07-10-2025, 01:07 PM
Quarry lake couple
Jens stormed in and flung his backpack behind the large yucca palm in the seating area.
“Hey, what's the point!!”
"Retard...”
Jenny and Tatjana from the eighth grade had taken possession of the couch, sipping Kiba and discussing the latest world-shattering Facebook news, when they almost fell victim to Jens' dynamic appearance. It's unthinkable that the deep red juice would have spilled over their expensive miniskirts and smartphones if the bullet had hit them...
Jens didn't care about the outraged cackling for a second and came over to the pool table, where I was just pushing the balls around with Finn, Pasquale and Denis. The sixth graders managed to pot the balls rather by chance, but that didn't harm their zeal.
“Hey, Moritz!“ Jens came over. ‘You, I urgently need to have a chat with you... wow, you won't believe it, but it's impossible...’
”Hey, Jens! Okay, no problem. I'll just finish this round."
I sunk two balls and then lost my next shot so as not to show off in front of the boys.
“Great, when you need your social worker right away...“ Jens grinned ironically and continued his excited torrent of words.
”You won't believe what happened to me. It's a total scandal... Nasty... Now get on with it!“ he snapped at Denis, who was planning his next shot rather laboriously.
”Oh man, what a sacrifice...”
Denis missed the targeted ball and glared angrily at the man who was a head and a half taller than him.
“Piss off!”
“Jens, stay out of this. Get yourself a drink and find a quiet corner, I'll be right there and can devote myself fully to your cause,” I intervened again to prevent Denis' cue from hurting either of them.
“All right, man. Dude, I've been trying to catch you all day. You always disappeared during the breaks. It's best if we go to your office right away. So go for it and crush them...” Jens disappeared to the bar. Bar – that was the rustic wooden counter where students could buy soft drinks, juice cocktails, and sweets.
Looking after the school club four afternoons a week was one of my main tasks at the Willy-Brandt-Realschule. In addition to various leisure activities, it was mainly a place to 'hang out' and it was easy to get in touch with the students. Over time, trust developed, and it was not uncommon for me to be the point of contact for problems and concerns of all kinds, both academic and non-academic. Taking these seriously and discussing them was just the job I was paid for and enjoyed doing. Since I had a good relationship with many students as well as with the teaching staff, I was able to mediate in most cases of conflict and thus relieve the school day for everyone.
Pasquale, who was my teammate, managed to sink our last ball. After loudly celebrating and high-fiving me, he aimed for the black one. Missed...
The school club was a spacious room next to the boiler room. When I started the job a few years ago, I had completely renovated and redesigned it together with the students during the summer holidays. A donation run had raised a decent sum, which was used to purchase paints, sofa covers, cozy floor lamps and, of course, the pool table. Foosball, darts and a ping-pong table were already available. Worn seating from all over the community was saved from the bulky waste and brought in by tractor, which the grandpa of an older student provided. The same was true for a used refrigerator for the bar. The project contributed significantly to the students identifying with the room and enjoying spending time in it. They also realized that they could achieve something and make a difference through joint effort. This was also expressed by the visual highlight to the right of the bar. An Obama caricature with the graffiti slogan 'Yes we can!' Of course, you can smile about it now, but at the time the wave of euphoria was huge and had taken hold of us; the slogan in particular was just right.
Denis and Finn burst into gleeful cheers when Pasquale pocketed the black ball in the next round. The little half-Italian looked at me with consternation.
“Shit... revenge?!”
"Unfortunately, I can't make it, I promised Jens I'd come. Maybe later. You can do it on your own!”
I shook his hand again, then I strolled over to the bar, where Jens was flirting with Gül. The bar service was taken over by the graduating classes, which, surprisingly, was an extremely popular task. Perhaps it was because it also included control of the music system, so the 'barkeepers' could try their hand at being 'DJs'. Today, however, Gül seemed rather bored. There was hardly anything going on. With the hot summer weather, the young people were probably spending most of their time at the outdoor pool.
“Hey Gül, a glass of water, please.” I found anything else in this heat simply disgusting.
“Wow, you're a real tough guy,” Jens teased.
“Says the boy with the glass of cola!” I nudged him lightly.
“Hey, that's Captain Morgan in there! Right, Gül?“ Jens joked back.
Gül just shrugged and put my water glass down in front of me.
”Okay, but don't you dare throw up. Thanks, Gül!“
”So can we finally get started?“
”Well, you're burning to get to the office today, aren't you?”
My office was located at one end of the club room and, in addition to my desk and bookshelf, also housed another seating area. Many conversations required a more confidential atmosphere than was possible in the main room, despite the background music. A huge glass front ensured that I was still able to fulfill my supervisory duties. Jens sat down on the sofa with his back to the window, so that I could see the entire club behind him.
“So, Jens, go ahead!”
"I found out something that's really weird. Something has to be done about it immediately!”
“Hmm, I'm curious."
I had known Jens since he was a fifth grader and one of the youngest to take part in the renovation project, covered in paint from head to toe as he painted the walls. At first glance, his hyper and over-motivated nature seemed exhausting and had not only made him friends among teachers and classmates at school. However, I thought he was a thoroughly honest and affectionate guy and not least because I had stood by him through some of his crises together, a special, buddy-like relationship developed between us. Of course, this only applied to my role as a social worker; I strictly maintained the boundary with me as a private person. Anything else would have been highly unprofessional. Nevertheless, some referred to Jens as my 'biggest fan' or, somewhat more maliciously, as my 'stalker'.
"Yesterday I was with buddies from the rowing club at the quarry pond in Oberbirkenheim. Guess who I saw there?”
“No idea... Lady Gaga?“ Oberbirkenheim was about half an hour's drive away on the other side of the next largest city. I didn't know anyone there and had only been to the quarry pond once.
”Haha, you're so funny. No... Hartmann. But he wasn't alone...”
Jens made an elaborate pause, leaned forward to me and looked at me intently. I forced myself to hold his gaze. Mr. Hartmann was his German and social studies teacher.
“...but with some guy. They were necking and groping all the time... Disgusting! Hartmann is a lousy fag!” Jens gestured indignantly.
Jens' words pierced me. It was only with great effort that I was able to maintain my composure.
“Excuse me?“, I stammered, aghast.
”Hartmann is a dirty fag! They were lying on her blanket, groping each other and making out like a couple of lovers. Wow. You wouldn't have thought that either, would you? And the guy's a teacher, too!” Jens was getting worked up. At the same time, he was eyeing me, waiting for my reaction.
“Are you sure?” I knew Mr. Hartmann, and that didn't fit into the picture at all.
“One hundred percent. One hundred percent. He didn't recognize me because we were a bit behind them, but it was definitely him. He has that snake tattoo on his arm. It's so gay. Why would he do that? It's totally fucked up! Shit, ugh, I don't even want to know what they were doing when they ran off! Perverted fagots!”
