Wait for Me in Vienna (18 page)

“You said that you like gin and tonics on occasion?” he asked as the bartender passed them their drinks.

“Yes, I do,” she said as she sucked on the green straw.

He noted that she was pleased that he had remembered.

She looked at him flirtatiously as she nibbled the straw. She did it because she was nervous and insecure, but to him, it looked seductive. An irrepressible desire started to grow in Thomas. He would have loved to ravish her on the spot, lift her up onto the bar, tear her clothes off, kiss her everywhere, and love her like she’d never been loved before. Her stunning dress was partly to blame. He averted his eyes so that the fantasy wouldn’t overwhelm him.

At the same moment, Johanna’s mind filled with images of a passionate liaison. She imagined him grabbing her and how they’d melt into each other. She stepped forward, looked him in the eye, and kissed him hard. Thomas felt himself thrown off balance by the force of her desire. Suddenly, all her insecurity disappeared, and Johanna became poised, powerful, and self-assured. They kissed for several minutes, and then she gasped and took a sip of her drink to catch her breath. He pulled her close, she swayed against him to the beat of the music, and they kissed again; she stepped back, took another sip, repeating the pattern until there was no gin and tonic left and they both trembled with desire.

“Can I go home with you?” she breathed into his ear.

Yes,
she
was the one who made the move. How could he say no? He almost couldn’t handle it as she unflinchingly stood before him and demanded exactly what he had been longing for. Almost faster than the human eye could see, he rushed over to the cloakroom and picked up their coats.

“There are some taxis around the corner. Let’s grab one,” he said. In the heat of the moment, he forgot that Johanna couldn’t come to his place because she would see the many obvious signs that he already had a girlfriend.

“Can we go to your place?” he asked.

Johanna didn’t feel good about taking anyone over to Martin’s place.

Thomas saw the chance to spend a beautiful night with Johanna dwindle to nothing; he felt his passion cool quickly. It was really for the best because, as he returned to his senses, it became abundantly clear to him that he couldn’t go any further with her now. He had cheated on Clarissa with Johanna already. To start a relationship this way wasn’t fair to either of them. Even though it was difficult, he still had to maintain some small sense of decency. He looked at Johanna, who gazed into his eyes, piercing his soul. He started to explain, but Johanna interrupted.

“Can’t we go to your place?”

Thomas shook his head; he wanted to say that he had company, but he couldn’t tell such a bald lie.

“Why don’t we just do it in the restroom?” she said.

The suggestion frightened her. She wished she could take it back. She wouldn’t dare have sex in a restroom; she was way too conservative for that.

Her unexpected wildness aroused Thomas like no one had aroused him before. But this wasn’t the way he wanted their first intimate night together to be, especially not with this lie that he was holding on to. He wanted to tell her everything, but he was afraid that if he told her the truth before he actually broke up with Clarissa, he’d lose her forever.

“You know what, let’s call it a night for right now. You’re an unbelievably exciting, loving, good-looking, and interesting woman—and I think I’m falling for you—but we shouldn’t sleep with each other right now.” He kept his hands on her shoulders so she couldn’t run away.

What? How could this be happening?
Exciting and beautiful, but he didn’t want to sleep with her? What in the world was going on here? Weren’t men mainly interested in sex?

“You’re serious?” she asked.

“Yes, I’m serious. I know this is surprising to you now, and honestly, it’s surprising to me, too, but it’s really better this way. Look, take this taxi and go home. I promise I’ll call you and we’ll do something really great together next week,” Thomas said, trying to be sensitive. Then he opened the cab door. She had to go; he didn’t trust himself to be with her right now.

“Okay,” Johanna said, and got into cab.

Crap, no kiss good night,
she thought as it pulled away.

Boy, I really screwed this up,
Thomas thought as he watched the white taxi screech around the corner.

As Johanna rode home, a powerful thought shook her: Why couldn’t she go to Thomas’s place?

Thomas’s cell phone rang as Johanna’s taxi disappeared into the night. He looked with disappointment at the phone’s display. It was Clarissa.

“I just went out for a beer with friends,” he lied. He could see his breath as he shuffled through the cold of the night.

Clarissa calmed down; she was surprised that Thomas was still out at this time of night. But she accepted his explanation and chattered away as he walked joylessly to the subway.

22

Martin’s birthday weekend was just around the corner. It was Friday, and Johanna hadn’t heard from Thomas. Of course, Thomas hadn’t heard from Johanna, either. She spent her waking hours thinking about all the possible reasons why Thomas had brushed her off so suddenly. But she couldn’t come up with any satisfactory scenario, so she decided that she’d simply have to ask Thomas directly.

