My Mum handed me a crisp white envelope, with blue open handwriting, and a German stamp. I was excited. I opened it up carefully but hastily, greedily reading his writing, he wrote:
"I am sorry I had to leave so soon after you arrived. I hope you had a good time in Athens...."
His grammar was excellent and I particularly liked the uniform curves of his writing. I could tell by his pen strokes that he wrote and thought swiftly. I had studied handwriting analysis books because I concluded from life experience, that my choice of men up until now, well I had such a poor judgement of character.
Dionisis was eloquent and charming captured in script, just like he was in person and he had even drawn some cartoons in black rotring ink. I reread the letter, mulled over the contents, trying to disseminate a smell from the crisp leaf, enjoyed the glow that the receipt of his letter gave me; he had wasted no time in writing to me. In my head I was spinning like a top. I grinned to myself and lay on my bed, entranced by the receipt of such promise. I could see from his garland writing that he had an open and responsive personality. It told me that he was rarely aggressive with often experienced great sentimentality. From this extremely straight baseline in his writing, there was a lack of spontaneity and he was therefore rigidly controlled as a person, especially fastidious and sensitive and possibly withdrawn or shy. The slant of his writing told me that he was a determined planner who was ambitious career wise. Dionisis had very wide spacing between words which signalled his desire for isolation. I could pick up he was introverted like me. It was always a helpful guide.
"Dear Dionisis,
I was delighted to receive your letter, it was great to hear from you. I am surprised that Alexandros remembered to pass my details on but I'm so glad he did!"
I smiled to myself. Then the overthinking started. Does this mean he likes me to or maybe he likes the idea of having someone to write to?
"I was sorry that you had to leave so soon, it would have been nice to get to know you better. How long have you been in Heidelberg, how fluent are you in German? What is it like being so far away from home and what are you studying in Heidelberg? So many questions, I am sorry, but I did want to ask when you were in Club but it was too noisy and time for us was so brief.
I envy you living abroad and speaking languages so fluently. I would love to travel more. My Mum wouldn't give me permission for me to learn German at school because she was born in 1934 and her childhood memories haunted her, so much so that my education was thwarted for German. I would like to tour around some day.
When I was at school the German class did a school trip but of course I couldn't go and I felt like I had missed out on that sadly. Why did you choose Heidelberg to study?
Anyway enough nosiness from me! I hope you are well and not studying too hard. "
I paused, and asked myself: how do I sign this letter? I deliberated and crossed out. I settled on
I hope to hear again soon.
Best wishes,
Megan x
I penned a response, made revisions and then chose some coloured writing paper and sealed it with a subtle but gentle spray of perfume. I loved writing letters and this particular one brought such joy. I hoped for more. I stuck a European priced stamp on it, along with an air mail sticker. It was always in my imagination, as to the journey of my letter. As I cradled it to the postbox, thrusting it into the mouth of the shiny vessel, I waved it goodbye. The post box wasn't too far to walk to. I posted it pretty much by return. But he wouldn't know as the post took days.
I imagined the postman turning the key into the postbox and releasing the deluge of letters. I never got tired of thinking about the letters being sorted into boring UK and exotic abroad piles. I visualised the large bags of post, brimming full like Santa's slay, engulfing the plane hold with messages of love, stories of what was to come, memories of the past and general connections between people that were so treasured, compared with other mediums. I imagined it finding its way with its companions to Germany, sauntering its way to Historic Heidelberg and falling through the letter box. I wanted to be that letter. I wanted to be handled and gazed on by Dionisis and have all his attention for a moment. Lucky letter. I wondered if he'd treat it gently and reread it and perhaps imagine me wearing the fragrance that soaked into the colourful pages and if he would think of me. I wanted him to spring forth branches of memories of our brief evening together, close on the dancefloor with me, relaxing sipping at a glass whilst the lights danced on our table, and think fondly of me.
Before long, Mum hollered, "Megan post and it's for you!"
Excitedly I ran for my next welcome installment of Dionisis. I enjoyed how the familiarity grew. I poured over the inky deutsche postmark and the alien stamps, punctuating its place on the now familiar white envelopes and blue Dionisis font. Dionisis sent me cartoons, and photos (He was clearly keen on photography and so was I.) I got my first Kodak camera at ten years old for my birthday. I remembered my Father warning, "Now remember Meggy, camera film is expensive and fragile. Don't open the back, be careful not to overwind the film and don't waste it." I filled it full of being at home with my family and animals. It was turned into my Dad's favourite medium, slides. I had a little eye piece to slot them into and magnify them. Their orange and white box that contained them was cherished. Soon after more so as our beloved family dog, Ching died and was preserved.
