by May, Lana N.
He and Johanna were in an empty parking lot so she could practice driving, because Johanna had never gotten her driver’s license; she’d been a passenger her whole life. Because of her parents’ accident, her grandmother was terrified of Johanna driving. Her grandmother drove until she turned eighty and largely stopped for the benefit of other motorists, who didn’t appreciate the fact that in her extreme caution, she never went more than thirty miles an hour—whether on highways, main streets, or country roads. She was worse than a Sunday driver; Oma was a once-in-a-blue-moon driver, riding the brakes on the beat-up VW station wagon as it lurched and shuddered down the road.
No wonder Johanna’s desire to drive was nonexistent; every car trip with her grandmother had either been a drama or a bad comedy, depending on how you wanted to look at it. She’d told Thomas these stories the day before, when she was still comfortably snuggled up in bed. If she had imagined that Thomas’s response would be to push her into the driver’s seat of his innocent BMW, she would have kept her mouth shut. Gas pedal, clutch, brake—she chose the wrong one time after time.
“I will never, and I mean never, be able to do this. And you can do it automatically, at the exact right time. I mean, the exact right time. How are you able to step on the clutch, change gears, then press on the gas pedal or the brake?” she asked in disbelief.
“Of course, Johanna. It’s just as automatic as breathing or walking. Soon, you’ll be able to do it blindfolded.”
“Maybe you can, but I can’t. You have some sort of special talent for this. Can’t you drive now?” she begged him uncertainly, gripping the steering wheel for dear life.
“Don’t grab the wheel so hard, it’s not going to fly away.”
“Not yet anyway.”
“Take it slowly, let the clutch out, and then, at the same time, step on the gas pedal.” The car lurched forward.
“I would be happy to be a passenger my whole life, y’know. I really don’t have any problem with that at all,” said Johanna nervously. “It’s worked for me so far.”
“Sure, you could do that, but believe me, driving is fun. Keep trying; it doesn’t matter if you mess up. There are no cars here and no one around, so nothing bad can possibly happen.”
Johanna tried again. And again. A few jumps forward, several slams of the brakes, and countless exclamations of horror later, she began to get the hang of it just a little bit.
Thomas was proud of her.
“Well, look at that. You did a great job. We’ll keep on practicing, and one day you’ll be a professional race-car driver.”
Johanna gave him a kiss for being so patient with her.
“Thank you,” she said. She got out of the car feeling like she’d just flown a fighter jet.
29
Monday morning meant that they had to separate, at least for a couple of hours. Thomas and Johanna had spent the entire weekend together. Now, normal everyday life called, and they both had to go back to work, which meant that they had to perform other duties besides cooking together, cuddling, watching TV, throwing popcorn at each other’s heads, and soaping up each other’s backs.
“Paolo, it was so beautiful doing everything with him,” Johanna said dreamily as she schlepped a box of potatoes into the cooking school.
“Oh, I wish something like that would happen to me, but I just don’t know anymore,” he sighed as she set down the box.
“It’s coming, Paulo. Just you wait and it’ll happen—exactly like it happened to me.”
“I went clubbing this weekend. I tell you, the types of guys who run around at those clubs, no thanks. I’d rather be alone my whole life, or I’ll have to turn straight,” he said, only half in jest.
“Thomas cooked for me, and he’s teaching me how to drive.”
“Cooking! Well, what do you know? Was it good?”
“Yes, it was, lucky for him,” she joked, then giggled. “No, but it was such a sweet gesture, and he wore this stupid apron—”
“Yes, yes, but it has to taste good—that’s the most important thing,” said the master chef seriously, interrupting her gushing.
“I know, Paolo, but he looked really good in that apron. Good enough to eat.”
“Good enough to eat? So you two hooked up this time?” Paolo asked as he stared a hole through her.
Johanna paused, embarrassed, then nodded and blushed.
“Oh my God! Was it good?”
She nodded. “Damn good!”
Instead of reviewing the new blueprints for the New York office his secretary had left on his desk the previous Thursday, Thomas searched for flights to Ireland. He wanted to surprise Johanna with a weekend trip to Dublin. The blueprints collected dust while he spent his time researching tasteful hotels, which should not just be conveniently located but also have four or five stars. All the nice hotels were right in Dublin’s city center, so that part was easy, but there were so many choices. He didn’t want anything big or pretentious. No, he wanted a chic, privately run boutique hotel. It took a few hours for him to find exactly what he was looking for. In the middle of the hotel’s lobby, which boasted purple leather furniture and dark wood floors, was a roaring fireplace. Just looking at the picture, Thomas could practically smell the wood smoke and hear the fire crackling loudly. White carpet set off the dark, polished parquet floors. Milky-white glass tables stood next to couches covered with large, comfortable throw cushions. The four-star hotel wasn’t a standout only for its interior design, but also because it was in a particularly ideal location. It fulfilled all the requirements of young, modern lovers who wanted to be spoiled in their spare time. He read the reviews, which enthusiastically detailed the hotel’s wonderful breakfast, spacious rooms, and the small spa, which was open twenty-four hours a day.
