Free Love Virtually by Daniel Glattauer Page B

outside my daily experience, a tiny island that I’d much rather inhabit with you alone, if you don’t mind.
    Five minutes later
    Re: Break over!
    That’s fine, Emmi. Sometimes I’m just niggled by curiosity to know what you’re like outside of our fuzzy little island, what your grounded life on the mainland is like, in the secure harbor of your marriage. (Forgive me, it just worked so well.) But I’m all island again now. So when are we going to drink our glass of wine? Midnight too late for you?
    Two minutes later
    Re: Break over!
    Midnight would be perfect! I look forward to our rendezvous.
    Twenty seconds later
    Re: Break over!
    Me too. Till then.
    Midnight
    Subject: (no subject)
    Dear Emmi,
    Leo here. Here’s to a heavenly midnight, à deux , just for the two of us. May I embrace you, Emmi? May I kiss you? I will kiss you. Right, let’s drink. What are you drinking? I’m drinking Sauvignon Visconti, Colli Orientali del Friuli, 2003. And what are you drinking? Reply immediately, Emmi, immediately, O.K.? What’s Emmi drinking? I’m drinking white wine.
    One minute later
    Re:
    Doesn’t sound like your first glass!!!
    Eight minutes later
    Re:
    Oh look, Emmi’s writing again. Emmi. Emmi. Emmi. I’m a little drunk, but only a little. I’ve been drinking all evening and waiting till midnight, till Emmi comes to visit me. Yes, you’re right. It’s not my first bottle. I’m longing for my Emmi. Do you want to come over here? We can turn the lights off. We don’t have to see each other. I just want to feel you, Emmi. I’ll close my eyes. It’s pointless with Marlene. We’re draining the lifeblood from each other. We don’t love each other. She thinks we do, but we don’t, it isn’t love, it’s just enslavement, just possession. Marlene doesn’t want to let me go, and I, well, I can’t hold on to her. I’m a bit drunk. Not very. Will you come over, Emmi? Shall we kiss? My sister says you’re very beautiful, Emmi, whoever you are. Have you ever kissed a stranger? I’m going to have another swig of the Friuli now. I’ll drink to us both. I’m already a bit drunk. But not very. And now it’s your turn again. Write to me, Emmi. Writing is like kissing, just without the lips. Writing is kissing with the mind. Emmi, Emmi, Emmi.
    Four minutes later
    Re:
    Ah well, I suppose I imagined our first midnight date would be a bit different. Leo drunk as a fart!! But it does have a certain charm. Do you know what? I’ll make it short—the words are probably swimming at this stage anyway. But if you’re in the mood, if you can manage it, why don’t you tell me a bit more about your home life. Please don’t write anything that you might regret tomorrow morning, when you wake from your delirium. I’m going to drink a glass of French red from the Rhone valley, a 1997. Here’s to you! But I’d advise you to switch to water. Or make yourself some strong coffee.
    Fifty minutes later
    Re:
    You’re so harsh, Emmi. Don’t be so harsh. I don’t want coffee. I want Emmi. Come over to my place. Let’s drink another small glass of wine. We could wear blindfolds, like in the film. I don’t know what the film’s called, I’ll have to think about it. I’d really love to kiss you. I don’t care what you look like. I’ve fallen in love with your words. Write what you want. Feel free to be harsh. I love it all. You see, deep down you’re not harsh really. But you force yourself to be, you just want to make out you’re stronger than you are. Marlene doesn’t touch booze. Marlene is a very sober woman, yet fascinating. That’s what everybody who knows her says. She got together with a pilot, from Spain. But it’s all over now. She says there’s only one man for her and that’s me. That’s a lie, you know. She can’t have me