Greta Again! (2 page)

            It was 5:00 p.m., New York time, and still no word from Mike.

            Greta was confused and tired. For her, the time was not early evening but just before midnight. And she had quite a few hours of flight-time behind her.

            OK, she thought—enough of the drinking and into the shower!

            She drank the last sip of whiskey and looked around the apartment.

            It was a great studio flat, with one and a half rooms. There was a wall of red bricks --  somewhat rustic  --but the contrasting furniture was well chosen. A comfortable large couch leaned against the brick wall, with a lot of pillows in different patterns: flowers, plaids, solids . . .everything in Ralph Lauren style.  A large rectangular matching ottoman with a tray on top stood in for a coffee table. The place had a wooden floor, dark, warm and friendly. Opposite the long brick wall was a large television that swiveled so that it could be seen from the adjacent bedroom.

            The bedroom was super comfy. Greta would have loved to have fallen into the queen-size bed right then and there. Giant pillows, at least six of them in different sizes, were gathered on top of the soft green bedspread with white stripes. The wall décor was right in tune with its surroundings; even the flowers in the window – lilies –harmonized in color and gave off a mild, heavenly scent.

            Totally Mona! Greta thought.  She has great taste – and the opportunity at Macy’s to pick the furnishings that she wants.

            Everything in the bathroom was also chosen with great care, and although the room was small, it was beautifully put together with white, turquoise, and pink accents.

            Greta slowly got undressed and stepped into the shower. The soap and warm water not only made her feel clean, but she also began to feel better and clearer within herself. Suddenly her Mr. Right didn’t seem all that important – no longer so dominant. He was just another man in her life whom she could soon forget again.

            And if not?

            Add another couple of scars?

            Oh, so what; I can’t change what’s happened anyway.

            Whatever happens will happen, and everything happens for the best, Greta told herself. As she expected, her guiding principle made her feel better.

            After her shower, Greta wrapped herself in one of the wonderful soft towels, and with her hair tucked up into a turban, she fell onto the couch. Immediately Mr. Popcorn and Curly Bob jumped up and snuggled up against her.

            “You’re both males, but Mona is lucky to have you, Greta thought. Funny how the world works.”

            Greta found the TV-control  and channel-surfed through the early evening programs, falling asleep without even noticing.

            Suddenly, the ringing of her cell-phone roused her out of a deep sleep.

            Mike!

            His number was blinking on the display panel.

            OK, now just keep calm.

            She answered the phone.

            “Hello, Angel!” she heard his warm, familiar voice.

            “Hi, Mike.”

            “Where are you?”

            “In the city.”

            “Can we talk? – I think I have to explain something again and make amends, right?”

            “Hmm, I don’t know if you can really make amends.” Greta was surprised how spontaneously she could respond and how right her response sounded.

            “Wow. That’s hard.” Mike was taken aback for a moment. He seemed as surprised by her quick response as she was herself. “Will you give me a chance?”

            “You know what? I don’t want to play these little games. I’m not seventeen any longer and I don’t like your having to explain things to me. I also don’t want to keep giving you a chance. This is the second or third time now.  And each time you give me the feeling that everything else is more important than I am. I think I should simply trust my feelings, and forget about you for a change. How do you feel about that?”

“Okay, I wasn’t there! I feel shitty. I was held up by the police. I couldn’t get in touch nor could I send anybody. Where are you now?”

            “I don’t want to tell you. And the police held you up? What’s that supposed to mean?”

            “My brother was caught with drugs and the police think that I’m his dealer.”

            “And? Are you?”

            “Hey, Greta! No. What are you thinking?” Greta could hear that Mike was really shocked by her response. But what did she have to lose, she thought to herself.

            “I don’t know anymore what I’m supposed to think,” she said after a short pause. “You really top everything.”

            “That almost sounds like a compliment, the way you said it. . . .I want to see you, to touch you, to love you, simply to be with you. I want to tell you everything and spend the next few days with you. You’re going to be in the city for a while longer, right?”

            “Stop! I don’t want that anymore.”

            Mike seemed to hesitate. “Are you really sure? Can you just forget the hours in Salzburg so easily? What do I have to do so that we can at least see each other? I want to tell you everything. It wasn’t my fault. Don’t you want to know the truth?”

            “Not now, not today, Mike. You have really spoiled the situation beyond repair. I don’t know what to think. Please – let’s postpone it until tomorrow.”

            “Alright, Greta . . .I don’t want to push you. Should we meet at Carlos’ place again?”

            Greta knew exactly how super it was the last time at Carlos’ place; their first date, after Mike had been in First Class while she was on duty on the flight to New York. She had experienced a lot in her time as a flight attendant, but to meet him that day was almost like the “Pretty Woman” story.

            Well, tomorrow is another day and besides – everything happens for the best, darted through her mind.

            “OK, Mike – we’ll see each other tomorrow morning at 7:30 at Carlos’ place.”

            And she hung up without waiting for him to reply.

Chapter 3

Mona is going to kill me, Greta thought , after she had hung up and looked around. What time was it anyway?

Oh, six-thirty – good, I can finish getting ready and pick her up. Man, oh man, what will I tell her?!

            A bad feeling spread in her belly. But her curiosity and above all her feelings for Mike told her that she had made the right decision. Mike really would have to explain a few things. And what she then decided to do was strictly up to her. No matter whether he was Mr. Right or not – nobody could now predict how this would play out.

            Greta hurried to get ready, poured a little fresh milk into the cats’ saucers, grabbed the keys to the apartment and was gone.

            On her way to Macy’s, Greta visualized a movie in her mind, starring herself: How she met Mike on the flight to New York, then the date (which she almost didn’t keep) at Carlos’ place, and the wonderful breakfast, the shopping tour with Mike, and the first meeting with his brother Steve at the end. Even then, he had already managed to drive a wedge between the two of them. Steve’s obnoxious behavior and his rude manner towards her were simply unbearable. And now it was Steve again, who threatened to drive her and Mike apart.

            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.