by May, Lana N.
“I guess so, I don’t know.”
“Well, it’s always been there, even before we knew each other.”
“Yes, but this is the first time I’ve really noticed it in all its glorious detail.”
As usual, Johanna had already prepared something delicious, and this time, they managed to eat it before hopping into bed and spending the rest of the night there. Their hearts throbbed with joy as they made love tenderly, passionately, longingly, and devotedly. The flame of love burned deep inside their souls.
It was dark outside, then daylight broke; people walked down the street or dashed to catch streetcars and subways. Some were walking their dogs, some were making their obligatory shopping runs at the Naschmarkt, and others met for breakfast in nice cafés. They chatted, told each other countless stories, and debated the existence of God as they tried to solve the world’s problems; they also discussed politics, the current economic situation, health problems, and the weather.
Above them all, in a penthouse apartment in the fourth district, two people were missing everything that was happening below. They lay fast asleep, feeling safe and sound, their limbs entwined around each other, unaware of the world outside their windows. Johanna and Thomas were as one again for the weekend, happily oblivious to everyday events. They only had eyes for each other. The world could have been coming to an end, and they probably would have been the last ones to know. Friday went by quickly; they inhaled and exhaled 17,280 times each, and went to the bathroom approximately six times each. They ate three times; drank about a half gallon of water, tea, and coffee; they showered once—together. They ate two-and-a-half large pieces of apple pie from the nearby bakery, took a nap on the couch around noon, said a thousand words, had sex twice, and fell asleep again around eleven in the evening. That was Friday.
50
“Stop it! Help! Stop!”
Thomas tickled Johanna and kissed her as though he had just won her in a championship game.
“Are you going to make me breakfast now?”
“No, you’re the one that bragged about your egg dishes in your e-mails, so it’s your turn. I already bought everything,” Johanna said. She continued to giggle as she tried to tickle Thomas back or at least free herself from his clutches.
Thomas grinned and let her go.
Well, good, he thought as he stood up. He came back wearing his rabbit foot’s apron and chef’s hat.
“Whatever the signora wants, because I make-a dee best-a egga-disha with-a so much amore for my girlfriend,” he said, then pursed his lips as he leaned against the door frame.
Johanna laughed and threw the blanket over her head. “I’m looking forward to it,” she cried in his direction as he left the bedroom.
He turned around one more time as he pointed a wooden spoon in her direction. “You’ll be on cloud nine when you taste my delicious meal.”
“Excellent,” she said after Thomas served the eggs.
“Certainly, you’re capable of doing other things as well,” Johanna noted as she chewed.
“You mean like vacuuming?” said Thomas.
“I mean cooking! But if you want to vacuum, I would have no problem with that. I’ll cook, you clean.”
Thomas looked puzzled. “But I’m paying a cleaning lady,” he said, and looked around the apartment just in case. He climbed on a chair and stroked the highest kitchen shelf with his index finger. He turned the clean finger around to scrutinize it more closely, then said, “Yes, my cleaning lady is a gem.”
The wonderful lady’s name was Silvia. She was from Bulgaria and was decades older than Thomas. Her face was wrinkly, and she was quite overweight, but she was also agile, reliable, and energetic when it came to cleaning. Nothing escaped her attention, not one piece of lint or speck of dust. There were no streaks on the windows, either. She’d come highly recommended by Gabriele.
On the way to see Thomas’s parents, Johanna tried to stay relaxed. Fine, so she hadn’t made the best first impression, but that just meant tonight would be a major improvement. Just in case, she took some vitamin C and immune-enhancing homeopathic drops to keep from getting sick again.
“So wonderful that you both could come,” Thomas’s mother exclaimed as she embraced her son. “Hello, Johanna! Come in, come in.” In her excitement, she barely made room for Karl to greet the couple.
