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‘Ladies and gentlemen. As you have probably already noticed, we are already on our descent. We therefore ask you to fasten your seat belts and put your seat backs in an upright position. We will land in Amsterdam in about 10 minutes.’
Arno looked out of the window a little worried. Although he was almost fifteen, it was his first flight, so he was a little afraid of the landing, but of course he didn't want to show his neighbour.
Away from home for the first time. For three weeks. Still, he had mixed feelings, especially when some of his friends had made fun of the trip the day before. It was a ‘bum trip’ with nothing but kids without money, they said, whose parents couldn't afford a holiday. Sure, they weren't wrong... Arno really did come from a poor family, and his father was also a well-known drunk? but no one was allowed to talk about him like that. So he beat up one of his ‘friends’ on the way home from the football pitch, which got him into trouble again shortly before leaving for the airport when the friend's father called his mother. Arno took it in his stride. He had learnt early on from his father what it meant to be a real man. Although he wasn't the tallest, he never missed a fight and usually had the last word. He was a well-respected lad among his friends, even though he often had the impression that many only followed him out of fear, which made him even more proud. He didn't want to come across as a wimp, especially since he had been fighting with himself emotionally in the last few months. He felt something deep inside that didn't belong there, wasn't supposed to be there.
While Arno was brooding again, the plane touched down almost unnoticed at the airport. So, here he was now? Holland. In fact, the trip was organised by a non-profit organisation that wanted to offer children from socially disadvantaged families the opportunity to get to know a new country, new people and new families.
‘They're so sweet,’ he heard a woman say to his mother at the airport in Vienna, patting the plump daughter's head. “Melanie is going for the third time and it's strange that your son hasn't heard from his host parents yet. They usually write beforehand and introduce themselves.”
Arno pretended not to have heard. His mother always has to talk to complete strangers. But he was still worried. What if no one came to pick him up? Or what if they were perverts who would do all kinds of experiments on him? Shortly before boarding the plane, Arno wondered whether he should lock himself in the airport toilet so as not to have to go? But now he was there.
From Amsterdam, he travelled by bus to a collection point where numerous parents and a few children were already waiting for their guests.
The names of the children were read out in order, and one child after another left the bus and was warmly welcomed outside.
‘Great. They really forgot about me. This is off to a great start,’ thought Arno.
‘Arno Stifter? To the de Bleeker family!"
Arno grabbed his luggage, adjusted his sunglasses and climbed off the bus.
‘Hello Arno, I'm Jan. How are you?’ Arno looked into the face of a man of about 30, who immediately took his luggage and gave him a friendly smile. ’We have to drive for about 30 minutes. My wife is already waiting for you. Are you tired?’
‘A bit. The journey was very exhausting. I'm Arno? but I'm sure you already know that!"
There was silence in the car for the first few minutes? before Jan bombarded him with questions. What he was into, whether he likes football, what music he listens to, whether he has a girlfriend, etc.
Yes, he played football, he liked to listen to rock music and no, he didn't have a girlfriend. The question about the girlfriend almost made him brood again, if Jan hadn't already entertained him further.
‘So my wife Wilma and I, we have a son. He just turned one!’
‘Oh nice. A little rug rat,’ thought Arno, and somehow he was disappointed. What could you do with a one-year-old? It would be a lousy three weeks. Barbecues in the garden, Sunday afternoon coffee, visits to relatives and all that crap. When Jan finally stopped talking, Arno looked thoughtfully at the slowly darkening landscape. He almost fell asleep when the car suddenly stopped.
‘Well, here we are! Everybody out!‘
’So you must be Arno. Welcome!‘ A tall, pretty woman gave him a warm hug, which Arno didn't like at all. He had never been able to handle such caresses.
’You must be very tired. It's best if we show you where you can sleep right away. Tomorrow we can get to know each other better!’
Wilma and Jan showed him to the attic, which was small but very cosy. There was even a small fridge and a TV of his own. He didn't have anything like that at home.
After they had brought him a bottle of coke, they wished him good night. ‘You'll meet Thys tomorrow, he's already asleep.’
Thys, so that was their son's name.
Arno quickly went to bed and thought he would fall asleep soon. The journey was really very exhausting. But now he lay there and was awake. As always, he then brooded over this and that. So they had a son, it would have been nice if he had been his age. They could have done something with him, played football or whatever? and again those strange feelings came over him, something was still there? a boy his age...
‘Oh, asshole,’ Arno thought to himself and then fell asleep.
