Authors: Marya Stones
“One can’t leave you alone, even for just a few days, you noodle-head. Tell me more; what happened then?”
“As I said, the cousin could well be my father. His name is Claude, and he lives in Capetown in a wonderful area of the city in a dream of a villa, with pool, staff, chauffeur, and everything that one imagines rich people have. First I thought he might want to fight me for a piece of the inheritance. But I couldn’t have been more wrong. He is a widower and has no children. Actually he’s searching for his roots and his heritage. That’s how he got to me. We spoke a lot about family relationships and about the sense and confusion of life. I can only tell you that we got along very well and I sort of felt that I had finally found the father that I never really had. Among other things, Claude also showed me around town, the botanical garden, among other things. He had gone ahead while I stopped to read a description of a certain kind of butterfly. All of a sudden, this guy speaks to me—pretty open and off-the-cuff – you know, otherwise I don’t really go in for this kind of approach, but this guy was different somehow. His name was Marc, he was South African, thirty-six years old, single, no children -- I found all this out about him in the botanical garden already. We immediately fell into a super conversation, as if we had known each other for a very long time but had lost contact. Do you by chance believe in soul-mates?”
“Don’t ask me that, Nathalie. I’m the cogitator of the two of us. But tell me more.”
“Well, we talked and talked and wandered around the entire afternoon in that dream of a garden. Claude had noticed that I had met someone and gave me a sign that everything was okay with him. Marc and I spontaneously decided to make a date for the next night. Sounds completely unreal, doesn’t it? The next day I wanted to go to Table Mountain more than anything and Claude took the tour with me. It was breathtaking. You have to see the photos! Anyway, I had this date with Marc in the evening but was completely wiped out by the day-trip. I also had the worst sunburn because I was a dumb ass and didn’t put on enough suntan lotion. But then, I floated through the evening as if I were on Cloud 9. I’ve never experienced anything like that. It was almost surreal. If I were to read that in some tearjerker novel – okay, it’s made up – but I really experienced it. It was a completely magical evening. We had so much in common, our views about life, our values. I could really talk about everything. Listen, can you imagine this happening? Truly quirky, unrealistic. If I didn’t have this sunburn that’s peeling as I sit here, I wouldn’t believe it myself. But the story keeps going.”
“Go on.”
“He brought me home at the end of the evening. Claude invited him in and then left us alone. And Marc stayed with me the whole night.”
“And – how was it?”
“We didn’t do anything.”
“What? Nothing? That can’t be true. Couldn’t he? Or . . .you?”
“No, Greta. It was completely different than that. We didn’t have sex because at age thirty-six, he’s still a virgin. Imagine that! He’s waiting for someone, the right one. Marc is very religious, Catholic, and goes to Bible class three times a week. What do you think of that?”
“I don’t have a clue. You’re bullshitting me, right? That simply can’t be. A virgin? A guy?”
“No, it’s true. Just as true as the fact that I’m sitting here next to you. No sex. Nada. Nix. We spent the whole night awake, or rather, sleeping and cuddling together in bed.”
“And then, what happened then?” You were away longer than that.”
“Well, I got myself a South-African subscriber card for my mobile phone. Claude had planned a little safari and I really didn’t want to refuse to go. But I also wanted to stay in contact with Marc. Frankly, the guy fascinated me. The first stop of the tour was at a lodge, somewhere in the middle of the Pampas. Fantastic! When we arrived, I was really dragging my feet. First the Table Mountain tour, then the night without sleep with Marc, and now the whole day in the Jeep. It was a bit much. When I pulled myself together a little, I checked my phone, and there was a message from him:
Wish you were here!
You can imagine that I just about melted away. Then there was a knock on the door. I go to answer the knock, and almost have a stroke. There’s Marc, standing there. In a reflex, I slammed the door shut in his face. Marc is standing in front of the door, I called to Claus in the next room. He could hear me clearly through the connecting door. What should I do now? And very pragmatically, he replied, Open it! I was somehow as dim as a nightlight. Couldn’t add one and one to equal two. Well, I opened the door, and to make a long story short, we spent the second night together without sex.”
