Love Is Pink!

The girl’s cheeky blue eyes examined me intensely. “Are you dead?” Emma asked. And in that moment, everything came back to me.

“I wish I were,” I said, starting to sob.

“Well, you certainly gave it a good shot!” That was David’s voice behind me. “What were you thinking, climbing that snow mound? You almost got yourself killed! Completely irresponsible.”

Instead of replying, I sobbed even harder. Then I stammered, “I w-want to go into the ci-ci-city. I want to go to—to the consulate. I—I need money and a pa-assport. I want to go h-home!”

A large hand nudged Emma a little bit to the side, and then David’s face appeared in my field of vision. He seemed upset. “If you go to the consulate now, you won’t be able to accomplish anything. They’re closed at this hour.”

“B-but I have to f-fly to Berlin im-immediately. At all costs.”

“Fly? We’re getting hit with a real blizzard. This place will be completely snowed in. All the planes in Geneva will be grounded for the next few days.”

David stood up and reached down for my hands. With his help, I got up awkwardly, rocking back and forth.

“Did you hear what I said?” he asked. “Anyone who doesn’t leave this evening will probably need to wait until Christmas.”

“Christmas?” I screamed. “You beast! You monster! By then my life will be completely ruined!”

David tried to placate me, but his kindness did just the opposite. Desperately, I beat on his chest. It was as hard as a rock, and my fists accomplished nothing. But it felt good to get out some of my frustration.

After awhile, he held down my hands and pulled me closer. As I came up for air, exhausted, he said, “Emma and I need to get to Berlin, too.”

“And?” I said, breathless.

“If you want, we’ll take you with us.” He let go of my wrists but continued holding me still with his dark-blue eyes.

“Really?” I said. “That’s right. You’re driving to Berlin. But . . .” Fresh tears rolled down my cheeks as I pointed at the red-pink monster. “In this car?”

A proud smile came over David’s face. “I see that you’ve fallen in love with the Citro?n.”

A small hand grabbed my right one. I looked down and was confronted by those wide, innocent eyes. “Isn’t that right?” Emma said. “We have the most beautiful car in the whole world! And you, Michelle, are even allowed to sit up front with Papa!”

I had no idea how to respond to this childish logic. Also, I felt a new bout of dizziness coming on, as though I might lose consciousness again.

Powerless, I fell forward. But this time David was there to catch me. His arms were around my back and my hips. And it felt good, the way he stood there, hugging and supporting me. Maybe he even held me for a moment longer than he needed to.

I got bashful and took a step back.

“Question,” he said.

I cleared my throat. “Yeah?”

“Please don’t think I’m being importunate, but when was the last time you ate something?”

“Food? This morning,” I said. “A little fruit salad without sugar, a decaf coffee with sweetener and skim milk.”

“That’s it?”

“After that, my purse got stolen. The taxi driver abandoned meat the rest stop. I escaped from the pig truck, walked twelve kilometers on the side of the highway, and ruined my most expensive boots in the snowstorm.”

David raised his hand and, to my own surprise, I fell silent. “I think,” he said, “that we should get you something to eat.”

I wanted to deliver a quick-witted response, but I simply uttered, “That makes sense.”

David led me to the car while Emma watched my suitcases. It was easy—all we had to do was to walk around the mound of snow. Why hadn’t I seen that option before? Climbing the mound and falling down the other side hadn’t been necessary at all.

The Citro?n, which looked as dingy and run-down as it had an hour ago, was relatively warm inside, and the leather of the old seats smelled pretty good. While David struggled to stow my luggage in the trunk for the second time today, Emma crawled up from the backseat. She rested her hand on my shoulder, pressed her tiny face next to mine, and whispered, “I was hoping you’d come back. You’re funny. We always have fun with you.”

I patted her arm just as David opened the driver’s side door. He slid behind the wheel and gave me a conspiratorial look.

“Yes?” I asked.

“What do you think—is it going to start?” Without awaiting my response, he reached for the ignition. This time I was ready. A short, hard bang followed by a tremor that rocked the car chugged us into motion.

“Yahoo! We’re moving!” Emma cheered.

I leaned back in my seat and exhaled deeply.

“Papa, Papa!” Emma said. “You forgot something!” She pointed to the old radio. “Michelle loves music. Maybe you’ll find a Christmas song.”

David pushed the half-broken button, the antique speaker crackled, and I braced myself for George Michael’s voice.

Far from it!

It was Bing Crosby’s turn, and the blithering idiot was actually dreaming of a white Christmas.





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