Love Virtually (20 page)

1) Quite nice, but not nearly as interesting as in his emails.

Now I can perfectly happily delete him from every aspect of my life with a good conscience.

2) I can't believe I've spent a year with this bore.

3) The perfect man to have an affair with. Shame he's going to be living on the other side of the Atlantic.

4) He's drop-dead gorgeous! What an intoxicating evening! Really worth all those months of emailing. Now that's checked off I can concentrate on packing Jonas's lunch.

5) Shit! He's the one. I'd have dumped Bernhard and given up my family for him. But now he's escaping to America, the land of no emails. But I shall wait for him! I shall light a candle for him every day. And I shall include him in my prayers—after the one for the children—until he returns in all his glory and splendor . . .

Three minutes later

Re:

I'm going to miss your sarcasm, Emmi.

Two minutes later

Re:

You can take a whole heap of it to Boston with you, if you like. I'm not short of it. So: which of these men would you most like to be after our official parting?

Five minutes later

Re:

I'm not going to be any of them. I'm going to be who I am. And you'll see me as I am. At least you'll see me as you think I am. Or see me as you want to think I am.

One minute later

Re:

Will I want to meet you again?

Forty-five seconds later

Re:

No.

Thirty-five seconds later

Re:

Why not?

Fifty seconds later

Re:

Because that won't be possible.

One minute later

Re:

Everything's possible.

Forty-seconds seconds later

Re:

Except that. Because it's impossible, full stop.

Fifty-five seconds later

Re:

Things that seem impossible beforehand often turn out to be possible after all. And sometimes they're not the worst.

Two minutes later

Re:

I'm sorry, Emmi. There is no possibility that we'll meet again. You'll see.

One minute later

Re:

Why would I want to? If I know that there'll be no second meeting, why would I want to come to a first?

Two minutes later

Subject: To Mr. Leike

Dear Mr. Leike,

We're going through a torrid time. If this doesn't stop, our marriage is going to collapse. I can't imagine that this is your intention. Please, meet up with my wife and stop writing to her (I swear I have no idea what you're writing to each other, nor do I want to know anymore. I just want it to stop once and for all).

With kind regards,

Bernhard Rothner

Three minutes later

Re:

You yourself have to know why you want to meet me, Emmi—if you do want to. All I can say is that I definitely want to meet you! I think by now I've explained why. Have a nice evening,

Love,

Leo

One minute later

Re:

Icy Leo Leike. “Is that how the guy spoke to me the whole time.” Pretty sad, really.

CHAPTER NINE

Three days later

Subject: Questions outstanding

Hi Leo,

It seems you're not emailing me anymore. Are you still going to answer my emails? How long for? When are you going to Boston?

Kind regards,

Emmi

Nine hours later

Re: Questions outstanding

Good evening, Emmi. I'm afraid my life is a mess. I'm right in the middle of preparations for my move to America. My flight's on July 16, so two weeks from tomorrow. So I'll say it again: it would be great if we could meet before then. If you're not sure whether you want to, then just do it for my sake, please. I really want to! I'd be so happy if you said yes. I know I'd feel better afterward. And I'm sure you'd feel good too.

Twelve minutes later

Re: Questions outstanding

Don't you understand, Leo? As it's supposed to be a “farewell meeting,” I'll only feel good afterward if it turns out that you're different from the man who's been writing to me for an entire year (apart from some of your ghastly, impersonal messages of late). If you
are
“different,” our meeting would be a huge disappointment, and the only good thing about it would be that it's our last. So if you're convinced I'd feel good afterward, then you're telling me indirectly that the meeting would be a disappointment. And so I'll ask you again: Why should I agree to a meeting that can only be a disappointment?

Eight minutes later

Re: Questions outstanding

I don't think our meeting would have to be disappointing for you to feel better than . . . you do today, for example.

One minute later

Re: Questions outstanding

Today? How do you know how I feel today?

Fifty seconds later

Re: Questions outstanding

You're not in good form today, Emmi.

Thirty seconds later

Re: Questions outstanding

And what about you?

Thirty-five seconds later

Re: Questions outstanding

I'm not in great form either.

Twenty-five seconds later

Re: Questions outstanding

Why not?

Forty-five seconds later

Re: Questions outstanding

For the same reason that you're not.

Fifty seconds later

Re: Questions outstanding

But you're to blame, Leo. No one's forcing you to disappear from my life.

Forty seconds later

Re: Questions outstanding

But they are!

Forty seconds later

Re: Questions outstanding

Who is?

The following morning

Subject: I am!

I am!

I'm forcing myself. Me, and reason.

An hour and a half later

Re: I am!

So who is it that wants to meet up with me? Is that you and reason too? Or you and unreason? Or sheer unreason? Or (the worst option) sheer reason?

Twenty minutes later

Re: I am!

Me, my reason, my emotions, my hands, my feet, my eyes, my nose, my ears, my mouth. Every bit of me wants to meet you, Emmi.

Three minutes later

Re: I am!

Your mouth?

Fifteen minutes

Re: I am!

Yes, of course: to talk.

Fifty seconds later

Re: I am!

I see.

Two days later

Subject: O.K.

Hi Leo.

As far as I'm concerned, we might as well risk it. Let's meet up, what difference would it make? When are you free this week?

An hour and a half later

Re: O.K.

I'll let you decide. Wednesday, Thursday, Friday?

One minute later

Re: O.K.

Tomorrow

Three minutes later

Re: O.K.