The first few days were relatively uneventful: sometimes Arno helped Jan in the garden, then he went shopping with Wilma, and here and there Arno caught himself playing boisterously with little Thys, who he? whether he liked it or not? had immediately taken into his heart. He also caught himself looking around anxiously while playing with the toddler, as if one of his friends could see him. ‘Arno the wimp. Playing with little kids!’ But Arno was away from home... and it did him good. He had a family around him who seemed to like him. There was no arguing, no shouting, and he fell asleep easily every night. At home, he often woke up with a start, especially when his father came home drunk from the pub...
‘On Saturday we are going to an amusement park. I hope you like that and oh yes, you will also meet Jeroen. He is my sister's son and?‘
’Please, not a year old,‘ Arno thought to himself.
’And he is about your age. A little younger than you,’ Wilma continued.
Arno couldn't think of anything else until Friday evening but this Jeroen. Who could he be? What would he look like? He felt a little queasy again. Why was he worrying about the appearance of another boy? And then even more thoughts came to his mind, which were also approved by a certain body part! Oh man, what was that about? Since it made him feel increasingly insecure, he decided to eliminate this name from his thoughts for the time being. Jeroen. He couldn't even pronounce the name properly, and he wouldn't understand it anyway, and anyway, shit.
Saturday morning.
Arno stood in front of the mirror in the small attic room. Somehow he wanted to make an impression on Jeroen; after all, he couldn't come across as a full-fledged farmer. He took his favourite jeans out of his pocket, a pair of faded blue Levis (his mother had bought them at a flea market without his knowledge). He put them on with a simple, pitch-black T-shirt. He didn't need anything else; it was July and mercilessly hot. He stood in front of the mirror for a few minutes. His black, medium-length hair stood on end in all directions. Some gel had to be worked into it, so it was slapped back on the left and right, and up in the middle. Except for a small strand that hung over his forehead, only because it covered a huge pimple that had to sprout on this day of all days. Actually, Arno liked himself quite a bit: black hair, dark eyes, fair skin (Arno hated lying in the sun). Normal height for his age, not too muscular, but quite wiry and the strongest when it mattered.
‘I'll show Jeroen,‘ Arno heard himself say, and blushed like a turkey. There it was again, that thinking. “Man, pull yourself together! You wimp!” Before he got too angry, he ran downstairs, where Wilma and Thys were already waiting in front of the car.
’Isn't Jan coming?’ Arno asked.
‘No, my sister Anne and her son are coming. His name is Jeroen, you'll get along well together.‘
Why did she say that? Had she heard him in front of the mirror? Did she see something that wasn't there? Arno was beginning to feel quite paranoid.
’We'll pick them up on the way. Come on! Get in, you'd better sit in the back with Thys.’
Off they went. About 20 minutes later, the car stopped at a farm. ‘Great, a farm boy?’
"My sister recently split up with her husband and moved back in with my parents with Jeroen. They own this farm. Please wait with Thys in the car, I'll get the two of them and then we'll be on our way!’
Wilma seemed to understand everything he was thinking, because he thinks ‘farm boy’ and she immediately tells him that only her parents are farmers.
Arno watched Thys, who was peacefully gurgling and playing with a stuffed lion. Damn, where were they? Arno was an extremely impatient boy and the five minutes seemed like an hour to him.
There, footsteps. The side door opened and to his left, a boy with blond, medium-length, straight hair took a seat next to the baby seat. He hid part of his hair under a black wool cap (in this heat!).
"Hello. I'm Jeroen. I speak pretty good German!’
He held out his hand to Arno, who hesitantly took it. Their eyes met briefly before both shyly looked away.
Arno was struck by lightning, his heart pounded, he sweated. He would have liked to get out and run away so as not to have to admit that he liked this boy immediately. In a way that was becoming more and more uncanny to him.
‘Stupid farmer's cap!’ he thought defiantly, not wanting his feelings to get the better of him.
So he tried not to pay attention to Jeroen at first and played the loudmouth for a while, as he was used to at home. He started talking: he would ride the roller coaster until he threw up and, as an aside, he said to Jeroen, there would definitely be a lot of women around. When he said that, he was embarrassed again and he blushed even redder than Jeroen, who was apparently overwhelmed by this news.
‘Yes, sure, a lot,’ he said, turning his head to the other side to look out the window. Wilma glanced in the rearview mirror a few times. Her expression towards Arno seemed to say, ’Don't bother! I won't buy the tough guy from you.’
‘Damn. I've had it with him,’ Arno thought to himself when Jeroen looked away from him. The blush on his face still hadn't gone away and he was ashamed of what he had said. So he decided to keep his mouth shut for now and looked out the window as well.
