by Ute Jackle
“Girls’ night out, or you going out hunting?” He tipped backwards in his chair. I was tempted to give him a little push.
“You got it all figured out, Mr. Know-It-All. Your little performance last night got me all hot and bothered.” I smirked and saw him biting his lip.
“You don’t have to go out to take care of that.”
I slapped my forehead. “Stupid me. I have the ultimate women’s pleasuring device right under my roof, and I’m not taking advantage of it.”
“Better late than never.” He leaned his elbow on the tabletop, resting his head in his hand. And now I noticed his long eyelashes. This guy just drove me crazy. “Come on,” he said softly and hoarsely. “Are you telling me you never imagine what it would be like with you and me?”
“Oh, God. Do you ever think about anything else? You’re a walking sex machine.”
“Why are you getting all upset? Letting loose can be really liberating.”
I yanked the straw out of my can to chug the rest of my prosecco, feeling like I was about to burst. “You’re so full of yourself, it’s unbelievable.” I snorted. “Why don’t you just cut it short and tell me to go lie down so we can talk.”
He laughed. “Nice comeback. But that doesn’t answer my question.”
Toby sailed into the kitchen and saved me from this ridiculous conversation. He stopped in his tracks. “You’re still there? Isn’t your date like at seven?”
I looked at the Coca-Cola clock. Dammit, it was ten to seven. I jumped up.
“You’ve got a date?” Ben asked, sounding surprised. “Who’s the lucky guy, if you don’t mind me asking?” He was pretending to be interested. Like he cared about my life.
“Just for your information, Mr. Nowak. The man I’m going out with tonight embodies everything you’re not. He’s sensitive, entertaining, and intelligent. I can talk to him for hours. He worships women and also has a great sense of humor.” I ignored Toby’s bewildered look and hoped he would keep his mouth shut.
Ben snorted. “If after all that talking and deep conversations you feel like making out a little, come knock on my door. It’s always open for you,” he added superfluously.
I put both hands on my hips. “You know what, save your breath for a woman you might actually end up with.” He winced. Bullseye. In my mind, I patted myself on the back for my unusually good repartee.
Ben waved dismissively. “Calm down. Go out and have fun. Let your hair down.”
That guy was really asking for it.
“I’m certainly not going to do that,” I replied, just to be argumentative, but I immediately beat a hasty retreat to the hallway.
“Why don’t you enjoy your single life a bit more? Find yourself some men and eat them up. Tomorrow it might all be over. You can do it,” he called after me, as if we were in a motivational seminar.
I turned around, giving him two thumbs up while I shouted: “Yes, I can!”
His stupid laugh echoed down the hallway. Typical. Ben Nowak had ruined my evening before it had even started.
21
With my gray tray in my hand, I stood next to Martin. In front of us in the line were about twenty people, all waiting for their food, while women in plastic caps filled the divided plates. My date had insisted on going to the cafeteria because they were serving his absolute favorite dish tonight.
“You have got to try the lasagna. It’s really good.” Martin peered over the other students to make sure there was enough left for him.
“I can’t eat that. The pasta’s not gluten-free.”
“Oh.” He pushed out his lower lip, as if I’d mentioned my condition just to spite him. “Can’t you make an exception? For me.” He cocked his head and winked at me, probably to give me some kind of seductive look.
I looked around discreetly to see whether people were watching. Yeah. A lot of them were shooting us amused glazes.
“No, I can’t.” I was fed up with having to explain again and again to everyone around me that certain foods were taboo for me.
“But lasagna isn’t made with bread.” Martin flipped his tray back and forth, just missing the man in front of him.
“But pasta is made from wheat.”
“I see.” He stopped fidgeting. “Then you can just have a taste of mine.”
