Forever Yours (4 page)

The evening passed at a snail's pace around the farmhouse table, beneath a dusty pseudo-rustic lampshade. Judith spent most of the time playing with wax from the candles in the silver holders in front of her, which melted and then went hard again. She made beautifully round balls, squashed them with her thumb onto the table top, scooped up the resulting discs with her knife and rolled them into balls again.

For practically the entire evening Hannes kept one hand on her knee, which gradually got warmer. He used the other to gesticulate as he held forth on architecture, love (for Judith) and the world in general. He was, by quite some stretch, the most loquacious and spirited person around the table.

There was only the odd altercation. Hedi was set on having a home birth with a Czech midwife, whereas Mum urged her to have the baby at Vienna General Hospital. It was much better equipped and certainly more hygienic, she said, flashing her eyes at Hedi. Hannes brought the discussion to a close by producing a present for the highly pregnant birthday girl – quite separate from the obligatory gifts of cash from the family – which he had obviously bought that morning: two romper suits, one pink, one light blue. “Because we didn't know whether it's going to be a boy or a girl,” he said, winking at Judith. Mum laughed. Ali remained silent. “It's a girl,” Hedi said to Hannes. And: “We'll keep the blue one for you.” Mum's laughter turned into an expression of bliss. Ali remained silent. Hannes beamed. Judith gently removed his hand from her knee. She was desperate for the loo.

After dinner they were joined by the Winnigers. Judith had once been together with Lukas, her brother's best friend – a nice, sensitive, clever man. He'd worked as a publisher's sales rep in Germany, which meant he'd been exactly the opposite of Hannes: never around. But he gave up the job for Antonia, an English student from Linz, who looked as if she could be his twin sister. Then he'd accepted a post in the city library. Viktor was already eight, and Sybille six.

Despite the rain, Ali took the children into the garden to do some archery. Or perhaps he just wanted to wash his hair. Lukas diverted Judith's attention from her balls of wax and engaged her in an intimate conversation about old times and new, about times which may have finished too early, or started too late. The wine from southern Burgenland was a perfect accompaniment.

At some point Judith noticed that there was no hand on her knee and thus no Hannes, either. After a long search she found him outside in the furthest corner of the garden, sitting stoically on a stump of wood and allowing himself to be showered by the rain.

Judith: “What are you doing?” Hannes: “I'm thinking.” He gave a sidelong glance that went straight past her. Judith: “What about?” Hannes: “You.” Judith: “What are you thinking about me?” Hannes: “About you and Lukas.” Judith: “Lukas?” Hannes: “Don't think I can't see it.” It was as if he was forcing himself to speak softly; his vocal chords sounded brittle. Judith: “What?” Hannes: “That he's looking at you.” Judith: “You normally look at people when you talk to them, don't you?” Hannes: “It all depends how.” Judith: “Hannes, no – please don't! I've known Lukas for twenty years. We're old friends. A very, very long time ago we were…” Hannes: “I don't want to know about the past. Today is what matters for me. You're embarrassing me in front of your family.”

She bent down and shot him a severe look. He was trembling, the corners of his mouth were in a twitching competition with his eyes. Judith took an ostentatiously deep breath, then spoke slowly and emphatically, as one does when explaining rules. “Stop, Hannes! Don't be like that! I can hardly believe it. I was having a perfectly normal conversation with Lukas. If you've got a problem with that, then you've got a problem with me. I don't put up with tantrums like this, I haven't done since puberty, and I'm not going to start getting used to them in my mid-thirties.”

Hannes said nothing and buried his face in his hands. “I'm going back in,” Judith said. “And I suggest you do the same. It's raining, in case you hadn't noticed.” “Wait a minute, Darling,” he called after her. “Let's go in together.” His voice sounded halfway normal again.

