Arnon Grunberg


My car

Almost ten years ago I met an Austrian journalist at a festival in Tyrol.
We stayed in contact, albeit many years passed by without any vital sign of life from each other.
She moved to Geneva and I stayed in New York.
A couple of months ago she sent me an e-mail that she was going to travel to Vienna and she asked me if I would like to meet her there.
I answered that this wouldn’t be possible but that I would travel to Geneva soon and that we could meet each other in Switzerland.
Tonight, we had an appointment to have dinner in Geneva.
An hour before dinner she sent me an e-mail that her car broke down, she was living in a small city approximately 30 miles east from Geneva, and that she couldn’t make it. But perhaps we could meet each other tomorrow.
I wrote back: “Alas, I’m leaving tomorrow morning early.” Then she answered: “Perhaps we could meet each other in Nyon, that’s halfway between Geneva and my city.” I wrote: “I have to get up tomorrow morning early, I cannot make it to Nyon. But if you manage to come to Geneva tonight, give me a call.” She remained silent after this e-mail.
I had dinner at the bar at my hotel. The appetizer was good; the main dish was okay.