“We’ll hang balloons everywhere; that’ll look great,” said Linda as she pointed to the living-room ceiling.

“Yeah, that’s a great idea. Hey, who’s coming to the party?” asked Johanna as she removed the qi gong books from the dining table; Linda was taking a qi gong class at an adult education center.

“Just Martin’s closest friends. His best friend, Thomas, Thomas’s girlfriend, and some others. I think you already know Thomas, right?”

I know a Thomas, but it’s not Martin’s friend,
Johanna thought.

“No, I don’t know him. Funny, though. I’ve lived here for a while, but I’ve never met him.”

“Typical Martin. You’ll meet him tomorrow. He’s a real sweetheart; I would have set you up with him immediately, but unfortunately, he already has a girlfriend, Clarissa. She’s very beautiful, works as a model. Don’t get too involved with her, though; her self-absorption can be exhausting.” Linda attached a balloon at the bottom of a silver light fixture hanging from the ceiling. “We have to hang out because the guys are friends, but she’s definitely not my cup of tea. Why Thomas chose her is beyond me.”

The blue-and-yellow Ikea balloons had the words “Happy Birthday” on them in bold letters.

If Johanna had the slightest inkling that this Thomas was her Thomas, she would have freaked out on the spot.

“How long have you known those two?”

“Do you mean Martin and Thomas? Mmm, let me think. I’ve known Thomas longer than I’ve known Martin. We went to university together.”

Johanna shoved the couch aside and arranged some armchairs around the glass table.

“What kind of cake did you bake?” asked Linda as she pulled the vacuum cleaner out of the closet.

“A Viennese chocolate sponge torte.”

“Wow. That sounds delicious. Martin likes chocolate torte, chocolate cake—anything with chocolate in it. Our Martin is a bit of a chocoholic, as you know. Hold this for a second.” Linda handed Johanna the vacuum cleaner, then plugged it in.

“Yup. Chocolate is his weakness.”

The vacuum cleaner began to roar.

“So, should we wait until tomorrow to get the food ready?”

“Yeah, today’s too early.”

At noon on Saturday, a dark BMW pulled into Vienna International Airport’s underground parking structure. Thomas picked up his short-term parking ticket and went into the arrivals area. He felt terrible. Throngs of arriving passengers greeted friends and families, or quarreled with taxi drivers waiting in long lines in front of the terminal. Some frantically hurried to the train station or took the coach bus, which was a more expensive but normally faster way to get to the central metro station. The terminal had recently been renovated, and the sliding doors closed and opened quietly, which made the entire place seem more metropolitan and less chaotic.

Clarissa was clearly struggling to push the baggage cart and her carry-on bag through the turnstile until Thomas rushed over to help her.

“Hello, my love!” she cried as she hugged his neck.

They were blocking the turnstile; people waiting behind them were getting impatient.

“Come on, let’s go to the car,” he grumbled, trying to avoid her countless kisses as they walked toward the parking garage. “Did you have a good flight?” he asked politely as he pulled the overpacked suitcase into the parking garage. He grunted as he heaved it into the trunk.

Fortunately, the trunk was spacious, and there was plenty of room for Clarissa’s large suitcases; there would also have been room for Thomas’s minimalistic duffel bag, had he been travelling. Thomas liked to travel light. He was the master of efficient packing; he would have gladly tutored Clarissa, but she was a “just in case” packer, as in “just in case we eat at a fancy restaurant,” “just in case we go to a casino,” “just in case we go to the spa,” and “just in case we go for a hike.” Her outfits were always perfectly coordinated. How would it look if she wore blue sneakers with green sweatpants? That’s why she simply packed everything—just in case.

“You bought the BMW? Too bad, I liked the Audi better,” she said as she checked her makeup in the car mirror. “My skin always gets so dry on the plane,” she complained as she gently smoothed Clarins moisture gel underneath her eyes with the tip of her pinkie finger. “However, I did end up sleeping relatively well; otherwise I wouldn’t be able to survive the party this evening. Though I must say, I would rather just stay home with you,” she added as she touched up her lipstick. She pursed her lips, then wiped the corners of her mouth with a Kleenex.

“That’s completely out of the question. Come on, buckle up then let’s go,” he said irritably as he started the car. “Are you hungry?” he added more gently as he turned onto the highway.

“A little bit, maybe. Let’s go to our little Italian place,” Clarissa said as she put her hand on Thomas’s right thigh and stroked it gently, lightly grazing her fingernails on his jeans.

“Sure, I’ll call and reserve a table for us.”

“What’s new at home?” she asked.

