by Andrew Grey
“So you’re actually looking forward to going?” Jeana had asked after he hung up the phone.
“Yes, okay,” he’d said with a grousing smile. “I’ll admit it. It might be good to get away for a while.” Sometimes, in the middle of the night, he’d think of Greg and wonder why he’d been left alone. After two years, he still missed Greg every day, but the loneliness was becoming harder and harder to cope with. “And visit some new places,” he added without saying why. They both already knew why.
Jeana had smiled and stood up, taking Inge’s hand. The two young women left the house, and Jonathon guessed they were heading to the ocean for some quiet time. Jonathon had sighed, realizing he was jealous. Not of them, but of their relationship.
The remains of his dinner being removed bumped Jonathon’s attention back to the present, and as the lights dimmed in the cabin, Jonathon reclined his seat flat, lying back and pulling the fluffy blanket over him. “Greg would have loved this,” he mouthed to himself. No, he had to stop that. He was going to be away for two whole months, and he couldn’t spend the entire time he was away remarking on how much Greg would like this or that. This was his own adventure, and he had to make it alone. Deep down, Jonathon knew Greg would be pleased that he was starting to move on—he just needed someone to tell his heart. Shutting off the small light, he lay in the dim cabin thinking of Greg, Jeana, and the adventure he was about to have, until he dozed off with a smile on his face.
Waking with a start when the drone of the engines changed, he jerked himself upright, wondering where he was for a second. “Would you like some breakfast?” the flight attendant asked with a slight accent that Jonathon found charming.
“Yes, please.”
“If you’ll stand up for just a minute, I’ll get you settled,” she said with softness in her voice, and Jonathon stood up. She efficiently stripped off the cushion cover, folded his blanket, and returned the bed to a chair. “Here’s your breakfast menu.” She handed him what looked like a printed brochure, with his choices. “If there isn’t something to your taste, you can also choose one of the options from business class.” She handed him the additional menu before picking up the linens and hurrying away. She returned for his selection and brought it a few minutes later. He ate slowly, savoring his eggs benedict with fresh juice and fruit.
As he was finishing, Jonathon heard the engine sounds change again. His dishes were cleared, and the noise in the cabin increased as trays were stowed, carts put back in their slots, and landing announcements made. As he sat quietly, his nervous anticipatory excitement ratcheted up as his ears popped and the plane descended, touching down at Vienna’s airport. Deplaning, passport control, baggage claim, and customs were a breeze, but now he stood in a wide hallway, looking around. He’d called as asked, and Hanna had said she was sending her son, but Jonathon had no idea what he looked like or how to find him. Settling near the wall, he continued looking around.
“Herr Pfister,” Jonathon heard over the crowd, and he searched for the source of the call. “Herr Pfister!” A young man ran up to him, sounding out of breath before he began talking in rapid-fire German.
“I’m sorry, I don’t speak much German,” Jonathon said apologetically when the kid took a breath.
“No, it is my fault. Sometimes I forget,” he said a little haltingly, like he didn’t speak English very often. “I’m Hans, Hanna’s son and Inge’s cousin.” He held out his hand and Jonathon shook it, surprised at the grip from such a small person. “My car is this way.” He pointed toward the far exit and picked up Jonathon’s suitcase, lugging the heavy bag as though it were nothing. Jonathon picked up his other things and followed behind, barely able to keep up with the younger man.
Outside, Hans led him to a parking area and opened the hatchback of the smallest car Jonathon had ever seen. Wedging his suitcase in the small cargo compartment, they put his other bags on the backseat. Then Jonathon got in the front seat, buckling himself in. With a rush of energy, Hans bounded into the car, starting the engine. As they left the lot, Jonathon insisted on paying for the parking; he actually had to use his teacher face to get Hans to take his money to pay the attendant. On the airport road, the car took off like a shot, with Hans weaving in and out of traffic. If Jonathon had ever wondered, he now knew what it felt like to go eighty miles an hour in a gumball machine.
“Have you visited Vienna?” Hans asked as he darted around a much larger truck.
