Every Seventh Wave (17 page)

Actually, I just wanted to let you know that I'm not yet lost to you, as promised.

Much love,

Emmi

Ten minutes later

Re:

Thanks, Emmi!!!

One minute later

Re:

You see, Leo, that's all I needed to hear! All you have to do is write to me once a week—“Thanks, Emmi,” and don't forget the three exclamation marks—and I'd quite happily manage another few years at my end of the tunnel.

Four days later

Subject: Warm

Warm today, isn't it?

(If you don't have the time or the strength to think up your own answer, I recommend: “Yes, very warm!!!” or “Drink lots of water!!!” Don't forget the exclamation marks!!!)

Seven hours later

Subject: (no subject)

Shame. I was really expecting an answer this time.

The following evening

Subject: A little light

Is it still so dark in that tunnel? Or can you by now see a little light at the end? Is it glowing? Then it's me. (Sunburn.)

The following morning

Subject: What, exactly?

Dear Leo,

What, exactly, did you tell “Pam” about the two of us? Did you tell her any of the tricky bits? For example:

a) That we've had an email relationship for the past two and a half years?

b) That you fled to Boston to protect my marriage?

c) That we found each other online again after you came home, and that we've met offline five times?

d) That we even had sex once?

e) If the answer to d) is yes, did you tell her the circumstances in which d) happened, and how you found d)?

f) That we met for a few minutes the night before she came to live here?

g) What I gave you that time as a “souvenir”?

And have the following factors enabled you to come out of it relatively unscathed? For example:

h) That our relationship is from now on to be described as “profound, platonic, amicable.”

i) That our correspondence should not interfere with your long-term relationship in any way.

j) That I do not diminish your relationship with her, nor hers with you.

k) Because in any case I've moved back in with my family, in order to continue my unprecedented and entirely rational “partnership of convenience” after a well-earned breather.

l) And because the two of you are going to be emigrating to Boston in the foreseeable future anyway.

Five minutes later

Re:

a), b), c), d), e), f), h), i), j), k), l).

One minute later

Re:

Everything? The whole lot? The entire catalogue? Are you crazy, Leo? If I were her, the only reason for not dispatching you into outer space would be because then I couldn't extract the hairs from your chin, one by one. You'd be too far away.

Thirty seconds later

Re:

And I knew that we'd be able to have a good chat about it all.

Forty seconds later

Re:

Hey, Leo, I've only just noticed: everything apart from g). You left g) out. You confessed to “Pam” that you and I indulged in a sexual act. You even told her what you felt at the time (or rather, what you felt differently or didn't feel at all). But you haven't told her what I gave you as a souvenir? Why not?

One minute later

Re:

Because if only one thing had to remain just between you and me, it was my greatest and most beautiful secret.

Two minutes later

Re:

That was nicely put, Leo, even if I had to read the sentence twice! Or as you might say in your shorthand: Thanks, Leo!!!

Six days later

Subject: Lost to me?

Dear Emmi,

Are you lost to me? I couldn't blame you if you were.

One day later

Subject: When?

You're the silent one of the two of us, Leo! So tell me, when are you emigrating to Boston?

Five minutes later

Re:

Please, Emmi, be patient with me for a few days more. In a week's time I'll tell you everything. EVERYTHING!

Seven minutes later

Re:

Can you tell me EVERYTHING in a week's time? Or do you have to tell me EVERYTHING in a week's time? Can Pam know that you're going to tell me EVERYTHING in a week's time? Or is Pam in fact demanding that you tell me EVERYTHING in a week's time? And why a week? What's going to happen over the course of this week? O.K., I get it, I'm only going to find out in a week's time.

Bye-bye!

Be in touch in a week, then.

Four minutes later

Subject: Istria

Oh, by the way, Bernhard gets back from Japan in a week and two days. In a week and four days we're going with the kids to Istria for our summer holidays. In case you're thinking of meeting before then to tell me EVERYTHING, then let's make a date as soon as possible!

All the best for a successful week,

Emmi

Six days later

Subject: Time's nearly up

Hi Leo,

Tomorrow your week will be up. So how is EVERYTHING? Where is EVERYTHING? What is EVERYTHING?

One day later

Subject: Everything (is over)

Dear Emmi,

Pamela and I have split up. She's flying to Boston on Monday, alone. That is EVERYTHING.

Ten minutes later

Re:

Dear Leo,

That's quite a lot, I have to say. But it can't be EVERYTHING. It can't HAVE BEEN everything, just like that. I don't believe you. Come on, Leo! Do you want to meet? Do you want to get it off your chest and have a good cry? I can be there for you right now, round the clock, so to speak, for the next two days. If you want to meet, then let's meet! If you're not sure whether we should meet, we should meet! If you don't know whether you want to meet anyone at all, then meet me! But if you're certain you don't know whether it would be a good thing or not for you to meet me—because how could you know?—then don't meet me. No, do actually, even then! So there. Full stop. I didn't want to be discreet with my offer. I don't think I could be any less discreet. And I won't ever offer myself so indiscreetly again. And that's a promise!

Fifteen minutes later

Re:

Dear Emmi,

In a few hours I'll be on the train to Hamburg. I'm going to visit my sister Adrienne and I'll stay with her until Tuesday. You're off with your family to Croatia on Wednesday, aren't you? So we probably won't see each other until after that.

Emmi, I know you're dying to know what happened. You have every right to know. And I feel I need to tell you. Really I do! You'll find out in all its facets, I guarantee it. Let's just have our time in Hamburg and Croatia first. I need to see things more clearly. I need distance—from Pamela and from myself. Not from you, Emmi, believe me, not from you!

