Greta Again! (4 page)

            “No, thank you. I’m fine. New York is waiting for me. Call, if you can. See you later.”

            Mike stood up, signaled to Carlos to bring the check and turned to Greta. He bent over to her, took her face in both hands and kissed her gently on the mouth. Immediately, the nape of Greta’s neck became hot. Everything was forgotten. Had she not insisted on being alone and gaining some distance, she would have given in to him on the spot. Mike was simply an unbelievably good kisser.

            Mike let her go and walked away. At the door he turned around once more. His look transported Greta into another dimension momentarily. It was as if James Dean had given her a look over his shoulder –and it was only meant for her. The world stood still for a moment. “Til later, Babe.”

            And he was gone.

Chapter 4

Mike had left but Greta was still hunkered down by herself at Carlos’ café. She felt completely dumbfounded. Speechless. What had she gotten herself into? She had never had anything to do with drugs, even at a distance. This was really weird.  First of all, she tried to calm herself. I have no idea about this kind of thing, and apparently neither does Mike , she thought. But Greta wasn’t entirely positive that was the case. She wanted to believe Mike so much, but something was holding her back.

            Finally her appetite returned. She had only taken two bites out of the very yummy brioche but she didn’t want to stay at the café any longer. She needed “her own” New York.  As she slipped on her knit jacket, Carlos came over to the table to ask how everything was.

            “It was great, Carlos. Thank you so much.”

            “You look so worried and sad, Ma’am. I hope it’s nothing bad between you and Mike?”

            “Oh, no, Carlos, of course not.” Greta tried to sound upbeat. “But sometimes life is really crazy, don’t you think? And I’ve never been all that good at understanding men.”

            “Yeah, I think you’re right, Mike is a little crazy and he certainly has secrets that we don’t know about. But crazy friends are true friends.  There’s nothing fake about them.”

            Carlos cleared the table and went back to his counter. “See ya later,” he called out, and waved good-bye.

            Now Greta was even more confused than before.

            Mike had secrets?

            And “crazy friends are true friends?”

            Oh, right, I can make a lot of sense out of that. . .

            Her cell-phone buzzed.

            Thank heavens!

            A message from Mona: “Is everything okay? Do you have time for a snack during my lunch hour?”

            Perfect!

            Greta agreed to meet Mona in the afternoon, and until then she could wander around town a little bit. A stop at the Guggenheim Museum would be a good idea – that would change the course of her thoughts.

            The sun was high in the sky and warmed up the day as Greta strolled through the streets, taking her time. She passed a group of young guys playing basketball—completely in their element, as if they were in a TV sitcom: hooting, laughing at dirty jokes, having fun with friends-- all was right with their world. Why can’t I meet someone like that? she thought to herself. Why did it have to be Mike? I want a normal guy . But there probably aren’t any of those, the little voice in her head replied.

            The visit to the Guggenheim was a good diversion. A Picasso exhibit there was especially inspiring. The colors, the odd placement of forms that then seemed to fit together perfectly—Greta dived wholeheartedly into the world of art. What would a reddish-brown or a lilac smell like if it were a scent? she asked herself.  Finally it wasn’t about Mike and his strange story about drugs. Greta was in New York, after all, her favorite city! And she felt that she had finally arrived – the very familiar feeling that New York always aroused in her had , thank heavens, finally been rekindled:  the freedom to be a little crazy, a little strange, independent, and yet a part of the whole. To belong. To be free.

            It was noon when she left the museum, two hours until she was to meet Mona. She wanted to stop at a café and contact Munich on Facebook before then. She found a comfortable, chic café not far from the museum and sat down at a small table near a window. A young waiter came to take her order right away, and Greta busied herself with her Smartphone. She logged onto Facebook, picked up her messages, and sent one to her best friend about how things were in the city. Nathalie would no doubt be dumbfounded by the whole story too. It was she, actually, who had talked Greta into flying to New York—because she and Mike “were made for each other.” Ha! Greta thought. She noticed how she was slowly getting into a mood that would make it easier for her to free herself from Mike. If only he weren’t such a good-looking guy and such a good kisser. And if only they didn’t get along so well, too. Hmm…what should she do? Greta was undecided. But, she thought, everything happens for the best.