Damn, that was intense. I had to pull myself together. Stay professional! Everything else is unimportant right now. I took a deep breath to calm my pulse.
"What do you think of that? You have to report this to Mirrleger immediately! He certainly doesn't suspect what a pervert is teaching him!”
“Okay, hold on Jens. You saw Mr. Hartmann with another man. The two were kissing and touching each other. Right? You conclude that your teacher is obviously gay and now you have a problem with that?“
”I don't have a problem,” Jens snapped, ”he has a problem! He should be locked up, that cocksucker!”
“Hey, now calm down, will you? It upsets you, and we can talk about it, but I don't like the swear words. I don't want to hear them. Okay?“
”Why? Everyone uses them! There are no other words for it! They're totally sick! Don't tell me you think that's okay?!”
I took another breath. Jens was pretty much pushing me against the wall.
“Jens, that's not the point at all. I can't judge what Mr. Hartmann does in his free time. It's not my place, it's his private business.”
“No, it's not!” Jens flashed at me and jumped up. “That asshole is a teacher here! At this school!”
“What exactly does that have to do with it?“
”Well, you know! They're all child molesters... I mean, they're totally into little boys, totally perverted... You know that! In any case, they're horny for young guys!“
”How do you know that? Who says so?”
“Everyone... my buddies... my father... or watch it on TV! The guy Hartmann was messing around with was a young one, too! A blond, campy pretty boy... maybe three years older than me... well, maybe five."
I had to swallow. Jens plopped back down on the couch and grimaced.
“Ugh, what if he wanks off to me and my buddies? I'll report it to Mr. Mirrleger, I swear! What do you think my father will do if I tell him!"
Jens was shaking with anger and rammed his fist into a sofa cushion. Mr. Mirrleger was, by the way, the headmaster of the Willy-Brandt-Realschule.
“Your father?“ I had had a few parent-teacher meetings with Chief Inspector Schulz. Meetings in the broadest sense, if you can call unyielding tirades of hatred and insults that.
”My old man hates fags!” He noticed my furrowed brows. ”Sorry, but it's true. He won't let him keep swearing at us. He'll kill him.”
A shiver ran down my spine despite the heat.
"Has Mr. Hartmann ever behaved incorrectly towards you or your buddies?”
“Why? No...“ Jens paused for the first time.
”Why do you think he's 'fag-hagging' you, but so far you haven't noticed anything, have you? Why should that change now just because you've found out he's probably gay?”
“Well... so far he's been one of the coolest teachers, that's for sure. So understanding and all, but he also teaches you stuff. We all actually respect him, even though he's not strict or anything.”
Jens hesitated. Slowly the conversation developed in a constructive direction. But then his face darkened again.
"Ugh, exactly, that's just his trick, that's how he gets us around... Now I get it. He's made us all gay... just on the cool side, he wants to make us all gay. Subconsciously! But now I'm not falling for it anymore!”
I looked past Jens through the glass. Jenny and Tatjana had disappeared. The three boys were still playing pool, and Adrian from their parallel class had joined them. Gül yawned and played on her cell phone. Obama grinned, as always. Everything was fine.
“Jens, I can reassure you. Being gay is not contagious, and you can't make someone gay. You either are, or you're not.“
”Pah, how do you want to be sure? It has to come from somewhere! Ask my father, he'll tell you something different...”
“Do you actually know anyone who's gay? Does your father know anyone? I mean, personally?“
Jens looked at me in amazement.
”No. Of course not! You should stay away from them, they contaminate society...“
”...says your father?"
I sighed. Jens stared at me defiantly.
“Man Moritz, what are you doing hanging out with the good social worker again... now come out of your 'everyone should love each other' role for a moment and agree with me that this is really not possible. Someone like that just can't be a teacher! He's a danger to us!"
I ventured a push forward. Hopefully it didn't backfire...
“Jens... I don't like to remind you, but do you remember seventh grade?“
He visibly slumped a bit. I had hit a very sore spot, but maybe that was just what was needed.
”Um... yeah, sure, I remember... Dude, what does that have to do with anything?”
“Hmm, think about it.“
”No way! That was totally different! You're not serious, are you?“
”Sure, there are many different labels you can be pigeonholed with. Does it really make a huge difference?“
Jens avoided my gaze.
”Well, I wasn't a psycho at all. The others just thought that. But Hartmann i-s-t gay, I've s-e-e-n it!
"Have you also seen that he's jerking off to you? That he's into you, his students? That he wants to turn you gay? Or are these prejudices because someone doesn't behave quite as normally as you know?”
I could see how Jens was struggling with himself and his memories. A good three years ago, his best friend moved away first, then the classes were restructured due to a new choice of subjects. Jens became an outsider and, because of his fidgety nature, soon a target. He started skipping school, which of course did not go unnoticed. His father raged and sometimes became violent. The mother didn't know what else to do and, following the advice of the class teacher, she took Jens to a child psychologist. The psychologist prescribed the appropriate medication for the maladjusted boy. It made him quieter, but not happier, and his behavior became even more of a mystery to his classmates, which fueled the bullying. Especially when a classmate discovered Jens' pills on a school trip. Since then, he was only 'the psychopath'. Jens started wearing only black clothes and a little later, scars began to appear on his forearms. For the others, this fit into their image.
Jens took a deep breath. The air in the office was stifling. He buried his head in his hands.
“Well... I don't know,“ he murmured some time later.
”Imagine how Mr. Hartmann will feel if you start a campaign against him now. Even though he has always been a proper and committed teacher here at the school. Just because you happened to notice that in his private life he is involved with another man...” The word ‘in love’ wouldn't come out of my mouth. I quietly added, “…erm, is together with another man.”
“Do you really think that they are just normally in love with each other?”
My stomach tightened. I suppressed the feeling. Jens didn't sound so confident anymore. He had openly asked the question.
“Hmm, normal? What is normal?“
”Well, like a guy and a girl...“
”Why is that normal?“
”Because that's just how you know it.“
”Yes, but sometimes people just act differently than you know, right? You've already experienced that yourself. It's just that the majority determines what's normal.”
“Hmm... and what is abnormal for them, they destroy.“
Jens looked worn out. He had huddled in a corner of the sofa.
”Yes... unfortunately that's often the case. Imagine if the majority were homosexual. Then everyone would expect you to go out with a boy. How would you feel if you fell in love with a girl anyway?”
At that moment, a howling scream pierced the office. I looked up and just caught sight of Denis slumping to the ground. Adrian turned around and put his cue down on the billiards table. The other two knelt down next to the obviously injured man. I jumped up and rushed to Denis. He pressed his hands to his chest and gasped heavily. Tears were in his eyes.
“Hey Denis, are you okay? What happened?“
”Adrian punched him in the chest!“ Pasquale explained indignantly.
”I didn't! It's called a cue, you idiot!“
I helped Denis to sit up so that he could breathe better.