They sat down at the big table; the wine and water glasses were set perfectly, the carefully folded linen napkins placed neatly on white plates. The table was also set with cutlery of every shape and size. It reminded Johanna of a scene from Pretty Woman. An eye-catching arrangement of white calla lilies adorned the middle of the table, on which a regal-looking linen tablecloth sat.
Gabriele brought the appetizer, smoked trout.
“This comes from an organic, sustainable fish farm in Styria,” Thomas’s mother explained proudly. “Thomas told me that you place great value on such things.”
Johanna nodded happily.
The fish was excellent.
“I trust that you’ve recovered from the last time you were here?” asked Henriette. She took a sip of water as she looked at Johanna.
“Yes, thank you, but it took a little while.”
“Yes, viruses can be so tenacious.”
“How was New York?” asked Karl.
Thomas gave a detailed report, perhaps too detailed, about the current business situation. Karl was very interested, and he and Thomas kept talking while Johanna and Henriette discussed the culinary arts.
After the main course—a delicious beef Wellington—Gabriele served a raspberry mousse for dessert.
“Just a little something light,” Henriette said as she picked up her dessert spoon. “How long have you lived in Vienna?” Henriette asked Johanna.
“Several months now.”
“Do you like the city?”
“Yes, it’s lovely. There’s so much to do here.”
“Oh, yes. It just received yet another award for being such a livable city,” said Henriette, her voice filled with pride. “I was born in Vienna; I couldn’t imagine living in a better place in the entire world.”
Of course! No one in their right mind would move away from such a beautiful home, Johanna thought.
“Oh, and Vienna is such a great place to raise children. As a child, Thomas spent all his time in the backyard. He would gather all the leaves together in a big pile so that the hedgehog would have a place to live,” Henriette reminisced. She was so proud of her son, because, as she always said, he had such a good heart.
Thomas thought about it. “Yes, that’s right, I gathered leaves for Mr. Quillhead,” he said as his parents grinned.
“You had a hedgehog named Mr. Quillhead?”
Thomas nodded. “Yes, he was very small and had lost his mother. We took him to the vet and bottle-fed him.”
“That’s so sweet,” Johanna exclaimed. How touching, she mused. She took a sip of her wine.
“Your family’s from the country?” Karl asked. He already knew because of Martin.
“Yes, that’s right,” she said, though actually her town had grown over the years, and it wasn’t all that rural anymore. She thought for a moment how sad it was that she and Martin were the only family left now.
“We were so sorry to hear about your parents’ accident,” Henriette said softly.
“Please accept our deepest condolences,” Karl said sincerely.
“Thank you,” Johanna replied, smiling bravely. “You kind words mean a lot to me.”
Karl nodded, then quickly changed the subject.
“I’d like to smoke a cigar. Thomas, would you like to join me?”
The men excused themselves.
“I can show you Thomas’s baby albums; he was such a sweet boy. I mean, he still is, but whenever I call him ‘sweet,’ he gets a bit snippy. He’s a grown
man now, but in a mother’s eyes, her children will always be her babies.” Henriette snatched up one of the eight blue photo books from the bookshelf.
“We took so many photos, but I’ll just show you my favorite album,” she said as she started to leaf through it: Thomas in the bathtub, Thomas dressed up like a ghost, Thomas blowing out the candles on his birthday cake, Thomas in his swimsuit on the beach, Thomas screaming with his mouth wide open, Thomas having a temper tantrum because he wasn’t allowed to have ice cream, Thomas kissing a little girl on the cheek, and tons of other snapshots from his childhood.
Johanna liked one of the shots in particular. It was a photograph of Thomas as a groom; next to him was a little blonde girl wrapped up in a lace curtain. Johanna pointed at the picture.
Henriette laughed.
“Was that for Mardi Gras?”
“Oh, no. That’s a cute story. He was marrying Bettina there because she promised to give him her Mickey Mouse magazine collection. The extortion attempt was successful, so we had to hold a marriage ceremony in the garden, with music, dancing, cake, and the whole hubbub.”
