Twenty minutes later
Re: Mia
What did you imagine, Emmi? Should I have panicked? It’s not parents’ night, Emmi. I haven’t been cutting school. Mia’s not my teacher, and you’re not my mother. So I’ve got nothing to be worried about.
Three minutes later
Re: Mia
Leo, if you and Mia are, you know . . . then I’d rather hear it from you today than find out from Mia tomorrow. So will you please tell me?
Four minutes later
Re: Mia
Am I sleeping with Mia? If I am, Mia might not want you to know.
A minute and a half later
Re: Mia
YOU’RE the one who doesn’t want me to know. Well, tough, Leo, I know already! Judging by the way you write, you must be sleeping with her.
Thirteen minutes later
Re: Mia
Would that be so awful for you? Would that turn your entire “other world” upside down? Or is it just that old childhood thing: if I can’t have it, my best friend won’t have it either?
Four minutes later
Re: Mia
I think you’re being a bit immature about all this, Leo. Let’s just leave it.
Have a pleasant day.
Read you soon,
Emmi
Ten minutes later
Re: Mia
And you used to be more cheerful, my dear. Yes, read you soon, no doubt.
The following day
Subject: Mia
Hi Leo, I met up with Mia!
Half an hour later
Re: Mia
I know, Emmi. You said you were going to.
Two minutes later
Re: Mia
Don’t you want to know how it went?
Four minutes later
Re: Mia
Good question. There are two possible answers. Either 1) Mia will tell me. Or 2) You, Emmi, are going to tell me about it now, anyway. I choose 2.
One minute later
Re: Mia
Close, but the wrong answer. Ask Mia how it went. Have a nice afternoon!
Seven hours later
Re: Mia
Good night, Emmi. That was a pretty poor performance today.
The next day
Subject: Emmi?
My dear email partner, have I offended you? Would you mind telling me how? Did Mia tell you something you didn’t want to hear?
Two and a half hours later
Re: Emmi?
You know exactly what Mia told me, Leo, and you know exactly what she DIDN’T tell me. “Yes, he’s sweet,” she said. “Yes, we get along well. Yes, we see each other quite a bit. Yes, sometimes it gets pretty late (smirk, giggle). Yes, he’s all right (stupid grin). Yes, he’s the kind of man (sigh) you could imagine (swoon) . . . But Emmi, so what if we’re sleeping together? . . . Oh Emmi, why do you always have to talk about sex?” etc., etc.
My dear Leo, that’s not what she’s like. The Mia I know can talk about sex for hours on end! She describes every muscle that’s exerted or involved in any way, even if it’s just for watching (or listening). As a sports scientist, Mia can divide up one single, five-second orgasm into seven separate working stages, complete with tables of calories burned etc., each one requiring an hour-long presentation. That’s Mia! And do you know what completely isn’t Mia?—“Oh Emmi, why do you always have to talk about sex!” That’s not Mia at all, not a bit. That’s 100 percent Leo Leike. What have you done to Mia? And why? Just to annoy me?
Thirteen minutes later
Re: Emmi?
Didn’t Mia ask you why you’re so interested in whether I’m having sex with her? Didn’t she tell you that she never asks how often you sleep with your Bernhard? (O.K., I’ll take back the “your.”) Did Mia not ask you what you actually want from me? Well, didn’t she? And what did you tell her?
Fifty seconds later
Re: Emmi?
That I want emails from him! (But not ones like that.)
A minute and a half later
Re: Emmi?
You can’t always pick and choose.
Three minutes later
Re: Emmi?
I don’t want to have to pick and choose. I want them all to be lovely. You used to write me such lovely emails, Leo. But since you’ve been sleeping with Mia, all you do is beat around the bush. Fine, it’s all my fault, I shouldn’t have introduced you to her. My mistake.
Eight minutes later
Re: Emmi?
Dear Emmi, I promise you’ll get another nice email from me, Mia or no Mia. But I can’t manage one today. I’m going to the theater (no, not with Mia, but with my sister and a few friends).
Have a nice evening. And say hi to your piano.
Leo
Five hours later
Subject: (no subject)
Are you back yet? I can’t sleep. By the way, have I ever told you about the north wind? I can’t stand it when the north wind blows through my window. It’d be nice if you’d drop me a line. You could say, “Why don’t you just close your window then?” And then I could reply: “Because I can’t sleep with the window closed.”
Five minutes later
Re:
Do you sleep with your head by the window?
Fifty seconds later
Re:
LEO!!!! Yes, I sleep with my head right by the window.
Forty-five seconds later
Re:
What about turning 180 degrees and sleeping with your toes by the window?
Fifty seconds later
Re:
That wouldn’t work. I wouldn’t have my bedside table and reading light.
One minute later
Re:
But you don’t need a light to sleep.
Thirty seconds later
Re:
No, but to read.
