Chapter 7
Elina
Even though I’ve only completed ten out of the fifteen minutes’ walk from my accommodation to Dr. Taler’s general practice, I'm chilled to the core. I pull up the collar of my spring jacket, reach for my phone, and dial my mother’s number.
Even if she didn’t ask for it, I want to let her know I arrived safely. Plus, I want to find out if she was able to do anything for Aaron yesterday.
It rings.
After twenty monotonous beeps, I’m directed to voicemail.
I guess I’ll have to try again later. With a mixture of disappointment and concern, I put the phone back into my pocket and focus my gaze ahead.
If Hanna’s directions were correct, the practice should be over there on the ground floor of the white-painted single-family house. It looks more modern than many other buildings in the village. That gives me hope that Dr. Taler’s practice hasn’t been stuck in the past like everything else around here.
My pumps clatter noisily against the road as I march toward the house. Once I turn the corner, I know I’m in the right place. Office hours don’t start for another thirty minutes, yet a handful of people are already waiting in front of the entrance. An elderlywoman with a headscarf leans heavily on her walking stick. She is chatting with a tall man wearing work overalls and a winter jacket. In her hand, she holds something that looks like a Mason jar. I instantly recognize the yellowish-clear liquid inside.
It takes effort, but I manage to force a smile. Politely, I greet the villagers, who all scrutinize me skeptically. I don’t let it get to me and ascend the three steps leading up to the entrance. When I open the door, as Dr. Taler asked me to do in her message yesterday, excited whispers break out behind me.
Quickly, I enter the practice, where I am greeted by pleasantly warm air. It smells of disinfectant. I take a deep breath and close my eyes, trying to feel a little bit at home.
But even though the scent is right, this place is nothing like a hospital. It’s so quiet here that I can hear my own breath. With a sigh, I open my eyes, straighten my back, and walk along the gray-tiled corridor until I spot a room with a reception desk.
Again, there is no one in sight. Behind the dark wooden desk stands a modern white office chair. The low-hanging lamps illuminate a desk, also in white, where chaos reigns. I turn my gaze to the waiting room.
The blue-gray linoleum floor is worn, and the chairs, although covered in leather, look out of place against the oversized landscape painting. In the corner is a designated waiting area for children. The small wooden chairs remind me of the lovingly crafted armchairs in front of my cabin. Inevitably, I smile as I continue walking down the hallway. I pass rooms with numbered labels. One and two, that's it. On the left is anarrow room that houses the lab and likely serves as a storage area as well.
That’s all. I've reached a dead end.
Lost in thought, I turn around and march back. Behind the reception desk, I notice a door hidden away.
I knock cautiously, but there’s no response.
Heavens, they must know that I’m coming today. Why isn’t anyone here to receive me?
I press my lips together, trying to suppress the most natural explanation. Then I open the door and finally discover the first signs of life.
The scent of coffee and soft music.
I follow the scent and ultimately enter a room that definitely doesn’t belong to the practice. It’s a spacious kitchen with floor-length curtains and modern furniture. Futuristic-looking images of colorful mist and brightly lit dots hang on the cream-painted walls.
"She’s here!" a female voice exclaims. And seconds later, I find out who it belongs to. A woman about my age suddenly appears before me as if out of thin air. Her red hair is braided into thick plaits, and her giant green eyes beam at me. "Hello, I’m Clara, Helene’s medical assistant."
I shake the hand she extends to me, smiling as I notice the multiple plastic bracelets and the voluminous white ruffled skirt she pairs with a simple T-shirt. "Elina, nice to meet you," I reply with a smile.
"You’re from Vienna, right? That’s so cool." Almost reverently, she places her free hand on her chest and suggests a curtsy. "Subways, concerts, museums, and multi-lane roads. Everything’s there. It’s just amazing." She talks like a waterfall, still shaking my hand.
"Oh yes, Vienna is perfect," I dreamily reply, once again wishing I could go back already.
She pulls me along to the elegant kitchen counter, turns off the radio, and hands me a cup of coffee. "Tell me everything," she pleads conspiratorially, never taking her eyes off me. "What’s it like living there? Have you been to Schönbrunn Palace? And do you go shopping on Mariahilfer Straße?"
I can’t help but smile. "We’re going to get along great."
"Definitely, for sure," she continues chattering cheerfully. "You have to tell me where you bought that blouse. It’s to die for. And your shoes. Wow!" Her cheeks are flushed, and her legs fidget.
"Thank you." Relief washes over me. My landlady, Hanna, is nice but seems like a country girl with whom I have little in common. On the other hand, Clara is someone I could talk to endlessly.
"And your hair..."
