Greta Again! Read online

  Very strange, somehow.

  Greta decided to walk to meet Mona. The fresh air felt good and she found that she could better sort out her feelings as she walked.

  Actually, she thought, it was like a miracle when Mike appeared out of nowhere at her friend Stephanie’s in Munich, and when she found out later that he did a lot of business with her husband, Olaf.

  Yes, and the hours thereafter, the time and the night that she spent with him, were just magical. As if nothing could ever again come between them.

  Almost too good to be true.

  Okay – yes – she heard her inner voice, which reminded her of something else – something awful: the accident. And Mike’s “disappearance” from the hospital.

  Or did he run away?

  It was all so strange.

  And from that time on, the story somehow got on the wrong track. No more love story—more like the chaos that Greta knew from her earlier “men-stories.”

  Maybe I’m not made to have a relationship? What about the types of guys that I attract? It all leads to nothing.

  Lost in her thoughts, she arrived at Macy’s, went in and allowed the nice atmosphere in the department store to sweep over her: the friendly colors, the scent of the perfume, the gentle light in the sales counters . . .a simply lovely store.

  I can enjoy myself here and be happy!

  She was already elated, thinking of the purchases that would surely goad her into a happier mood. Mr. Right was banished far away very quickly –at least for the next few hours.

  Mona worked in the perfume department. Greta had already spotted her at her counter from a distance. She was a fantastic saleswoman—a woman who managed to sell beauty to another person. And to be with her was as if a part of her beauty and charm magically transferred to oneself: a radiance from within, a sincerity that was so personal, that it didn’t even register that Mona just wanted to sell something. She had something that every woman wished for – to be a little like Mona, or at least to be her friend. She had that flair that was glamorous and stylish and that absolutely had to be imitated. Women’s credit cards practically smoked from over-use when Mona was around.

  Greta wasn’t much different. She was aware, of course, that she fell under Mona’s spell, but still had a wonderful time with her. And besides, Mona was actually her friend, and had already been for a few years.

  Mona and Greta had met in the shoe department. Greta was shopping without anything particular in mind, and was basically “just looking.” Besides, it was a super cold, snowy day in late January – not a day to be strolling on the streets of New York.

  Greta left the shoe department with three pairs of summer shoes, two pairs of winter boots, and a pair of athletic shoes. Two handbags appropriate to the seasons were added to the haul. The credit card celebrated and the girls did too. Later, Greta couldn’t get all of her new purchases into her suitcase. Mona spontaneously offered to keep the things at her home until Greta came to New York the next time. Greta was to let her know, and Mona would bring them to Macy’s for her. And that’s exactly what happened, and a fast and firm friendship developed that often included super shopping trips (and not only at Macy’s). Mona had really good contacts in a number of shops and was quite well informed about “insider clubs” and cafes. For Greta, Mona was more or less a “standing appointment” every time she was scheduled to stop in New York.

  Once in a while, Greta came and went in New York without announcing her presence to Mona—namely then, when the bank account simply didn’t allow one of these sinfully expensive shopping tours.

  Today, however, wasn’t one of those days!

  Greta had definitely decided to pamper herself and the credit card was already trembling in her hand. Mona had seen her arrive and waved. She had just finished with a customer at her counter and turned to her friend.

  “Greta, I’m glad you’re here. I was afraid that you would fall asleep with the whiskey on the couch.”

  “I did fall asleep –you have two wonderful roommates and your apartment is unbelievably comfortable. I immediately felt so at home. Many thanks for your trust. And for being there for me.”

  “Oh, don’t be so sentimental, Greta. You would do the same for me. Tell me, what woke you up?”

  “He called.”

  “Oh! And what did he say?” Mona opened her eyes wide, seemingly dumbfounded, her eyebrows rising in surprise.

  “He wants to meet me – and explain everything. It was something about his brother, Steve, again, and this time he couldn’t be there because. . .” – Greta looked around carefully and lowered her voice a little –“because of drugs and the police.” No, Mona, don’t ask. Mike wanted to see me today, actually, but I told him no. We’re meeting tomorrow for breakfast.”

  “Well, I really wonder what kind of story this will turn out to be. You know, it’s not love that’s complicated; it’s definitely the people involved.”

  “You’re absolutely right. And now to the important things in life: Which “must-haves” are waiting for us? Let’s shop and be happy for a while!”

  The evening played out as expected: the credit card was swiped again and again, at first still lukewarm, but quickly began smoking, having reached a fiery glow. This caused Greta and Mona’s broad smiles to become even broader. After Mona got off work, the girls made the rounds, two cocktails here and a snack there. By 1:00 a.m. Greta was wiped out and wanted nothing but to go to bed. A few hours later she was to get up for breakfast. With him.

  Was he actually still “Mr. Right?”

  Mike had absolutely earned this title after the last evening in Salzburg, with the private apartment overlooking the roofs of the city, the private dinner topped off by the incredibly delicious “Salzburger Nockerln,” and with the many little surprises (including in bed) that he had provided.

  But today Greta was no longer so sure if he really was the right one. Once again he had left her hanging. And again because of his brother. Basically, it seemed as if Steve came between them time and again and provoked one crisis after another.

