November Sky

by Marleen Reichenberg

  Nick felt me hesitate and gave me a quick sidelong glance. “Nothing to be afraid of. They just want to play.”

  I was skeptical. A friend of mine was once jogging on a farm road when she was forced to stop by a dachshund that circled her, barking and growling. She heard the exact same words from its mistress just before her frisky pooch sank its teeth into my friend’s ankle.

  At least these two beasts weren’t making a ruckus. The sheepdog had a stick in its mouth. Nick let go of my hand and instructed me to stay behind him. He went toward the animals without the slightest sign of fear. They stopped just in front of him, and I was relieved when they jumped around him, wagging their tails and letting him pet them. They weren’t taking any notice of me, so I ventured nearer. I admired Nick’s fearlessness in grabbing a stick and having a playful tug-of-war with the larger dog until he finally threw the stick into the field. The two animals ran after it enthusiastically and completely forgot us. Their owner joined us in the meantime and gave a friendly nod. Nick grasped my hand again—to my delight—and we carried on. He talked about the collie named Cora he’d had as a kid.

  “We were inseparable for four years. When I was fourteen, she ran out a door that was left open and onto the street and was run over.”

  I visualized that distraught boy and could relate to his grief when I thought of our run-over barnyard cats.

  “My parents offered to buy me another dog. But I didn’t want one. Cora was irreplaceable.”

  When he saw the concerned look on my face, he squeezed my hand. “It’s OK, I’m over it. But let’s talk about something not quite so sad.”

  Nick’s melancholy behavior, which I’d noticed when he picked me up, gradually gave way to a more relaxed mood. He vividly discussed his fascination with Saint-Ex, as he called the Little Prince author.

  “He always referred to himself as a scribbling pilot, but I’ve read all his works and think he was a gifted philosopher. His most famous saying hits the nail on the head: ‘You only see well with the heart. The essentials are invisible to the eye.’”

  Then he let go of my hand, slipped his arm around my waist, and synchronized his steps with mine.

  “Your self-image is completely inaccurate because of your rotten experience with that heartless jerk,” said Nick suddenly. “You doubt that I find you desirable. But from the first moment I saw you, I had the inexplicable feeling that we belong together. I’ve never felt anything like this with a woman before. Let me have a chance to show you I’m serious.”

  Yeah, sure! And the earth is flat. But I didn’t blurt out my thoughts; instead, I remained silent. Meanwhile we’d come back to the edge of the woods where we’d parked. I felt Nick’s hand on my hip drawing me closer to his body, and I savored his irresistible scent in spite of my subversive mental reservations. I found Nick enormously attractive. The protective wall against men I’d carefully built up over the years began to crumble and collapse.

  Being close to him, I felt like a completely new Laura. His approving gaze, his smile, and his evident interest made me feel attractive and extraordinary for the first time in many years. When we finished our walk and stood in front of his flashy car, he beamed at me as enthusiastically and intently as he did during our first hike—right before that wretched kiss.

  Without thinking, I said aloud what was going through my head. “I Googled you.”

  His eyes twinkled roguishly as he shook his head in exaggerated despair. “Oh, no. I meant to warn you by all means not to do that. At least half of what you read there is completely fabricated. Particularly where my numerous relationships are concerned.”

  Laying his hand on my arm, he implored me. “Laura, if I had had something going with every woman I’m connected to in the papers, I wouldn’t have time to eat, work, or sleep. I’m no saint, and it goes without saying that I’ve had girlfriends. But believe me, none of them has impressed me as much as you have.”

  I wanted to believe him, but my inner spoilsport threatened to ruin things. Oh, sure, because you’re such an exceptionally fascinating beauty. Forget it! You only appeal to Nick because you don’t drool all over him like everyone else. He’ll drop you like a hot potato after he gets you into bed—which is all he really wants.

  This time, I furiously silenced the killjoy part of me that always prevented me from having a little fun, joy, and passion in my life. I decided to risk disappointment. Nick saw how conflicted I was and took me gently in his arms. And then he kissed me. His movements were much slower and more intense and tender than Tim’s impetuous fumbling and greedy kisses on the beach. Back then I felt I was in a tornado and just let it all happen, but now I felt passion rising within me. His mouth caressed my lips, and I automatically opened them to allow his tongue in. His expertise released an eager reaction in me. I turned hot and cold as if I had a fever, and heat suddenly gathered in the center of my body. I wound my arms around his neck, pushed tightly against him, and responded to his passionate kiss. Even though I lacked experience, I thought I performed quite skillfully. His hands slipped under my shirt and stroked my bare skin. I indulged in the frisson of lust that ran over me and sent hot flashes directly to my private parts. Nick pulled his lips away from mine and gently held me away from him.

  “For heaven’s sake, Laura, if we don’t stop now, we’ll become a public nuisance. Besides, I think this is moving too fast. I want to give you more time, as hard as that is for me. There’s no way you should feel you’re being exploited. When we sleep with each other, then I want it to remain a beautiful memory, one that will expunge that old semi-rape and will really be your first time.”

