Arrhythmia Read online

  I cursed loudly and skimmed her message. She wanted to know if I had been in touch with Desiderio. What did she think?

  I didn’t bother to answer and put my phone away again. It had hardly made contact with the tabletop when it beeped again.

  A text message!

  From Frank.

  Were they all out to drive me insane?

  No, Frank just wanted to know how I was doing and if I was interested, despite my injuries, in helping him pick out a new dresser. I replied that I would definitely be interested, but that we would be limited to catalogs since I had no intention of setting foot in a furniture store with my Rocky Balboa look. He understood completely and announced that he would come over on Monday for a “catalog evening.”

  I returned to the couch, completely exasperated. To prevent further accidents, I took my phone with me.

  It was almost an entire hour before it beeped again.

  A text message.

  From Desiderio!

  I opened the message with my hands shaking:

  When you’re not here, the ER is terribly depressing and boring.

  My God!

  Normally, I didn’t go for lines like that. I must have been standing in the back row when romance was distributed, so I was surprised when the corny sentence set my heart racing.

  I took the phone, walked over to the coffee table, and reread the message.

  My heart was still pounding.

  Darn it, what was I supposed to write now? Couldn’t he have asked a question like “How are you?” Then I could have answered “Fine, how about you?” and voilà, we would have had a conversation going. But no, he had to come up with this corny stuff and give me symptoms of atrial fibrillation again.

  Damn him!

  Now, breathe deeply. What was it that Vera had said again? Be sexy and self-confident. OK, that part should be easy:

  Oh dear, is there no one who can take my place while I’m out sick?

  After typing and deleting it five times, I sent the sentence. I wasn’t sure I’d managed the sexy and self-confident thing.

  But this time the answer came so fast that I didn’t even have time to second-guess myself:

  Reinmann is doing his best, but flirting with him isn’t nearly as much fun as with you. I miss you.

  Thump-thump thump, thump-thump, thump . . . Even a layman would have had to acknowledge that my pulse was abnormal.

  I miss you.

  I was speechless. It was a good thing that I didn’t have to speak but only had to touch the keys:

  I miss you too, somehow.

  Somehow? Why did I have to squeeze that word in there? I really was hopeless. I threw myself on the couch and buried my head in my hands.

  I peered at the phone when he answered:

  You just made me very happy with that sentence, little warrioress.

  I had?

  My whole body was tingling as my fingers flew to the phone. The message created itself:

  Could you ask me one more time if I’ll go out with you?

  I anxiously awaited his reply. The second hand on my wall clock grew louder and louder and almost began to hurt my ears. I almost fainted when my phone began to ring.

  A call!

  From Desiderio!

  Help! What was I to do? There had been no mention whatsoever of calling!

  It continued to ring.

  Damn, I did not feel at all capable of uttering a coherent sentence.

  It was still ringing.

  You big baby, answer the phone already!

  I followed my own order, pressed the “Answer” button, and slowly put the phone up to my ear: “Hello?”

  Even though I was doing my best to sound confident, my voice came out sounding like I was close to a nervous breakdown. Which, in fact, I probably was . . .

  “Hi, Lena,” Desiderio said. Loudly and clearly. As usual, he was the personification of self-confidence.

  “Hi,” I breathed.

  “You know something, I was thinking about you and I remembered something,” he chattered cheerfully. “And that is that I haven’t asked you out on a date in quite a while. I thought I might as well give it another try. So, Lena Berger, would you do me the honor of going out with me?”

  For a moment, I honestly began to swoon. I clutched the phone and stopped breathing.

  Would you do me the honor? Who talked like that anymore? I could see his face before me. Just picturing his smile, so full of promise, had lethal consequences on my body.

  Desiderio was patiently waiting for my reply.

  I slapped myself—on my good cheek, of course—and finally forced out the words: “I would like that very much.”

  My voice might have been at least an octave too high, but at least I had managed to answer.

  Desiderio refrained from teasing and responded with genuine enthusiasm. “Terrific!” he said. “And I already know exactly where we’re going.”

  “Where?” I squeaked.

  “That’s my secret for now. I only hope you can be ready next Friday at, say, six.”

  Be ready? I didn’t think I would ever be ready for a date with Desiderio.

  “OK,” I mumbled.

  “Great! By the way, when are you coming back to work?”

  “I’m not sure yet. I would really like to come back on Monday, but I’m worried I’ll still be looking like Rocky after his encounter with Apollo Creed.” Oh, and then I came up with “Uh, next Friday: Do you think we could postpone it, because—”

  “No, we can’t,” he interrupted me, laughing. “The date has been set and cannot be canceled. Besides, I’ve always wanted to go out with a boxing champ!”

  “Hm.”

  “Don’t worry. I think you look ravishing, even with your shiner.” Tachycardia. “Somehow, it makes you even more interesting.”

  “Ha-ha. Funny.”

  “That was no joke. I’m deadly serious,” he said calmly.

  Again, tachycardia. Short silence.

