Every Seventh Wave (5 page)

But let me tell you something. I tried to force myself, tried so hard to force myself, I didn't want to like you. I didn't want it. I didn't want not to like you, and I didn't want to like you. I didn't want anything. I didn't want to see you. What was the point? You've got Bernhard and the children. And I've got Pamela. And when she's not with me, I've got wine. But let me tell you something else: you've got a gorgeous face, among other things. You look far more innocent than you write. No, you don't write as though you're guilty, but sometimes your words are so harsh, you take things to extremes. And yet your face is soft. And beautiful. And I don't know if you're happy. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. But you must be. You can live and love, both at the same time. I'm lonely and I don't feel so great. And what do I get from Pamela if she's so far away that I stop feeling she's with me? Do you understand? I'm going to bed. But let me tell you something: I dreamed of you last night, and I saw your actual face. I don't care about your breasts, large breasts, small breasts, medium breasts, I don't care at all. But I
do
care about your eyes and your mouth. And your nose. The way you looked at me and talked to me, and your smell. I do care about all that. And now every word you write to me is your smell and your look, as well as your mouth. I'm going to bed now. I'll send this email and then I'm going to bed. I hope I hit the right key. You're so close to me, I'm kissing you. And now I'm going to bed. Where's the key?

Five minutes later

Subject: I've written to you

Dear Emmi,

I've sent you an email. I hope you got it. No, I hope you didn't get it. Or, actually, yes. It doesn't matter, it is what it is, whether you read it or not. And now I'm going to bed. I'm a bit drunk.

The following evening

Subject: What a love!

Dear Leo,

I got an email from you yesterday evening. Do you remember? Did you reread it today? Do you have it saved somewhere? If not, I can send it to you. You're such a love!!! You should get drunk more often. When you're drunk, you're so, so, so … “un-lonely.” It feels like you're right here beside me.

One hour later

Re:

Thanks, Emmi. Early this morning, with a pounding head and an upset stomach, I discovered what I served up to you last night in my state of inebriation. And Emmi, “let me tell you something.” Strangely, I'm not embarrassed by it. In some ways I'm even relieved. I wrote things that have been on my mind for a long time. I'm happy that they're now out in the open. And let me tell you something else—I'm happy that I've told
you
these things. I'm going to make myself a chamomile tea now. Good night, my love. And please forgive me if I've gone too far.

The following morning

Subject: Second attempt

I want to see you again, Leo. For another coffee. Just a coffee in a café, that's all. Please say yes! We can make a better job of it than we did last time.

Have a nice day, my love.

Ten hours later

Subject: Café

Hi Leo,

Where are you? Not on your own again I hope, in some Bourdeaux-induced coma. I just wanted to remind you of this morning's request: shall we meet again for coffee, yes or no? I'm going for “yes.” How about you? If the votes are even, we'll go with the smaller shoe size. Would you be so kind as to share your vote with me today (even if you do happen to be sober)? I'd quite like to take the result to bed with me.

Kiss on the cheek,

Emmi

(the soft-faced one)

Two hours later

Subject: (no subject)

Leo, please write back!!!

One hour later

Subject: (no subject)

Oh, Leo, do you have to? It drives me nuts, having to wait for answers to my pressing questions! Just write “yes,” or “no,” or even “bah!”—just write something, anything, but
write
! Otherwise a prop plane's going to land on the balcony of flat 15. You have been warned!

Emmi

The following morning

Subject: Harsh

Thanks, Leo. Thanks for an unforgettable night. I didn't sleep a wink.

Ten seconds later

Subject: Delivery Status Notification (Returned)

This is an automatically generated Delivery Status

Notification.

THIS EMAIL ADDRESS HAS CHANGED. THE RECIPIENT CAN NO LONGER RECEIVE MAIL SENT TO THIS ADDRESS. ALL INCOMING MAIL WILL BE DELETED AUTOMATICALLY. FOR ANY QUERIES, PLEASE CONTACT THE SYSTEMS MANAGER.

Three minutes later

Re:

Leo, please tell me that you're just testing the limits with your attempts at tasteless jokes. If you get in touch right now, I may yet forgive you!

Emmi

Ten seconds later

Subject: Delivery Status Notification (Returned)

This is an automatically generated Delivery Status

Notification.

THIS EMAIL ADDRESS HAS CHANGED. THE RECIPIENT CAN NO LONGER RECEIVE MAIL SENT TO THIS ADDRESS. ALL INCOMING MAIL WILL BE DELETED AUTOMATICALLY. FOR ANY QUERIES, PLEASE CONTACT THE SYSTEMS MANAGER.

One minute later

Re:

Why are you doing this to me?

Ten seconds later

Subject: Delivery Status Notification (Returned)

This is an automatically generated Delivery Status

Notification.

THIS EMAIL ADDRESS HAS CHANGED. THE RECIPIENT CAN NO LONGER RECEIVE MAIL SENT TO THIS ADDRESS. ALL INCOMING MAIL WILL BE DELETED AUTOMATICALLY. FOR ANY QUERIES, PLEASE CONTACT THE SYSTEMS MANAGER.

CHAPTER FIVE

The following evening

Subject: Test

Hello Emmi,

Let me know if you get this.