”Take it easy. Deep breaths. Gül, can you please go and see if Mr. Müller is still here?”
Gül had come out from behind the bar. Mr. Müller taught biology and acted as a first-aid teacher.
“He did! Full pot! Just like that!” Finn glared at Adrian and clenched his fists. “Now you're going to get community service, you can count on it!”
“Forget it, fag...“ Adrian was busy chasing the balls across the table one by one with a quick hand movement.
Denis also went from shock to anger.
”The freak! He broke my rib. Shit, ah!” he managed to say with a cracking voice.
“Hey guys, that's enough for now! Where does it hurt?“
”Here!“ Denis whined, pointing to a spot near his sternum.
”Can I see?“
Denis nodded and pushed up his Chelsea shirt. There was definitely a bruise forming.
”Can you breathe normally again?”
“I think so, but it hurts like hell...“
I took Denis to the nearest sofa. A little later, Mr. Müller appeared.
”Well, you're lucky, I was just about to call it a day. My poor beer. Let me see..."
While Mr. Müller felt Denis' ribs, I grabbed Adrian and talked to him outside the door. As is usual in such cases, he initially denied it, then it was an accident, then Denis had provoked him badly. Finally, however, he realized that billiard cues should only be used for playing billiards and that the next similar incident in the school club would have consequences for him.
“Sorry, Denis, it was an accident, okay? All right?“ he even said when the boys left the club room with Mr. Müller.
Denis shrugged his shoulders and half-heartedly punched him.
”So, you're his friend. Next time, hold back your testosterone, buddy, if you can't handle your stick!”
Mr. Müller gave Adrian a stern look. He was generally known among the students for his bawdy and raunchy comments, which were seamlessly compatible with their pubescent mindsets. The sixth-graders grinned at each other meaningfully.
“Well, I couldn't see any broken ribs. But just to be on the safe side, a doctor will take an X-ray. Would you take care of that, Mr. Sander?“
”I can't actually leave here, there's still a student with an important need for discussion in my office. Can we inform your parents, Denis?“
”Yes... I'll call my mom.”
A short time later, we had sorted it out. The four boys said goodbye to wait for Denis' mother in front of the school. Mr. Müller also headed for his after-work beer.
“Can I go then?” Gül asked when I returned to the school club. She had already turned off the music system.
"Oh yes, of course. Enjoy the sun!”
I went to the bar myself and had another glass of water. My gaze wandered through the deserted room. This silence was strange, where there was otherwise constant hustle and excitement. Suddenly, the conversation with Jens came fully back into my consciousness. I walked towards the office. I felt dizzy and briefly lost consciousness. I stopped for a moment and gathered myself. Then I opened the door.
“Phew... I'm really sorry to keep you waiting so long!”
No reaction. I was irritated to see Jens sitting huddled up on the sofa, legs drawn up, head buried. He sniffled and trembled slightly.
"Jens, what's wrong?”
Again, no answer, only the sniffing became more audible.
“Jens?”
I sat down next to him. All I could do was be patient, because I had no idea what was suddenly wrong with the guy. Maybe the painful past that we had touched on earlier was coming back?
"Okay, I'll wait... if you want, I'll listen to you. Take your time.”
At the time, his class teacher eventually came up with the idea of involving me. Jens didn't attend the school club regularly at the time, so I hadn't noticed anything. Many conversations were necessary, initially with Jens, until he trusted me and knew that I was on his side. With his parents, although his father unfortunately showed himself to be unruly and unreasonable, insisting that the boy should pull himself together and become a man. Jens' mother finally understood how much her son suffered from the dubious diagnosis, and after consulting a psychiatrist I knew well, she agreed to do without the psychotropic drugs.
I was also able to encourage Jens to the extent that he agreed to conflict discussions with his classmates. I was invited to the class meeting and openly addressed the topic of bullying. I was able to persuade Mr. Müller and Mr. Hartmann, who taught German, to openly educate about mental illnesses and their social backgrounds as part of their lessons. It was a tough process. The bullying largely subsided, and some of the worst bullies appeared to have reformed after the discussions. But Jens still couldn't find a connection to any of the sworn cliques, partly because he continued to mistrustfully isolate himself. Besides, David – a hulking, spiteful guy – still managed to make Jens feel his hostility. He made sure that his vassals no longer openly mocked him, but still treated him like a pariah, thus maintaining his isolation in the class. All attempts to involve David in a solution were skillfully and subtly torpedoed by him.
Jens turned his head to me. At least ten minutes had passed. There was a dull wetness shimmering in his eyes.
“I'm not!“ he squeezed out.
”What are you not?"
I didn't know what he meant. I tried hard to remember where our conversation had actually broken off when Denis had started shouting.
The next sentence blurted out of Jens with tremendous bitterness.
“In love with a girl!"
He hid his face again and began to sob uncontrollably.
Instinctively, I put a hand on his shoulder. I was used to heartbreak; of course, it was common among teenagers. It was quite possible that Jens had been stood up. That he had had hopes that were not fulfilled and reciprocated. He hadn't let anything like that slip to me recently, but of course you don't constantly tell your school social worker all your intimate longings. However, I was surprised at the intensity with which Jens broke down. His sobs increased to a drawn-out, guttural roar, while he swayed rhythmically back and forth with his upper body.
Wait a minute, I was taken aback by what Jens had actually said. If he wasn't in love, why was he so lovesick? What had we been talking about all this time? A suspicion dawned on me, but could it be true? In any case, I had to be very careful not to hurt him.
“Were you?”
He paused for a moment.
“What?“
”In love with a girl.“
He shook his head uncontrollably and continued howling.
”If it's not a girl, maybe it's a...“
”Boy!” Jens spat out the word, drenched in deep black self-hatred.
The loud sobs ended abruptly, and he waited silently for my reaction. He began to tremble. Tremble mightily. A naked, frozen boy in the dark of winter.
I stroked his back, as if to warm him. In reality, it was oppressively muggy.
"Jens, you're okay. Totally okay.”
“Waarummm... immm... meher... ihih... i??? “
”That scares the hell out of you, doesn't it?“
Nodding. Increased shivering. His body felt hot and cold at the same time.
”Now I know and I can help you with it. You're not alone with it anymore. That's good.”
Jens cried quietly again. His head was still on his knees.
“This is... disgusting... I want... it to finally... stop!”
I felt helpless, exhausted myself.
“Jens, no one can choose who they fall in love with. Having a crush on someone, idolizing someone, even desiring them... that's an amazing feeling. It can never be wrong, no matter who it is. And no matter whether it's a boy or a girl. You don't need to be ashamed."
It can never be wrong. Did I actually agree with my words now?
“But I do, damn it! My father will kill me! I swear...“
He moved away from me and looked me straight in the eye, lurking. Behind the veil of tears, an angry sparkle began to flash.
”Why should he find out about it? You don't have to tell him at all, do you?”
Jens shrugged.