His obsessive research was interrupted by a Facebook message. Thomas definitely wasn’t a diehard Facebook user. He’d created his profile to stay in touch with former classmates and colleagues, but rarely posted anything himself. He’d never even uploaded a profile photo. He now had 250 Facebook friends and counting, but wondered how many of these “friends” he would actually help if they were in a pickle: probably about 10—10 out of 250.
Thomas read the message. It was from Clarissa.
What does Clarissa want? he thought as he yanked his head away from the monitor in disbelief before he leaned forward again and read the message.
Hello Thomas. Your mother told me that you’re in New York a lot. Please feel free to contact me next time you’re here. We can meet up for coffee. Best, Clarissa.
He hadn’t expected to hear from her ever again. If he were in her position, he would sic a pit bull on him and order it to go for the throat. This had to be his mother’s doing. Why was she interfering? Evidently, she had suggested that Clarissa and he make a new start. Thomas was pissed. He didn’t want to have anything to do with his ex. It was time to make his mother understand that. He needed to introduce Johanna to his family as soon as possible so his mother would stop coming up with these crazy schemes.
I need to call her right away, no putting it off, he thought to himself.
Thomas’s basic personality traits took hold. He was goal oriented, and proper planning was important to him. He wasn’t the type to postpone things. He liked to get things done in a timely fashion, and in this case, he couldn’t take care of things fast enough.
“Hello, Mama. How are you and Papa doing?”
“Thomas, so lovely of you to call. Thank you, we’re doing well. And you?”
“Very well. You’ve probably heard by now that Clarissa contacted me. Do you know anything about that, by chance? Have you been in touch with her?”
“Oh, not too much. When we talked recently, she was so sweet and asked about how your father and I were doing. She also said that she was mainly living in New York now, and I told her that you were going there every now and then l
ately.”
“Aha. And that was that?”
“Well, I also mentioned that you’d be in New York for a longer spell in the future. She was so pleased. Such a sweetheart, I tell you!”
“But I don’t want anything to do with her. Besides, I haven’t made a final decision about moving to New York,” Thomas exclaimed gruffly, trying to rein in his emotions and not come down too hard on his mother.
“But Thomas, we just talked about you two maybe seeing each other every now and again. I didn’t want to—”
“Yes, but that’s exactly the point. Clarissa and I haven’t been together for a long time. She no longer has a place in my life.” Thomas paced back and forth in frustration. He almost knocked over the big ficus plant, which was looking rather skeletal, having lost almost all its leaves.
“Okay, okay. Calm down. We’ll let it go.”
“You’ll let it go. It’s not like Papa’s in touch with her, right?”
“No, he’s not. You know how he is. He hates talking on the phone.”
“Okay, but do you really understand me now?”
“Yes, I do.”
Thomas calmed down. “Good, let’s move on to happier topics.”
“Okay. Like what?”
“I’d like to come over for dinner this week. How’s Thursday?”
“Of course!” she said, happy to change the subject. “You’re always welcome here, you know that!”
“I know, but I’m not coming alone. I want to bring someone.”
“You’re bringing someone? Who?”
“I’ve met a really great girl and—”
“A new girlfriend?”
“Yes, I have a new girlfriend.”
The cat was officially out of the bag.
Johanna and Thomas met that same evening in a Chinese restaurant, unable to spend a whole day apart, like the new lovers they so obviously were. They fit the cliché 100 percent: they couldn’t keep their hands off each other, couldn’t bear to be apart, and were unfailingly sweet to each other. There was an underlying tentativeness in their gestures and facial expressions as they carefully opened up to each other about their hopes, dreams, and aspirations; they touched or kissed at every opportunity.
Relationship goals were a sensitive issue, because after a certain age, it was about more than just holding hands; going to parties, festivals, or concerts; or staying in bed and having great sex for days at a time. No, adult relationships were about loftier things: finding an apartment or building a house; starting a family; and, if time and money allowed, even getting a sweet-tempered family dog. Gradually, romantic couples’ concerns turned to careers and finances instead of passing their final exams and scraping together enough pocket money to buy cigarettes and beer. It was important to have steady household income, to provide for everybody and hopefully go on vacation at least once a year. Additionally, setting up and paying into a private retirement account made sense, since the future was too uncertain to rely solely on social security.
And while they sat across from each other, so in love, and began to forge mini-plans for the very near future. Thomas said, “I have a surprise for you,” and handed her an envelope.
“A surprise?” Johanna tentatively took the champagne-colored envelope with the Lehmann & Partners logo on it.
“I didn’t have another envelope; the outside has nothing to do with what’s inside. You’re not getting a job offer from Lehmann.”
Johanna was clueless.
Thomas nodded with a big smile across his face. “Open it!”
She opened the intimidating envelope and examined its contents. “What? No! You’re kidding!” she exclaimed. “Really?”
“Yes.”
“We’re flying to Dublin for the weekend?” she said, loud enough for everyone in the restaurant to hear.
“Yes. Can you come?”
“Of course, of course!” Johanna was beside herself with joy.
“I thought it would be better than lying around the apartment like lazy bums, having sex, cooking together, sleeping all day . . .”