  I was in seventh heaven. He couldn’t have said anything more beautiful. I would rename this wonderful natural setting—now so rich in memories—the Grove of Love.

  We drove to his place shortly afterward. Unfortunately, his fame didn’t permit us to simply stroll through the city uninterrupted or go to a beer garden like other couples. So he asked me if I wanted to see his parents’ house, and I readily accepted. I was pleased that he trusted me.

  “I’ll tell you right now. My parents are in their house in Spain. But Hanna is there. She took care of me while I was in bed sick. And I promise not to exploit the situation.”

  I felt perfectly secure in his presence and knew for certain that he wouldn’t shanghai me, not even in the seclusion of his home.

  Chapter 6

  As we drove through Grünwald, a posh quarter with villas and quiet streets and the aura of a garden city, Nick showed me his elementary school. I instinctively imagined a cute, dark-blond six-year-old with gaps in his teeth and a schoolbag under his arm standing expectantly in front of the school entrance.

  As expected, the house he grew up in actually was one of those white stuccoed villas with a red, quaint-looking shingle roof, several bay windows, and large front windows, all in a well-tended garden surrounded by a high, manicured hedge. We’d just entered the bright, spacious foyer when a petite, middle-aged lady with stylishly short ash-blonde hair came through one of the many doors.

  She smiled at Nick and bubbled away in Austrian-accented German. “Well, how do you feel? The way you’re beaming, you’re better again, thank God. Let me tell you this once and for all: Don’t eat any slimy stuff from the sea ever again. Stay with things that grow here. And best of all, with whatever I cook.”

  Before Nick could open his mouth, she held out her hand as she sized me up. There was a spark of elation in her clear gray-blue eyes.

  “You must be Laura. Nick’s talked about nothing but you all week. He told me he met you when his car broke down on the highway. Good that you were nearby and could drive him when the motor in his stupid car died on him. It’s too bad he had that ridiculous car repaired. I swear he must have a head injury! No normal person drives a pimpmobile like that!”

  Nick gave a quick bow in her direction and grinned at her facetiously. “Hanna, than
k you for your opinion that I’m insane, and for destroying in a few words the good impression I’ve been struggling to make on Laura. God knows if I’ll be able to persuade her to get into my car again.”

  He turned to me. “Laura, you heard it. This is Hanna, the heart and soul of the House of Vanderstätt. She thinks for inscrutable reasons that I’m still seven and treats me like it, I’m afraid.”

  Hanna had a quick and ready tongue. “Since when are you seven? Your behavior is so childish, I’d assume four.”

  Nick led me toward the stairway. “Come on, let’s go upstairs quickly before she spouts any more nonsense.”

  Personally, I found Hanna quite refreshing.

  We spent the evening in Nick’s bright and spacious three-room residence, which occupied the entire second floor. His well-lit living room and study were decorated in blue and white and filled with plants, which conveyed the feeling of a summerlike patio. I peeked into his bedroom and saw that it was dominated by a huge armoire with mirrors and an oversized futon bed. The bed and its many pillows looked most comfortable, and I wondered in spite of myself who besides Nick had slept in it.

  He was watching me.

  “Just for your information, the bed is new. You can stop worrying about who I’ve lecherously rolled around with in it.”

  Dammit, was I that transparent? Sheepishly, I followed him into the small, functional kitchen that sparkled with cleanliness. Before I could praise him for his qualities as a homemaker, he confessed that he rarely used this room; he always ate down in the kitchen with Hanna.

  “At the risk of demolishing your good impression of me, I’d rather say this right off: I’m a hopeless flop in household matters. That’s Hanna’s world. I can’t cook or do the laundry, and I hate cleaning house. I can just do a little shopping.” He grinned. “But no one can do it all. I promise that I have other compensating qualities.”

  I didn’t find it particularly insulting if a man frankly admitted that he couldn’t acquire a taste for housework. I didn’t find it fulfilling, either. Of course, I still didn’t know about those compensating qualities Nick was hinting at. I was just happy that Nick wanted to give me time. I still harbored a fear that I was a dead loss as far as a true relationship was concerned.

  For most of the night, we lounged around his comfortable leather couch. I asked to watch scenes from episodes in the first season of his series and then some from the current season. It was so much fun to have the leading man on the screen sitting right beside me, providing me inside information about what all went wrong with the takes during the shoot or what was improvised. I was taken aback by the amount of improvisation and wanted to know if people always had to stick strictly to the script.

  “Well, theoretically, yes. But in practice it often turns out that the lines are modified off the cuff, or another actor does or says something that isn’t intended. You can get upset about it or simply keep shooting a reaction that works. Scenes in film and TV are shot several times, and they use the best take. The attraction of this show for me is that I’ve been with it right from the start. I’ve been able to develop and elaborate Herbert’s character.”

  “But how can you play a character so convincingly who’s so totally different from yourself?” I asked. “I imagine that’s incredibly difficult.”