“He'll find out sooner or later. Have you forgotten that he's a detective? If he suspects anything, he'll spy on me... he already thinks I'm a wimp...”
The pressure Jens was under was clearly visible in the tense muscles of his face.
“I met your father, and I'm sorry to have to say this. But I think he has little idea of what it looks like inside his son and what is going on there. And he's not interested in it at all. I don't think he'll notice anything anytime soon."
Jens slumped down again under my words.
“Many gays don't come out until they've moved out of home and are living on their own. And then they first confide in people they feel completely safe with. They're often surprised at how warmly they're received and supported. And then it gets easier and easier to deal with it more openly and casually. Most go on through life feeling stronger and more self-confident...”
He looked at me again, scrutinizingly and wistfully, while he obviously wrestled with how credible my reassurances were. After a while, he nodded almost imperceptibly and asked with absolute seriousness: “Do you think that as a... as a... that one can be happy?”
I swallowed hard and then pretended to be optimistic: “Yes, of course! Jens, you will definitely find someone and be happy with them! Most people will leave you alone, including your father. I'm sure.”
For a moment, his expression remained skeptical, then he squeezed out a tentative smile: “Thanks, man!”
I patted him encouragingly on the shoulder and backed away from him.
"Now I have to go home, otherwise I'll get in trouble again. Can you give me a quick ride, please?”
Outside, dark, sulfur-yellow clouds were building up above us. The weather report had announced that gigantic summer storms would swirl Sahara sand into our latitudes. On the way from the abandoned school building to my rusty Renault, he walked silently beside me through the stifling heat. At first, everything seemed to be said.
His determined expression reminded me of the canoe trip on the school trip two years earlier. Because Jens had dawdled and he and David were the last ones, he had to share a boat with his sworn enemy, of all people. Jens refused loudly for a quarter of an hour, while David smirked inside, but then he started paddling. I followed in a single kayak, bringing up the rear. The bulky David sat enthroned in the bow and largely limited himself to steering by listlessly dipping left and right as he pleased. He deliberately acted awkwardly so that Jens had to steer him in wide, winding lines on the flat river sections. Once David managed to capsize the canoe by foolishly steering towards a rapid. Jens got back in without comment and pushed the paddle into the water all the harder, while his opponent let his hand splash through the water in a bored manner. The two didn't exchange a word. David didn't try to overdo it under my watchful eye, but to wear me down with his well-dosed sabotage. Every now and then he even managed to push the canoe forward in a reasonably straight line. As long as nothing escalated, I would not intervene and would wait for the educational confrontation of this hate relationship to play itself out. However, we only made very slow progress downstream through the gorge in southern France and missed the group's lunch picnic. My limited provisions were not enough to fill three stomachs for long. The sun beat down from the sky, and the route continued loop after loop between the barren rocks, without the exit point coming into view. David now participated seriously at times, because he obviously wanted to arrive too. He pushed hard with his massive upper arms and provided momentum for a short time, but then seemed to tire quickly and let himself hang, sweating. The much slimmer Jens, on the other hand, worked stoically, pulling the paddle rhythmically left, right, left through the current with grim determination. For the last two kilometers or so, David sat slumped, with a bright red head and only sluggish steering efforts, while Jens had to provide the propulsion alone again and strained his last energy reserves. I had never seen him so taciturn and controlled as I did that day. When the canoe finally scraped onto the gravel bank at our destination late that afternoon, he snarled contemptuously, “Fat weakling!” before staggering purposefully over the shady bank to the bus. David, who was completely hypoglycemic and could only get up clumsily minutes later, let the insult wash over him defencelessly. In this situation, he must have actually recognized that it was not entirely undeserved, at least he really left Jens in peace from that moment on.
Incidentally, I was able to motivate Jens to join the local rowing club as a result of this experience, where he soon became successfully integrated into the team and gained further self-confidence. By the time of today's breakdown, the lively and fun-loving Jens had increasingly returned.
He stared thoughtfully at the windshield from the passenger seat until the first heavy raindrops hit it as we turned into his street. He turned to me abruptly and announced, “His name is Fabian.” He took a deep breath and laughed softly, embarrassed, while he grinned at me uncertainly. “And he's really hot. He's also in rowing...” Jens raised his arm up at an angle and pointed expressively to his own well-trained biceps. “He's probably into girls...” With a sigh, he opened the car door and stepped out into the downpour.
"Don't let it get you down, Jens! Remember, you're totally okay. Thanks for your trust, and I'll see you!”
He winked at me, partly tormented, partly really relieved, while he clapped into my hand and the rain already began to soak him: “Yes, it will be fine... I think you might be right, you can be happy. The Hartmann definitely looked v-e-r-y happy! Ciao!”
The passenger door slammed violently shut and he jumped through splashing puddles in the meticulously planted and paved front garden of his parents' home towards the staid detached house. I drove off again and allowed the last few hours to now fully sink into my consciousness. What Jens had told me flowed through my mind's eye like the rain streaming down the car windows. The storm now hit me full force. Lightning blinded across the sky in front of me, transforming the wet road in front of me into an epileptically twitching neon field. The windshield wipers swung around madly in front of my mind and yet didn't provide a millimeter of clarity. The thunder raged and threatened to crush the tin roof over my skull. Where were the sand gusts? Where did the desert dune appear that rolled over me and ground me to dust?
I clung to the steering wheel and slid unconsciously through the gloomy storm shadows of the small town as it set. At some point, my car parked on the flooded sidewalk in front of my apartment building, and I watched absently as my hand trembled, turning the key and stalling the engine. With a parched mouth, I remained in the driver's seat, staring motionlessly at the curtain of water in front of me. I imagined that I had just fallen into the canal and would sink. In a moment, the flood would rush into the car, higher and higher, until I was gasping for air under the roof, and then it would plunge into my lungs to drown me.
But after a while, the sea of rain on the windshield turned into a landscape of rivers and lakes, and then the world reappeared behind the whimsical droplets. I waited until the gentle drumming had completely subsided and bravely reached for the door opener. Outside, I inhaled the refreshingly cool air and noticed that the sky in the distance was preparing a clear evening twilight.
I entered the apartment quietly and put my bag in its place next to the cluttered chest of drawers. It smelled familiar and warm, with that indescribable scent of home. The summery sultriness was still trapped between the walls decorated with holiday photos. Tenerife two years ago, that fairytale sunset over the ocean, and there, in the fantastic Güell Park on a spontaneous trip to Barcelona, I fell in love. Kitschy icons of past moments of happiness.
A single, weak glow of light shone from the study into the mottled hallway. I silently groped my way past the scattered pairs of shoes to the doorframe and paused there. The scene radiated calm and concentration. I hesitated for a few heartbeats. My eyes remained fixed on the arm that unerringly guided a red pen over an open essay book, mercilessly revealing the mistakes in what someone had thought up. The desk lamp shone on the tattooed coiled double snake that adorned his skin.
