Arrhythmia Page 21

  “We’re here,” I whispered reverently when we had finally arrived at my clearing.

  The sky was slightly cloudy, but the half moon was bright enough to bathe the place in soft light. Thousands of stars sparkled splendidly and reflected off the water’s surface. The weeping willow rustled in the wind and played us a magical melody in greeting.

  Desiderio stood still for a moment and stared at me. I spread the towel at the foot of the willow, sat down on it, and signaled for him to join me.

  For a while, we sat silently next to each other and allowed the indescribable beauty of nature to work its magic on us.

  “I thought this was your secret place?” Desiderio finally asked softly.

  My fingers had found a broken piece of branch, and I used it to draw small circles in the sand. “That’s right.”

  “Thank you for trusting me,” he said.

  A blissful shiver went down my back. He had understood my gesture.

  “Please don’t disappoint me,” I whispered. My voice was hardly louder than the rustling of the willow, but Desiderio heard me.

  “I won’t,” he promised.

  I cautiously leaned against him and closed my eyes. He placed his arm around me and just held me tight. His touch radiated such intimacy that I was temporarily overwhelmed.

  I didn’t know how long we sat there like that, and I really didn’t care, but at some point his soft voice brought me back to reality.

  “Now will you tell me what disappointed you so gravely in the past?”

  “OK.”

  I picked at the seam of my jacket, searching for the right words to begin. Even after so many years, it was hard for me to talk about the greatest mistake of my life. Still, Desiderio needed to know about that part of my past in order to be able to really understand. I took a deep breath and began to tell my story in a calm and deliberate fashion.

  “You already know about my parents’ divorce. And I have also mentioned that I was a difficult child. So, not a great start. My life really got complicated when I was seventeen. I was in high school, had a lot of friends, and my rule in life was: fun first, work second. In spite of all the partying, my grades were good, so I thought I was doing pretty well.

  “One day I met him. Marek. He was a young, successful artist and was exhibiting his work at the art museum in Munich when my class happened to take a field trip there. It was love at first sight. I couldn’t believe it when he said he felt the same way. From that moment on, I was his muse and he wooed me like a precious jewel. Even though we could only see each other on weekends, I was blissfully happy all week. Nothing else in my life seemed real. When my mother told me that we were moving to Hamburg, my world came crashing down. I was supposed to leave him? My great love? Never. I ran away to Marek in Munich, and he promised the world to me: he would take care of me, be there for me . . . because I was his muse, after all! I believed it. After just a few weeks, he took me to Italy with him. He wanted to continue his studies, seek inspiration, discover new paths. It was wonderful at first. We had no worries, no problems. We lived for the moment. Marek was already becoming a well-known artist and had enough money that we could really live it up.”

  I paused for a moment and laughed bitterly.

  “It took me a long time to realize where Marek was actually getting his inspiration. I don’t know how many times he’d cheated on me, but one day I caught him in flagrante delicto. That day, my heart broke into a thousand pieces, and he didn’t even have the decency to show any remorse. He said he was an artist and a free spirit, that a soul like his could not be confined, and that I had to allow him his freedom if I wanted to continue being his muse. Well, of course, I didn’t. But I faced a huge problem: I was eighteen at the time and on my own in the mountains of Sicily without a cent. Marek refused to help pay for my ticket home. I didn’t have anywhere else to sleep, so I had to stay at his house for a few days and watch as his ‘inspirations’ came and went from his bedroom.

  At some point, I couldn’t stand it any longer, so I packed the few belongings I had and somehow made my way to Palermo. I had met a young couple there a few weeks earlier, and I hoped they might help me. I guess I could have called my friends at home or my mother, but I felt much too ashamed. They had all warned me. They’d told me over and over that a charmer like that would just ruin my life, but I had gotten nasty and insisted they were all just jealous.

  God, I was so ashamed to have disappointed my best friends and especially my mother like that! Fortunately, that young couple did help me. I didn’t want to accept money from them, but they let me stay at their place and found me a job waiting tables. After a few weeks, I had enough to buy a ticket to Germany. My mother had already moved to Hamburg, so I showed up outside Vera’s door one night. She took me in without hesitation and supported me as best she could until I got my life in Wollbach back together again. Since I had to start earning money as quickly as possible, finishing high school was out of the question, so I began training to be a nurse. Only six months later, when I had my life more or less under control again, did I have the courage to call my mother and confess everything to her.” I breathed heavily. “And that is the story of my screwed-up life.”

  Desiderio had been listening silently the whole time and seemed to need a moment to digest all of the information. I gave him time. After all, it had taken me several years to come anywhere close to getting over the story.

  “It’s amazing. In a very short time, you experienced more than many eighty-year-olds have,” he finally said.

  “Yes.”

  “And that prick is the reason you didn’t go to medical school?”

  “Unfortunately.”

  “Man.” Desiderio clenched his fist. “What a son of a bitch. I’d like to rip him a new one.”

  Although I found his rage sweet, I placed my hand on his fist to calm him. “Don’t worry. He’s paid for it. Believe me.”