He was angry. At himself and at that farm boy with his stupid woolly hat. Still, he kept glancing in his direction to take a closer look at him. He really must be a year younger than him, almost 14, maybe a bit older. He could just see his nose from the side, the rest was hidden by his seemingly freshly washed hair, the smell of which Arno absorbed. The whole car seemed to be filled with it.
Jeroen was younger than him but almost the same height, although he was a bit thinner. His knee-length trousers revealed parts of his legs that were covered by a few hairs. Arno enjoyed the sight, it warmed his heart. He had never felt anything like this before? once again, total confusion.
Suddenly Thys started to scream. He had lost his lion.
‘Now I can make up for my loudmouth,’ Arno thought to himself. ‘If Jeroen sees how lovingly I take care of Thys, he might look in my direction again. Maybe then he'll talk to me too.’
Arno found the lion immediately, held it in front of Thys's face, growled and kept nudging his nose at him. It seemed to help; Thys's crying immediately turned into a contented gurgle. And it did help: Jeroen looked at him again? and actually gave him a smile, a smile like he had never received before.
‘He likes that lion.‘
’He likes you,‘ Jeroen replied.
’And I like you,’ Arno would have liked to have answered, but that would have seemed embarrassing to him at that moment.
Instead, he smiled back. He never smiled, being the ‘tough’ boy. Jeroen seemed to have forgotten the chav chat from earlier. He didn't say much, but his eyes showed that he really wanted to get to know Arno. Both boys now tried to outdo each other in clowning around for Thys. He seemed to enjoy it. When they started tickling his belly, their hands touched. Lightning! Both drew back, looked at each other and then turned back to the little boy.
‘Something is happening to me,’ Arno thought, ‘and Jeroen must feel the same.’
Playing with the baby was just a pretext, because now Jeroen also scrutinised Arno from top to bottom. He seemed to like what he saw. Finally, both ‘left’ Thys and leaned back in silence.
Arno's heart was pounding, and yet Arno felt calmer and more secure than ever before. Suddenly everything else seemed so far away; only now had he really arrived in Holland.
___________________________________________________________________________
About half an hour later they had arrived at their destination, a permanent amusement park, similar to the Prater in Vienna, where Arno often hung around. After Wilma had paid for everyone's entrance, she gave the boys another 10 euros each and said goodbye with the words: ‘So, see you here at the car at 4 o'clock!’ ‘Great,‘ thought Arno, “so they're not coming with us?”
At first, the two of them walked around rather aimlessly without saying much, before Arno tried to break the ice.
’How come you speak such good German?’ he asked him.
‘Oh, we lived in Germany for a long time. My father had a job there and so I went to school there for a few years.‘
’So now you're back here?‘
’Yes, my father not only has a new job, but he's also found a new wife. Great, isn't it?‘
’Sounds like he was quite an asshole.’
‘Nah, he's actually a great guy, apart from that. I get along well with him and visit him often in Hamburg. And how's your family?’
‘Oh, I get along with them.’ He didn't want to say anything more. He didn't want to say that his father regularly got drunk and then took his anger out at home - sometimes on him. He didn't want to say that his mother was too weak to do anything about it. He just didn't want to come across as a wimp.
‘My father drinks, but he's okay.‘ That wasn't a complete lie, because Arno didn't hate his father, which he found strange himself, especially when his father beat him black and blue.
’Why are you wearing that wool cap in this heat?‘
’Why, do you think it's silly?’
‘No, I just thought it was very unusual to wear something like that in summer.‘
’It reminds me of my best friend. I got it from him two years ago for my birthday.‘
’I see? And it reminds you of him because he still lives in Germany, right?’ At least that's where Arno wanted him to live. For some reason, he was immediately jealous of this unknown boy.
‘Not really,’ Jeroen continued. “He doesn't live with us anymore. He died a year ago of a rare heart disease. We came back to Holland shortly after that. It wasn't easy.”
Damn, with every question Arno asked him, he made him sadder, first reminding him of his father, now of his dead friend.
Jeroen obviously found it difficult to talk about, but he must have been very fond of him. Arno put his arm around his shoulder and was most surprised at this gesture himself, because he would never have dreamt of doing something like that.
‘I'm really sorry. Sorry I asked.‘ He took his arm away, although he liked playing the comforter.
’It's okay, you couldn't have known. He was just a damn good friend and I still miss him. I think it's terrible when someone has to die at that age. Imagine if something like that happened to your best friend? It feels like you've been left all alone.’
The words ‘best friend’ gave Arno a shock? he realised that he didn't have anyone like that. Sure, he always hung around with a bunch of guys, but a best friend, someone you could talk to about anything, who would listen, he never had anyone like that. Arno suddenly felt quite lonely.