“What, no sex again? Do you think he’s normal? What did you think about what was going on?
“Yes, it was a little peculiar. I would have liked to have had more. He has a great body – that I had already seen and felt. But not more. Okay, we were into petting. We stopped before we went all the way. But I have to say, it was so special and also okay for me because I had the feeling that it had to do with me as a person. Of course, the physical is a part of me too, but first it was only about me. Do you know what I mean? So often the physical is so much more important and in the foreground much too quickly – but this time it was completely different. I completely fell in love. And maybe the lack of sex was another reason why.”
“Oh, Nathalie, when you hear what happened with me and Mike in New York, you won´t believe it . . .” Greta didn’t know if it was a good idea to tell Nathalie about the restroom.
“Wait just another second, I’m not quite finished. So . . . after the second night together, he had to leave, unfortunately. He went back to Capetown because he had appointments there. But when I arrived at the second lodge with Claude later that evening, the lady at the counter asked me: Are you Miss Nathalie? I said: Yes, why? You can only imagine how stupidly I gaped at her. Why is she asking about me? We have this bouquet of flowers for you. Unfortunately we couldn’t get lilies. I hope that you like sunflowers too. I was completely moved. A bouquet of sunflowers so large that I couldn’t get them through the door of the room. They gave me a bucket as a vase for the flowers. Marc actually wanted to surprise me with my favorite flowers, lilies. That’s almost too good to be true, isn’t it? It’s a love story, isn’t it? It’s almost better than a movie, don’t you think?”
“Yes, Sweetheart, there’s something to that. The guy isn’t completely kosher, but he certainly seems to be a gentleman in every way; one has to give him that. And then? What happened then?”
“Well, we SIM’ed almost the whole night through and it was yet another night with him without sex – but this time because of the distance. I felt like a teenager. He had really knocked my socks off. Marc is a man who has values, who has a sense of humor. He looks good, has a good job. For me, he’s really Mr. Right! The next evening, I was in Capetown again and had only one more day before my flight back to Munich. Of course, we got together. And now, I have to tell you, I was completely prepared to commit to him. I have never met such a man. I would be ready to go to South Africa. And we talked about that.”
“Nathalie, don’t give me that bull. You mean to tell me that you want to emigrate? You can’t simply move to be with him, bold as brass!?”
“Wait, I’m still not finished.”
Greta took a deep breath, wrinkled her forehead and upset as she was, could hardly sit still any longer.
“On the last evening together, we spoke very openly with one another. I told him that it wasn’t the distance – Munich – Capetown – that stands between us. That’s all fiddle-faddle, nonsense. If we really want something, nothing can stand in our way. What does come between us is his faith! He replied only: Yes, I know. Then we spoke about the limits that each of us felt about the other, what a relationship can tolerate, and what kind of expectations we had of one another. In the course of the conversation he took me in his arms. I did almost everything I could to have more of him, but he said: The woman that he would marry, who would share his life, who would carry his name, bear his children should accept his faith without reservation and with all its consequences. Pooh! . . .Then I first thought: Sure, if it’s true love, then it would be easy, then I would do all of that happily. I would need to do it. But despite that, I hesitated.”
“Nathalie, listen: The guy isn’t normal. I said it earlier. He’s really different.”
“Yes, I know. But nevertheless.”
“What now? What do you mean, nevertheless? You’re going to South Africa?”
“I’m not quite sure yet. I would almost be ready to take the gamble. He’s a man for life.”
“Just a moment, Luv. It’s very clear that he’s demanding that you give up a part of yourself. And what will he give up? There are two people in a relationship. If you take part in this, then you willingly hand over the control over a great part of you to him. And what does he bring to the table?”