Johanna found the story quite entertaining.
“They even took a honeymoon in the kiddie pool.” Henriette laughed as she recalled the entire wedding as if it were happening before her eyes.
“What happened to Bettina? Does she still live in Vienna?”
“No, she moved away many years ago. She lives in Tyrol. She’s married with two children. As a mother, you sometimes wish your kids would never grow up and move out. Unfortunately, it’s inevitable. Sometime or other, children have to leave the nest,” Henriette said, a touch of sadness in her voice.
At that moment, Johanna missed her mother and her father more than ever. Their family photo albums ended abruptly when she hit fifteen.
The evening went well. They stayed till midnight, when fatigue set in for everyone.
“We should probably head back now,” Thomas said as he patted around for his car keys in his jacket pocket.
“Good idea. I’m getting kind of tired.”
“I’m so happy you both came!” Henriette said as she hugged her son.
“Yeah, it was nice to spend less time in the bathroom,” Johanna joked.
Henriette seized the opportunity to give her maybe-future-daughter-in-law a hug.
Karl was a bit more distant when he said his good-byes, but later he told his wife that Johanna’s sweet spirit thoroughly charmed him.
“They definitely like you,” Thomas said with satisfaction after they climbed into the car.
“Did you expect anything else?” Johanna teased.
“No, you should have let me finish my sentence, because I was about to add that I expected nothing less!”
Johanna nodded cheerfully as Thomas put the car in reverse to back out of the driveway. “I like them, too.”
51
A blanket of gray, gloomy clouds covered the city as Johanna and Thomas dozed and cuddled under the blankets. It was already Sunday; Thomas’s departure rapidly approached.
Johanna staggered sleepily to the toilet. On the way back, she stole a peek at the clock. It was almost ten o’clock in the morning. She woke up Thomas, so they wouldn’t sleep away their last precious hours together.
“What are we doing today?” she asked as she lay against him and ran her fingers through his hair.
Thomas grunted something unintelligible. He obviously wasn’t fully awake and didn’t give the impression that he was full of zest and ready to take on the world, though they’d slept for almost nine hours.
Good, Johanna thought. I’ll sneak in the kitchen and come back in about twenty minutes with a tray full of delicious treats: croissants, rolls, jams of all kinds, honey, butter, ham, cheese, and coffee.
“Wake up, Thomas. Breakfast is ready,” she whispered in his ear as she placed the tray on his stomach.
“Mmm!” He sat up. He was revitalized by his first sip of good strong coffee, really good, not the weak American stuff foisted upon him in New York.
“What would you like to do today?” he said after he’d eaten every last bite of his delicious meal.
Johanna shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s not very pretty outside, but it’s not raining, either.”
“We could take a drive outside the city, take a walk someplace pretty, go get some lunch?” Thomas suggested.
“Excellent idea.”
Suddenly, Thomas’s cell phone rang. It was Martin.
“Why is my brother calling you?” she said, punching him lightly on the shoulder.
“Because I’m extremely popular with my fans,” he teased as he took the call.
Johanna carried the tray back into the kitchen. Suddenly, Thomas came in and gave her a big hug from behind.
“Martin proposed that we go over to their place this afternoon for some cake and coffee, or a glass of wine or beer.”
This time, Johanna had to deliberate a little. “Okay, we can drop in for a bit. But then I want to have you all to myself this evening.”
Thomas called Martin back. “Good, we’ll come this afternoon. We’ll call when we’re on the way.”
Thomas had secretly planned this day trip ahead of time, but he wanted it to appear spontaneous. Thomas knew what Johanna liked; he had carefully observed her when she leafed through wine magazines, reading articles about the highly acclaimed Grüner Veltliner wine. He’d researched wineries and organic farmers in the area. He knew that she hated nothing more than cheap, factory-made bread, which was about as authentic and local as the cheap blouses H&M sold in all colors and sizes around the world. While in New York, Thomas had booked this surprise outing to an organic vineyard and farm that Johanna had read about in one of her culinary magazines. He had also planned a romantic, candlelit dinner—well, actually, a candlelit lunch.