Tomorrow? Fine, tomorrow. Morning, lunchtime, afternoon, evening?

One minute later

Re: O.K.

Evening. Where, though?

Ten minutes later

Re: O.K.

At a café of your choice. At a restaurant of your choice. At a museum of your choice. On a walk of your choice. On a park bench of your choice. On a chair of your choice. Or in any other place of your choice.

Fifty seconds later

Re: O.K.

At your place.

Eight minutes later

Re: O.K.

Why?

Forty seconds later

Re: O.K.

Why not?

One minute later

Re: O.K.

What do you have in mind?

Fifty-five seconds later

Re: O.K.

What do YOU have in mind, Leo? You're the one wanting this farewell meeting, if I may say so.

Thirty-five minutes later

Re: O.K.

I've got nothing at all in mind. I just want to see the woman who's been with me for months, who's made a mark on my life. I want to hear more of her lovely voice, more than “whisky” and “toes.” I want to watch her lips as she says, “What do YOU have in mind, Leo? You're the one who wanted this farewell meeting, if I may say so.” How do the corners of her mouth move, how do her eyes shine, how do her eyebrows rise when she utters sentences like these? What expression does she have when she's being ironic? What traces have the years of nightly north wind left on her cheeks? Hundreds of things like these interest me about Emmi.

Five minutes later

Re: O.K.

Your interest comes a little late, Leo. One evening might not be long enough for this kind of physiognomical research. How many hours were you planning for? How long should I stay?

Three minutes later

Re: O.K.

For as long as we both want.

One minute later

Re: O.K.

And if we don't agree?

Four minutes later

Re: O.K.

Then I suppose we'll go with whoever wants to finish up first.

Fifty seconds later

Re: O.K.

Which will probably be you.

Forty seconds later

Re: O.K.

That's not certain.

Twenty minutes later

Re: O.K.

It's astonishing how little is certain, despite the fact we're writing to each other all the time. How will we greet each other, for example? Will we shake hands? Clap each other on the shoulders? Should I extend the slender fingers of an elegant hand for you to kiss? Should I proffer one of my cheeks, weathered by the north wind? Will you approach me mouth-first? Or will we just stare at each other for a while, like aliens?

Three minutes later

Re: O.K.

I suggest I put a glass of wine in your hand and we'll make a toast. To us.

Two minutes later

Re: O.K.

Have you got any whisky? And I don't mean some nasty old bottle with three millimeters of some algaefied yellowy-brown liquid at the bottom. In that case I'LL be the one who decides when we finish, and it'll be a very short meeting indeed.

One minute later

Re: O.K.

It's not the whisky that will scupper our meeting.

Forty-five seconds later

Re: O.K.

What will, then?

Two minutes later

Re: O.K.

Nothing. It'll be a lovely, lively, harmless and enjoyable meeting, Emmi, you'll see.

Three hours later

Re: O.K.

Do you have a moment, Leo? I know it's late, but pour yourself another glass of wine—it always does you a world of good. Thing is, I can't stop thinking about everything and I've got a few questions. On my special subject, for example:

1) Do you think you might want to sleep with me at our farewell meeting?

2) Do you think I might want to sleep with you?

3) If the answer to both of the above is yes (and if we actually do sleep together): do you really believe that we'll feel good afterward? You know, the way you promised me: “And I'm sure you'd feel good too.”

4) How does that tie in with your prediction that I won't want to meet you again?

Ten minutes later

Re: O.K.

1) I think I might want to sleep with you, but I don't have to show it.

2) I think you
might
want to sleep with me, but probably not.

3) Would we feel good afterward? Yes, I think we would.

4) You won't want to meet me again because you have a family, and after our meeting you'll know exactly where you belong.

Seven minutes later

Re: O.K.

1) If you wanted to sleep with me, do you really think I wouldn't notice?

2) And as for whether
I
might want to sleep with you: you're not far off when you say “probably not.” ( Just so you don't get your hopes up.)

3) Would we feel good afterward? I like it when you talk like a normal man for a change—it sounds so down to earth.

4) You think I'll know exactly where I belong: do you really think at this stage you can judge that better than I can?

5) And one last question before we go to bed, Leo: Are you still just a little bit in love with me?

One minute later

Re: O.K.

A little bit?

Two minutes later

Re: O.K.

Good night. I'm very much in love with you. I'm terrified of our meeting. I can't imagine—I can hardly bear to imagine— that then I'm going to lose you.

All my love,

Emmi

Three minutes later

Re: O.K.

You should never think about “losing.” You lose just by thinking about it. Good night, my love.

The following morning

Subject: (no subject)

Good morning, Leo. I didn't sleep a wink. Should I really come over to your place this evening?

Five minutes later

Re:

Good morning, Emmi. I'm glad I'm not the only one who didn't sleep. Yes, do come over. Is 7 o'clock O.K.? We could sit out on the terrace for a while.

Two hours later

Re:

Leo, Leo, Leo, let's assume this evening goes better than you think. Let's assume you fall in love with the woman you see before you, with the expression that goes with her irony, with the sound of her voice, with her hand movements, with her eyes, her hair (I'm excluding her breasts), with her right earlobe, with her left shinbone, whatever. Let's assume you feel there's more that connects us than just our computer servers, and that it's no mere coincidence that we've gotten so caught up in each other. Do you think you might not want to see me again, Leo? Might you not want to keep on writing to me, even from Boston? Might you not want to be together with me? Might you not want to stay together with me? Might you not want to live with me?