"Why?
Jens stormed in and flung his backpack behind the large yucca palm in the seating area.
“Hey, what's the point!!”
"Retard...”
Jenny and Tatjana from the eighth grade had taken possession of the couch, sipping Kiba and discussing the latest world-shattering Facebook news, when they almost fell victim to Jens' dynamic appearance. It's unthinkable that the deep red juice would have spilled over their expensive miniskirts and smartphones if the bullet had hit them...
Jens didn't care about the outraged cackling for a second and came over to the pool table, where I was just pushing the balls around with Finn, Pasquale and Denis. The sixth graders managed to pot the balls rather by chance, but that didn't harm their zeal.
“Hey, Moritz!“ Jens came over. ‘You, I urgently need to have a chat with you... wow, you won't believe it, but it's impossible...’
”Hey, Jens! Okay, no problem. I'll just finish this round."
I sunk two balls and then lost my next shot so as not to show off in front of the boys.
“Great, when you need your social worker right away...“ Jens grinned ironically and continued his excited torrent of words.
”You won't believe what happened to me. It's a total scandal... Nasty... Now get on with it!“ he snapped at Denis, who was planning his next shot rather laboriously.
”Oh man, what a sacrifice...”
Denis missed the targeted ball and glared angrily at the man who was a head and a half taller than him.
“Piss off!”
“Jens, stay out of this. Get yourself a drink and find a quiet corner, I'll be right there and can devote myself fully to your cause,” I intervened again to prevent Denis' cue from hurting either of them.
“All right, man. Dude, I've been trying to catch you all day. You always disappeared during the breaks. It's best if we go to your office right away. So go for it and crush them...” Jens disappeared to the bar. Bar – that was the rustic wooden counter where students could buy soft drinks, juice cocktails, and sweets.
Looking after the school club four afternoons a week was one of my main tasks at the Willy-Brandt-Realschule. In addition to various leisure activities, it was mainly a place to 'hang out' and it was easy to get in touch with the students. Over time, trust developed, and it was not uncommon for me to be the point of contact for problems and concerns of all kinds, both academic and non-academic. Taking these seriously and discussing them was just the job I was paid for and enjoyed doing. Since I had a good relationship with many students as well as with the teaching staff, I was able to mediate in most cases of conflict and thus relieve the school day for everyone.
Pasquale, who was my teammate, managed to sink our last ball. After loudly celebrating and high-fiving me, he aimed for the black one. Missed...
The school club was a spacious room next to the boiler room. When I started the job a few years ago, I had completely renovated and redesigned it together with the students during the summer holidays. A donation run had raised a decent sum, which was used to purchase paints, sofa covers, cozy floor lamps and, of course, the pool table. Foosball, darts and a ping-pong table were already available. Worn seating from all over the community was saved from the bulky waste and brought in by tractor, which the grandpa of an older student provided. The same was true for a used refrigerator for the bar. The project contributed significantly to the students identifying with the room and enjoying spending time in it. They also realized that they could achieve something and make a difference through joint effort. This was also expressed by the visual highlight to the right of the bar. An Obama caricature with the graffiti slogan 'Yes we can!' Of course, you can smile about it now, but at the time the wave of euphoria was huge and had taken hold of us; the slogan in particular was just right.
Denis and Finn burst into gleeful cheers when Pasquale pocketed the black ball in the next round. The little half-Italian looked at me with consternation.
“Shit... revenge?!”
"Unfortunately, I can't make it, I promised Jens I'd come. Maybe later. You can do it on your own!”
I shook his hand again, then I strolled over to the bar, where Jens was flirting with Gül. The bar service was taken over by the graduating classes, which, surprisingly, was an extremely popular task. Perhaps it was because it also included control of the music system, so the 'barkeepers' could try their hand at being 'DJs'. Today, however, Gül seemed rather bored. There was hardly anything going on. With the hot summer weather, the young people were probably spending most of their time at the outdoor pool.
“Hey Gül, a glass of water, please.” I found anything else in this heat simply disgusting.
“Wow, you're a real tough guy,” Jens teased.
“Says the boy with the glass of cola!” I nudged him lightly.
“Hey, that's Captain Morgan in there! Right, Gül?“ Jens joked back.
Gül just shrugged and put my water glass down in front of me.
”Okay, but don't you dare throw up. Thanks, Gül!“
”So can we finally get started?“
”Well, you're burning to get to the office today, aren't you?”
My office was located at one end of the club room and, in addition to my desk and bookshelf, also housed another seating area. Many conversations required a more confidential atmosphere than was possible in the main room, despite the background music. A huge glass front ensured that I was still able to fulfill my supervisory duties. Jens sat down on the sofa with his back to the window, so that I could see the entire club behind him.
“So, Jens, go ahead!”
"I found out something that's really weird. Something has to be done about it immediately!”
“Hmm, I'm curious."
I had known Jens since he was a fifth grader and one of the youngest to take part in the renovation project, covered in paint from head to toe as he painted the walls. At first glance, his hyper and over-motivated nature seemed exhausting and had not only made him friends among teachers and classmates at school. However, I thought he was a thoroughly honest and affectionate guy and not least because I had stood by him through some of his crises together, a special, buddy-like relationship developed between us. Of course, this only applied to my role as a social worker; I strictly maintained the boundary with me as a private person. Anything else would have been highly unprofessional. Nevertheless, some referred to Jens as my 'biggest fan' or, somewhat more maliciously, as my 'stalker'.
"Yesterday I was with buddies from the rowing club at the quarry pond in Oberbirkenheim. Guess who I saw there?”
“No idea... Lady Gaga?“ Oberbirkenheim was about half an hour's drive away on the other side of the next largest city. I didn't know anyone there and had only been to the quarry pond once.
”Haha, you're so funny. No... Hartmann. But he wasn't alone...”
Jens made an elaborate pause, leaned forward to me and looked at me intently. I forced myself to hold his gaze. Mr. Hartmann was his German and social studies teacher.
“...but with some guy. They were necking and groping all the time... Disgusting! Hartmann is a lousy fag!” Jens gestured indignantly.
Jens' words pierced me. It was only with great effort that I was able to maintain my composure.
“Excuse me?“, I stammered, aghast.
”Hartmann is a dirty fag! They were lying on her blanket, groping each other and making out like a couple of lovers. Wow. You wouldn't have thought that either, would you? And the guy's a teacher, too!” Jens was getting worked up. At the same time, he was eyeing me, waiting for my reaction.
“Are you sure?” I knew Mr. Hartmann, and that didn't fit into the picture at all.
“One hundred percent. One hundred percent. He didn't recognize me because we were a bit behind them, but it was definitely him. He has that snake tattoo on his arm. It's so gay. Why would he do that? It's totally fucked up! Shit, ugh, I don't even want to know what they were doing when they ran off! Perverted fagots!”