Judith was awoken the following morning by squealing, shrieking and sniggering from the garden. The blue sleeping bag at the foot of the guest bed was empty. Hannes must have come to bed after she'd already fallen sleep and risen before she was awake. Beside her pillow was a note with an irregular pencil-drawn heart and the message: “Darling, I don't know what got into me last night. I was behaving like a fifteen-year-old. I promise you'll never see me act like that again. Please forgive me. The only explanation I can offer is my undying love for you. Love, Hannes”

It was sunny outside. She could see him from the window, in sparkling form, besieged by the children. He lifted them up in turn and spun them around. Lukas and Antonia were standing nearby, joking with him. When he saw Judith he waved at her extravagantly.

Breakfast had already been laid on the terrace. “It seems we've had a visit from a night-time elf,” Hedi told Judith. The mountain of dishes had been washed up and put away, the floor swept. Hedi didn't recognise her own kitchen; it hadn't been that clean for years. Even the hopelessly encrusted oven was all of a sudden white again. “Could I hire Hannes during the week too?” she asked. Judith tried her best to give a hearty laugh.

Hannes dismissed the compliments. “When I can't sleep, I like throwing myself into housework. It's one of my eccentricities,” he said. “And anyway, Mum helped me with the breakfast.” She was sitting next to him, of course. He stroked her shoulder. “Oh, I just put a few cups out,” she said, rewarding him with a series of diva-like glances.

Later that morning, while Hannes was larking about with the children, Judith eventually managed to coax a few words from her silent brother Ali. He was now on the right dose of anti-depressants, he told her; sometimes he was even full of beans. He was really looking forward to the baby and swore to himself (and Hedi) that he'd be the perfect father. The only thing he lacked was regular work. There was no money to be made from landscape photography. He hadn't studied anything else, unfortunately, and he seemed quite happy to keep it that way.

“And what do you think of Hannes?” Judith asked. Ali: “He's good at tidying up.” Judith: “What else?” Ali: “I don't know, he's awful… awfully nice.” Judith: “You can say that again.” Ali: “And he's already practically one of the family.” Judith: “It's crazy, it's all happened so quickly.” Ali: “You're different when you're with him.” Judith: “How do you mean, different?” Ali: “Somehow, you're just… half yourself.” Judith: “That sounds dreadful.” Ali: “Well, if you love him.” Judith said nothing, there was a pause. Ali: “Do you love him?” Judith: “I don't know.” Ali: “Don't you always know if you're in love?”

Judith had been dreading the last part of the journey home. They'd already dropped off her mother. Hannes had carried her bag to the door of her flat. No doubt Mum was already filling out the forms to adopt him.

“Listen, Hannes…” Judith had to break it to him now. She didn't want to spend the evening and night with him. In fact, she desperately needed a few days to herself. “To herself” was synonymous with “without him”. She wanted to feel “whole” again; she needed to win back the other half of her. Without the other half, being together with Hannes was inconceivable.

He interrupted her. “Darling, I've saved the bad news till the end. I put it off because today was so lovely, so harmonious, just how I hoped it would be. You've got a dream-like family. And your friends. And the children.” He sounded contrite.

Judith: “What bad news?” Hannes: “We can't see each other for a week.” Judith: “A week?” Fortunately her need to concentrate on the road didn't allow for any emotional gestures. Hannes: “I know, it's awful. I can hardly bear it, but…” Then he explained why the architecture seminar in Leipzig couldn't go ahead without him. “I understand,” Judith said. “You've got to go.” She tried to adopt a serious and brave expression.

“Maybe it's not such a bad thing for us, either,” he said. Looking over at him, she couldn't detect any cynicism. Judith: “What do you mean?” Hannes: “A bit of distance. To regulate things. So that we long for each other again.” Judith: “You know what Hannes? You're right.” She found it hard to contain her delight. Hannes: “Even a great love needs air to unfold.” Judith: “Indeed, Hannes. Smart words, very smart words.” She had to kiss him for that. She turned right into a car park.

“But tonight you're going to sleep at my place,” she said. “If I may,” he replied. His sun lines smiled. Judith: “It's not whether you may – you have to.”