  Or maybe there’s another woman? And I’m just too stupid and naïve to check up on him?

  The thoughts in Greta’s head whirled.

  The next morning (she had set the alarm; otherwise she would surely have overslept), Greta shuffled into the bathroom and looked in the mirror.

  Absolute catastrophe!

  How can I pull myself together—even a little? Impossible – there’s not enough time.

  She decided to wash her hair and tie it together wet, into a topknot. A little make-up and the new clothes that she had bought yesterday with Mona, that should do the trick: DKNY jeans with a matching shirt – everything cut very skinny – “double-denim” is best for that,” Mona insisted. Greta wanted to wear a knit jacket with the denim, but Mona couldn’t be persuaded that anything other than a leather jacket with rivets would go with jeans .

  OK, fine.

  But breakfast in leather and rivets?

  Oh man, the thought crossed Greta’s mind, I’m so undecided again – and only because of this guy. This just isn’t worth it!

  Why do I constantly worry about everything? He certainly doesn’t make such a fuss, I’m sure.

  Fine, Greta said to herself. This is as good as it’ll get. I’ll put on the leather vest with the rivets and the knit jacket over that. It doesn’t matter what Mona thinks, that’s what I’m going to do. Besides, it’s really cold outside.

  Now just the boots, and I’m outta here.

  Just as she wanted to go out the door, she took a last look in the mirror. I shouldn’t have done that, she thought. If only I had bought other shoes yesterday! She stared at the boots. These are the boots that Mike bought for me in Munich.

  He better not jump to conclusions because I have these boots on. I only brought a couple of pairs of shoes for these few days in the city.

  She pushed her sunglasses atop her head , headed out the door, and was on her way to Carlos’ plac
e.

  It was really quite cool already. Late summer was on its last legs, and the nights were clammy. Indian Summer in New York had arrived, and the first leaves were changing color. The wind took them along on its trip through the streets of the city. Greta was glad that she had decided to wear the warm jacket, and pulled it together tightly, wrapping her arms around her body.

  Since she was running late, she hailed a taxi, which was luckily not a problem so early in the morning. A few minutes later she was standing in front of the café in which she had met Mike last summer for their first date. Her beating heart filled her entire body – or more accurately, it was pounding like a ghettoblaster next to a microphone.

  No, I’m not going in, ran through her mind. Her hands were sweaty and the heat was especially noticeable under her arms.

  No, I’m not going in. He can’t be Mr. Right. I don’t have to listen to all that he has to say. Let him stay with his stupid brother where. . .

  “Greta, my angel!”

  Mike stood directly behind her. He had to have come around the corner just that second.

  Oh, yes, that’s right. His apartment was very close by; he mentioned that once. He must have walked over.

  Greta couldn’t say anything at all. She could feel how red her face had become, how her beating heart pounded in her ears, and how the heat under her arms was transforming itself into tropical moisture.

  “Good Morning,” was all she could manage.

  “C’mon, let’s go in; you look like you’re freezing.

  Mike went in first.

  Inside the café, Carlos came toward them – he had reserved the same table for them as the last time. Greta acted as if she hadn’t noticed.

  “Nice boots,” Mike said, glancing at her feet as they sat down.

  Greta wasn’t about to answer – she tried to appear cool and kept quiet. Besides, she felt as if she had cotton in her mouth -- it had become so dry.

  Carlos waved to them and brought fragrant steaming bowls of coffee to the table right away. “Breakfast like the last time?”

  “Yes, please ,” Mike said. “And you, Greta?”

  Greta cleared her throat. “I’ll have a brioche, please, to start. Thank you.”

  Mike took his time, studying Greta quietly. It seemed almost as if he wanted to absorb every fiber. It seemed like an eternity to Greta, and finally she couldn’t stand it anymore and asked about his injuries caused by the accident.

  “Oh, the accident, Greta, my angel.” He said it as if he were about to tell a child a fairytale.

  That was too much for Greta. She didn’t want murmurs, she wanted facts. “Don’t call me ‘angel.’ I’m not your angel, otherwise we would never have had the accident.”

  “Greta, at least give me the chance to explain everything.”

  “Then speak.”

  “Why are you so being so brusque?”

  “Listen, Mike, this isn’t a date. I came here because I want to know what’s going on. I can do without little games; they bore me. I think I deserve respect and honesty from you – that’s what I expect.”

  Mike hesitated. “Okay. You’ve made yourself clear. I’ll try to abide by your wishes.”

  “Don’t make fun of me. You asked for this meeting. Since you weren’t at the airport yesterday, I assumed that was that. I won’t allow you to play ping-pong with my feelings. That’s already behind us.”

  Mike sat up straight, took a sip of his coffee and looked at Greta with a serious expression on his face.

  Finally she had the feeling that she was looking him in the eye. Up ‘til now, it always seemed as if he had the upper hand in one way or the other. He was the one in charge, the one who made the decisions. Sure, she liked being pampered, not having to think, and allowing herself to be surprised. And certainly the surprises were mostly terrific and absolutely welcome. Nonetheless, a hint of dependence always lingered behind, a feeling of not being taken seriously, or a sense of “I don’t have a say.” Never before had she set the tone as she had now. Finally she felt that she was on the same plane with him. And she could see it in Mike’s body language and his facial expression. They were now equal.

