Authors: Marya Stones
Greta was completely confused. All of this could be a bad movie. First, the story of her life, then the details about Nathalie – and now Mike. Everything completely hocus pocus and nonsense. Right?
“Are you telling me that I should leave Mike?”
“No, that’s not what I said. I came to tell you that he is not the right one now. If you stay now, you will bring much pain upon yourself. If you decide to do that, then it is so – and you will find out what the future is about to bring. But this pain is not intended for you. If you go, you will follow your destiny. One day you will understand how everything fits together.”
“To be honest, I don’t understand anything anymore. I think this is too much for me.”
“Just as he was there for the cats and saved them from death, just as he’s there for his brother and pulled him out of the gutter, he’ll have to be here for others again and again. He can’t do anything else. He’ll hurt you along the way. You will not understand a lot and be left behind, alone. That is not the way that is intended for you now.”
Damn!
How could Antonia know about the cats? And then all the details, everything that Greta had experienced with him. And even the situation with Steve. There’s something not quite right about that. Greta didn’t know at all any more how she should react to all this. Everything in her head felt as if it were simultaneously cotton and chewing gum.
“You don’t have to understand why I know everything. It’s not important for you. It’s important that I tell you this and that you can decide for yourself now. It’s not just about you alone, it also about him. And it’s about the people who are waiting for you and him. You will still meet many people in the future who are important for you.”
Greta became more confused than ever. Only a bad dream, hopefully, from which she’ll awaken very soon.
Or maybe not?
“I’ve told you everything now. Everything for which I came. I’m going to leave now. We won’t see each other again. God protect and watch over you. Follow your heart, for you see well with it.”
Antonia got up.
With her finger she gently drew a cross on Greta’s forehead.
Then she turned to go.
Greta stayed where she was. She was paralyzed; couldn’t move an inch. Everything about her was heavy and lame. Tears ran down her face. They weren’t tears of sadness or fear, however. No, completely different. She had the feeling that she was being embraced. It was as if a great, large coat was being laid about her. Nothing could happen to her. No one could hurt her. Everything was good. Magic that she couldn’t describe. A joy and a caress, which felt like light, love, and trust. Was Antonia an angel who was sent to her?
Chapter 15
Feeling numb, Greta looked around. She was still sitting on the stone bench at the canal. The shopping bags stood at her feet.
Oh my goodness! The shopping trip!
She had already been gone far too long. And she still didn’t have the complete outfit together for this evening.
I have to hurry back. And I have to find the right dress on the way, Greta thought and tried to suppress what had just happened as best she could.
And sure enough, as she turned the next corner, she was standing in front of a boutique that was just to her taste. In the window there was a sharp-as-a-tack kerchief dress with a pattern of flowers, butterflies, snakes and other animals – very colorful, off-the-shoulder and very low in the back. That’s it! Buy me! she could hear it calling to her. Greta went in and tried on the dress – it fit as if she’d been poured into it. Really hot, she thought to herself. Exactly what I need. With the low back, it was a little daring, but she wanted to look really special tonight. The saleswoman showed her the matching shoes: high heels, open in the front, with a little strap across the instep. Now the outfit was perfect. It wasn’t exactly her taste, maybe a little too shrill and certainly not elegant, rather a little . . . risky. But the saleswoman was so charming and encouraged her in her choice, so that within twenty minutes, Greta had put her entire party outfit together. Finally the saleswoman had given her a gift of a bottle of perfume developed by the same designer that had designed the dress. Now nothing could go wrong this evening, right?
As she finally rode up to the appartemento in the elevator, she was quite exhausted. But it wasn’t the shopping trip that had done her in, it was clear to Greta that it was the meeting with Antonia. At first, she didn’t want to tell Mike anything about it. The whole story seemed beyond understanding. Actually, she would have liked to forget the strange episode entirely – or at least repress it for the moment.
Fortunately, Mike was finished with the telephone calls and the other business contacts.
“You’re back. How nice. Were you successful?”
He took her in his arms and Greta tried intuitively to feel if she could sense something stirring in their feelings similar to what Antonia had described.
Nothing. . .
Well, if I don’t get another sign, then everything will be okay. Maybe it really was an evil joke . . .
“Is something the matter?” Mike asked and wrinkled his forehead. You’re a little strange. Did something happen?”
“No, no,” Greta stuttered. “. . .Um, . . . I – I just bought a dress that’s really quite extravagant. I’m not sure if it’s really suitable for this evening.”
“It doesn’t matter what you have on – you’ll look ravishing, I’m sure. Good enough to take a bite . . .”
Greta grinned.
“And if the dress really isn’t the attention-getter that it should be,” Mike continued, “then I’ll have a good reason to take it off you. Above all, I prefer you naked.”
He pulled Greta to him and kissed the nape of her neck. She melted into him. His kisses on her neck were the absolute best. She could feel herself becoming soft like wax in his hands. Could this feeling lie or not be true?! Still, she pulled away from him. She noticed that now she couldn’t yield to him. Right now, sex would not have been okay! Mike sensed her hesitation and reacted immediately.
“Did you eat something? Are you hungry? Or should we wander through the streets together again? What would you like to do?”
They decided on a couple of Tramezzini tea sandwiches in a bistro and an Aperol Spritz cocktail as an aperitif. The day-trippers that came on the tourist boats, bus, train, or by car, had pretty much left the city. The atmosphere was a kind of twilight Italian, with the sun already slant in the sky, but still mild and warm. The Venetians once again looked chic, and streamed out of their offices to enjoy the bars and bistros and to have a chat with neighbors, colleagues, or lovers. The feeling was unrestrained and happy.
