Landing 5

He noticed her the moment she entered the church…

He hadn’t attended a service for years, and the thought that sprang out of nowhere, suggesting that he go to the church tonight, surprised and amused him.

He didn’t have any plans for the evening anyway, so here he was, looking absentmindedly at the congregation, when she entered.

It was probably the first time she was there, she looked totally unfamiliar with the place. And certainly she hadn’t heard a pipe organ before because when it started playing she startled and jolted her head looking around to spot the source of music.

As she came to stand by the wall less than an arm’s length away from him, her enchanting perfume subtly tricked its way through his nostrils, inside his thoughts, captivating them. He was caught off guard and fought the urge to get even closer to her.

She seemed to be lost in her thoughts, staring ahead of her without seeing, as if her sight was directed inwardly, merging her in a place where only she could go.

At the sound of “Stille Nacht” when she leaned against the wall, he thought she had lost her balance and he instinctively placed his hand on her arm to steady her.

She didn’t take notice of it; in fact she was oblivious to everything and everyone around her. Her face, reflecting the candlelight, was beaming with serenity.

In that fleeting touch he felt warmth emanating from her along with something he couldn’t quite understand, like a mixture of strength and softness, innocence and wisdom.

Intrigued, he followed her gliding rather than walking under his protective gaze all the way back to the hotel. He suddenly knew why he had gone to the church tonight and he headed home feeling oddly happy.

On Christmas Day she stayed indoors. She exchanged Christmas wishes with her uncle and Anna, and her online friends.

Then she spent the whole day typing on her laptop in an effort to understand the previous evening’s experience and put it into words.

She failed but, as she was drifting off to sleep, she knew that understanding it was not important; it was experiencing it that mattered.

The next morning she was wandering around. She was walking down a steep street towards a cute café she spotted and she had no idea how it happened, maybe she misplaced her foot or slipped…all she knew was that she was lying face down on the street almost kissing it.

Embarrassed, thinking that she probably made a spectacle of herself, she sat up gathering the contents of her purse that were scattered around. Then a gloved hand appeared in front of her and she heard a male voice asking “Are you ok? Are you hurt?”

“Thank you”, she said taking his hand, standing up. Touching it brought her instantly an image of herself in the church on Christmas Eve’s evening. She looked awkwardly at the man before her, totally at a loss for words. “Say something!”, her inner voice commanded.

“I.. I..slipped”, she stuttered adding the gesture that indicates the move. “Great speech!”, the inner voice mocked. He smiled. Her strange accent wasn’t lost on him. So, she was not German.

“Obviously! It didn’t look like you were doing push-ups…Where were you going?”

“For coffee at the café over there”, she replied with a little laugh at his remark.

“I was heading there myself… would you like to join me?”

“Sure… but I must tell you that I’m taking my time before placing an order, there are so many tastes to choose from”

“Given the cold and your little accident I think that a “corretto” coffee would be a good choice for you”, he suggested as they started walking.

“Corretto..sounds italian..like “correct”, is this what it means?”

“Yes … It’s espresso coffee spiced up with alcohol to enhance the taste, so it’s “corrected” in a way”, he informed her as they sat at a table next to the window.

After their corretto coffees arrived, he said:

“I noticed you are not German … not Italian either…where are you from?”

“Greece”, she replied, taking a mental note to practice german with Anna, who, living with a Greek man for 32 years, had mastered his mother tongue perfectly and they were conversing almost exclusively in greek. “My name’s Leda, yeah, like the river here”, she addressed his surprised look, “according to our mythology, Leda was a Spartan queen, the mother of Helen of Troy”, she added, bringing the small cup to her lips.

“Interesting! I’m Wolfgang, you can call me Wolf”.

She choked on her coffee as her mind automatically translated the name: the path of the wolf, not only that, the shortened version actually meant ‘wolf’, her spirit animal of guidance and protection.

“Are you ok?” he sounded really worried, but seeing her reassuring gesture as she coughed a little, he added jokingly: “seems that I bring you bad luck… first I look at you and you fall, then I introduce myself and you choke… I hope next time I see you it won’t be anywhere near a cliff!”. He regretted his joke because her bout of laughter brought more coughing.

As they kept on talking- in english, after Wolf’s thoughtful suggestion- she felt like she had not a care in the world. It impressed her that her past fitted in just a few words: "I needed a change so I left Greece, went to the USA for a while but it wasn’t my thing, and I came to Germany about 2 months ago".

He briefly referred to his own past, too. No questions, no details; they kept talking about their life in the present, each realizing in their mind that, effortlessly, they had only nice things to talk about. Even stressful or unpleasant facts were only just mentioned and instantly put aside.

