As summer gave way to the chilly German fall, I stopped by Vivian’s apartment one Friday to pick her up for a date and found a man there. She introduced him as Martín, visiting from Buenos Aires. We shook hands and eyed each other closely.
Later, when we were in the car, I asked, “Who’s Martín? A cousin?”
“He’s my ex-boyfriend. I broke up with him when I left Argentina.”
“If you broke up with him, why is he staying in your apartment?”
“He came here hoping to get us back together.” She looked at me. “I can’t just send him away. I owe him that much. He leaves on Thursday.”
“Wasn’t he the reason you moved to Munich?”
“He wanted too much from me.”
Martín left on Thursday. On the way to the train, the two of them stopped by the Teestube. Mac later told me they were arguing, Martín visibly upset. I don’t believe in taking joy in others’ pain, but that week I made an exception.
The next week, Vivian had a client near my office and stopped by for lunch. Jim, one of the engineers who had relocated from the US, came by, and Vivian coaxed a bit of German out of him, complimenting his vocabulary. The group followed Vivian into my office, where she hugged me and kissed me on the cheek. Jim’s eyes narrowed. Then everyone wandered out.
It turned out that Jim had a friend who had a girlfriend who knew Gwen in California. A couple of days later, I received a 3 AM phone call from California. Gwen asked how my German lessons were going. Too groggy to be subtle, I pointed out that she was the one who said we should see other people. By the end of the call, we agreed to go our separate ways.
That weekend, I picked up Vivian for dinner. On the way to the restaurant, I told her about my call with Gwen.
Vivian nodded.
“You and Martín. Gwen and I. Things are changing.”
“How do you mean?”
“I mean, where do you think our relationship is going with all of these changes?”
She smiled and pinched my cheek. “Süsser (Sweetie). Our relationship is going to the restaurant on Ostpreussenstrasse,”
“You’re teasing me.”
She frowned. “Why would Martín and this person in the US being gone change anything between us?”
I pulled the car over to the side of the road and rested my head on the steering wheel. “Am I just someone you have dinner and sex with now and then?”
“Of course not,” she sighed. “Parker, I’m not seeing other men the way I see you. Isn’t that enough?”
“No.”
She slammed the dashboard with her hand. “This is exactly what I wanted to avoid. What do you want from me?”
This discussion was going to happen sooner or later. I decided it might as well be now.
“You have this way of making everyone around you feel special, and we love you for it. But when we’re not in front of you, you seem to forget we exist. It’s like there’s a wall, and no one’s allowed on the other side.’ I looked at her. ‘What do I want? I want to know if you’ll ever let me in?”
She turned toward her side window. “Things are good with us. Be happy with what we have.”
“Why is what I’m asking so bad?”
“Because maybe I’m not the strong Vivian you like so much.” She frowned. “And why would it matter to the yoho who doesn’t know what love is?”
“Okay, you win,” I said.
The air in the car was close, and the windows had long since fogged over. I cracked mine open for some fresh air and started the car.
“Shut the engine off,” she said.
I share the journey every Thursday. Join us.