Judith could see how quickly the other half of her slipped back into the first one. Together the two halves sold expensive lamps as if they were on a conveyor belt, sweated during their lunchtime aerobics sessions, browsed after work in bookshops and boutiques, were quite content to watch a Bond film and “Germany's Got Talent” in the evening, fed off pizzas and kebabs, toasted each other with Chianti, and felt at one with each other – with each other and with their even-tempered owner.

Although Judith was surprised that Hannes hadn't called by the third day, neither of her two halves could say that the time spent without him was disagreeable. It was only when she climbed into bed, closed her eyes and abandoned herself to her emotions that a giddy feeling darted from her tummy to her head and back down to her toes, which all of a sudden felt cold. It probably wasn't strong enough yet to call longing, but there were still a few days for it to grow.

On Wednesday Judith had to have words with her apprentice. “Bianca, many congratulations on your impressive chest,” she said. “But don't forget this is just a lighting shop, so please feel free to wear a bra.” “But it's really hot in here, Frau Wangermann,” Bianca said in a bored voice. Judith: “Believe me, you'll come across as far more interesting if you don't put all your goods on show at once.” Bianca: “Well, you don't know men.” Talking of men: “Why doesn't your boyfriend pop in anymore?” Judith: “He's on a business trip, in Leipzig.” Bianca: “But I saw him this morning!” Judith: “No, love, that's impossible. You see, Leipzig is in Germany.” Bianca: “Oh please, do me a favour. He walked past and gawped through the shop window.” Judith: “No, Bianca, you must have got him mixed up with someone else.” Bianca: “Well, he was the spitting image of him.” Judith: “O.K., O.K. Listen, if you can manage it, please wear a bra tomorrow?”

That evening Judith met up with Gerd and some of his Graphic Institute colleagues at the Spanier in Märzstrasse. “Where's Hannes?” he asked instead of saying hello. Judith: “In Leipzig. For work.” Gerd: “Oh, that's a pity.” It wasn't a polite “that's a pity”, but a sincere one, which bothered Judith. She felt it as a slight affront to the other half of her, the half she'd only just won back.

Four hours later, when they were saying goodnight, Gerd atoned for his error. He said: “You're always special, but tonight you were even more special, you really came out of yourself.” “Thanks,” Judith said. It couldn't have been the topics of conversation (fine dust, mothers, leaf miners, reincarnation). Judith: “I felt happy in the company, it was a really nice evening.”

There was still a cosy smile on her lips when she locked the front door from the inside, took the lift to the top floor and felt for the bright-red light switch in the stairwell. She let out a piercing scream. The bunch of keys fell from her hand and hit the stone floor with a resounding clatter, as if having smashed a thick pane of glass. A figure crouching by her door stood up and approached her. Judith wanted to flee, call for help, but her body was paralysed by the shock impulses fired from her brain.

“Darling,” he breathed in a subdued whisper. “Hannes?” she gasped. “Are you crazy?” Her heart was pounding. “What's going on? What are you doing here?” Only then did she see the huge bunch of dark-red roses he was aiming at her like a weapon, stems foremost. Him: “I've been waiting for you. You're late, Darling, very late!”

Her: “Hannes, are you out of your mind? You can't do this. You frightened me to death. Why aren't you in Leipzig? What are you doing here?” She was breathing heavily. He put down the flowers and held out his arms. She recoiled. “What am I
doing
here? I've come to see you, Darling. I wanted to surprise you; I didn't know you would be back so late. Why
are
you so late? What have you been up to? Why are you doing this to us?” His voice was quivering. Deep shadowy lines sprawled around his eyes.

“Go! Please go now!” she said. Hannes: “Are you sending me away?” Judith: “I don't want to see you now. I need to be alone. I've got to digest this first. So please, go!” Hannes: “Darling, you've got it all wrong. I can explain everything. I want to be with you, I want to be with you for ever. I'll look after you. We belong together. Let me come in. Let me explain everything!” Judith could feel her limbs slowly recovering from the shock, the anger rising inside her, and her vocal chords tightening. “Hannes, you are going to leave this building right now,” she screamed. “Now! Do you understand?” On the fourth floor a door opened and someone called out: “Shut up or I'll call the police!”