Since the quantity of coffee was small, they carried their conversation over to a restaurant, then across the streets as he walked her back to the hotel where they exchanged their phone numbers before they parted.

In the morning of New Year’s Eve Wolf messaged her asking if she would like to have dinner with him and then welcome the new year together at the Historic City Center’s main square.

She would go there anyway and it was great that she wouldn’t be alone. At least that was the excuse she gave herself as she messaged back accepting the invitation.

They had met once more for a coffee and then they had strolled aimlessly, mostly talking or in comfortable silence. She was looking around with shiny eyes telling him about all the things she liked in the town; she was thrilled with almost everything, even the way the streets were paved.

“Aah, so you lied the other day, you didn’t slip, you were trying to embrace the street!”, he teased her, enjoying her laughing reaction.

She rarely applied any make up but today it was a special occasion so when Wolf picked her up he almost whistled with admiration.

“ I thought it would be nice to go to a greek restaurant, tonight they have live music and a festive program. We can wait for the new year’s arrival there if you want or we can stick to the original plan and go to the square; since it’s your first New Year’s Eve here you might want to celebrate it the local way”.

“ Sounds perfect! Both greek and german way of celebrating!”.

She was simply dressed but looked elegant in black flared pants and matching long tight wide sleeved blouse. She wore no jewelry, her only accessory was a metallic golden- bronze belt around her waist. It looked exceptional and he complimented her. “Thank you” she answered happily, “I made it. I make jewelry and small artifacts of metal, clay and liquid glass. Still practicing”.

The atmosphere was fantastic, the food delicious but above all it was the music she knew since she was born, the songs, the dances.

Wolf could see her fingers tapping on the table following the rhythm and he urged her to go to the dancing floor. His eyes followed her as she mixed with the group of dancers, catching the step mid-air, going with the flow, smiling, singing along with her fellow countrymen.

He could feel her joy, it made him smile.

Then the beat changed to something very similar to a belly dance. He stopped smiling as, after a moment’s hesitation, she started moving.

There was not a fixed choreography, she was ceaselessly moving in a wavy motion with her whole body, sometimes resembling a tidal wave and sometimes looking like a flickering flame.

She had the same turned inwardly stare he had witnessed in the church but back there she had looked like an angel and now she was a siren.

Back at their table, she would sing some of the lyrics from songs she knew and she would translate them to him.

In one case only she didn’t offer a translation; she sang as if the words meant a lot to her, avoiding eye contact with him but, without realising it, looking his way.

This song was followed by an instrumental piece and Wolf excused himself for a moment. Leda assumed that he was going to the restroom but she was wrong.

He had spotted the singer taking a break at the far side of the room and, after Wolf’s polite request, she translated what Leda had sung:

“..until we reach the sky, let me be deliriously burning, burning against your body and kissing your mouth. Until we become angels, let’s grow wings”

Minutes before midnight they were walking on the old town’s square, mixing with the crowd. She was enjoying this festive atmosphere, the music, the smiling faces, young and old people, groups, families with children and babies.

She loved the sound of carefree conversations, chatter, happy voices, laughter. The decorations reminded her of her childhood’s illustrated fairytales, she actually felt she was in one of them right now.

Her heart felt light and warm. Maybe part of the warmth was due to that wonderful mulled wine she and Wolf were sipping from disposable cups as they were walking.

It was almost time for the new year to come. They stood still, joining the crowd as they counted down the final seconds. 3…2…1…

She turned to Wolf: “ Happy New Y-”

The rest remained unspoken as Wolf found the perfect wordless way to wish her “Happy New Year!”

The next morning, as soon as he opened his eyes, Wolf struggled to keep a straight face; Leda was hopping around on one leg, half- dressed, struggling to push the other -shod- foot through her pants, muttering to herself.

“Was it that bad last night that you have to run away in such a haste?”, he teased.

“Huh? No, I missed my train and my bag is in the hotel room and I haven’t packed yet and it’s almost checkout time and — ”

“ — it’s tomorrow you’re leaving, Leda, not today!”

Still hopping around she looked at him realising her mistake, when she bumped into the chair.

“Ouch!! Seems that only on a dance floor I’m not clumsy”

Not only there, he mused. Out loud he said: “Out of curiosity… is this a typical greek dressing ritual?”

She stopped moving, looked at herself in disbelief, then burst in uncontrollable laughter.

“ It was fascinating”, he smiled, “but I wonder… do you think you can do it backwards?”