“Yes, yes, we talked about that too. Of course, I can’t guarantee anything. There are no certainties that assure happiness. It would be very naïve to believe that love functions that way. He agrees with that. But we both want it to be so much. I wish so much that it’s not over at this point. Can you understand that?”
“Oh, yes, m’Luv. Who could understand that better than I? You don’t know yet what I did in New York. I am probably every bit as much a dodo as you. But first, back to you. Where did you leave it?”
”Basically, we already said a little bit of a farewell to one another. I told him that I was in love, that I had never experienced anything like this with him. In the same breath, however, I also told him that I have my own life, that I’m a person with a history that I can’t and won’t deny. There are limits that I can’t cross over because it would destroy me. Where these limits literally are and if he would ever try to cross them neither of us knows. It’s up to us to find out. Then he took me in his arms and kissed me. And it was heavenly. The next day, he couldn’t take me to the airport – appointments. I don’t really know exactly what will happen now. We’re talking on the phone and on Skype. But a date to see each other again hasn’t been determined.”
“Pooh, . . .you know, honestly, I’m already a little worried that one of these mornings you’re going to send me a message: I’m in Capetown. We’ll see each other again at Christmas. Or something like that! I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“I know. Now you.”
Greta got up off the couch, completely caught up in Nathalie’s story. She took a very deep breath. Then she took a bite of the delicious croissant and began to talk. To Nathalie, Greta’s story sounded every bit as crazy as her own. Being stranded at the airport upon arrival, no messages, drugs, and again the lame-brained brother, and then the scene in the bar. Incredible!
“Well, you don’t need more to understand, do you? He really outdid himself. You haven’t had one like this before. Hopefully, he’s passé.”
“Hey, I’m not finished yet, either. “ Greta smiled. “You’ll enjoy what I’m about to tell you now. And, moreover, I’m sure for you it will again be direction from high above.”
“And what would that be? You can’t have made another date with him after all that? Please don’t give me any bullshit. More piled onto the heap is inconceivable.” Nathalie truly couldn’t understand.
“No, I didn’t go to meet him. No date. Nothing of the kind. I was really done, finished. But a story on the Internet brought me back. Actually, it was so endlessly sad, but it gave me strength and all of a sudden, I was grateful just to be able to be there. And in New York, too. I wanted especially to light a candle in a church, but didn’t have a map nor did I know where there was one nearby. Somehow I bumped into a small, unremarkable church. I lit my candle, said my prayer in my thoughts – and there he was, standing in front of me.”
“Excuse me . . .? You don’t mean the Mike, do you? It can’t be true. I don’t believe it.”
Then Greta told the rest of the story – Jamaica and the Rasta episode, up to the chauffeur to the airport. She still hesitated whether she should tell Nathalie about the situation with the restroom. In the meantime, Nathalie had become very quiet. Greta had to tell it. In every detail. Then she looked into Nathalie’s eyes.
“Say something. I want to know what you think.”
“What should I say. I don’t know what I should think. I meet the pure, thirty-six year old virgin and think I’m in seventh heaven. Think about whether I should commit to a deeply religious man, who goes to Bible class three times a week. I go so far as to imagine that he’s Mr. Right. And you . . .?! You go at it in the toilet in the First Class Lounge. And, for that matter, with a guy who has dealings with drugs, a chopstick-hussy-dealer, and mysterious Rasta rituals. What should I think or say now, please? Well, what?”
“You’re right – the situations with the two of us are a little crazy at the moment. But you know what? Everything always happens for the best. Right?”
The two friends gave each other a hug and, as always, they were on the same page. Both had experienced four days that could not be explained. Both had to think about what had happened and make decisions that could determine their future. Both needed time to decide. They also needed each other, however, and were deeply grateful that they didn’t have to talk about that. Friendship, trust, and affection for one another doesn’t require words.
Chapter 13
The following weeks were relatively unspectacular. Greta worked according to her regular schedule, which didn’t include a stop in New York in the near future. That was probably good, she thought. The four days had been absolutely intense, and had to be evaluated calmly, in peace and quiet.