  “Fine, Greta, then I’ll lay it all out. The whole truth. It’s not all pretty, but you have the right to know. Today I also have the impression that you want it this way. It doesn’t matter what happens with us afterwards; you should know that I always meant it to be serious between us. I think of you as a super woman and I want more of you.”

  Greta was taken aback. “Okay!” was all that she could say.

  “You know that Steve lives in Jamaica,” Mike continued. “He lives in the mountains on a Finca and originally went there to deal with his handicap. It was actually working out pretty well – until he came into contact with drugs. That alone wouldn’t be so dramatic; the Jamaicans don’t take drugs all that seriously. They more or less grow up with dope. But if you want to participate, more or less as a babe in the woods, then it can go downhill pretty quickly. Steve had to realize that he can’t play around with drugs so easily. He slid deeper and deeper into the situation and then got into trouble with the authorities. The bad thing is that until last week, I didn’t know anything about it. I always associated his mood swings with his psyche. For me, the accident that brought about his spinal injury and paralysis was the reason for his behavior. I would never have come up with the idea that drugs were in play.”

  After a short pause, Mike continued. Greta stayed quiet. She didn’t know what she should think about this conversation.

  “ So last week, Steve wanted me to give him some money. I gave it to him and felt sure that everything was okay. He didn’t want to ask our father for it; it was to be a short-term loan. I didn’t ask for any more information. Maybe I should have.

  Yesterday I was getting ready in my office to leave for the airport to pick you up. My secretary stopped me, and suddenly the police were in the office. I was totally surprised, actually thought there was a mistake and it had to do with our neighbor, who had some dealings with the police before. The police, however, asked me if I knew Steve Sloan. “Of course, he’s my little brother. Did he do something wrong?” I asked, joking. And then they arrested me. I had no idea why. At the Police Station I then found out from the chief that my little brother had also been arrested – because of drug consumption and drug dealing. On top of that, I was also accused of drug dealing. My brother had received the money for his dubious business from me, after all. They would find out for themselves if I also took drugs.

  Well, I spent the entire afternoon yesterday and the evening with the police and dealt with the drugs issue. I had to have a blood test. Finally, I found myself a lawyer who got me out of there. Steve is still in custody. The hours at the station were awful. You wouldn’t believe what kind of people hang around there. When I finally called you, I couldn’t simply burden you with the whole story, right? I’m still quite numb from all of the goings-on yesterday. Honestly, I can’t believe that it all happened.”

  Greta was quiet. She was completely confused. Should she simply believe him? Did it really happen? She didn’t trust his brother anyway. Loutish and repulsive, someone better to avoid. Somehow the whole story seemed to ring true – but then again, also crazy.

  Mike continued. “I have to deal with Steve yet today. He’s still in custody. Since the police couldn’t prove that I took drugs and the story about the money was clarified by my attorney , I was released. But I haven’t been able to discuss anything with Steve yet, I haven’t even seen him. I have to return to the police station today. I don’t have any idea what I’ll be walking into there.”

  Mike drank his coffee. Carlos also brought him his breakfast and Mike seemed to enjoy it to an astonishing degree . Greta, on the other hand, was so engrossed in his story that she couldn’t eat anything. She had taken a bite of her brioche; the rest still lay on the plate. What should she do now? she asked herself. I can’t just let him sit there. If the story is true, then he r
eally isn’t at fault. He is still the same person he was last week, or maybe not? Is he the Mike who drove me to Salzburg in the convertible? With whom I was in bed, exchanging sweet-nothings, sharing kisses and caresses, moaning, hearing his voice, the rumpled bed-sheets . . . . is this still the same guy?!

  Greta wanted to believe Mike’s story, she didn’t want her memories of their wonderful hours together to be replaced by the image of a drug junkie who made up stories. That didn’t belong in her world. Stop! She heard her inner voice say: what if there’s something to it? You don’t know him all that well. But what? I have to trust him – what would he get out of telling me such a whopper of a lie if the story weren’t true?

  Finally, she said: “I really don’t know what I should think about all this, Mike. It sounds so insane and honestly, it has nothing to do with my life.” Somehow she had found her voice again and she listened to herself, completely aware. Greta surprised herself. “These are all things that are happening in your life, that affect you. But you should also know that I am serious about you. First of all, I’m in the process right now of giving you my heart and trusting you. That’s why I believe you. On the other hand, should I find out that you have lied to me, used me, or otherwise are playing with me, then that would be it. Forever. You don’t want to know what would then be in store for you.” Greta didn’t know herself with what she could threaten him, but she was completely serious. She didn’t want any games.

  “Hey, you can be really tough,” Mike answered.

  How can he be so light-hearted? Greta asked herself, way back in her mind. This isn’t about a parking ticket! Here I go again, I’m the super-deliberator again, the one who can’t stop turning everything on its head a hundred times.