I decided to let that slide and to change the subject once we reached the table. Finally, we were next. Luckily, we were served by Svetlana, a robust sweetheart from Russia in her late fifties. She didn’t have the slightest idea what my celiac disease was, either, but at least she took my dietary wishes seriously and always tried her best to put together something for me when there was nothing on the normal menu that suited my needs. If it weren’t for her, I’d be forced to live on salads and rice bread from home several times a week.
“Ah, Luca.” she greeted me with a smile. She truly was a good soul. “Not much luck with menu today?” She looked at me with pity. I could see she was considering what to offer me instead.
“Never mind,” I said. In cases of emergencies like this, I always kept a small gluten-free snack in my bag.
Svetlana’s face lit up. “There are leftover potatoes from lunch. I can heat them up for you.”
I watched wistfully as she scooped up a large piece of steaming lasagna, slicing the cheese strings that stretched from Martin’s plate to the edge of her serving tray. It smelled divine, and my mouth watered. I was sorely tempted to just devour the pasta on the spot, but I knew that I’d suffer the consequences.
“Potatoes sound great,” I forced out, watching enviously as Martin accepted the full plate, tore off a piece of the cheese crust, and stuffed it in his mouth right in front of me. Could he be any more insensitive?
“Mmm, it’s delicious.”
“Good for you,” I grumbled. Svetlana returned quickly with a plate of steaming, plain potatoes straight from the microwave.
“Here, sweetheart. No need to go home hungry. At least, this will fill you up.”
“Thanks, Svetlana.”
“Poor girl,” I heard her say. “In Russia, we don’t have this disease. I’ve never heard of it before. I think it’s only you.”
I had to laugh against my will. Svetlana was really kind, a real Babushka. A disease all my own.
After I got a Coke and paid for my own food, we carried our trays to a free table. There was such a crowd in here that my companion didn’t attract too much attention. We sat down across from each other, and I picked up my silverware to savor my epicurean delights while Martin shoveled his lasagna into his mouth with loud enthusiasm. He didn’t feel bad at all for enjoying his meal in front of me. He couldn’t have been happier if Wolfgang Puck had personally prepared it for him.
Resigned, I speared a piece of potato and put it in my mouth. Lasagna was nothing more than a nasty cholesterol trap anyway. At least, I wasn’t going to die of blocked arteries, I reminded myself. A stale earthy taste spread over my tongue while the spicy aroma of Martin’s lasagna blocked my airways.
“Have a bite.” Martin held his fork out across the table, tomato sauce dripping onto my tray. I jerked my plate aside in panic.
“What are you doing? Are you crazy?” I exclaimed. “You almost contaminated my potatoes.”
“Huh?” He didn’t move as a piece of melted cheese dripped down from one of his fork’s prongs, dragging a yellow strand across the table. “It was just cheese and sauce, I swear. I didn’t even give you any of the noodles.”
He stuck out his lower lip again, and I felt a tiny pang of remorse. I shouldn’t have yelled at him like that.
“Sorry about that,” I said, putting my tray back on the table. “But if noodles are swimming in the sauce, I really can’t have it. The entire dish is affected.” At least, he was trying to be friendly. Why didn’t I just give him a chance? Maybe I should try a little harder. Martin wasn’t all that bad. He’d sped through college in half the time it was taking the rest of us, and a few professors had already approached him with off
ers to mentor his doctoral thesis. None of them had ever asked me, even though I had been scrubbing their lab floor for two years.
I was sure Martin was going to earn a lot of money one day. We could live in a mansion, travel, surround ourselves with smart friends, and have brilliant kids. Have kids?! I hastily wiped away that scary thought. Even Martin would inevitably demand his marital rights, and what would I do then? Maybe I could stall him until the wedding, but after that, I wouldn’t be able to put things off any longer. I discreetly examined Martin’s pale, bony hand, as it guided his fork to his mouth; in addition, his fingernails were chewed down to the quick. A cheese string stuck to his chin. I imagined him touching me—touching me everywhere, throwing himself on me like a rabbit while moaning in my ear. Beads of sweat formed on my forehead, and panic spread throughout my body. What would I do if he tried to kiss me after we ate?