Damn, that was intense. I had to pull myself together. Stay professional! Everything else is unimportant right now. I took a deep breath to calm my pulse.
"What do you think of that? You have to report this to Mirrleger immediately! He certainly doesn't suspect what a pervert is teaching him!”
“Okay, hold on Jens. You saw Mr. Hartmann with another man. The two were kissing and touching each other. Right? You conclude that your teacher is obviously gay and now you have a problem with that?“
”I don't have a problem,” Jens snapped, ”he has a problem! He should be locked up, that cocksucker!”
“Hey, now calm down, will you? It upsets you, and we can talk about it, but I don't like the swear words. I don't want to hear them. Okay?“
”Why? Everyone uses them! There are no other words for it! They're totally sick! Don't tell me you think that's okay?!”
I took another breath. Jens was pretty much pushing me against the wall.
“Jens, that's not the point at all. I can't judge what Mr. Hartmann does in his free time. It's not my place, it's his private business.”
“No, it's not!” Jens flashed at me and jumped up. “That asshole is a teacher here! At this school!”
“What exactly does that have to do with it?“
”Well, you know! They're all child molesters... I mean, they're totally into little boys, totally perverted... You know that! In any case, they're horny for young guys!“
”How do you know that? Who says so?”
“Everyone... my buddies... my father... or watch it on TV! The guy Hartmann was messing around with was a young one, too! A blond, campy pretty boy... maybe three years older than me... well, maybe five."
I had to swallow. Jens plopped back down on the couch and grimaced.
“Ugh, what if he wanks off to me and my buddies? I'll report it to Mr. Mirrleger, I swear! What do you think my father will do if I tell him!"
Jens was shaking with anger and rammed his fist into a sofa cushion. Mr. Mirrleger was, by the way, the headmaster of the Willy-Brandt-Realschule.
“Your father?“ I had had a few parent-teacher meetings with Chief Inspector Schulz. Meetings in the broadest sense, if you can call unyielding tirades of hatred and insults that.
”My old man hates fags!” He noticed my furrowed brows. ”Sorry, but it's true. He won't let him keep swearing at us. He'll kill him.”
A shiver ran down my spine despite the heat.
"Has Mr. Hartmann ever behaved incorrectly towards you or your buddies?”
“Why? No...“ Jens paused for the first time.
”Why do you think he's 'fag-hagging' you, but so far you haven't noticed anything, have you? Why should that change now just because you've found out he's probably gay?”
“Well... so far he's been one of the coolest teachers, that's for sure. So understanding and all, but he also teaches you stuff. We all actually respect him, even though he's not strict or anything.”
Jens hesitated. Slowly the conversation developed in a constructive direction. But then his face darkened again.
"Ugh, exactly, that's just his trick, that's how he gets us around... Now I get it. He's made us all gay... just on the cool side, he wants to make us all gay. Subconsciously! But now I'm not falling for it anymore!”
I looked past Jens through the glass. Jenny and Tatjana had disappeared. The three boys were still playing pool, and Adrian from their parallel class had joined them. Gül yawned and played on her cell phone. Obama grinned, as always. Everything was fine.
“Jens, I can reassure you. Being gay is not contagious, and you can't make someone gay. You either are, or you're not.“
”Pah, how do you want to be sure? It has to come from somewhere! Ask my father, he'll tell you something different...”
“Do you actually know anyone who's gay? Does your father know anyone? I mean, personally?“
Jens looked at me in amazement.
”No. Of course not! You should stay away from them, they contaminate society...“
”...says your father?"
I sighed. Jens stared at me defiantly.
“Man Moritz, what are you doing hanging out with the good social worker again... now come out of your 'everyone should love each other' role for a moment and agree with me that this is really not possible. Someone like that just can't be a teacher! He's a danger to us!"
I ventured a push forward. Hopefully it didn't backfire...
“Jens... I don't like to remind you, but do you remember seventh grade?“
He visibly slumped a bit. I had hit a very sore spot, but maybe that was just what was needed.
”Um... yeah, sure, I remember... Dude, what does that have to do with anything?”
“Hmm, think about it.“
”No way! That was totally different! You're not serious, are you?“
”Sure, there are many different labels you can be pigeonholed with. Does it really make a huge difference?“
Jens avoided my gaze.
”Well, I wasn't a psycho at all. The others just thought that. But Hartmann i-s-t gay, I've s-e-e-n it!
"Have you also seen that he's jerking off to you? That he's into you, his students? That he wants to turn you gay? Or are these prejudices because someone doesn't behave quite as normally as you know?”
I could see how Jens was struggling with himself and his memories. A good three years ago, his best friend moved away first, then the classes were restructured due to a new choice of subjects. Jens became an outsider and, because of his fidgety nature, soon a target. He started skipping school, which of course did not go unnoticed. His father raged and sometimes became violent. The mother didn't know what else to do and, following the advice of the class teacher, she took Jens to a child psychologist. The psychologist prescribed the appropriate medication for the maladjusted boy. It made him quieter, but not happier, and his behavior became even more of a mystery to his classmates, which fueled the bullying. Especially when a classmate discovered Jens' pills on a school trip. Since then, he was only 'the psychopath'. Jens started wearing only black clothes and a little later, scars began to appear on his forearms. For the others, this fit into their image.
Jens took a deep breath. The air in the office was stifling. He buried his head in his hands.
“Well... I don't know,“ he murmured some time later.
”Imagine how Mr. Hartmann will feel if you start a campaign against him now. Even though he has always been a proper and committed teacher here at the school. Just because you happened to notice that in his private life he is involved with another man...” The word ‘in love’ wouldn't come out of my mouth. I quietly added, “…erm, is together with another man.”
“Do you really think that they are just normally in love with each other?”
My stomach tightened. I suppressed the feeling. Jens didn't sound so confident anymore. He had openly asked the question.
“Hmm, normal? What is normal?“
”Well, like a guy and a girl...“
”Why is that normal?“
”Because that's just how you know it.“
”Yes, but sometimes people just act differently than you know, right? You've already experienced that yourself. It's just that the majority determines what's normal.”
“Hmm... and what is abnormal for them, they destroy.“
Jens looked worn out. He had huddled in a corner of the sofa.
”Yes... unfortunately that's often the case. Imagine if the majority were homosexual. Then everyone would expect you to go out with a boy. How would you feel if you fell in love with a girl anyway?”
At that moment, a howling scream pierced the office. I looked up and just caught sight of Denis slumping to the ground. Adrian turned around and put his cue down on the billiards table. The other two knelt down next to the obviously injured man. I jumped up and rushed to Denis. He pressed his hands to his chest and gasped heavily. Tears were in his eyes.
“Hey Denis, are you okay? What happened?“
”Adrian punched him in the chest!“ Pasquale explained indignantly.
”I didn't! It's called a cue, you idiot!“
I helped Denis to sit up so that he could breathe better.
”Take it easy. Deep breaths. Gül, can you please go and see if Mr. Müller is still here?”