Leo

Half an hour later

Re:

Yes, I got it. But you get this, Leo, I haven't exactly enjoyed your company these past few days. What's the matter with you? Where have you been? What are you trying to do? What the hell are you playing at? Why are you setting the Systems Manager onto me? I thought for a moment that you'd run away back to Boston.

Two minutes later

Re:

I'm sorry, Emmi. I'm really sorry! Evidently there's been a serious software error. My Outlook account was accidently unsubscribed. Maybe I missed a payment. I've had no messages for three days. Did you write to me?

Twelve minutes later

Re:

Yes, Leo, I did write to you. I asked you a question. I waited two and a half days for an answer. I was worried sick, felt like I did during those marvelous days before you escaped to America. I even tried to phone you. I wasn't going to say anything, I just wanted to hear your voice, but there was a message saying that your old number had “not been recognized.” I wept at the thought of you, but no tears came. I giggled hysterically at the thought of you. It struck me that something that had never really begun was already over for a second time. Those were the high points of my miserable existence for the duration of your serious software error. As if there weren't enough things keeping us apart, the “system,” which seems to have played a starring role in all this, throws another one into the mix. The space we're inhabiting is so creepy, I'm just shattered. Good night. Lovely to have you back. Lovely and comforting.

Three minutes later

Re:

Dear Emmi,

Please believe me, it pains me to have hurt you. It was an act of God: computer technology, whatever, separating us just as swiftly as it connects us. Our feelings are powerless against it. Forgive me. And sleep well, my love.

The following morning

Subject: Your question

Good morning, Emmi. I've just been on the phone to a “specialist.” The “system” is up and running again. I hope you had a good sleep. Oh yes, you said you'd asked me something. What was it you wanted to know?

All my love,

Leo

One hour later

Re:

In short: today, 3 p.m., Café Huber?

Thirty minutes later

Re:

Yes, but (…). No, not but. Yes!

Twenty minutes later

Re:

Great! And it took you half an hour to come up with that remarkable causal chain, Leo dear? ONLY half an hour? Do you mind if I analyze it? First there was a “yes,” an apparently resolute affirmative. Then came a comma, in expectation of an additional element to the sentence. Then there was a “but,” heralding a qualification. After that came a round open parenthesis. Then three points to convey a variety of thoughts shrouded in mystery. Then enough discipline to close the parentheses and wrap up this confusing mystery. Then a traditional full stop to maintain the outward appearance of order and to mask inner turmoil. And then all of a sudden a truculent little “no,” as if to signify a purposeful refusal. Another comma, anticipating additional information, and after that a “not,” an outright rejection. And then another “but,” a dissipation, a “but” that is only there to demonstrate that there isn't one anymore. All doubt has been intimated. No doubt has been voiced. All doubt has been cast aside. And at the end what we're left with is a gutsy little “yes,” complete with a defiant exclamation mark. To repeat: “Yes, but (…). No, not but. Yes!” What a poetic description of your fickleness. What a lyrical exposition of your decision-making processes. This man knows exactly that he doesn't know what he wants. And he knows better than anyone how to pass on this knowledge to the very individual it concerns. All in barely half an hour. Brilliant! And someone had the wit to sign you up for language psychology so that you could come up with
that
, Leo dear.

Three minutes later

Re:

Do you know what you want?

Thirty seconds later

Re:

Yes.

Forty seconds later

Re:

What?

Fifty seconds later

Re:

You. (For a coffee.) ((As you can see, even I have mastered the art of the parenthesis.))

Thirty seconds later

Re:

Why?

One minute later

Re:

Because I'm doing the same thing as you, although it seems you can only admit it to yourself, open parenthesis, and me, close parenthesis, when you're drunk.

Forty seconds later

Re:

And what would that be?

Thirty seconds later

Re:

Being interested in you.

Forty seconds later

Re:

Yes, dear Emmi. No but, no full stop, no parentheses. Just a plain and uncomplex “yes.” Correct, well spotted. I am interested in you.

One minute later

Re:

Splendid, Leo dear. In that case I think all requirements for a second visit to the coffeehouse have been fulfilled. Three o'clock?

Twenty seconds later

Re:

Yes. Open parenthesis. Exclamation mark. Exclamation mark. Close parenthesis. Three o'clock.

CHAPTER SIX

Around midnight

Subject: You

Dear Leo,

This time I'll do the thanking (first). Thank you for this afternoon. Thank you for allowing me to peep through the narrow chinks into your closets full of feelings. What I saw has convinced me that you're the same person who writes to me. I recognized you, Leo. I recognized you again. You're the same person. You're one and the same. You're real. I like you very much! Sleep well.

Twenty minutes later

Re:

Dear Emmi,

There's a particular point on the palm of my left hand, roughly in the middle, where the life line is crossed by deep creases and turns down toward the artery. I look at it, but I can't see it. I stare at it but I can't pin it down. I can only feel it. I can feel it when I close my eyes too. A point. It's such a strong feeling that it makes me dizzy. When I concentrate on it, I sense it extending through my body as far as my toes. It tingles, it tickles, it warms me, it churns my insides. It boosts my circulation, it governs my pulse, it determines the speed of my heartbeat. And in my head it intoxicates me like a drug, expanding my consciousness, broadening my horizons. A point. I could laugh with joy, because it makes me feel so good. I could weep tears of happiness, happiness at possessing it and being seized and filled by it to the very tips of my fingers.