Eight minutes later

Re:

You know, you couldn't be more distant than you already are, my love. You're driving me crazy with your endless delays, denials, empty promises, and almost monosyllabic about-turns! When I get back from Istria, I expect you'll be announcing your engagement to “Pam.” But sadly you won't be able to share any “facet” of your decision with me. Because you'll have to “see things more clearly first.” I don't want this anymore, Leo! You mustn't be cross: whatever it is making you wait this time before telling me something profound about yourself, I'm waiting with you. I've been waiting ever since I've known you. Over the past two and a half years I've waited three times as much as I have in the preceding thirty-three. If only I'd known what I was waiting for! I'm sick to death of waiting. Basically I'm all waited out. Sorry! (And now you're going to go all silent and sulky on me again.)

One minute later

Re:

No, Emmi. I won't go silent and I won't go sulky. I'm going to Hamburg. And I'm coming back. And I'll write to you. And I won't announce any engagements.

Lots of love,

Leo

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Five days later

Subject: Adieu Pamela

Good morning, dear Emmi,

Greetings to the Mediterranean from flat 15! I'm back. I'm myself again. I'm sitting on the terrace with my laptop. At my back is one of those men's flats that looks pitifully bare after a woman has just left.

I spoke to her on the phone yesterday. She arrived O.K. It's raining in Boston. I find it astonishing that we can already talk to each other again; a bit awkward, maybe—dry mouths, difficulty swallowing, choking noises, grinding teeth—but we can do it. It was only a week ago that we managed to ditch each other at the same time, without any advance warning, without giving any reasons. I started it off: “Pamela, I think we should …” and Pamela completed it, “… end it, you're right!”

We're both to blame, we failed together. It was smooth, elegant, perfectly choreographed with very high technical merit, “synchronized.” We gathered our disappointments, threw them into a heap and shared them out fairly. Each of us took our allocated half. That's how we parted. When we said farewell we hugged, kissed, and gave each other a friendly punch on the shoulder. And that's how, without saying a word, each of us extended our “warmest sympathy” to the other. We cried when we saw each other's tears. It was like being at a funeral, as if we'd lost a relative we had in common. And in fact we have! It's just that we knew them by different names. Pamela's was Trust, mine Illusion. (To be continued—I'm going to send this now and make myself a coffee. Won't be long!)

Ten seconds later

Subject: Out-of-office autoreply

I am on vacation and will respond to my emails on July 23.

With best wishes,

Emmi Rothner

Thirty minutes later

Re:

I had expected that, Emmi. And actually it's a good thing! You see, I've no idea whether you want to listen to all this. Now the earliest I'll find out is in a week and a half. So, I'll just keep on shamelessly recapping, my love:

Pamela was the first woman who did not remind me of you, who I didn't compare to you, who had nothing of you—my virtual fantasy—and yet who I found attractive. When I saw her I knew instantly that I had to fall in love with her. This was the fallacy, the mistake: the “had to,” the plan, the intention, my insistent efforts. I was driven by the idea of loving her. I was consumed by it. Until the very end I did everything for it. Apart from one thing: I never questioned whether I was actually in love with her.

There were three phases with Pamela. Four months in Boston—that was my best time with her, it was MY time with her; I wouldn't have missed a single day of it. When I came home from America last summer, you were there, Emmi. Again, still: YOU! My feelings carefully closeted away. How naive I was to believe that they could disperse of their own accord. You were quick to remind me that there could be no end without a beginning. We met up. I saw you. SAW YOU! What should I have said on that occasion? What should I say about it now? I was in phase two with Pamela: a long-distance relationship, broken up by thrilling voyages of discovery and intense pangs of desire for a perfectly normal and more permanent state of togetherness—going out to buy bread and milk, changing the vacuum bags. How did I while away the time waiting for my future? With you, Emmi. Who did I lie with virtually? You, Emmi. Who did I live with in my secret inner world? You, Emmi. Only ever with you. And now my most wonderful fantasies had a face too. Your face.

Then Pamela came and moved in. Phase three. I flicked the master switch in my head: Emmi off, Pamela on. A brutal undertaking. Total focus on the “woman for life,” the chosen one, the one I had to love. “Everything-illusion” applied in practice. You gave me the cue; I thought I could do a better job of it than you and Bernhard with your “marriage of convenience.” Maybe I just wanted to prove to you that I could. I was determined to do everything to make Pamela happy. At the beginning she felt flattered and secure. I felt good too. It was a diversionary tactic, a helpful course of occupational therapy—all I had to do was to make sure I didn't listen to my inner voice, didn't have too much Emmi time. Every personal email, every intimate thought of you had to be immediately exonerated and compensated for with a confirmation of my bond to Pamela. That's how I soothed my bad conscience. Well, she wasn't impressed for very long by my excessive declarations of love. Soon she felt irritated, overwhelmed, cornered. She needed space, an outlet, a refuge where she had home advantage. There was only one place for that: Boston. I saw it as the only opportunity to realize my illusion.

You've read my emails. Our taster vacation was good enough to persuade me that I wanted to make a go of it with her on the East Coast. We'd planned to “emigrate” at the beginning of next year, things had been put in place, the prospect of a job and a flat. But then, but then, but then … Yes, then I told her about you, Emmi.

Happy beach time!

Leo

Eight hours later

Re:

But why did you tell her about me?