Hannes was intimidated by the threat and all of a sudden looked anxious. “And I thought you'd be pleased,” he muttered breathily. He was already at the lift. “Didn't you miss me at all?” She said nothing. “Will you take the flowers at least? They're thirsty. They need water. They've been waiting for water for hours, many hours.”

After a dreadful, sleepless night she sent him a text saying that they should talk. They met at Café Rainer at lunchtime. He was sitting at the same table as on their first meeting, but on the corner bench this time. She opted for the uncomfortable chair opposite. Hannes was ashen and bleary-eyed. She recognised the contrite, remorseful expression on his face. He looked like a schoolboy who'd come home with a poor maths result.

Leipzig was a lie, he admitted. There was no architecture seminar. He had noticed that her love was not growing as quickly as his. He wanted to give her a break, a chance to catch up (as if love worked according to the same rules as a race). It had been quite convenient, he said, as he'd had a few things to sort out anyway. He grinned. She'd soon find out more about that.

“Hannes, we can't go on like this,” she said. “I understand,” he said. “You're annoyed about yesterday. Yes, it was stupid of me. I should have called beforehand. I caught you on the wrong foot.” “No, Hannes, it's more than that,” she said. “I'm just not ready for…” “Please don't say another word!” The schoolboy was gone. Now Hannes was the irritated, authoritarian father. “I understand what you're saying, I made a mistake and it won't happen again. Desire! Do you know the meaning of desire? Shall I spell it out for you? D-E-S-I-R-E. Desire. I was desperate to see you. Is that a crime?”

When he noticed that Judith was staring at his clenched fist he opened it at once. As if to order he smiled meekly and tried in vain to make the sun wrinkles appear. He stretched his arm out towards her. She leaned back. “Everything will work out, Darling, you'll see,” he said. She asked for the bill. “This is on me,” Hannes insisted.

“Frau Wangermann, telephone,” Bianca called out from the showroom a few hours later. Judith was in the office, trying to piece together her fragmented thoughts without hurting herself even more. “I'm not available, I'm busy,” she shouted back. Her heart had not returned to its normal tempo since her shock in the hallway. Bianca: “It's your brother, Ali.” Judith: “Oh, Ali. Put him through.”

Ali spoke twice as loudly and even more rapidly than usual. He was positively fizzing – if stagnant water can fizz. “I don't know how to thank you,” he said. Judith didn't know either. Nor did she know what for. Ali: “It's great to have a sister who's there for you in an emergency.” Judith: “Of course. Ali, what are you talking about?” Ali: “You know, persuading Hannes. Hedi's so happy. And I'm sure I'll be able to lay off the medication soon, you'll see.” She'd had enough. “Ali! Spit it out. What did I persuade Hannes to do?” Ali: “Don't tell me you know nothing about it.”

It transpired that the day after their visit Hannes had called Ali and offered him this dream job. All Ali had to do was photograph chemist's shops and pharmacies, in Upper Austria to begin with, then in other provinces. The following day Hannes had picked him up and driven him to Schwanenstadt to take a look at the first project. Hannes explained what he needed from the pictures, which were all to be exterior shots of the buildings. Then they drew up a flat-rate contract for half a year. “One thousand euros a month plus all expenses, for a few simple photos. It's madness!” Ali raved. Judith said nothing.

“I feel really ashamed that I underestimated him,” her brother said. “Individuals like Hannes are ten times better than all those therapists who make a living out of other people's crises.” Life's true helpers weren't those who studied for ages so they could tell you that you needed a job, but those who actually got you the job. “Yes,” Judith said. Her throat was dry and no sound came out. Ali: “Hannes doesn't just listen, he does something about it. One day I'm going to return the favour – that's a promise.” Judith: “Yes.” Ali: “And you orchestrated the whole thing. Thanks, lovely sister.”

She bit her lip. Should she put the brakes on his enthusiasm? Should she talk him out of the job? What arguments could she use? Her gut feeling? “I'm really pleased for you, Ali,” she said. “And next time we get the chance I'd love to have a proper chat. I need to tell you something, something important. I hope you'll understand what I've got to say. I can't do it over the phone.”

