Life can be so hard and unfair, can’t it?
That’s how it feels to me anyway, as I stand frowning in the wide archway of the old palace where the embassy of Terengia is located. I can’t remember the last time I was in such a bad mood.
My frustrated gaze wanders over to the two almost life-size, half-naked statues that line the entrance. I have always wondered why architects once thought it was a good idea to put naked people on façades even if they are made of marble. Usually, the statues amuse me or peak my curiosity, but not today. Today, nothing can help get me out of my black mood.
A piercing wind blows through the courtyard, and as it slices through my body, I shudder. For goodness’ sake! Why does it have to be so cold today, of all days?
I mean, I know it’s December … but still.
I pull my blazer tighter around my body. I left the thick black winter coat my mother gave me three years ago in the office, thinking the cold air would do me some good—what an idiot. I wonder bleakly if this is how I’ll die. Some illness caused by the cold weather will take hold of me and I’ll waste away. A part of me would welcome it. At least then I wouldn’t have to deal with everything else that’s going on.
Get a grip, man, I mentally scold myself. Things are not that bad!
To take my mind off my dark thoughts, I look towards the paved road. It can only be a matter of seconds until they arrive.
Shivering, I shuffle from one foot to the other but the added activity doesn’t stop my thoughts from going back to the letter that landed on my desk yesterday.
If I’m honest, it’s arrival shouldn’t have surprised me. I was half expecting it, and being flexible is part of the job description.
At last, the large, black Mercedes sedan with diplomatic license plate drives down the elegant road. I can spot the small Terengian flags on the hood of the car even from this distance. The narrow red strip on the flag immediately catches my eye, while the dark blue background is more difficult to make out in the light fog that engulfs the city. The yellow coat of arms in the middle, however, seems to shine brightly on the dark fabric. These flags serve just one purpose: to show this is an official state visit.
Despite my bad mood, my heart fills with pride. I can’t believe I am here. Doing this job. It’s a dream come true. For more than two years, I’ve been deputy ambassador of my small home country in Austria’s capital, Vienna. Although, it’s been a few months since I’ve last set foot in my homeland.
A deep sense of longing washes over me as I think of the rolling hills and wild cliffs of the island state in the North Sea that I call my home country. As thoughts of Terengia fill my mind, it almost feels as if the Viennese wind blows a breeze of sea air my way.
I’m instantly transported to those cherished moments of warm summer evenings spent in the cozy beach hut my parents used to rent each year. The nights would cool down just enough for us to gather around a campfire where my dad captivated me with his endless stories and my mom sat beside us, knitting and shaking her head in amusement at Dad’s tall tales. Those were always magical times.
The squealing of the embassy car’s brakes almost mimics the screams of the seagulls, and in my mind’s eye I can see the pale light announcing the dawn over the sea.
I sigh. For the first time today, my mind calms, and I try to hold on to that feeling with everything I have: My parents and me laughing, the feeling of sand between my toes, the warm wind. I really should make time to go to the beach with my parents again this summer, like we did so many times before … When life was simple.
I spoke to my mom on the phone last night. I couldn’t bring myself to mention the letter. Instead, we talked about the weather. What else is there to moan about in winter? That’s something both countries share—it’s just as unpleasantly cold in Terengia as it is here in Vienna.
The car stopping in front of the entrance to the embassy pulls me out of my thoughts. Franz, our driver, winks at me through his window as he shuts down the engine.
With his silver hair and years of service at the embassy, he’s become a father figure to all of us. Deep down, he senses that I’m not in the best frame of mind at the moment, even though he can’t fully understand what I’m going through. Still, he’s been trying to cheer me up all day.
First, he brought me my favorite pastry: Powidltascherl. Those small, plum-filled puff pastries are a tiny piece of fruity heaven, and I haven’t been able to get enough of them since I first tasted them at an embassy reception almost two years ago. I moaned so loudly that the Chinese ambassador’s wife, who happened to be standing next to me, couldn’t help but giggle.
