great hairdo, perfect makeup, and—”

“Then you’ll look exactly like a fairy princess,” squealed Erika as she danced around wildly.

All her bridesmaids hugged each other. As the saleslady took Linda’s measurements, Johanna and the other girls took a peek at the plethora of wedding dresses hanging up around in the store. Each was one of a kind, crafted with luxurious fabrics, in a variety of lengths and sizes. It was a shame that you got to wear a wedding dress only once in a lifetime.

“Oh, man, by the time I’m ready to get married, you all will probably be divorced, and then I can borrow one of your wedding dresses,” said one of the friends, obviously a little bit too worked up.

Every dress was more beautiful than the last. Johanna hardly dared to touch them, let alone take one off the rack for fear of damaging it.

“That’s beautiful,” exclaimed Erika as she nodded at Johanna, who had screwed up enough courage to pull out a dream in white. “It would look so good on you. I mean, you have the figure for it. I would have to wear something that hid my curves, or maybe lose some weight—a lot of weight. It doesn’t really matter, though—nobody will be popping the question any time soon.”

Johanna held up the dress and scrutinized herself in the mirror. It really did look gorgeous as she held her hair up and swung the dress lightly from side to side. She suddenly became uncomfortable and hung it back up quickly, but the dreamy look in Johanna’s eyes as she gazed into the mirror hadn’t escaped Linda’s attention.

New York, 4:01 p.m.: I haven’t been in Vienna for a few days. Did you find a dress and a matching groom?

Vienna, 10:47 p.m.: Let’s stick with the facts. It hasn’t been days. It feels like an eternity.

New York, 4:52 p.m.: Did you find a dress for yourself?

Vienna, 10:56 p.m.: Yes.