The following day he surprised her with his restraint, which was a good thing. Judith wasn't up to spending an evening in his company, at least not yet. She had an array of elaborate excuses at the ready to avoid having to meet up. But she might also have blurted out the truth, which would have gone something like: “I'm sorry, Hannes, I'm just not in the mood to see you. Your desire does my head in. I find the constant pressure from you too much. And the way you ambushed me. This picture I have of a man crouching by my door at midnight, a man who's been waiting for me, pursuing me, stalking me; I'm finding it hard to get this man out of my head. And he doesn't have a place in my bed, no way.”

Such words of explanation remained unsaid, for astonishingly he made no move to see her that evening, not even a hint. Three times he waved at the shop window. The telephone conversations were short and cordial. He did his best to be funny, even succeeding on occasion without too much effort.

At any rate – and this was the pleasant, newly discovered side of him – at any rate he seemed to have cast off his stifling melancholy. He talked in a casual, chatty tone, avoided the melodramatic “Love of my life” topic, rummaged around in his box of courtesies, and contented himself with neat little quotations from his arcane encyclopaedia of the thousand loveliest compliments.

After a week of well-regulated proximity and sustained distance, she had built up sufficient confidence to talk to him about the Ali business. “Why did you do it?” she asked. Hannes: “Why do you think?” Judith: “Why do
I
think? I don't want it to be what
I
think.” Hannes: “Now I'm even keener to find out what you think the answer is.”

Judith: “I think you did it because of me.” He let out a hearty laugh. If this was an act, he was doing it very well. Hannes: “Darling, this time you're mistaken. I need the photographs, I have to put together a catalogue. Ali needs money, he has a family to support. And Ali can take photographs. I wish every deal were this easy.” Judith: “Why didn't you discuss it with me beforehand?” Hannes: “I'll admit I wanted to give you a surprise, Darling. I knew you'd be happy for your brother.” Judith: “Hannes, your surprises are too frequent and too extraordinary.” Hannes: “Darling, it's a habit of mine you won't be able to break. It's my favourite hobby, it's practically my raison d'être.” He laughed. She liked him best of all when he was trying to be ironic about himself.

His current surprise was the persistent absence of the question of whether she'd like to spend another evening with him. Two weeks had now passed since their encounter in the hallway. Had he suddenly lost interest in her? Didn't he want to be close to her anymore? Was there another woman? (A thought which was both liberating and disturbing.) Or after four months' acquaintance or relationship, or whatever you wanted to call it, was it simply Judith's turn – for the first time – to take the next step?

It was half-past ten at night, she was lying on her ochre sofa in the warm glow of her laburnum lamp. As an event-free summer's weekday seemed to be expiring into a yawn, encouraged by the soporific drone of a newsreader, she wrote Hannes a text: “If you're still awake, don't go to sleep. If you want to come over, come now!!!!!” She deleted three of the exclamation marks before pressing send.

His reply came two minutes later: “Darling,” he wrote, “not tonight. But why don't we go out for dinner tomorrow evening? If YOU want to!!!” Her disappointment only lasted a few minutes and bore no relation to the sense of happiness she could now take to bed with her. She liked this Hannes, who unlike his predecessor was not permanently on call. She wanted to get to know him better. She was looking forward to their first date.

He must have done a course in composure. His greeting was casual, consisting of a three-second hand massage and a fleeting kiss on the cheek. He'd also arrived nine minutes late. She had to admit that these were the first nine minutes in which she'd felt longing for him. “Another six minutes and I would have left,” she lied. He smiled gently. And if it hadn't been Hannes Bergtaler, pharmacy architect, standing there, one might even have said he smiled with confidence.

Wanting to see him in the nicest light, she'd chosen a window table on the western side still embraced by the red evening glow. It was good for his sun lines. And when he laughed, Grandmother's teeth hung like a hammock from one ear to the other. She regretted not having her camera; she'd have loved to remember him like this for ever.