“No. I’ve been to Europe before with my partner. I’ve been to Paris, London, and parts of Spain, but that was a long time ago.” Greg had taken him to Europe for his fortieth birthday, and they’d traveled for the better part of three weeks, but he didn’t really feel like bringing up those memories. Not with Hans making his life flash before his eyes.
“Maybe once you rest, I take you. Show you Vienna.” Hans pulled off the freeway, and they began to enter the city proper, traveling down a boulevard and turning onto a wide street. The one benefit of the city traffic was that Hans drove slower, and Jonathon found himself looking out of the windows to take in everything. “Our house is in the middle of the ring roads.”
“What street are we on?” Jonathon twisted to try to see a sign.
“Operngasse,” he answered proudly. “We live in a nice area.” Jonathon could see his chest puff just a little. “If we continue ahead, we would go by the opera house. Do you like opera?” he added with a hopeful lilt in his voice.
“Yes,” Jonathon answered simply, and then thought better of it, since Hans was keeping up most of the conversation. “Greg loved the opera, and we had season tickets to the Metropolitan Opera in New York.” He hadn’t renewed the subscription after Greg died. He’d thought of taking Jeana a few times but just couldn’t bring himself to do it. The memories were just too strong.
“We have wonderful opera here, some of the best in the world,” Hans said, pride again in his voice. Jonathon wondered what he should say and breathed a sigh of relief as they turned onto a smaller side street before pulling up to a small overhead rollup door. Hans got out of the car, lifting the overhead door before getting back inside and pulling into a tiny paved area that already held a car. No wonder this one was so small—it just fit behind the other. “This used to be a small yard, but parking cost a lot, so Oma changed it.”
Hans opened his door carefully, and Jonathon got out as well, barely able to open the door far enough to get out. Hans opened the hatchback and pulled out his bags. Jonathon had no idea how Hans was going to get his bags out of the backseat, but he did somehow, and then he led him through a small passage toward the back door.
“Mutti, I’m back,” Hans called over the sound of voices coming from the next room. A woman a little older than Jonathon walked in, wiping her hands on her apron. “Mr. Pfister, I’m glad you arrived.”
“Please call me Jonathon.” He extended his hand, and she shook it before almost pulling him into the other room.
“I am Hanna. This is my mother.” She pointed to an old woman working at the stove. “This is Herr Pfister.”
The old woman stepped away from her cooking, greeting him in German. Jonathon tried his best to sound polite, reading her body language because he couldn’t pick out a single thing she was saying.
“My mother doesn’t speak much English, but she said she’s happy you are with us and asks if you are hungry.” The old woman began talking again, motioning to the table. “She said you need to eat, you’re too skinny,” Hanna clarified with a smile, turning to her son. “Take Jonathon’s things to his apartment and then come eat.” The young man hurried away with a smile. “He’s a good boy,” his mother said softly in that tone only a proud mother uses. “He’s going to university soon.”
She motioned Jonathon to a place, and he sat down, wondering what was going on. He hadn’t realized that, in addition to getting an apartment, he was also getting a family, but that was what seemed to be happening.
A plate appeared in front of him, along with a roll, s
ome meats, and what looked like marmalade. Jonathon looked around to see if the others were joining him, but they bustled around the kitchen with Hans’s grandmother, looking at him every few seconds until he took a bite. Hans came back in and sat down across from him. A similar plate appeared, and he ate quickly, speaking to his mother and grandmother in German. Jonathon found his fatigue catching up with him, and he let the sounds swirl without trying to comprehend anything. There was no way he could understand anything anyway; his brain was already beginning to shut down.
When he was done eating, Hans jumped up from the table, grabbing a book bag from near the door and saying good-bye to everyone, including him, before rushing out the door for what Jonathon assumed was school.
“I’m almost done here, and then I’ll show you where you’ll be staying.” Hanna had barely stopped moving since he had arrived.
Jonathon nodded and smiled, taking the opportunity to glance around the room. The house was obviously quite old, but very well-kept and meticulously clean. Jonathon had the feeling that the furniture had been in these rooms for generations. “This is my mother’s house,” Hanna explained from the sink, “and has been in our family for many years.”