            The two hours flew by and it was time to go meet Mona. Greta grabbed a taxi and rode down to Macy’s.

            “How are you doing?” Mona immediately wanted to know.

“Well, actually pretty good. I was at the Guggenheim and then at a café, and I took a little stroll. And I watched a couple of cute basketball players too. New York’s gotten to me again!”

            “And what’s the matter with him now? Why wasn’t he with you?”

Greta told Mona the whole story, and when she finished she was quiet for a while.

            “Well, Greta, it all sounds very strange to me,” Mona finally said, resuming the conversation. “It isn’t a world that either you or I know. Honestly, I think you should get out of the situation, but there’s something not quite finished about it, right? You want to know what will happen now. So you have to do what you have to do. I don’t know what to tell you. C’mon, let’s walk around the block and make some plans for this evening.”

            The girls headed down the street, treating themselves to a snack on the way and chatted about unimportant things. What was there left to discuss? Greta wanted to know what was going to happen now –Mona was completely right about that. So that’s how it had to be.

            Mona’s lunch hour was over quickly. They made plans to go to the movies in the evening and to hang-out together after that. Greta decided to stay at Mona’s even if Mike was able to get everything together by the evening. That was the compromise that Mona had wrangled out of her: not to move to his apartment immediately.  But Mike didn’t call. No text message, either. Nothing. It was Greta again, who was left waiting, and she spent the afternoon and early evening alone. Her thoughts were constantly with Mike, but the hours on the streets of New York without him also felt good. Although it seemed like a contradiction, she felt strangely sheltered and secure in this large city. She could always reach out for company if she felt like it, or simply be alone, watching other people, lost in her own thoughts, pondering. Of course, this led to nothing new regarding all the back and forth about waiting for him or not.  Should she go along with him – or not? Should she even believe him?  Despite all these musings, however, there was always the feeling at the end that the story with him wasn’t over. There was still something to discover. She couldn’t predict whether it would turn out good or bad. But she also couldn’t just stop it now. Everything happens for the best.

Chapter 5

The evening went by just as the afternoon had, without any message from Mike. No sign of life whatsoever. Nothing.  Not even a text message.  When Mona got home, she noticed that Greta had become completely quiet. She could tell by Greta’s expression that she had heard nothing from Mike, and was tactful enough not to bring up the subject immediately.

            “C’mon, let’s get ready to go to the movies,” she said.  “Have you made up your mind about what you’d like to see?”

            “No, not really. No love stories or tear-jerkers. Better something with action, blood, and cool guys. Do you remember “The Gangs of New York”? With Leonardo DiCaprio? That would be right for tonight. What do you think?”

            “Hmm, I haven’t really thought about it yet. We’ll find the right thing to take your mind off things. He didn’t call, did he?”

            “No.”

            “OK. We won’t talk about it. If you’d like, I’ll call up a few friends. Then you’ll meet some other people, too. Okay?”

            “Sure, Mona, go ahead.” Greta gave her friend a warm, sincere hug. “I am so happy that I can stay here and that you’re here for me. Thank you.”

            “Oh, you’re so emotionally mushy again. Spending the afternoon all alone wasn’t good for you. You brood too much. The cats could use some fresh milk and some dry food.  And you have to find something to wear. I’ll make some calls now and in twenty minutes we’ll be on our way, Luv.

            “Do you think I could borrow some shoes? I only brought these boots and Mike bought them for me in Munich. I would rather not wear them.”

            “Of course.  Here’s the closet—just help yourself.  Can I wear your new leather vest with the rivets?  It’s so grunge! ”

            “Mona, I don’t know what I’d do without you right now. You really are a treasure. The vest is on the bed—go for it. “ Greta felt real gratitude for the understanding and the close friendship that Mona provided. It was a trust that actually existed without any words being spoken. Just one things she didn’t want at this moment: to start expressing her feelings again. Mona was right, she really was a little melancholy. But this thing with Mike wasn’t so easy.