Greta’s meeting with Antonia now seemed removed and far away in the distance. She was actually successful in suppressing all the dark and puzzling prophesies. This is how it should be – like now. She, in Venice with Mike. Alone. Only the two of them.
They wandered through the streets and happened upon St. Mark’s Square, which had emptied in the meantime. The piano music of the well-known cocktail orchestras tumbled out of the surrounding bars. It was all part of a slowing down of the day. Even the industrious and always talkative Italians seemed suddenly to take their time. And Greta too now took in the immediate surroundings with much more concentration. On the one side the imposing and overall dominant Basilica of St. Mark, the adjacent Doges’ Palace and then the divided Square, rimmed by the Procurators’ Office Buildings on the closed side. On the open side, along the Doges’ Palace, and the Libreria Marciana, lay the sea.
The cool breeze that came from there and wafted across the Square gave Greta the shivers. She nestled closely up to Mike. He put his arm around her and explained a little about St. Mark’s Square. The line waiting in front of the basilica was short, and they decided to go inside. Actually, Greta was listening to Mike with half an ear. She didn’t understand much about the historical connections and quickly lost the thread. But it was Mike’s voice and the atmosphere in general that captured her attention and calmed her. Or maybe it was just the Aperol?
No, impossible.
As they came out of the cathedral, Greta could have repeated next to nothing about the history of the place. Everything was too complex and too far away. Besides, she was still pretty exhausted. She knew, however, why this place meant so much to Mike. It was a kind of power-place. A place that was mystical and of the world at the same time.
In the meantime, the sun had almost gone down. The feeling was super-romantic. The light was mirrored in the sea. It glittered and sparkled in rose, red, and pink.
“Would you like to take a ride in a gondola? Now in the evening sun?”
“Mike, that’s so touristy, isn’t it?”
“Sure, but it would be in romantic harmony with the evening, wouldn’t it? Come, don’t be a spoil-sport. Let’s be totally in love and take a really touristy gondola ride, okay?”
Greta was quite taken by the idea, but didn’t want to show it.
A gondola ride – like the Empress Sissi ---- oooooh yessss! – just us two – a couple in love. Damn, yes! Where is the next gondola!
Greta looked around.
“There aren’t any gondolas here. We have to go to one of the canals to find them, right?”
“Greta, you full-checker. Yes, we have to go to a canal or to the water. But there is enough of that in Venice. Come on.”
He pulled her along in the direction of the open sea. Sure enough, here there were so many gondola stands as there were hot dog stands in other places. Mike looked around quickly, negotiated a price with one of the gondoliers, stepped into the gondola and motioned to Greta to come join him. Now she couldn’t suppress her grin any longer. As she stepped into the gondola, helped by the gondolier on one side and Mike on the other, she felt like the princess and the pea:
Oh, man, is this nut-shell wobbly! And so narrow!
She almost lost her balance in transit and then . . .
Oh, God, no. That would be too embarrassing. Greta in the water. The beautiful gondola ride lost.
Quickly, her behind found a seat on the two-person bench directly in front of the gondolier’s station. Mike took his seat next to her decidedly more elegantly. The gondolier wrapped them in a blanket. How very romantic!
The ride began.
Wow, it’s really wobbly in here!
The gondola began to move and Greta held fast onto the rim of the boat. After a couple of strokes the gondolier gained speed and the gondola slipped quietly over the water. Greta began to relax. The atmosphere was even better than she had imagined. Her permanent grin had become a fixture that she had not been able to hide for some time. First they traveled across the open ocean, and then into a canal. The gondolier explained now and again where they were, which houses, palaces, and churches they were passing. Then suddenly he pulled his oar out of the water, balanced his way past Greta and Mike in the narrow gondola, and babbled something in Italian. Mike didn’t seem at all disturbed, and Greta therefore didn’t think anything of it. The gondolier bent over and opened a side-compartment and pulled out a Champagne-bucket in which there were a bottle of Champagne and two glasses. Greta could hardly believe her eyes!
Really not to be believed. Very, very romantic!
She felt as if she were in a movie, only this time she herself was playing the female lead in a love story with a happy ending.
Perfect!
The gondolier handed Mike everything and Mike opened the Champagne bottle adroitly and skillfully. Then they took off again and Greta felt far away, as if she were the princess in a fairy tale. Her grin in the meantime had spread from one ear to the other and rivaled that of any broad-mouthed frog. Even Julia Roberts with her smile would not have been able to outdo Greta at this moment. Completely over the top, the gondolier now began to warble a song. It could not have been better or more perfect. Greta nestled under the blanket and pressed up against Mike. He put his arm around her and it felt so good and secure.
To feel so happy can’t be wrong, Greta thought, even if the thought set a little inkling of doubt in motion.
The gondola ride led them through many other canals and ended at the Rialto Bridge in the Grand Canal. Here, as before, there were many boats under way: bus-boats, small freights, water-taxis; here life seemed to be pulsating. Briskly and adeptly, the gondolier maneuvered his conveyance through the bustle, despite the hefty swaying of the gondola in the onslaught of the waves. Greta was no longer concerned. She didn’t imagine herself to be in this world any longer and the Champagne had done its part in this.
The gondolier pulled into a kind of slip with a walking path, which looked like an official gondola parking place. Greta smiled. Mike disembarked and turned around to give Greta his hand. She smiled at him broadly, got up a little too fast, staggered a little, tripped over her own purse, but caught herself in time by grabbing the rim of the boat.
“Oof! slipped out of her mouth, and an absolutely undignified burp followed. She smiled at Mike innocently and grinned once more. “Oops!” was all that she could still say before she tried to hide the belch with her hand in front of her mouth. Thereby she had to let go of the rim of the boat. Promptly, she lost her balance and flew into the water.
Splash!
“Oh, Mike, help me!”