Gül had come out from behind the bar. Mr. Müller taught biology and acted as a first-aid teacher.
“He did! Full pot! Just like that!” Finn glared at Adrian and clenched his fists. “Now you're going to get community service, you can count on it!”
“Forget it, fag...“ Adrian was busy chasing the balls across the table one by one with a quick hand movement.
Denis also went from shock to anger.
”The freak! He broke my rib. Shit, ah!” he managed to say with a cracking voice.
“Hey guys, that's enough for now! Where does it hurt?“
”Here!“ Denis whined, pointing to a spot near his sternum.
”Can I see?“
Denis nodded and pushed up his Chelsea shirt. There was definitely a bruise forming.
”Can you breathe normally again?”
“I think so, but it hurts like hell...“
I took Denis to the nearest sofa. A little later, Mr. Müller appeared.
”Well, you're lucky, I was just about to call it a day. My poor beer. Let me see..."
While Mr. Müller felt Denis' ribs, I grabbed Adrian and talked to him outside the door. As is usual in such cases, he initially denied it, then it was an accident, then Denis had provoked him badly. Finally, however, he realized that billiard cues should only be used for playing billiards and that the next similar incident in the school club would have consequences for him.
“Sorry, Denis, it was an accident, okay? All right?“ he even said when the boys left the club room with Mr. Müller.
Denis shrugged his shoulders and half-heartedly punched him.
”So, you're his friend. Next time, hold back your testosterone, buddy, if you can't handle your stick!”
Mr. Müller gave Adrian a stern look. He was generally known among the students for his bawdy and raunchy comments, which were seamlessly compatible with their pubescent mindsets. The sixth-graders grinned at each other meaningfully.
“Well, I couldn't see any broken ribs. But just to be on the safe side, a doctor will take an X-ray. Would you take care of that, Mr. Sander?“
”I can't actually leave here, there's still a student with an important need for discussion in my office. Can we inform your parents, Denis?“
”Yes... I'll call my mom.”
A short time later, we had sorted it out. The four boys said goodbye to wait for Denis' mother in front of the school. Mr. Müller also headed for his after-work beer.
“Can I go then?” Gül asked when I returned to the school club. She had already turned off the music system.
"Oh yes, of course. Enjoy the sun!”
I went to the bar myself and had another glass of water. My gaze wandered through the deserted room. This silence was strange, where there was otherwise constant hustle and excitement. Suddenly, the conversation with Jens came fully back into my consciousness. I walked towards the office. I felt dizzy and briefly lost consciousness. I stopped for a moment and gathered myself. Then I opened the door.
“Phew... I'm really sorry to keep you waiting so long!”
No reaction. I was irritated to see Jens sitting huddled up on the sofa, legs drawn up, head buried. He sniffled and trembled slightly.
"Jens, what's wrong?”
Again, no answer, only the sniffing became more audible.
“Jens?”
I sat down next to him. All I could do was be patient, because I had no idea what was suddenly wrong with the guy. Maybe the painful past that we had touched on earlier was coming back?
"Okay, I'll wait... if you want, I'll listen to you. Take your time.”
At the time, his class teacher eventually came up with the idea of involving me. Jens didn't attend the school club regularly at the time, so I hadn't noticed anything. Many conversations were necessary, initially with Jens, until he trusted me and knew that I was on his side. With his parents, although his father unfortunately showed himself to be unruly and unreasonable, insisting that the boy should pull himself together and become a man. Jens' mother finally understood how much her son suffered from the dubious diagnosis, and after consulting a psychiatrist I knew well, she agreed to do without the psychotropic drugs.
I was also able to encourage Jens to the extent that he agreed to conflict discussions with his classmates. I was invited to the class meeting and openly addressed the topic of bullying. I was able to persuade Mr. Müller and Mr. Hartmann, who taught German, to openly educate about mental illnesses and their social backgrounds as part of their lessons. It was a tough process. The bullying largely subsided, and some of the worst bullies appeared to have reformed after the discussions. But Jens still couldn't find a connection to any of the sworn cliques, partly because he continued to mistrustfully isolate himself. Besides, David – a hulking, spiteful guy – still managed to make Jens feel his hostility. He made sure that his vassals no longer openly mocked him, but still treated him like a pariah, thus maintaining his isolation in the class. All attempts to involve David in a solution were skillfully and subtly torpedoed by him.
Jens turned his head to me. At least ten minutes had passed. There was a dull wetness shimmering in his eyes.
“I'm not!“ he squeezed out.
”What are you not?"
I didn't know what he meant. I tried hard to remember where our conversation had actually broken off when Denis had started shouting.
The next sentence blurted out of Jens with tremendous bitterness.
“In love with a girl!"
He hid his face again and began to sob uncontrollably.
Instinctively, I put a hand on his shoulder. I was used to heartbreak; of course, it was common among teenagers. It was quite possible that Jens had been stood up. That he had had hopes that were not fulfilled and reciprocated. He hadn't let anything like that slip to me recently, but of course you don't constantly tell your school social worker all your intimate longings. However, I was surprised at the intensity with which Jens broke down. His sobs increased to a drawn-out, guttural roar, while he swayed rhythmically back and forth with his upper body.
Wait a minute, I was taken aback by what Jens had actually said. If he wasn't in love, why was he so lovesick? What had we been talking about all this time? A suspicion dawned on me, but could it be true? In any case, I had to be very careful not to hurt him.
“Were you?”
He paused for a moment.
“What?“
”In love with a girl.“
He shook his head uncontrollably and continued howling.
”If it's not a girl, maybe it's a...“
”Boy!” Jens spat out the word, drenched in deep black self-hatred.
The loud sobs ended abruptly, and he waited silently for my reaction. He began to tremble. Tremble mightily. A naked, frozen boy in the dark of winter.
I stroked his back, as if to warm him. In reality, it was oppressively muggy.
"Jens, you're okay. Totally okay.”
“Waarummm... immm... meher... ihih... i??? “
”That scares the hell out of you, doesn't it?“
Nodding. Increased shivering. His body felt hot and cold at the same time.
”Now I know and I can help you with it. You're not alone with it anymore. That's good.”
Jens cried quietly again. His head was still on his knees.
“This is... disgusting... I want... it to finally... stop!”
I felt helpless, exhausted myself.
“Jens, no one can choose who they fall in love with. Having a crush on someone, idolizing someone, even desiring them... that's an amazing feeling. It can never be wrong, no matter who it is. And no matter whether it's a boy or a girl. You don't need to be ashamed."
It can never be wrong. Did I actually agree with my words now?
“But I do, damn it! My father will kill me! I swear...“
He moved away from me and looked me straight in the eye, lurking. Behind the veil of tears, an angry sparkle began to flash.
”Why should he find out about it? You don't have to tell him at all, do you?”
Jens shrugged.
