Wait for Me in Vienna Read Free

tried to, seduced by the short skirts and dresses exposing their fishnet-stockinged legs. The girls feigned disinterest, an effective ploy. Though these parties weren’t 100 percent compulsory for him, Thomas went to pacify Clarissa. He was disappointed to find that his best friend, Martin, wasn’t there this time. His grandmother had died, so he’d had to go back home, somewhere in the middle of nowhere. Thomas didn’t know exactly where, though, because Martin was reluctant to talk about his hometown.

    Johanna stayed awake the whole night thinking about her grandmother. She thought about the good old days when her parents were still alive. She thought about her brother, who she hadn’t seen in more than four months. She felt awful, really awful, about referring to her grandmother as “the old lady.” Martin, her only brother, had moved away after their parents’ death. He was older and could do whatever he wanted. He didn’t seem to have a problem getting over what happened, as if their parents had only been in a fender bender. He had an apartment in Vienna, but Johanna had never visited him. She often wished that it had been her sitting in that car instead of her parents. Empty. Quiet. Numb. She wished she were dead so she didn’t have to think or feel anything. Once, she decided, in all seriousness, to end it all. She longed to be enveloped by the sweet fog of death, but she couldn’t bring herself to do the deed. She was afraid, afraid of the unknown. Sometime in the future, she thought, she would be brave enough not to put the bottle of sleeping pills away.
    Johanna stared at the remnants of squashed mosquitoes on the ceiling. Last summer, mosquitoes had plagued her apartment. A surprise flood had overwhelmed the town, followed by intense summer heat, which brought an infestation.
    The tiny beasts have such a short life expectancy , Johanna thought as she counted the sixth bloodstain above her. Why do they need so much blood?
    She had read somewhere that only the female mosquitoes buzzed and that they were a lot bigger than their male counterparts. Johanna fixed her attention on the partially smeared stains until she fell asleep.
    The next morning, she didn’t feel any better. Her feet felt leaden, her neck and shoulders ached, and her head felt like it was about to burst. The pressure in her head was particularly strange. It crept slowly up her spine, then to her neck, then to the back of her head, and then lodged in her forehead. As this was happening, it started to rain. A light drumming turned into an enormous roar, which pounded on the leaves of the maple tree right outside her window. She had to get up. She couldn’t stay here any longer. She had to go to the funeral.
    At the funeral, Martin came over and hugged Johanna.
    “How are you holding up?” he asked worriedly as he scrutinized her.
    She looked old and haggard; her skin was sallow and pale. There was no indication that she had spent the summer holidays with friends on the coast, having barbecues, drinking way too much sparkling wine. Instead, it looked as though she’d spent all summer working at the call center and reading books on the old couch in her apartment with barely enough food to keep her alive. She was so thin and wan; it didn’t suit her at all.
    Martin pulled his gaze away. As he should have expected under the circumstances, Johanna didn’t say a word and turned away from him. The many condolences barely infiltrated her brain. “Dearest Johanna, I’m so sorry for your loss . . .” “First, it was your beloved parents and now your grandmother. If you need anything at all . . .” All the people seemed vague and unreal. There were only about fifteen mourners; so many of her grandmother’s friends had already died. They all whispered the standard compassionate words of consolation; it was like they’d said the same things so often lately that they knew them by heart.
    The funeral ended, and all that remained was the