“I wanted to thank you again. Not just because you like it, but because I truly mean it. That we wrote a 170-page story together, one I will carry with me for the rest of my life; that thanks to you I became a co-author of a real novel; that you infuse my everyday with energy and life elixir; that I can continue to grow and learn as a writer; that you urge me to keep writing, to trust my own inspiration; that you gifted me a female character, shaping her with me—a woman who is strong, who lives her desires, who demands, who feels not even the slightest shame; the thrill, the humor, the profound connection in reading. Thank you.” Christine Zarrath

*

“Fiddling with divine energy, such as CCs, is dangerous and intoxicating on a cosmic scale. I adore you, JJ, and what you do with words. Your words are magic spells, lifting me, illuminating me. Like a diamond finally allowed to sparkle in all its facets. I hope some of this intense shimmer, this energy, reflects back to you.” Christine Zarrath

*

Nana looks around. A painting reminds her of a catastrophe etched into collective memory. On January 28, 1986, NASA’s STS-51-L ended in disaster immediately after launch. The shuttle shattered midair. A spiraling plume of fire wove across the sky. The world had never seen anything like it. Among the victims was Judith Arlene ‘Judy’ Resnik, whose parents had emigrated from Ukraine to Ohio.

Nana is barely conscious of these details. She drinks from them freely.

The erotic dimension of a disappointment

“Tell me,” he begins, “about the book that has truly ignited you lately. The one that drove you wild. It helps me understand you.”

Vernon now assumes the role of the classically grandiose seducer—measured, restrained—fully aware that the real fascination lies in genuine, unfiltered interest. The target is placed at the center, only to be gently deconstructed later with the knowledge acquired. Not the most flattering turn Nana could imagine. Yet it does not overwhelm her.

Vernon seeks no exposure. He needs solid ground beneath his feet. Nana will not lure him easily across his secret shores. She must reckon with trained cunning. There is nothing more dangerous than a first-category jealous lover. More on categories later.

“I found Brigitte Bardot’s Memoirs… hot.”

Nana discloses her latest memorable reading. She knows Vernon expects more, and senses the erotic dimension in his disappointment.

Vernon gains nothing from Nana’s fascination with a glamorous, controversial woman. Nana, however, needs it—for her sex. As mistress of the moment, she sets the accents, gives stage directions. She guides Vernon’s gaze to her virtues. The full display. All for him, if he dares confront the obstacles my excellence agenda imposes.

Nana mirrors BB’s sensuality, her hourglass figure, her passion for dance.

She identifies with her. Shares with the famous woman “that absolute devotion to her romances.” She admires “the uncompromising way BB lived her own ideas.” That BB left her child to make films—scandalous in the 1960s. The blazing fire of her temperament, her sensitivity and vulnerability, her total exertion, and ruthless collapse.

These are the trivia of my existence … “That touches me, do you understand?”

Sometimes they speak English—the Anglist and the American. But mostly Nana wants Vernon to speak German. His carefully chosen, treasure-like foreignness delights her, extending even into clandestine expansions of her erogenous spectrum.

His stoic ambition to speak better German than the natives, especially in the absurdly provincial small town of his expatriate life. To be better dressed. Better tempered. Better informed. Add Texan gigantism… on the pulpit of claimed supremacy. American by birth, Texan by the grace of God. Nana knows it all … in Texas, everything is bigger, even the men. The Waylon Jennings style: “I may be crazy, but it keeps me from going insane.”

Vernon instantly understands what is revealed and foreshadowed: a reckless willingness for excess, the desire to burn down all obstacles. He invents excuses, drifts into moderated zones. Plays the lecturer. The conqueror is tucked away in his pocket. The pocket jester waits for his next act. He has all the time in the world, ample latitude. Vernon is undeniably the most fascinating Germanist far and wide. The reliefs on his hands and forearms remind Nana of dendritic river networks. For the male attributes within her reach, she forgives Vernon for almost stepping back.

“It’s interesting that you feel so elevated while exercising strategic restraint. Do you enjoy the idea of going all in without control, of throwing yourself and others to the wolves of your chimeras?”

Vernon launches the next assault on Nana’s protocol. Should this love story acquire demonic dimensions, he intends to be the demon.