“Did you know the DAX was up 0.1 percent today?” He looked at me expectantly.
“No, I haven’t had time to follow the stock market news today.” I barely suppressed an eye roll.
“Oh, but you missed out.” He was drawing zigzags in the air with his fork. “That’s the way the market went today.”
“That’s great.” I took a sip of my Coke, hoping the caffeine in it would be enough to keep me awake.
“What do you think?” he asked excitedly.
I sat up straight and suppressed a touch of panic; he wouldn’t want to start a relationship conversation now, would he?
“Yes?” I held my breath, trembling inside.
“Do you think the DAX will crash by the end of the year?”
“What?” I didn’t understand a word he’d said. What did he want to know?
“Well, whether…,” he intoned dramatically, but I interrupted him quickly.
“What do you like to do for fun?” I’d be damned if we couldn’t have a conversation like normal people. I looked at him more closely. His eyes were bright blue, a really nice color I had never noticed before. There you go.
“For fun?” he asked incredulously, as if I wanted to know if he was going on the next expedition to Mars.
“Yes.” I nodded encouragingly at him, which made him beam.
“I play backgammon, do you?”
“No.”
“Oh, too bad. We could’ve played together.” He stuffed a large forkful of lasagna into his mouth. The string of cheese was still stuck to his chin, and it was hypnotizing.
“I play the accordion in a music club,” he said with his mouth full.
“That’s great,” was all I could think of. I had no problem with people playing an instrument, but the accordion wasn’t exactly among my top favorite instruments. In my mind, I pictured us sitting in front of a fireplace, Martin belting out polka music.
“I can play for you some day. I never realized we had so much in common.” Martin seemed happy, apparently considering the date to be a great success. He went on, “If you like...” Suddenly, a high-pitched voice interrupted him.
“Martin!” She sounded truly pleased to see him. Glancing up in surprise, a girl with short brown hair appeared in my field of vision. She wore a colorfully striped sweater, and looked back and forth between us as she gripped her tray tightly. Her face gave nothing away, but my female intuition instantly picked up her rigid posture.
“Jo…hanna.” Martin almost choked on her name. “What are you doing here?”
“Eating!” she snapped back. “I called you earlier, but you didn’t pick up.”
I couldn’t believe it. There were actually women in Martin’s life, women who spent time with him willingly. To top it off, women who seemed to enjoy his company. Besides, she wasn’t even bad-looking. I shouldn’t jump to conclusions.
“Luca asked me out,” he twisted the facts without blushing.
I stared at him with my mouth open, but he didn’t notice me. Instead, Johanna examined me intently.
“And you guys know each other, how?” she asked pointedly, while Martin seemed close to hyperventilating.
“From our study group,” I helped him out, noticing he’d begun scratching his neck as if he was about to break out in hives.
“Yes,” he agreed, his voice rising a few octaves. “By the way, Johanna knitted this sweater herself,” he told me before taking a big sip of his apple juice spritzer.
“That’s great.” I smiled at Johanna. “It looks fantastic.” People still knitted these days? I didn’t know that.
“Thanks.”
I could hear her silent screw you loud and clear.
“Want to join us?” I asked kindly, pointing to the empty seat next to my date.
“I don’t want to disturb you,” she replied.
I was just about to assure her that she wasn’t disturbing us, which was even the truth, when Martin butted in.
“Then you’d best sit somewhere else.” He swept his arm out wide. “There’s plenty of room.”
I could hardly believe it. Martin had flat out rejected Johanna.
“I’ll call you tomorrow.” Johanna left to sit five tables away.
“Um,” I started carefully. “Is she your girlfriend or something?”
After draining his glass, Martin swallowed audibly. “We used to be together, but it’s coming to an end. She’s so boring.” He sighed. “All she talks about is knitting or her environmental group. She makes a fuss because I don’t wear fake leather shoes…” he paused and graced me with his seductive smile again. “I like you better.”