“He'll find out sooner or later. Have you forgotten that he's a detective? If he suspects anything, he'll spy on me... he already thinks I'm a wimp...”
The pressure Jens was under was clearly visible in the tense muscles of his face.
“I met your father, and I'm sorry to have to say this. But I think he has little idea of what it looks like inside his son and what is going on there. And he's not interested in it at all. I don't think he'll notice anything anytime soon."
Jens slumped down again under my words.
“Many gays don't come out until they've moved out of home and are living on their own. And then they first confide in people they feel completely safe with. They're often surprised at how warmly they're received and supported. And then it gets easier and easier to deal with it more openly and casually. Most go on through life feeling stronger and more self-confident...”
He looked at me again, scrutinizingly and wistfully, while he obviously wrestled with how credible my reassurances were. After a while, he nodded almost imperceptibly and asked with absolute seriousness: “Do you think that as a... as a... that one can be happy?”
I swallowed hard and then pretended to be optimistic: “Yes, of course! Jens, you will definitely find someone and be happy with them! Most people will leave you alone, including your father. I'm sure.”
For a moment, his expression remained skeptical, then he squeezed out a tentative smile: “Thanks, man!”
I patted him encouragingly on the shoulder and backed away from him.
"Now I have to go home, otherwise I'll get in trouble again. Can you give me a quick ride, please?”
Outside, dark, sulfur-yellow clouds were building up above us. The weather report had announced that gigantic summer storms would swirl Sahara sand into our latitudes. On the way from the abandoned school building to my rusty Renault, he walked silently beside me through the stifling heat. At first, everything seemed to be said.
His determined expression reminded me of the canoe trip on the school trip two years earlier. Because Jens had dawdled and he and David were the last ones, he had to share a boat with his sworn enemy, of all people. Jens refused loudly for a quarter of an hour, while David smirked inside, but then he started paddling. I followed in a single kayak, bringing up the rear. The bulky David sat enthroned in the bow and largely limited himself to steering by listlessly dipping left and right as he pleased. He deliberately acted awkwardly so that Jens had to steer him in wide, winding lines on the flat river sections. Once David managed to capsize the canoe by foolishly steering towards a rapid. Jens got back in without comment and pushed the paddle into the water all the harder, while his opponent let his hand splash through the water in a bored manner. The two didn't exchange a word. David didn't try to overdo it under my watchful eye, but to wear me down with his well-dosed sabotage. Every now and then he even managed to push the canoe forward in a reasonably straight line. As long as nothing escalated, I would not intervene and would wait for the educational confrontation of this hate relationship to play itself out. However, we only made very slow progress downstream through the gorge in southern France and missed the group's lunch picnic. My limited provisions were not enough to fill three stomachs for long. The sun beat down from the sky, and the route continued loop after loop between the barren rocks, without the exit point coming into view. David now participated seriously at times, because he obviously wanted to arrive too. He pushed hard with his massive upper arms and provided momentum for a short time, but then seemed to tire quickly and let himself hang, sweating. The much slimmer Jens, on the other hand, worked stoically, pulling the paddle rhythmically left, right, left through the current with grim determination. For the last two kilometers or so, David sat slumped, with a bright red head and only sluggish steering efforts, while Jens had to provide the propulsion alone again and strained his last energy reserves. I had never seen him so taciturn and controlled as I did that day. When the canoe finally scraped onto the gravel bank at our destination late that afternoon, he snarled contemptuously, “Fat weakling!” before staggering purposefully over the shady bank to the bus. David, who was completely hypoglycemic and could only get up clumsily minutes later, let the insult wash over him defencelessly. In this situation, he must have actually recognized that it was not entirely undeserved, at least he really left Jens in peace from that moment on.
Incidentally, I was able to motivate Jens to join the local rowing club as a result of this experience, where he soon became successfully integrated into the team and gained further self-confidence. By the time of today's breakdown, the lively and fun-loving Jens had increasingly returned.
He stared thoughtfully at the windshield from the passenger seat until the first heavy raindrops hit it as we turned into his street. He turned to me abruptly and announced, “His name is Fabian.” He took a deep breath and laughed softly, embarrassed, while he grinned at me uncertainly. “And he's really hot. He's also in rowing...” Jens raised his arm up at an angle and pointed expressively to his own well-trained biceps. “He's probably into girls...” With a sigh, he opened the car door and stepped out into the downpour.
"Don't let it get you down, Jens! Remember, you're totally okay. Thanks for your trust, and I'll see you!”
He winked at me, partly tormented, partly really relieved, while he clapped into my hand and the rain already began to soak him: “Yes, it will be fine... I think you might be right, you can be happy. The Hartmann definitely looked v-e-r-y happy! Ciao!”
The passenger door slammed violently shut and he jumped through splashing puddles in the meticulously planted and paved front garden of his parents' home towards the staid detached house. I drove off again and allowed the last few hours to now fully sink into my consciousness. What Jens had told me flowed through my mind's eye like the rain streaming down the car windows. The storm now hit me full force. Lightning blinded across the sky in front of me, transforming the wet road in front of me into an epileptically twitching neon field. The windshield wipers swung around madly in front of my mind and yet didn't provide a millimeter of clarity. The thunder raged and threatened to crush the tin roof over my skull. Where were the sand gusts? Where did the desert dune appear that rolled over me and ground me to dust?
I clung to the steering wheel and slid unconsciously through the gloomy storm shadows of the small town as it set. At some point, my car parked on the flooded sidewalk in front of my apartment building, and I watched absently as my hand trembled, turning the key and stalling the engine. With a parched mouth, I remained in the driver's seat, staring motionlessly at the curtain of water in front of me. I imagined that I had just fallen into the canal and would sink. In a moment, the flood would rush into the car, higher and higher, until I was gasping for air under the roof, and then it would plunge into my lungs to drown me.
But after a while, the sea of rain on the windshield turned into a landscape of rivers and lakes, and then the world reappeared behind the whimsical droplets. I waited until the gentle drumming had completely subsided and bravely reached for the door opener. Outside, I inhaled the refreshingly cool air and noticed that the sky in the distance was preparing a clear evening twilight.
I entered the apartment quietly and put my bag in its place next to the cluttered chest of drawers. It smelled familiar and warm, with that indescribable scent of home. The summery sultriness was still trapped between the walls decorated with holiday photos. Tenerife two years ago, that fairytale sunset over the ocean, and there, in the fantastic Güell Park on a spontaneous trip to Barcelona, I fell in love. Kitschy icons of past moments of happiness.
A single, weak glow of light shone from the study into the mottled hallway. I silently groped my way past the scattered pairs of shoes to the doorframe and paused there. The scene radiated calm and concentration. I hesitated for a few heartbeats. My eyes remained fixed on the arm that unerringly guided a red pen over an open essay book, mercilessly revealing the mistakes in what someone had thought up. The desk lamp shone on the tattooed coiled double snake that adorned his skin.
"Why?