“It’s lovely,” Jonathon replied sincerely, lightly rubbing the smooth arm of the wooden chair. The building and everything in it seemed to emanate a sense of permanence that he hadn’t felt except when Greg was around.
“Come,” Hanna said as she took off her apron. “I’ll take you back.”
Jonathon followed her back through the kitchen, waving to Oma, who smiled and nodded in return. He found himself back in the cramped courtyard, and Hanna led him around the cars to the back wall of the property. Jonathon started to wonder what he was in for when she used a key to unlock an almost hidden door. Handing him the key, she pushed the door open and turned on the lights.
Jonathon walked into a kitchen with appliances and a counter against one wall and a small table near the window. “This is the kitchen,” she said, stating the obvious. “Here’s the laundry.” She pointed to the far side of the counter. “I will show you how to use it.”
“Thank you,” he responded gratefully as he looked at the dials with everything in German. It didn’t look like anything he’d ever seen before.
She led the way to a circular staircase in the corner and started climbing, so Jonathon followed. “It’s three rooms, as I told you on the telephone. The kitchen’s on the ground floor, the living room on the first, and the bedroom on the second.” Hanna opened windows as she moved through the rooms, curtains blowing in the breeze. Jonathon climbed to the bedroom, seeing his bags on the floor, sun streaming through windows, a double bed against the only wall with a window. Taking a quick look around, he stepped back down the stairs to the main floor.
“Do you like it?” Hanna inquired, waiting for him.
“It’s perfect.”
“I know it’s not what you’re used to in America.”
Jonathon shook his head, smiling as he continued to look around. “It’s absolutely perfect.”
Hanna smiled as well. “I’ll leave you, then.” She walked toward the door, stopping again for a moment. “Oh, I’m aware that my niece and your daughter”—she swallowed—“care very much for each other. I also know there was another man whom you cared greatly about.” Jonathon opened his mouth, but she put up her hand to stop him. “I have no problem with love between two people.” Jonathon liked the way she phrased it. “But my mother is very traditional.”
A dark look passed over her face, and Jonathon wanted to ask what was wrong, but he didn’t dare. That would be way too familiar. But it was plain that something had hurt her.
“And she doesn’t take change very well. I can tell she likes you, so just be discreet around her.” He saw the slightest dip in her shoulders that wasn’t there before as Hanna went to leave. “I’ll be at work for the rest of the day, but Mother will be home. If you need anything, she can help. Believe me, she understands more than she lets on, so don’t be shy around her.” Hanna closed the door behind her, and Jonathon found himself staring, wondering what he’d just been made privy to.
Turning around, he let out a little whoop. When he’d traveled with Greg, they always stayed at the best hotels and ate at world-class restaurants, but he’d never experienced anything like this. Instead of traveling abroad, he was living abroad. Rushing back upstairs to the bedroom, he looked around the room again. There wasn’t a closet, but an imposing wardrobe stood in one corner. Unpacking his clothes and putting things away settled the last of his nerves. So, after opening the rest of the windows to catch the breeze, he set an alarm and lay down for a few hours.
Jonathon had barely closed his eyes when he heard the alarm buzzing in his ear. Forcing himself to get back up, he stretched and yawned before stepping downstairs to the bathroom off the living area. Going through his morning routine felt familiar and comforting, and after changing clothes, he headed outside to explore the city that would be home for the rest of the summer.
Jonathon spent much of the day wandering. He ate lunch at a small café, drank an afternoon coffee at one of Vienna’s legendary coffee houses, got some maps, and even rode the tram the entire way around Vienna’s famous Ringstrasse. He’d even found a grocery store, and his last stop was to buy his food for dinner.
In his apartment, he made dinner and was just sitting down when someone knocked on his door. Opening it, he found Hans standing outside, shifting from foot to foot. “Mama asked me to invite you to dinner.” He peeked inside and saw Jonathon’s plate on the table. “Oh, I didn’t mean to disturb you.” Hans turned and began walking back toward the main house.