“We’re going to Dublin!” Johanna exclaimed. She hadn’t traveled for a long time, except for the day-trip back to her hometown with Martin.
“I have another question,” Thomas said. He was being a little bit coy.
“Yes, what? Ask me already!”
“Okay . . . Will you accompany me to my parents’ house on Thursday?”
“Meet you parents already? Oh my God!” she exclaimed as a little alarm went off in her head.
“Don’t worry. They’re really great, and if they’re not nice to you, then I’ll disown them.”
“Ha-ha,” she giggled as she nervously scratched her neck, leaving behind pink lines that turned bright red a few minutes later. “Okay. What’s the occasion? What should I wear? Is there anything I should know ahead of time?”
“Well, they smoke pot, listen to the Rolling Stones constantly, and love going to swingers’ parties—”
“Stop joking, I mean it.”
“All right. Don’t worry. They’re totally normal. Whatever that means.”
30
Thursday night arrived in a flash. The days flew by as Johanna and Thomas spent every evening together and phoned or texted daily. Barely two hours went by without their letting each other know they were still there, still alive.
“My mother asked me what you like to eat,” Thomas said on their way over to his parents’ place.
“Everything,” she said as she tugged at her jacket, trying to get her shoulder pads adjusted properly. She got them straightened out, but maybe she should have worn the other blazer without the shoulder pads. This blazer made her seem too domineering; it just didn’t suit her at all.
“Well, I don’t like organ meats.”
“I know, I already warned Gabriele.”
“Gabriele? I thought your mother’s name was Henriette?”
“My second mother. The housekeeper.”
Johanna smiled, then adjusted her blazer again.
“You’re adorable when you’re nervous,” Thomas noted as he peeked over at her.
She hadn’t felt well for a couple hours; it seemed like her nervousness was affecting her stomach.
“Concentrate on driving instead of staring at me, okay?”
“All right. All right,” he laughed, and looked at her again.
“Didn’t you hear me?”
“Okay, okay,” he said as he laid his hand on her thigh to calm her down. “Gabriele cooks for us. I don’t think my mother’s seen the inside of a kitchen for a long time.”
A little later, they turned onto a side street and rolled into a driveway.
“What a gorgeous house,” Johanna said as she closed her car door.
“Yes, it is.”
Thomas was obviously proud of his parents’ home. He held her hand as they walked up the white gravel driveway to the Japanese cypress trees standing guard near the front door.
“Psst . . . Do I look okay?” Johanna asked as she backed up so Thomas could take a good look at her.
“You look amazing!”
“Okay, I guess we can go in. Should I ring the bell?”
“Yes, go ahead.”
“Okay. I’ll do it. Should I really?”
“Yes!”
“Are you sure?”
“Come on, just do it . . .”
Johanna rang the bell. Thomas noticed Johanna’s surprise at the gold-plated doorbell; the opulence of the place wasn’t helping her nerves.
Gabriele opened the door and greeted them warmly. Gabriele loved Thomas like a son—Johanna could see that immediately. His mother and father followed behind, hugging Thomas and shaking Johanna’s hand.
“Come on in,” Henriette said sweetly but firmly.
As she
took her place in the dining room, Johanna’s nervousness started to make her nauseous.
“I’m so glad that you could come to visit us, Miss . . . ,” said Thomas’s mother, seeming genuinely pleased.
“Oh, please, just call me Johanna,” Johanna said.
“Okay. I’m Henriette and this is Karl.”
Gabriele served the soup as Thomas’s father tried to start a conversation.
“So, you work at a cooking school. What do you do exactly?” he asked as he scrutinized her.
“I cook and I also assist the head chef. Recently, I’ve been handling the marketing.”
“She’s a fantastic cook,” Thomas gushed as he lightly touched her hand.
“That’s good, because I can’t cook at all.” His mother held up her glass as she giggled.
Johanna noticed the elegant way his mother ate. She picked up her spoon slowly and deliberately each time she brought it to her mouth, almost as if she were conducting a choir singing a lullaby, or as if she wanted the spoon to dance Swan Lake.
“You’re Martin’s sister, right?” Henriette gazed at her questioningly.
Johanna nodded.
“Oh, he’s such a doll, but unfortunately, we don’t see him often. Well, when Thomas still lived here, we saw him a lot more, of course.”
“That soup was really excellent,” Johanna said, and the housekeeper grinned and nodded as she took the empty plates away, obviously pleased with the compliment.
“How is Martin anyway?” asked Karl.
“Very well,” Johanna started to say. “He’s doing really well at work, and, more importantly, he’s planning to marry his girlfriend soon. He proposed to her just recently.”
“Yes, he practiced his proposal on me,” Thomas joked with a wink.
Karl gave him a look.
“Yup, he got down on one knee and popped the question,” he kidded.
“Oh, how lovely, a wedding!” his mother exclaimed as the faint lines around her eyes became more visible than usual.
“And I said yes!”
“I’m ever so happy for you both,” Johanna teased with a giggle as everybody else ignored Thomas’s silly banter. She was trying to keep her spirits up, though she didn’t feel very well.