One minute later
Re:
So read, and then turn around and sleep with your toes by the window.
Forty seconds later
Re:
If I turned around I’d be wide awake again, and then I’d have to read a bit more to get to sleep. But I wouldn’t have my little bedside table with the reading light.
Thirty seconds later
Re:
I’ve got it! Just put it at the other end of the bed.
Thirty-five seconds later
Re:
Wouldn’t work, the cord is too short.
Forty seconds later
Re:
Shame. I’ve got an extension cord here.
Twenty-five seconds later
Re:
Send it over!
Forty-five seconds later
Re:
O.K., I’ll send it as a Word file.
Fifty seconds later
Re:
Got it, thanks. What a great extension, really long! I’ll just plug it in.
Forty seconds later
Re:
Be careful you don’t trip over it in the night.
Thirty-five seconds later
Re:
Ah, now I’m going to sleep really soundly, thanks to you and your extension.
One minute later
Re:
Now the north wind can blow as hard as it likes.
Forty-five seconds later
Re:
I really, really like you, Leo. You’re brilliant against the north wind!
Thirty seconds later
Re:
I like you a lot too, Emmi. Good night.
Twenty-five seconds later
Re:
Night-night. Sweet dreams.
The following evening
Subject: (no subject)
Good evening, Emmi. Were you waiting for me to write first?
Five minutes later
Re:
I usually wait for you to write first, Leo, but mostly in vain.
This time I held out. Are you well?
Three minutes later
Re:
/> Yes, I’m fine. I’ve spoken to Mia. And we’ve decided to tell you everything about us, if you still want to know.
Eight minutes later
Re:
Only when I know will I know whether I want to know. But given that you’re being so formal about it, it’s highly probable that when I know, I’ll know I didn’t really want to know after all. If it’s some love story involving a pregnancy, a trip to Venice and a wedding date, it would be better if you spared me. I’ve already had a fight with a client today. And I’ve got my period.
Four minutes later
Re:
No, it’s not a love story. It never was. I’m amazed you ever thought it might be. To start off with you were pretty confident about your arrangement. “Your arrangement”— that’s the point. Would you like me to go into details?
Six minutes later
Re:
That’s not fair, Leo! I wasn’t confident about any arrangement. There was no “arrangement.” I didn’t even consider what might happen if you came into contact with my friend. I was just curious to know what she would talk about—and what you would say, Leo. It was only when you told me, or rather DIDN’T tell me, that I realized how little I liked what you talked about, or rather DIDN’T talk about, you and Mia. But go ahead, tell me more. You’ve already written the most important sentence anyway. (The first one.) Not much can happen now.
An hour and a half later
Re:
Mia and I met for the first time that Sunday afternoon in the café. We knew at once why we were sitting there—not because of us, but because of you. There was no chance of us getting closer, let alone falling in love with each other. We were anything but “meant for each other,” quite the opposite in fact. We felt like your puppets from the outset, like pawns that you, dear Emmi, had just put in play. But we didn’t understand the “game.” And we still can’t understand it now. Emmi. You know that Mia thinks the world of you, admires you, even envies you; is that supposed to make me more interested in you? If so, then why? Do I need to know how perfect and idyllic your family life is? Why? What has that got to do with our emails? Does it stop the north wind from blowing through your window? Does it stop you from getting to sleep?
And Mia. She feels she doesn’t know where she stands with you anymore. One thing was clear to her from the beginning: I was taboo for her. I had a sign around my neck saying, “This belongs to Emmi! Do not touch!” Mia felt that all she could do was listen to me. She was expected to give you a detailed description of me, she was supposed to bring you the other side of me, the physical side you don’t know, to give you a complete picture.
Well, Emmi, Mia and I weren’t prepared to play the roles you’d assigned to us. We were determined to put a wrench in the works of your weird game. We were defiant—and even though we didn’t fall in love, we did sleep together. It did us a world of good, we had fun, we were both up for it. There was no fluttering of the heart, there wasn’t much desire, and no great passion either. We decided to do it because of you—that was reason enough. It was the simplest and truest thing in the world, because we were truly pissed off with you! So we played our own game within the game. It worked for one night, but not for a second. In the long run you can only sleep “with each other,” not against a mutual third party. And it was obvious that Mia and I would never amount to anything. But we were happy to meet up, it was nice to chat, in fact we liked each other (and still do), and we enjoyed keeping you at a distance, Emmi. As a little punishment for your arrogance.
So that’s the story. I’m dying to know whether you’ll understand this, and how you’re going to digest it, dearest email partner. And now it’s night. A full moon, as far as I can tell. And the north wind has eased off. You can sleep with your head by the window.
Good night!
Two days later
Subject: (no subject)
Dear Emmi,
It’s miserable to be left hanging for two days as I’ve been left hanging. You’re the one who’s left me in midair. So may I politely invite you to reply. By all means hurl me to the ground, but don’t leave me in midair.