  Eventually, I heard him clear his throat. “Good, then please promise me that you’ll extend your sick leave a little and rest up. Your coworkers will understand. And we’ll see each other next Friday, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Well then, have a nice week. Take care!”

  “Same to you. Ciao!”

  “Lena?”

  “Yes?”

  “I am the happiest man on earth!”

  The connection clicked, but I continued to hold the phone pressed to my ear.

  I was dumbfounded.

  I was lost.

  I had a date with the most arrogant, most handsome, most narcissistic, most charming, and now the happiest man in the world.

  Something was completely wrong . . .

  Chapter 20

  The following day, I dutifully went to my primary-care doctor and had my sick leave extended through the following Wednesday. According to the duty roster, I was off for a couple days after that anyway, so I didn’t need to feel guilty about someone having to cover my shift while I was using the time off to gallivant around with Desiderio.

  Desiderio . . . date . . . disaster . . .

  To distract myself, I called Sandra about my extended sick leave. I felt I owed her an explanation, so I told her briefly about the attack. My coworkers would find out about it sooner or later and, this way, they had a whole week to gossip as viciously as they pleased. Maybe by the time I got back to work, the first flush of excitement would have passed.

  Sandra was as shocked and stunned as all the others.

  I calmed her down a little by assuring her that, considering the circumstances, I was quite well and, apart from my cheek, almost nothing hurt that much. I chose not to mention the lacerated arm.

  Of course, she wished me all t
he best and made me promise that I would take the time necessary to get better.

  After I ended the call, I wondered how many coworkers were getting the news at that very moment. I was sure even the custodian would have heard about it by evening—which was also the reason I’d been careful to omit Desiderio’s part in the incident.

  Which brings me back to the subject of Desiderio . . .

  Since our phone conversation, I hadn’t stopped thinking about him for a second. Even when I forced myself to think about other matters, in some mysterious way I always ended up daydreaming about the man with the ocean-blue eyes.

  It was enough to drive a person to distraction.

  Even when Frank—armed with furniture catalogs and accompanied by Vera and Sebastian—laid siege to my apartment, my thoughts constantly swung back around to the impending date.

  Vera was not my best friend for nothing, and it didn’t take long before she intercepted me in the kitchen with a smug grin.

  “Let’s hear it,” she demanded and poked me in the side.

  “Huh?”

  “No ‘huh’! Glassy look, distraction, fixed smile . . . So, tell me: When are you going out?”

  Yes, Vera was amazing. Since there was no sense in any more denials, I sighed, “Friday.”

  “Yippee!” she screeched and danced around me like a madwoman.

  She was hugging me when the two men appeared in the doorway.

  “What’s going on here?” Sebastian wanted to know.

  “Lena has a daaaate!”

  “Vera!” Blushing, I shoved the madwoman in front of me. “We’re not in kindergarten. Grow up already!”

  “Hee-hee, grow up yourself,” she giggled, unfazed. “At your age, you don’t have to blush just because you have a date; did you know that?”

  “So tell us, who’s the lucky guy? Do we know him?” Sebastian inquired.

  I gave off some strange noises signaling a general malaise and tried to make myself invisible.

  Vera, being Vera, couldn’t resist answering for me.

  “Her rescuer!” she trumpeted and clapped her hands, whooping with joy. She reminded me of the Energizer Bunny. If only she had a switch on her back to turn her off. But that would be too good to be true.

  Sebastian looked as delighted as his fiancée. “The doctor? Well done. We only talked for a few minutes, but he really seemed very nice.”

  “Pff,” was Frank’s reaction.

  “You don’t think so?” asked Sebastian.

  Frank shrugged. “Hmph. I think he seemed a bit conceited.”

  Oh, how true . . .

  “I think,” Vera chimed in, “that he is very pleasant and deserves a chance. And besides, the two are a perfect match. Sorry, no offense.” I waved my hand to protest. “Anyway, I’m happy for you! Where are you two going?”

  “No idea. He said he wanted to surprise me.”

  “Oh, how romantic,” Vera gushed.

  “Or risky,” Frank grumbled. “What if you end up doing something you absolutely hate?”

  “Such as?” Vera asked, looking at him pointedly.

  “Dunno. Maybe he wants to take you to a technological museum? Or fishing?”

  What?

  “Don’t be so ridiculous! Does Desiderio look like someone who goes fishing?”

  “Italians like to eat fish, so who knows?”

  Go fishing?

  My face must have spoken volumes, because Vera patted me on the shoulder reassuringly and shot daggers at Frank with her eyes. “What nonsense. Stop scaring the kiddo before she has second thoughts.”

  “Uh, the ‘kiddo’ is standing right here,” I piped up.

  “Just expressing my opinion on the matter,” Frank said defensively.

  “No one asked,” Vera snarled.

  “Oh yeah? Well, Lena is my friend too!”

  “Precisely! And that’s why you should be happy for her instead of bad-mouthing everything!”

  “I didn’t bad-mouth anything; I merely expressed . . . reservations.”