            The girls were ready and on their way to the movies. Mona was able to rally two girlfriends and a guy-friend to join them for the evening, and they were already waiting at the entrance to the movie theater with tickets to an indie-film. The evening turned out to be a lot of fun and Greta couldn’t stop laughing. Mona’s friends were real party-people, always ready with a joke. The film itself was some kind of unknown indie-strip.  A lot of racket, very little plot, Greta didn’t understand much of it.  Mona admitted later that she didn’t have an inkling of what the film was about either. That alone was enough reason for more laughter.

            Following the film, they decided to go for a beer in the neighborhood, totally casually. Just to get some chicken wings to nibble. Actually, Greta wasn’t for it. She wanted to call it a night and go home. But everything was so funny and so much fun that she couldn’t say ”no.”

            The bar was pretty busy, but they were able to get a table in the corner. The chicken wings and the beer were quickly ordered, and Greta headed for the restroom. As she pushed through the crowd and got to the counter, her breath caught in her throat.

            It couldn’t be.

            Mike!

            At the bar.

            At the other end of the counter.

            He stood with his back to her and she could see that he was speaking to a woman: long, dark, smooth hair. Asian. Gorgeous.

            Oh, God, what do I do now?

            Could the floorboards please open? I want to disappear.

            I can’t just act like I don’t see him.

            “What’s up, Greta?” Mona asked. “Is something the matter? You look like you just spotted George Clooney.”

            “Worse. It’s Mike. Don’t turn around. He’s standing with his back toward us at the other end of the counter. I don’t want him to see me. He’s here with a gorgeous Asian. She ‘s probably a model, judging by her looks. Please Mona, no drama.”

            Of course, Mona was curious, but could see how disturbed Greta was, standing there. Slowly and without being noticed, she turned around. Right, there was a woman on the other side of the counter:  with hair as thick as a curtain and all the way down to her backside. Her face was straight out of “Vogue” or “InStyle.” One of these women who have Asian features but a figure that would be at home on Ipanema Beach. And a glow that made both men and women jealous at the same time. In front of her, with his back to Mona, a tall man: dark hair, somewhat wavy and down to his neck; in profile, with a three-day beard and tan skin. His shirt was unbottoned to his chest, and he wore a leather jacket. Mona could understand very well why Greta didn’t want to give this Mike the brush-off so quickly.

            But where did Greta go?

            Gone.

            She couldn’t have been swallowed up by the floor – even if she had wished it with all her heart.

            But where did she go?

            Her purse was also gone. And her beer glass on the counter was empty. The others hadn’t seen Greta either. All of them were deep in conversation in the crowd and no one noticed where Greta had disappeared to. Mona signaled to her friends that she wanted to pay and placed a bill on the counter. Then she turned around, grabbed her jacket, and threw another quick glance in Mike’s direction. Inconceivable! This can’t be happening. This is the guy who’s traveling around with this model-broad , telling Greta stories about his brother and drug problems. And now he’s standing here in this bar across from us at the counter and playing around. No wonder that Greta left! Actually, somebody should give this lout a piece of her mind. Right? We shouldn’t have to take this in stride.

            Her head lowered and focused completely on Greta’s situation, Mona pushed her way to the exit. She had barely taken two steps when she tripped over something on the floor. She almost fell over but  just caught herself and wanted to complain when she saw that she had tripped over a couple of feet – and actually a pair of feet that were wearing a pair of shoes just like a pair that she also owned.

            Hey, somebody has my Manolos on again. I can’t wear them anymore; everybody has them, popped into Mona’s mind.

            Then she recognized the person who was wearing the Manolos. The person was crawling on all fours in the direction of the exit, snaking her way through the legs of the guests. It was so loud and full that no one really noticed. Absolutely ridiculous, but the woman on the floor was really – Greta. Mona bent down to talk to her.