  He looked at me, a little startled. “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, someone sicced the tax man on Mr. Geinburg, and he had to spend two whole years in prison for tax evasion,” I said innocently.

  “Wow, that’s . . . tough. But he did deserve it.” He thought for a moment. “Geinburg, Geinburg . . . You don’t mean Marek van Geinburg?”

  “Yes?”

  “Really? My God, I own a picture by that douchebag!”

  “What? Are you sure?” I pulled away a little and looked at him in astonishment.

  “Yes, very sure! I love that picture—no offense, but he really is a talented artist.”

  I sighed deeply. “Oh yes . . .”

  “It’s a charcoal drawing,” Desiderio explained. “Not the original, you understand, but still very beautiful. I think it’s called The Woman by the Window.”

  The small branch in my hand broke. “Excuse me?”

  “The Woman by the Window. Yes, that’s what it’s called. That makes sense, too, since it depicts a naked woman looking pensively out the window.” Desiderio had unclenched his fist and was dreamily playing with my fingers. “Whenever I look at that picture, I wonder what she might be thinking about as she looks out into the world.”

  I could see the nude drawing as clear as day. In the foreground, a young woman stood by a high, open window. The gauzy drapes were blowing into the room, veiling part of her naked body. One hand was resting on the window frame while the other held aside the flowing drapes in order to clear the view of the hazily depicted landscape.

  Yes, I knew that picture very well.

  “At this moment, I’m asking myself what sort of picture you would own if I had just stayed behind in Germany all those years ago,” I said and gave Desiderio a crooked smile.

  It took him a moment to understand my statement.

  “That’s you in front of the window?” he asked, perplexed. “Unbelievable!”

  “Really amaz
ing. What a strange coincidence . . .”

  “Yes, coincidence,” he repeated slowly. He watched absentmindedly how his own fingers drew imaginary lines on the back of my hand.

  “Oh my God,” I exclaimed with mock dismay. “That means you’ve already seen me naked!”

  Well, again rather than already, considering the scene in my bathroom.

  “Hm. I thought your behind seemed somehow familiar,” he casually remarked. “A very attractive behind, mind you.”

  Yes, the lothario was back. The self-confident Italian with the sly grin. And right away he had succeeded in making me blush!

  “Oh, I was a few years younger then,” I said bashfully, putting him off.

  “Well, at first glance, I didn’t notice any difference.” He leaned back and peered down. “And not on second glance either. Although it’s hard to judge when you’re in jeans.”

  I punished him with a punch in the shoulder. “Please don’t tell me that picture hangs over your bed.”

  “Uh, no. It hangs, what you might call enthroned, above the fireplace in the dining room. But you’ve just given me an idea . . .”

  I punched him again, but this time he defended himself. Without warning, he began to tickle my ribs, causing a laughing fit.

  “Stop! Quit it!” I pleaded with a cackle and rolled on the ground, virtually helpless to escape his hands. “Please!”

  We were so busy with our little battle that we noticed the dark clouds only when the first raindrops fell. A heavy rain cloud hung over the whole lake. That, together with the wind that had suddenly sprung up, did not bode well.

  “The weather god is showing mercy on you,” Desiderio said and let me be. He threw a glance at the ominous cloud cover. “We’d better get back to the car. It looks like it’s going to pour.”

  He had hardly spoken those words when the clouds opened up. The rain was torrential.

  I squeaked, scrambled to my feet, and grabbed Desiderio’s hand.

  He threw the towel over my head and hastily followed me into the underbrush. The forest caught most of the rain, but I was quickly soaked to the skin.

  “Eee! It’s cold!” I shrieked as we broke through the briar.

  “Hurry!” Desiderio huffed behind me.

  Sure, as if I was just taking my time! I dispensed with an appropriate retort only because I was so busy trying not to stumble over my own feet.

  Finally, the car came into sight.

  I let go of Desiderio’s hand and sprinted to the passenger side. I held the door handle and waited for the blessed blinking lights, but nothing happened.

  “Hurry up and unlock the car!” I shouted through the thick curtain of rain.

  “I can’t.”

  What?

  “Why not?” Raising the towel overhead, I scurried over to Desiderio, who was frantically going through his pants pockets.

  “I can’t find the key!”

  “Oh no!”

  Desiderio began a frenzied search of the ground. “I can’t see anything, damn it!”

  “This is useless,” I groused and grabbed his arm. “Come with me!”

  I dragged him toward the ruined remains of what had once been a house. Unfortunately, the main house didn’t look like it could protect us from the rain. Then I spied the remnants of a shed. It had only two walls, but its roof looked relatively intact.

  Completely drenched and out of breath, we stood in our makeshift shelter, facing each other.

  “Shit,” Desiderio grumbled. “What are we going to do now?”

  I looked around our shack. It definitely did not look inviting. There was really nothing there but a big pile of wooden planks and a cluster of nettles. Only the roof provided some scant solace.

  “Well, I suppose we have no choice but to wait here until the rain stops and we can look for your key.” I sighed.