But Franz was determined to lift my spirits even further. As he prepared to leave for his pickup at the airport, he made sure my favorite music was playing, knowing how much it meant to me. My heart hurts at the thought of having to leave him behind soon.
As Franz steps out of the car and moves toward our guest’s door, something unexpected happens. The car door is abruptly opened from the inside, nearly knocking down the elderly gentleman. I’m momentarily blindsided by the potential mishap, but after a shocked pause, I hurry toward the car. Franz waves me off with a soothing gesture. Nothing happened, thank God! More problems are the last thing I need today.
Through the open door, I see a young man with light brown hair and a red face. He stammers a few stuttered excuses which reach my ear before the rest of the sentence is blown away by the sharp wind.
I’m in Vienna. Oh my gosh! I still can’t believe it.
For years, I have been dreaming about visiting this city right before Christmas, and now I’m part of an official state visit. It’s so crazy!
But before I can even set foot outside the state car, I almost kill my driver with the car door.
Shit! Shit! Shit! I mentally berate myself.
I’m mortified at first, but thankfully, the polite driver skillfully intercepts the door, which I opened with way too much enthusiasm. Luckily, I haven’t done any damage and relief floods through me. I stammer one apology after another, as I ask myself, Why am I such a klutz? In my defense, I’ve never had anyone open a car door for me before, so I wasn’t expecting it to happen.
I take a moment to let my heart rate slow, and my eyes wander to the building that stands majestically behind the driver.
Two white columns stand on either side of the wide entrance gate. The inner columns morph into two huge, scantily clad, male statues that carry the semicircular porch on their marble shoulders. The yellow-painted façade has finely carved white columns, and the windows are surrounded by white stuccoed frames and coats of arms. It’s simply incredible.
My eyes are then caught by a movement. I notice a person emerging from the shadow of the round archway of the building. As he steps into the dull winter sun, I feel something happening inside of me, something I’ve never felt before.
Stunned, I blink once … twice … No, he’s not a mirage, he’s still there.
I’m looking at the man of my dreams.
While I stand at just under five foot five—in shoes—an actual giant is walking towards me. He has close-cropped dark hair, a clean-shaven face, and beautiful blue eyes. With my mouth open, I freeze despite only being half out of the car. One leg is still inside and I’m half bent over, but I can’t stop staring at this perfect specimen of a man.
Luckily, he doesn’t seem bothered by my strange behavior, so I can only guess that he’s used to people reacting this way when they first clap eyes on him.
“Kilian Henderson.”
He shakes my hand. It takes a moment for me to understand that the syllables reaching my ears at this precise moment are his name. I try to answer like a normal person with my own name, but I’m so bowled over that I almost bite my own tongue as I reply.
“P-P-Paul,” I finally stammer out.
This is so embarrassing! Why can’t I even say my own name?
A kind smile appears on the lips of the sex god in front of me. It’s a look you’d give a lost puppy, and frankly, that won’t do at all. I don’t want him to look at me with gentle eyes. I want him to rip my clothes off and—
A honking car yanks me out of my thoughts.
Goddamn it! What’s going on? Am I really still standing half inside, half outside the car, holding the other man’s hand and having sex fantasies?
I’m forced to wonder if they put something in the water here. Not that I’ve had anything to drink since I landed, and I’m pretty sure the bottled water I drank on the plane was of impeccable quality, but …
Why am I thinking about water quality all of a sudden?
Snap out of it, Paul! I mentally yell at myself.
With a bit of effort, I manage to move my muscles, but I’m still so stiff and clumsy I manage to drop Kilian’s hand like a hot potato.
Nicely handled, Paul …
To round this first impression off nicely, as I stand up and take a deep, fortifying breath, a gust of wind slaps strands of my hair across my face, and into my mouth, entirely blocking my view.
Smooth, Paul, super smooth.