Yours sincerely,
Leo
The following day
Subject: Digestion
Hi Leo,
Jonas dislocated his arm playing volleyball. We’ve just spent two nights in hospital. That’s just a little taste of our family idyll.
Now, digestion: I tried to digest your email on several occasions, but unfortunately it keeps coming back up. Now it’s just a tasteless mush. You ask whether I wanted you to find out from Mia how perfect and idyllic my family life is. My dear Leo, you and Mia are laboring under a vast misapprehension. My family life is good, but by no means perfect. “Family life” as such has very little to do with perfection, and a great deal to do with endurance, patience, indulgence, and children’s dislocated arms. And here allow me to draw on my years of experience, which—I’m sorry to say—you and Mia lack. “Family idyll” is an oxymoron, a mutually exclusive word pairing: you can have family, or idyll, but not both.
And I’ve got something else to say about your “game within a game.” So you and Mia slept together because you were pissed off with me, did you? It’s been a long time since I heard anything so childish. Oh, Leo! Points deducted for that.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Two days later
Subject: Tidying up
Hi Emmi.
How are you? I’m not feeling that great. And I’m not particularly proud of myself either. I should never have met Mia. I should have known that, paradoxically, it would bind me closer to you, Emmi. I criticized you because I thought that was your intention. I take half of that back. I think we both intended it. It’s just that neither of us has dared admit it until now. Mia was our go-between. You put her on to me. And I got my revenge through her. It wasn’t unfair to her. Mia’s increasing interest in me is matched by an increasing interest in you, Emmi. I think it’s up to you to get close to your friend again. And I ought to back off a bit. I need to do a little tidying up.
Have a good day,
Leo
One hour later
Re: Tidying up
And what will you be tidying up next, Leo? Me?
Eight minutes later
Re: Tidying up
I used to think that emails didn’t need tidying up. But maybe, at some point, I ought to slowly put the brakes on.
Four minutes later
Re: Tidying up
Here’s Hesitant Leo in his element again: “maybe,” “at some point,” “I ought,” “slowly put the brakes on.” Do you get a kick out of sharing your sheepish announcements about how you’re going to step back from all this? Put the brakes on Leo, for God’s sake, but put them on properly!!! And stop tormenting me with your maybe, I ought, slowly . . . It’s slowly beginning to annoy me!
Three minutes later
Re: Tidying up
O.K., I’m putting the brakes on.
Forty seconds later
Re: Tidying up
At last.
Thirty-five seconds later
Re: Tidying up
Done.
Twenty-five seconds later
Re: Tidying up And now?
Two minutes later
Re: Tidying up
Don’t know. I’m waiting for it to stop.
Twenty-five seconds later
Re: Tidying up
It has now. Night-night!
Two days later
Subject: (no subject)
Hi Emmi,
So . . . are we not going to write to each other at all anymore?
Seven hours later
Re:
Apparently not.
The following day
Subject: (no subject)
It’s quite nice not getting any emails.
Two and a half hours later
Re:
Yes, I could get used to this.
Four hours later
Re:
>
Now we can see how exhausting it was.
Five and a half hours later
Re:
Stress. Sheer stress.
The following day
Subject: (no subject)
And how’s Mia?
Two hours later
Re:
No idea, we’re not seeing each other anymore.
Eight hours later
Re:
Really? That’s a shame.
Three minutes later
Re:
Yes, it is.
The following day
Subject: (no subject)
It’s so much fun writing to you, Leo.
Nine hours later
Re:
Thanks, I can only return the compliment.
The following day
Subject: (no subject)
How’s Marlene, by the way? Any relapses?
Three hours later
Re:
No, not yet, but I’m working on it. And what’s your family up to? How’s Jonas’s knee?
Two hours later
Re:
Not knee, arm.
Five minutes later
Re:
Yes, of course, forgive me. How’s his arm?
Three and a half hours later
Re:
Can’t tell. It’s in a cast.
Half an hour later
Re:
Oh, right, I see.
Two days later
Subject: (no subject)
It’s sad, Emmi, we’ve got nothing more to say to each other.
Ten minutes later
Re:
Maybe we never did.
Eight minutes later
Re:
Well, for two people who’ve got nothing to say to each other, we’ve been chatting a hell of a lot.
Twenty minutes later
Re:
But we haven’t really said anything. Nothing but empty words.
Five minutes later
Re:
If you say so.
Twelve minutes later
Re:
What a good thing that you put the brakes on.
Three minutes later
Re:
You’re the one who said we’d stopped, Emmi!
Eight minutes later
Re:
And you say it every day.
Five hours later
Re:
Should we stop for good?
Three minutes later
Re:
I thought we already had.
Fifty seconds later
Re:
You really know how to get someone down.
Two minutes later
Re:
I learned that from you, Leo.