  Desiderio said something in Italian that didn’t sound particularly polite.

  “I do hope that wasn’t directed at me,” I admonished, just to be on the safe side.

  “What? No, I was just railing against the German weather.”

  “Oh yes, our naughty weather. If no one else is to blame, then it’s the weather. Especially German weather. Naughty through and through.”

  He gave me a puzzled look before we both broke out laughing.

  I clambered up the pile of planks and smirked at Desiderio. “By the way, good job orchestrating this wet T-shirt contest.”

  He looked down his front and immediately saw what I meant. His white shirt clung to his chest and had become almost completely transparent. What a shame that it was so dark . . .

  “Tsk, pity that you’re wearing black today.” He grinned, looking at my top.

  “Yup, a real shame. If only I had known!”

  “And what if you had known?” he asked provocatively.

  I made a “hmm” sound and let go of the beach towel, which was soaked anyway. “I suppose I would have brought an umbrella.”

  Desiderio laughed softly and looked at me for a long time. I could make out the glow of his ocean-blue eyes even in the dark, and it took my breath away. He slowly approached me and, for the first time since I had met him, I did not move away. On the contrary, I had been waiting for him to approach. There was an almost palpable tension between us.

  He stopped directly in front of me and silently looked at my face. I sat before him, totally motionless, and felt my pulse racing.

  “You know, I wasn’t lying earlier when I told you that I loved that picture,” he said. His voice sounded rough and caused something to whir in my abdomen. He softly stroked my face with his index finger and continued, “The woman in the drawing is so beautiful that I never tire of looking at her. But she is much more beautiful in reality.”

  My heartbeat and my breathing stopped simultaneously.

  There was only one treatment option for my dire condition.

  And it was called Desiderio.

  With something approaching desperation, I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him close. When I felt his hot lips on mine, I was overcome by a wave of pure longing. I gasped for air and clung to his hair. He hungrily reciprocated my passion and kissed me in a way I had never been kissed before.

  He tasted so good, and his lips were so soft!

  All of a sudden, his hands were everywhere, and they set off sparkling fireworks in my insides. I pressed toward him and explored his beautiful body in turn, letting my fingers glide over him.

  Desiderio left my lips and caressed my neck with his tongue. With a moan, I threw back my head to allow him more room. His breath tingled on my skin, and I wrapped my legs around his hips to get even closer to him. Our mouths found each other once again and fell into a rhythmic dance.

  I started to undo the buttons of his shirt with trembling fingers. His hand grasped mine and stopped it.

  “Wait,” he panted.

  I paused. “What is it?” I asked in a quavering voice.

  “I don’t want you to do anything rash.”

  He was breathing heavily, and I could tell how hard it was for him to stop me.

  At that exact moment, I knew that I had fallen for him with every fiber of my being. I was lost. I was hopelessly in love with Desiderio.

  And I was not at all afraid.

  Utterly overwhelmed by this realization, I let myself fall against him and searched for his lips. My hands went exploring and made their way under his soaking wet shirt. The skin underneath was so warm that it seemed to be on fire and so smooth that I could not stop touching it. Curiously, I moved my fingertips over the attractive midline of his abdomen and worked my way toward his back. His shoulders were so incredibly strong that I wanted to bury myself in them.

  Meanwhile, Desiderio had found his way under my shirt, too, and was tenderly exploring my upper body. Hi
s touch was restrained and careful, as if he was afraid of breaking something. I leaned forward to show him that I was ready for more, much more.

  “Lena.” He sighed and moved away from me a little. “You haven’t answered me yet.”

  I held him tight with my legs to prevent him from escaping. “I have to think about it a little,” I muttered and sank my head into the crook of his neck. My tongue wandered over to his earlobe. I nibbled on it tenderly and felt how Desiderio’s back was covered with goose bumps, which fueled my passion even more. He moaned softly but pushed me away resolutely.

  “I have to have an answer now,” he said with a tortured smile.

  “Why?”

  “You are driving me out of my mind . . . If we keep going, it’ll just get harder to stop, so you need to be sure that this is what you really want right now. Because I clearly remember you accusing me of only wanting to screw you.”

  His words made my heart flutter. He wanted to prove to me that he didn’t just want to sleep with me, but I knew that now. I would never have let things go this far otherwise. However, I kept this thought to myself as my wits slowly regained their clarity and an inner voice told me to wait.

  “You wouldn’t have a problem with waiting?” I asked, tracing the soft arch of his clavicle with my fingers.

  “Of course not. It won’t be easy for me”—he grinned—“but we have all the time in the world.” He took my hands and gently kissed them. “By the way, the rain has let up.”

  Indeed it had. Outside the shed, there was nothing more than a light drizzle. Disappointed, I released his hips from the grasp of my legs.

  “Then I guess we’d better look for your key and go home,” I said sadly.

  “Yes, we have to. Your skin is ice cold. We have got to get you dry and warm.”

  I smiled at his concern for me. He didn’t seem to care at all that he was soaking wet too.