“Nothing, really. Tell me about your shoots,” he said to distract Clarissa, even though he wasn’t at all interested.

The subject of modeling kept Clarissa busy the whole trip back into the city, so Thomas didn’t have to talk very much. He felt guilty playing this little game with her, especially since he knew the world would look very different to both of them on Sunday; on Monday, they would both go their own way, and he would be free for something new, a new relationship. He felt strange knowing he would be destroying Clarissa’s world and her plans for the future. She trusted that everything would remain the same as it was right now. Clarissa was convinced that she would be Mrs. Thomas Neubauer within a year, taking a two-week honeymoon in the Maldives, the Caribbean, or the United States. After three years, she would have her first child, a girl, Valentina; two years later, she would have a boy, Tobias. After that, she wouldn’t have to work; she would be too old to be a top model by that time anyway. With help from a nanny, she would busy herself with charity work. Maybe she’d start her own charitable organization for animals or poor people or whatever seemed to be the most fashionable, high-profile cause at the time. Those were her plans, but he had other plans.

That’s not the life I want
, Thomas thought as he considered the best way to break the terrible truth to her.

Clarissa’s stories became more and more cryptic, as if a thick fog were creeping over them.

“. . . then Sergio dumped Mara, so the job ended up being a complete bust for her. Then we went to a fancy restaurant, oh, what was it . . . I forgot the name, doesn’t matter, they were so obnoxious and unfriendly and I . . .”

He couldn’t follow her train of thought any longer after letting her babble on for over twenty minutes about her stupid colleague Mara, Mario the makeup artist, the anorexic French girl (whose name she could no longer remember), and something about a ghastly lobster at the restaurant.

“Can you stop at the newsstand, please? I’d like to buy the new
Vogue
,” she asked as she pointed to a small kiosk on the opposite side of the road.

He turned into a parking space, and she hopped out of the car to grab the magazine.

Thomas asked himself how their relationship could have held up this long. Why hadn’t he ended it years ago? Clarissa seemed so shallow to him now. He took his cell phone out of his pocket; he had put off the inevitable for too long. He simply had to do it now.

Dear Johanna, the evening with you was so beautiful, and I want to see you again. Kisses, Thomas

He quickly sent the text and quickly deleted it from his phone. He’d learned—from other’s experiences, from movies and TV—to cover his tracks. One time Clarissa had cheated on him with a sports fanatic Thomas knew and couldn’t stand. Since then, the two hadn’t been in contact, or so Thomas presumed. It had taken a long time for Thomas to forgive her, but eventually the rift had been repaired. Now it would all be over on Sunday. Clarissa was beaming with joy as she returned to the car with the new
Vogue
in hand.

“Okay, let’s go to the restaurant, sweetheart,” she said as she leafed through the magazine.

As Thomas turned up the alley behind the Italian restaurant, his cell phone beeped.

“You got a text,” said Clarissa, focusing on her magazine. Fortunately, she kept her hands off Thomas’s cell phone, because she trusted him completely.

“Thomas is the most loyal soul that I know,” she’d once told a friend. After Sunday, she would never say that again.

Johanna stood in the kitchen with Linda. She instructed her in the fine art of rolling out the filled puff pastry dough and preparing the other dishes.

“You’re doing just fine,” she said, praising Linda as she stirred the minced chives into the sour cream dip. “Taste it.” She held the spoon up to Linda’s mouth.

“Mmm, yes, very good.”

“I’m going to swing by the cooking school now to get the cake out of the fridge.”

Johanna left Linda alone to take care of the pizza. She pondered whether she should put garlic on the dough or not. They’d forced Martin to stay out of the house all afternoon so they could surprise him with the food they were making. Johanna stared at her cell phone; she had answered Thomas and was waiting for a new message from him. Nothing. Zero. Zilch.

As the evening approached, Thomas hopped into the shower. He’d rejected Clarissa’s sexual advances with difficulty. She literally fell on top of him; she used every trick in the book to get him into bed, but Thomas was adamant this time. This made Clarissa angry and confused; she couldn’t understand his lack of desire, especially since they’d been apart for so long.

“Thomas, are you all right?” she asked in the bathroom. “You’ve been acting so weird lately.”

But Thomas didn’t hear her because the water was running. In spite of his plan to wait until after the party, he would have broken down and told her the truth immediately if he’d heard her. Instead, he continued to shower calmly.

Clarissa dropped it. They were running late, and she was still undecided about what outfit she wanted to wear. She fluctuated between a black leather skirt by Yves Saint Laurent and a blue velvet skirt by Versace. She had acquired both pieces from her New York jobs.