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- From: avjohn@iiasa.ac.at (Aviott JOHN)
- Subject: short story
- Message-ID: <1992Nov16.074334.12484@iiasa.ac.at>
- Organization: IIASA, Laxenburg, Austria
- X-Newsreader: TIN [version 1.1 PL6]
- Date: Mon, 16 Nov 1992 07:43:34 GMT
- Lines: 90
-
-
- avjohn@iiasa.iiasa.ac.at
-
- SHORT STORY
- by
- Aviott JOHN
- (published in Vienna Life Magazine, 1985)
-
-
- It was one of those typical foehn-ridden days,
- (foehn: a warm Alpine wind) days; a sudden steep
- rise in temperature and blue skies after so many gray winter days;
- and she felt an ingrate for resenting the drastic change. What was
- there to complain about sunny skies? But there was. An oppression
- in the clear air and she knew the migraine headache was not too far
- away, announcing its impending arrival by a faint throbbing at the
- temples. And this evening she'd arranged to meet with Hans at the
- heurigen. It was simply too bad; whenever she made plans for an
- evening out with him, something turned up to spoil it.
-
- The little flower shop was crowded with customers as she passed
- by, the asters, gerbera and the nasturtiums gleaming from behind the
- plate glass windows with a metallic, freshly-watered wetness. The
- crowd in the flower shop had spilt out into the street and there were
- more people impatiently trying to push their way in. There was
- something odd here, and it took her a couple of minutes to realise
- what it was. All the customers in the flower shop were men. What on
- earth? Of course, today was mother's day. Well, didn't daughters
- buy their mothers flowers too on mother's day? Yes, but they didn't
- leave it till the last moment.
-
- Her eyes blurred with sudden tears as she thought of Hermann.
- Before he left her for (peroxide) blonder pastures he had never
- failed to bring her flowers on mother's day. Flowers and a huge,
- heart-shaped box of schokolade had been his contributions to the
- preservation of their marriage. She slowed down and examined her
- image in the steamy window, pretending to admire the flowers. She
- was pleased with what she saw; a self assured woman in her
- mid-forties with a touch of dissatisfaction, or was it loneliness?
- around her eyes. She could imagine the appropriate advertisement in
- the classified column of the local newspaper: Attractive woman,
- slim, chic, mature, financially independent; seeks companionship and
- emotional security in long-term relationship with kind and thoughtful
- male.
-
- Hermann had been that kind of male in the beginning, but his head
- was too quickly turned by the hungry young things that prowled the
- streets of the city.
-
- There were compensations to living alone. She didn't have to
- answer to anyone, not even to Hans, although he was possessive at
- times. She had accepted his invitation to go to the heurigen that
- evening. Hans was sweet; although she knew that he enjoyed his
- freedom and was not prepared to tie himself down into a steady
- relationship with anyone.
-
- It was a fine day and fine days had been so rare lately that in
- spite of the premonition of migraine that lowered like an oppressive
- cloud on the horizon, she walked to work instead of taking the tram.
- When she passed the fountain on the Michaelerplatz, she noticed that
- the water had been turned on and the defecating pigeons temporarily
- used the cobbled platz as a landing field. On an impulse she kicked
- with a well-shod foot at a pigeon that stood in her path. The bird
- lazily hopped out of her way, but a little old lady in a green loden
- coat and the bag of bird feed in her hand scowled at her; the ugly,
- hate-filled scowl of the passionate bird and animal lover who forgets
- that humans have their needs and weaknesses too. The scowl was
- accompanied by low muttered curses aimed at 'diese junge leut', and
- then with a second vicious glance, 'a' nimmer mehr so jung.'
-
- The day passed in a blur. The threatened migraine did not
- materialize, and directly after work she took the 38 tram upto the
- Leopoldsberg. It was a pleasant walk from the end station to the
- heurigen hidden away in a fold between the hills, like a smile on a
- friendly, wrinkled face, where she'd arranged to meet Hans. There
- was still plenty of light and the air had that special exhilarating
- quality of spring, as delicious as a low-calorie dessert you can feel
- virtuous about having, that she walked longer than expected. Hans
- was already at the heurigen when she arrived.
-
- He rose to greet her at the entrance to the garden; loose-limbed,
- long-haired, casually clothed. The momentary panic and love she
- always felt on seeing him was a constriction in her throat and she
- had no words of greeting, only dismay, for the black haired young
- thing hung possessively onto his arm. The young girl flashed a look
- of nervous defiance, staking her claim at the outset. So Hans too
- will soon leave me, she thought with a touch of self-pity. But the
- moment of fear passed and Hans put his comforting, familiar arms
- around her, thrusting a huge bunch of flowers at her. 'Happy
- Mother's day, mother,' he said.
-