“You aren’t, Hans, not really.” Having been alone most of the day, he could use a little company. “Why don’t you come back after your dinner and you can tell me all about Vienna.” Hans smiled and waved emphatically as he hurried home, while Jonathon returned to his simple dinner.
After putting his dishes away, Jonathon went upstairs to the living room, opening the door to the small balcony and stepping out into the early evening air. He had a view of the car-filled courtyard, and he could see over the wall into the street. Looking down around his feet, he realized he could probably fit a small chair out here, and it would be a great place to have his morning coffee. As he watched, he saw Hans bound out the door and weave his way between the cars. “Evening, Hans,” he called and waved. “Come on up.”
“Would you like me to show you some of Vienna instead of just tell you?” Hans had so much energy.
“Sure, I’ll be right down.” Jonathon walked back through the apartment, locking the door behind him before meeting Hans at the courtyard door.
“Do you want to ride or walk?” Hans asked, and Jonathon looked at the small car, not relishing another ride.
“Not in the car.” Hans pointed to a scooter in the corner.
“Maybe next time,” Jonathon said with a smile, and Hans opened the door to the street. Stepping onto the sidewalk, Hans led him down the street. “It may not seem like it, but this way’s faster if you want to get to the Ringstrasse.”
Jonathon kept looking around and saw a very young man across the street, leaning against a wall, hips forward. As Jonathon watched, he slipped his hand beneath his shirt, lifting it so Jonathon could see his abs. Hans instantly began yelling and ran across the street. At first, Jonathon thought they were going to fight, but the kid ran off, with Hans standing on the sidewalk, yelling after him. “Hans, what was that for?” Jonathon said as he crossed the street.
“He’s a Strichjunge,” Hans spat, still looking where the young man had run. “How do you say in English, a rent boy?” Jonathon followed Hans’s gaze but said nothing, feeling a little stunned. “This is a nice neighborhood, and we do not want their kind here,” he added forcefully as he continued down the street. “I am sorry if my anger frightened you,” he added as they approached the corner.
Jonathon tried not to dwell on it. “It’s al
l right.”
They continued walking, reaching the wide Ringstrasse, continuing around until they came to a subway station. To Jonathon’s surprise, Hans led him down the steps, and he bought a fare card. Getting on the train, Jonathon slipped into himself, thinking of the man—more like a kid really—whom Hans had driven off. The blank look, the mechanical motion…. He could easily imagine the almost soulless feeling, knowing you were selling yourself just to survive for another day in a world that didn’t want or care about you. Jonathon shivered as the train began to slow.
“This is Stephansplatz,” Hans explained, “the very center of the city.” Hans began walking toward the exit, and Jonathon followed through the huge underground station and shopping arcade. Climbing back to street level, they emerged near the edge of a huge open area, dominated by a massive cathedral. “That’s Stephansdom,” Hans pointed. “It’s very old and the heart of the city. During the war it was damaged, but now it’s been completely fixed,” Hans explained. “I really love the pattern of the tiles on the roof.”
Jonathon looked up at the massive structure, glued to his place as he marveled at the fact that parts of the building were approaching a thousand years old. “Can we go inside?”
Hans shook his head. “It’s open during the day, but at night they close it except for evening masses. We could come back if you like.”
Jonathon couldn’t help smiling at the use of the plural. It seemed that he’d made a young friend, and it felt nice to be around young people. There were times—like right about now, as he stifled a yawn—that he just felt old. But he was finding that the energy of youth was definitely contagious. “That’d be nice.”
People moved and congregated around them, the huge open square buzzing with activity. Many shops were closed, but that didn’t dampen the energy and enthusiasm that seemed to crackle in the air. Restaurant patrons laughed as they ate under umbrellas in outdoor seating areas, their laughter and conversations floating all around, adding to the excitement. Tourists hustled into the shops that were open, reemerging to show off their finds to the rest of their group. “This is the main shopping district. All the best shops are here,” Hans began explaining, “The Hotel Sacher is just down the street. It’s very famous.”