  “Reservations? And why, pray tell, do you have reservations?”

  Standing between the two squabblers, I was at a loss for what to say. In the end, it was Sebastian who put an end to the drama.

  “Enough!” he commanded. “Both of you! Lena has a date and we are happy for her, and now let’s talk about something else. Jeez!”

  Frank looked at the floor, embarrassed. “Sorry,” he mumbled in Vera’s direction.

  “It’s all right,” she said.

  The two men left the kitchen.

  “What was that about?” I quietly asked Vera.

  “No idea,” she answered, sounding pensive. Finally, she cleared her throat and looked at me with flashing eyes. “Much more important: What are you going to wear?”

  “I don’t know!” I started lamenting immediately. “I don’t even know what the occasion is. Oh my God, what if I put on jeans and he takes me to a fancy restaurant? Or what if I put on my cocktail dress and he takes me to a beer garden? Help!”

  “Yes, that presents a real problem,” Vera agreed. “If I were you, I would ask Desiderio rather than risk a disaster like that. All he has to do is give you a general idea.”

  I nodded. “OK.”

  Vera looked at me expectantly. I looked back at her, puzzled.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Well, aren’t you going to call him?”

  “No! At least not while you’re here.”

  Disappointed, Vera pouted. Still, I was adamant. I could vividly imagine her bemused face while she listened to my stuttering performance on the phone, and I really was not in the mood to do that to myself.

  Even once my friends had left, I didn’t feel like making a fool of myself on the telephone again. This reluctance lasted three whole days.

  On the third night, I was lying in bed, wide awake and fully aware that I would be in for a sleepless night if I didn’t just get over myself. I pulled out my cell phone.

  Still being the coward I was, a text message was the best I could manage:

  Hey! Your surprise presents me with a serious feminine problem: I have no idea what to wear! Could you please give me a little hint?

  There, now, that wasn’t so difficult, was it? And it had taken me three days? Good grief.

  Although it was just before midnight, Desiderio’s answer was immediate:

  I don’t want to divulge too much, but I don’t want to ignore your very serious problem. So here is my hint: we’ll be outdoors, you should wear comfortable shoes, and we will be moving around a lot.

  Yikes. Was he planning to take me hiking?

  Somewhat in shock, I shared my suspicion:

  I hope you’re not planning a nighttime hike! Because I’m not really the athletic type . . . Did I wake you or are you always up so late?

  As I read his reply, I could just see his crooked smile:

  No worries, little warrioress, I’m lying in bed, but I’m still awake. Although I cannot imagine anything lovelier than to be awakened by you. As to your fear—we’re not going hiking. Don’t worry. You’ll like my plan, I know it!

  I felt hot and cold at the same time. Why did he always have to express himself like that? And why couldn’t I reply in an equally charming way? Once again, I felt hopelessly out of my depth. My thumb hovered over the keys for a moment while I feverishly thought of something pleasant to write.

  Eventually I typed:

  OK, I’m excited about Friday. Good night and see you soon!

  Good night and see you soon? Man, am I poetic.

  And sure enough, Desiderio’s answer was on another plane:

  I can hardly wait myself. I wish you a good night too and pleasant dreams. Mine are sure to be pleasant because I already know you will be in them.

&nbs
p; What a flatterer . . .

  I set my phone on the nightstand with a grin and closed my eyes. Desiderio’s face appeared before me at once. I fell asleep with that beautiful picture in my head.

  Chapter 21

  It was Friday. That Friday.

  I had been nervous during the last few days, but now I was nearing an actual nervous breakdown. I’d asked myself the whole time what had gotten into me when I’d agreed to go out with Desiderio. The date went against all my principles and stood in marked contrast to what I had promised myself with respect to that manipulative pretty boy. I should never have given in to him!

  I had been pacing about in my apartment since dawn and asking myself the same question over and over again: Would I regret my decision?

  Of course, I found no answer to my question. At least not yet.

  I stopped in the middle of my living room, chewing on my fingernails. I looked at my phone for the umpteenth time and wrestled with the idea of canceling the date.

  No. I refused to show such weakness!

  I would go through with this!

  I resolutely walked into the bathroom and scrutinized my reflection. Throughout the past week, I had done this at almost hourly intervals, and every time, I had appealed to my self-healing power to do its best. And in fact, by this time, my shiner had faded to a light blue-green hue that could easily be concealed with makeup.

  Thank God.

  Although I still had more than two hours left, I rehearsed my makeup. The result was quite impressive. Then I remembered that I still had to take a shower and so, half an hour later, I applied my makeup once more.

  I spent the following half hour in front of my closet. Comfortable and suitable for the outdoors . . . Kind of a challenging assignment. It was already September, and although the temperature was still mild, later, after the sun had set, it would surely cool off fast. After changing eight times, I settled on a pair of jeans with a matching denim jacket, a simple black T-shirt, sneakers, and, just in case, a soft-shell jacket. That should be pretty versatile, right?