Every Seventh Wave by Daniel Glattauer

Author:Daniel Glattauer [Glattauer, Daniel]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Literary, Romance, Contemporary
ISBN: 9781623653446
Google: zjoTAgAAQBAJ
Amazon: 1402789793
Barnesnoble: 1402789793
Publisher: SilverOak
Published: 2012-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The following day

Subject: A suggestion!

Good morning, dear Emmi. Let me make a suggestion for our virtual schedule for the next ten days: each of us may ask the other one question per day and must answer the other’s question. Agreed?

Twenty minutes later

Re:

How did you hit upon that ludicrous idea, my love?

Three minutes later

Re:

Was that your question for today, dearest?

Five minutes later

Re:

Hang on, Leo, I never said I would agree to it. You know I like games—otherwise I wouldn’t have been sitting here for the past two years. But this game is totally half-baked. What would we do if, for example, your answer to my question prompted a follow-up question?

One minute later

Re:

You could ask that the following day.

Fifty seconds later

Re:

That’s not fair! All you want is for the period between myself and “Pam” to pass more quickly, so that you can be rid of the correspondence between you and your diary at last.

Forty seconds later

Re:

Sorry, Emmi, that’s the way the game works. I know because I invented it. Shall we start?

One minute later

Re:

Just a sec. Am I allowed not to answer questions?

Fifty seconds later

Re:

No, there’s to be no not answering of questions! Answers can be evasive, in a pinch.

Thirty seconds later

Re:

In that case you’ve got an unfair advantage: you’ve been in training for the past twenty-five months.

Forty seconds later

Re:

Shall we start now, Emmi love?

Thirty seconds later

Re:

What if I say no?

Two minutes later

Re:

Well, that would be your question and your answer for today. And we’d read each other again tomorrow.

One minute later

Re:

If you weren’t the same Leo Leike I had seen with my very own eyes (but also with entirely different eyes) languishing at a café table, trying his best to be so charming that he could rival even my fantasy of him, then I might say: You’re a sadist! Go on, then, ask me a question. (But please, not one about what I’m wearing!)

Emmi

Three hours later

Subject: Question number one

I’m still waiting for your first question, my love. Can’t you think of anything? That wasn’t my question, by the way! My question is: “Dear Leo, in one of your most recent boozesodden declarations about you and P … P … Pamela, you said that the two of you were well suited. How? I would be grateful for an explanation.”

Five minutes later

Re:

My question to you, Emmi, is: “Would you do it again?”

Fifteen minutes later

Re:

Very clever, Leo. So, I can choose my “it,” and God forbid that I should choose the wrong one, because I’d be stuck with “it” forever, even though you’re the one inquiring about “it.” If you were not Leo but just some other man, it would be quite obvious that “it” could only refer to sex. In our case, my “visit” to your flat, my disappointment, my desperation, my destructiveness, and the “it” that was a consequence of it. If you meant that “it,” then my answer would have to be no. No, I wouldn’t do it again. I wish I hadn’t done it in the first place.

But since

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