Your Perfect Year(116)

And if he were honest, he had not wanted to ruin his chances with her by giving a crushing verdict, as that would have . . . put a strain on her opinion of him. And, of course, he was still worried that she might somehow find out about his atrocious rejection letter, even though he had immediately and irrevocably deleted the file from his hard drive back in May.

Jonathan felt ill just thinking about it. The principle of living one’s life in all honesty and openness was another matter when it came to peace of mind.

He resolved to tell Hannah as soon as possible that the acquisitions editor had unfortunately turned down Simon’s novel. Even though the news was bound to disappoint her a lot. He had to do it, but not yet, not today. Not on this wonderful summer’s day with her . . .

Hannah—Saturday, August 25

“To be honest, I feel a bit stupid,” Lisa whispered. “I’m not a chaperone!”

“Not so loud,” Hannah hissed. “You’ll wake him.”

“Him?” Lisa indicated the snoring Jonathan. “He looks like a man in a coma to me.”

Hannah laughed. “Rather a noisy coma.”

“What was it I read?” Lisa asked. “Men snore because they need to keep wild animals at bay at night?”

“Glad to hear it. Who knows what wild animals would have attacked us here otherwise?”

“On the beach at St. Peter-Ording? Let me see . . . the evil North Sea shrimps?”

Hannah laughed again. Then she sighed, drew her sleeping bag more tightly around her, and looked up to the sky. “But seriously, now: Isn’t it lovely to sleep out under the stars on a night like this? With the murmur of the sea as a soundtrack?”

“Yes, it is. But it would have been even nicer for you two if you hadn’t brought me along.”

“I can’t spend a night alone with Jonathan!”

“First of all, we’re in sleeping bags on the beach, and second, since when have you been such a prude?”

“I’m not a prude!”

“Oh yes you are.”

“I’m not sure yet how much I like him.”

“Believe me, you like him a lot. I’ve known you for a year or two.”

Hannah said nothing for a moment, because she had no idea how to reply. Finally, she whispered, “Yes, I like him very much. But my head’s all over the place. Simon hasn’t been gone a year.”

“And?” Lisa said. “In ten years, when you and Jonathan have three kids, no one’s going to question whether you acted according to convention and waited twelve months from the passing of your first fiancé.”

“Oh, get away!” Hannah scooped up a handful of sand and threw it at her friend.

“Hey, sand isn’t fair!”

“Words aren’t either!”

Jonathan—Saturday, September 22

“I just can’t believe you’ve never gone barhopping in the red-light district,” Hannah said, shaking her head as they pushed their way through the crowds on the Reeperbahn. “Every guy in Hamburg’s done that at some time in their lives!”

“Not me.” Jonathan felt embarrassed, exposed somehow. He had thought the same thing himself often enough, but he hadn’t wanted to lie about it to Hannah—and since the diary prescribed a night out in the red-light district, ending with breakfast at the fish market, he had immediately confessed to his Reeperbahn-free life.

“But what about your rebellious teenage years?” she asked.

“I was busy with other things then.”

“What, for example? Sailing? Golf?”

“Yes, golf. For example.”

“And you never staggered down the side streets off the Reeperbahn, drunk out of your skull, spewed somewhere, and made a real exhibition of yourself?”

Feeling annoyance bubbling up inside, he stopped and looked sternly at Hannah. “No. I’ve already told you! Can you stop it now, please? I don’t need you making me feel more stupid than I already do.”

She looked shocked. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I certainly didn’t mean to make you feel stupid.”

“But I do,” he sulked. “Like an innocent little schoolkid who hasn’t lived.”

“Well, now, come with me, little schoolkid!” She grabbed his hand and Jonathan felt as though an electric shock were passing through it. “We’ll soon make up for lost time, so you never have to feel like that ever again.” Laughing, she dragged him after her toward Hans Albers Square.

Four hours later, Jonathan had discovered that, despite his inexperience, he had the makings of a regular Reeperbahn cruiser. Swaying slightly, he stood by Hannah at the bar of La Paloma bellowing out ABBA hits along with about a hundred other drunken people.

An hour later they went to the Silbersack for more dancing, although dancing was hardly the right word for it given the crush—it was more like sardines in a tin trying to coordinate their movements as best they could with all the other sardines.

Another hour later, at Molly Malone, Jonathan was playing air guitar to U2’s “With or Without You,” while Hannah screamed like a wild groupie.

At a little before six, they were standing in the fish market. They didn’t have prawn sandwiches, but they were arm in arm, watching the feverish activity of the night’s revelers, somehow feeling a part of it all.