I forced myself to smile back.
This evening had brought me another critical insight. Men were all the same, even the ones with nothing to show in the looks department. I caught Johanna’s eyes on us several times. Turning my attention back to my now cold potatoes, I wondered whether I should fake an illness to get out of there gracefully, but then I heard a voice beside me.
“Luca, you’re here?”
22
Ben. Of all people. Couldn’t he have eaten at home? My fruit yogurt was in the fridge. Why hadn’t he just helped himself to it like always?
“Go away,” I hissed and threw him a warning glance, which he deliberately ignored and instead gave my date a thorough once-over. His conjoined twin stood beside him, and they both carried trays laden with a mountain of food.
“Hey, Luca, are these seats taken?” Without waiting for an answer, Erdie was about to push himself past Martin’s chair towards the free seat, but Ben held him back.
“We shouldn’t crash Luca’s date.”
Erdie stopped and threw me a look, clearly doubting my sanity.
“Like right now?” Behind Martin’s back, he pointed at him questioningly.
Now I hated them both. I was just about to make an excuse that hopefully wouldn’t hurt Martin too much when my eager companion butted in saying proudly, “Yeah, Luca asked me out to dinner.”
Now I was the one who ignored Ben, while he watched me like a hawk. I played with my fork, turning it over in my hands and reading with interest the engraving on the back. Stolen from the University of Erlangen Cafeteria. Well, that was foresighted. My thoughts went back to Martin. Where had he gotten the stupid idea that I was the one who had done the asking? In a quiet minute, I’d have to take Rhashmi aside so we could reconstruct this whole mess, piece by piece. Maybe I’d been sending ambiguous signals after all?
“Great location for a date.” Ben looked around the crowded room, taking in the cacophony of voices and the harsh neon lighting.
“Huh, why?” Martin looked at him in confusion, his mouth a little open.
“I would take the woman of my dreams out to a nice quiet restaurant and have drinks afterwards. It would have never occurred to me to choose the cafeteria.”
How was my date any of Ben’s business? When had Mr. One-Night-Stand started giving dating advice? Why were these two even still here, staring?
“Your food is getting cold,” I hissed at him, waving them away like pesky flies. But no, Ben was oblivious to my
well-meant warning. He just shrugged.
“But it’s lasagna night. With double cheese for three fifty,” Martin replied, cluelessly.
Ben glanced at my cold potatoes. “Clearly.”
“Come on, bro.” Erdie jerked his head to the side. At least he seemed to have a little decency. “I’m sure the two of them want to enjoy their romantic evening undisturbed,” he added unnecessarily. That was the last straw.
“Exactly. So, why don’t you two get lost, and prepare for your bar-hopping, or whatever it is you do after nightfall.” I’d raised my voice, causing some people nearby to turn around and looked in our direction.
“Hey, Luca, calm down. No hard feelings.” Was I wrong or did Erdie seem guilty? “We’re only messing with you, don’t take it personally.” He nudged Ben in the ribs, who now stared at me with a serious expression. What was wrong with him? Was he offended? Who was it that had shown up at our table uninvited? Typical. First, he attacked me and then he snuck off when I shot back. This was just so like him.
“No offense.” Erdie put his big paw on Martin’s shoulder. It almost sounded like an apology. What the hell was wrong with him?
“For what?” Martin asked, staring up at them.
“Let’s go.” Ben started walking, and Erdie followed him. But then Ben stopped abruptly next to Martin, so that his buddy almost rammed him in the back with his tray.
“You’ve got cheese on your chin,” he said quietly, and kept walking. I saw the two of them whisper as they walked away. They were probably having a good laugh at me and my cheese-smeared date’s expense.
23
I stood up. “I have to go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”
“Okey dokey.” Martin fidgeted in his chair like he was sitting on a pincushion, while I made sure I got away.