I looked forward to receiving and drinking in the stories that he shared freely about himself. I imagined him sat at a desk thinking about what to share and images of my curly spirals and dress clad curves in his mind's eye.
Dionisis shared with me in his next letter that he had moved to Germany to live with his Aunt, whilst he studied obsessively. His younger brother Giannis had joined them, also to study. Dionisis had moved out and now was flat sharing in Heidelberg. He never said but I think his Aunt was controlling and disapproved of him having some social life, so for that reason Dionisis had chosen to live an easy commute from the University instead, and in a student house. However it was clear the house was an expensive luxury.
"There's a letter for you!" Mum teased. I rushed down to get it.
I read with glee "I am inviting you to come and stay with me in Heidelberg. There will be the space for you to have your own room if you come in early March." He invited me to visit him in Heidelberg! Overthinking head on, 'but you hardly know him.' Did I need to think it over? My heart replied No! The flight was to be booked. My heart lept with uncontrollable excitement.
One thing crossed my mind. 'Do I send him a Valentine card?' I made a decision not to. After all I didn't really know if my attraction for him was returned. We weren't dating. Part of me thought it was a clear way for me to tell him how I felt but now that he'd invited me, I didn't want him to feel awkward.
It was the following Spring of 1993.
I had been given ugliest and boxiest Company car as I was the newest member of staff to join the IT trainers at my Company. It was one of two Yugo Sanas. When someone said Company Car to me it evoked an image of something striking, plush, carrying prestige. My Company car was an uncomfortable drive with no performance, the sun roof leaked and the gearstick felt like it was manouvered through treacly tar. I did get the opportunity to share the driving of the Sales Director's Vauxhall Carlton when I did pre-sales demonstrations. The Carlton was opulent luxury in comparison, with its 1.8 engine and electric side mirrors. It felt enormous. It was the epitome of a luxury treasure. Mine felt like it carried the style and finesse of a tonka toy.
We had some real characters at work and most of them were in Sales. The Sales team were located on the floor above me. We had three salespeople, all men. Robert was in his thirties, he had a 'look at me' prescence about him and he worked out. Most of the time he carried an air of a peacock strutting along the corridors. Having had a role in the navy, he'd seen a lot of the world and knew how to suck the marrow out of life. There was no doubt that he belonged in the role he did. My eyes were always drawn involuntarily to the dimple just below his bottom lip when he talked. He was drawn like a comic character. Yet surprisingly Robert was very camp in his mannerisms and conversation. However he liked to cultivate a reputation of being anything but. It was a fact that Robert was always impeccably dressed in a suit that matched his hair colour. He kept his curly topped cropped hair regularly trimmed and he always smelt like a trip passed the perfume counter in any large department store.
Having just returned from an adventure in Thailand and Bangkok, Robert liked to make my hair curl beyond its current wave, with his avant-garde stories and invariably he was characteristically vulgar too. He orchestrated surprise by acting outrageously and today was no different. Robert was showing me photographs of tits and transgender bodies. One could tell that they were immediately, but he told me I was the only one he'd shown them to who could distinguish. It as clear that these people liked to parade their supermodel bodies after investing in surgery to sculpt them. Their bodies were too perfect. I felt I had an unhealthy curiosity to ask about the subject more and Robert would have quite gladly enlightened me. But I thought it best to stop there. He needed no further encouragement.
"So I picked up this girl in one of the bars where the drinks were so cheap. I took her back to the hotel for some rest and recreation. As we got down to the task in hand, it was very apparent very quickly, that she was carrying more anatomy than the average woman I've come across!"
He let out a spontaneous deep and volumous belly laugh. His shoulders shook when he laughed, it was such a physical experience for him.
"I made a swift exit, that's for sure! Anyway Meg enough of that, when are you going to take a photocopy of those beautiful tits of yours!"
"That's my queue for a sharp exit!" I laughed. I rolled my eyes as this was a familiar line from him and I went back to my desk.