Thinking they were going for a long walk in the country, Johanna put on sneakers and casual clothes. She should have realized something was going on when Thomas suggested that instead of sweatpants—which he didn’t necessarily think were unsexy—she should wear jeans. He was able to talk her out of her sneakers, too. She figured he just wanted to see her in something nicer on their last day, so she acquiesced.
“Where are we going?” she asked in the car.
“Let me surprise you. I know the location of a great dirt road.”
“A what?” she asked with some irritation. “A dirt road? And you won’t let me wear my sneakers? Well, Thomas, you are a very odd person.”
“Just wait. You’ll see.”
“Oh, what are you up to?”
“Don’t be a pest. Just let me surprise you.”
“All right,” she said. Less than five minutes later, though, she asked him again. “You could at least give me a hint . . . just a little one, maybe?”
Thomas shook his head vehemently and refused to say a word. He knew if he ignored her questions, she would eventually give up. Johanna can be quite demanding, he thought as she stared at him in the hope that she could pry a word out of him with her eyes. Thomas turned up the music.
“Who’s this singer? I like it, but it’s not your kind of music, is it?”
“That’s ‘All About Your Heart’ by Mindy Gledhill,” he replied. “And of course it’s my kind of music; otherwise, I wouldn’t have put it on.”
“I just said that because it’s such a peaceful song.”
“Oh, I like peaceful music,” he proclaimed, putting his hand on Johanna’s knee, although he would have preferred to put it over her mouth.
After about thirty minutes, Thomas turned down an exit ramp toward the Heinz Organic Farm.
“We’re going to a winery?” Johanna started to jiggle her right foot in excitement. “This is the one that I read about!”
“Yes. Are you happy?”
“Totally! What are we doi
ng here?”
“It’s a surprise,” he said as he stepped out of the car.
The owners of the winery were a married couple, Mr. and Mrs. Heinz. The man must have been at least six feet six. They greeted them enthusiastically.
“Hello. Welcome! It’s such an honor to have you as our guests. This is my husband, Sepp, I’m Maria, and we run this place,” she said, visibly proud as she pointed to her husband and to the surrounding terrain, ringed by vineyards.
The lush green vines lit up the land. It was hard to tell which was greener—the grass or the grapevines. Precious, pearly green grapes hung on the vines. These would later be made into Grüner Veltliner, Riesling, or Pinot Blanc. Between the vines, which were lined up like an army in formation, supported by nearly invisible wires and wooden posts, were narrow paths that were easy to spot from a distance.
“Mama, Mama!” yelled a blonde child running toward Thomas and Johanna.
“That’s our daughter, Katharina, our sunshine,” the mother announced with pride as the rosy-cheeked little girl hid under her mother’s apron. She occasionally snuck a peek at Johanna and her shoes.
“They’re so pretty,” Katharina said as she pointed at Johanna’s ballerina flats.
“Thank you,” she said as she bent over to greet the little girl.
“Good. We’ll start the tour by going through our cellar. There’ll be a wine tasting there later, after the tour. Last year was an excellent vintage!” said Sepp as he opened a heavy wooden door that hid a staircase into a rustic cellar.
The wine cellar was impressive. It smelled a bit musty because of the countless wooden barrels, which were stacked high on both sides of the room. It was also a bit cool, so Johanna pulled her sweater around herself.
“How old is your winery now?” Thomas asked.
“It’s been in the family for a very long time. I took it over from my father. And he inherited it from his father before him,” said Sepp as he stepped in front of a giant wooden barrel. “These barrels are made of local, aged oak and hold 225 liters of wine.”
“Wow,” Johanna said in amazement. “And which wine do these barrels contain?”