  He smiled. Then he stood up, hunched forward, scratched his head rapidly, and did a perfect imitation of the TV character’s helpless look and slow, labored manner of speaking. Awkwardness flowed from his pores.

  “Ahem, well . . . so . . . how can I put it? It’s not quite . . . er, simple, but . . . to put it in my own words . . . well . . . what I’m trying to say is . . .”

  I almost fell off the sofa laughing. Nick stood up, grinned, and went on in a normal voice.

  “Every actor has his own method of working his way into a role. I always look around for real-life models and slip into their skin. For Herbert I think of a former classmate who was similarly super intelligent, introverted, and barely social. I try to put myself in his shoes when I’m acting. I’ll have conversations with other people, but he withdraws and shuts up. He likes the company of women, but they intimidate him, and he doesn’t know what to say, and so on. It’s a challenge, and I can keep growing by taking difficult roles. I mean, characters who speak, think, and act completely differently from the way I do in real life.”

  Nick sat close to me with a mischievous glint in his eye and pulled me to him. His hands on my shoulders brought on a now-familiar tingling in my gut, and my body tensed in expectation.

  “But right now I’m Nick, who absolutely wants to kiss you on the spot because you look relaxed at last, your laugh is so marvelously uninhibited, and because I find you absolutely beautiful.”

  I could read the longing in his eyes, now grown dark. But the desire was paired with tenderness. Any doubts I had that this man had fallen in love with me were forgotten when his soft, warm lips caressed mine. Oblivious to the world, I wrapped my arms around his neck, closed my eyes, and returned his kiss. Long and passionate. Nick’s hands slid over my spine down toward my derriere. I felt the warmth of his hands through the thin fabric of my sleeveless shirt, and then my tight skirt. To me, the area he now touched was an absolute taboo zone. Not because I was prudish, but because of my shame about my hips and thighs. I recoiled and tried to free myself, but he guessed what I was thinking and held me tight.

  “Please stay here; you’ve got such a gorgeous ass,” he whispered in my ear, cupping his palms over my cheeks and gently pressing his fingers down. His hands pushed my skirt up, wandered between my legs, and slid up and down my thighs. My heart skipped several beats. I wasn’t sure whether I would die of shame or sexual delight. Pressing against him, I could distinctly feel his arousal, and that told me that my figure couldn’t have been quite as repulsive as I’d always assumed. Of course, he wasn’t looking at it, just feeling it. I made a mental note to only allow myself to be with him completely naked in a dark room . . . but as he shamelessly touched me and my excitement increased, I lost my train of thought as to how I might pull it off.

  Moments later I stifled a gasp. The hand in my panties was gently stroking my most sensitive spot. For such a long time—until I lost control, clung to him, and heard myself beg him not to stop. His low, throaty laugh coupled with the words that he wouldn’t dream of stopping and the dance of his skilled fingers finally allowed me to fall over the cliff. My legs cramped, and he held my waist with his free hand. I felt like I was blowing up inside. When the red veil before my eyes slowly cleared and I caught my breath, he pushed me gently down onto the sofa, lay close beside me, and looked into my eyes. He was breathing heavily, and I couldn’t help but have a bad conscience—I’d been the only one to get my money’s worth.

  “Nick, that was unbelievable, but you—”

  He put a finger to my lips. “Shh. It’s OK. I told you I want to give you some time. We’ll have a chance to continue what we just started. And anyway, we should figure out contraception. I assume you’re not on the pill?”

  I was ashamed to realize that in my blind passion, I’d given no thought to this vital need. I shook my head in embarrassment and stared at the opposite wall. He must have taken me for a complete loser when it came to sex. And, actually, I was, but I wanted desperately to make a confident impression on Nick. He took my head in his hands and looked deep into my eyes.

  “Laura, my love, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. You are utterly sweet, and it does take some self-control, but I really don’t mind. You know, it’s every man’s dream to be the first one to show a woman how beautiful love and sex can be. But we’ll take as much time as we need for that. And we’ll manage the contraception thing, too. If you don’t want to swallow hormones, then we’ll use condoms. Or both, if you prefer.”

  Who would believe it? None of the heroes in the love stories I’d devoured discussed these matters so calmly and p
ragmatically—while still managing to be so desirable and romantic.

  I decided to make an appointment with my gynecologist the very next day. Now that I finally had a rudimentary grasp of why all books and songs revolve around love, desire, and sex, I could hardly wait to experience those feelings in my own body, with Nick.

  That evening when I got home, I started The Little Prince. Even alone in my apartment, I felt tremendously close to Nick. I’d read the book as a child and only saw it as a beautiful, bittersweet fairy tale. Rereading it, I was fascinated by how much wisdom and social criticism lay hidden in that short story, and I caught myself underlining particularly lovely passages. I searched the Internet for more quotations from the French writer. A passage from Wind, Sand and Stars nailed my unforeseen romantic relationship with Nick perfectly: “The essentials cannot be predicted. The most ardent pleasures we’ve all known were never promised to us.”