‘Well, then? The rollercoaster!‘ Jeroen tried to distract him, having noticed immediately that Arno had started brooding. “Shall we go?”
’Yeah, let's go!’
They both managed to get a seat at the very front of the car. As the train lurched forward and began to crawl up the first incline, Jeroen suddenly grabbed Arno's hand and said, ‘I'm always a bit scared. You don't mind, do you?’ He gave him a sweet smile. Arno felt very strange: at home, a guy like that would have been punched in the face immediately, but with Jeroen he allowed it, and not only that, he enjoyed it.
‘Go ahead, I don't feel very comfortable in these things either,‘ Arno admitted and returned the handshake. He also tried to give Jeroen his best smile, which the other received with a grateful look.
’I'd love to kiss you!’ Damn, where did those thoughts come from again? He almost said it!
The next three minutes were thoughtless? the train rushed up and down, made three loops and both boys screamed their heads off. It was marvellous! Arno particularly enjoyed it when the ride took a sharp turn and Jeroen was pushed completely to his side. Every time this happened, Arno squeezed Jeroen's hand even harder to say: Don't worry, I'm here!
After the wild ride, the boys checked out all the attractions before they had a portion of French fries around one.
‘You Dutch are a strange bunch: you eat white bread with chocolate sprinkles for breakfast, you eat apple sauce with your bratwurst, and you smear mayonnaise on your chips!’ Arno said to Jeroen with a laugh.
‘You Austrians need to: sit around all day in your lederhosen on some mountains and yodel. Come on, yodel something for me,‘ Jeroen said, and his laughter became even louder when Arno actually tried it.
’Haha, sounds like a cow with diarrhoea,’ Jeroen said, still laughing.
‘Asshole,’ Arno replied shortly, playing offended. He did it so badly, though, that Jeroen didn't buy it. In short, the two were having a lot of fun and enjoying each other's company. Arno was amazed at himself: a boy reaches for his hand and he does? nothing! Another boy laughs at him and he does? nothing! Was it the environment or just this enchanting, blond boy who suddenly made him feel feelings he had never felt before? He just felt? good! And there was no one around who knew him. No one to whom he had to prove what a tough guy he really was.
The afternoon passed quickly and they had tried all the attractions one or more times when the boys suddenly came across a carousel that had escaped them so far. It was a kind of rollercoaster and after a few laps, the wagons closed completely, like the roof of a convertible.
‘It looks boring, but okay, let's ride it,’ said Arno. When they got in line, Arno found it strange that only couples were waiting in front of them. Jeroen also suddenly became visibly nervous. Either Arno was completely out of it, or he really didn't know that this was a carousel for lovers and that the ‘top’ closed to give couples the opportunity to smooch.
After they had both taken a seat, the merry-go-round started moving and after a few rounds the roof went down. Another round, another... and suddenly it happened: Jeroen turned to Arno and kissed him on the right cheek. After that, they both finished the ride in silence! So this Dutchman had actually done it? Arno was totally confused and didn't say a word. Jeroen didn't really know how to deal with the situation either.
‘Sorry,’ he said sheepishly after they both got out. ‘I just thought you...? Oh, I'm an idiot,’ Jeroen was close to tears.
"It's okay, I was just...? Surprised, honestly, it's okay.’
Arno looked at Jeroen again and now he slowly realised what he felt for him. He had fallen head over heels in love with Jeroen. The kiss showed him that he must feel the same way.
Arno now put all his eggs in one basket by saying, ‘Let's go again. Now it's my turn. I'll show you how to really kiss.’
Jeroen looked up in amazement, because at first he thought Arno was just messing with him. But after a few moments, he saw the seriousness in Arno's eyes. He nodded solemnly and a few minutes later they were back on the merry-go-round.
The top went down and Arno began to tremble: ‘I can't do it, why do I always have to open my mouth?’ But then he looked over at Jeroen, who smiled and turned his face towards him. ‘How cute he looks,’ Arno thought to himself, ‘oh, screw it.’
‘Open your mouth halfway,’ he ordered Jeroen in a shaky voice. Jeroen did as he was told and seconds later Arno felt Jeroen's lips on his. Jeroen breathed heavily and clutched Arno's right upper arm. Arno's trousers moved a bit as he felt Jeroen's tongue on his. He was also extremely aroused. Arno had kissed girls before, probably only because the others expected him to, but he had never felt like this before. He put his arm around Jeroen's neck and stroked his hair briefly. The smell of it, as well as the warmth of his soft skin, almost drove him crazy. He would have liked to sit here with him forever. They were still holding each other when the top had long since been opened again.
‘Get out,’ someone said, and only now did the two look around in confusion. But nobody seemed to mind; on the contrary, an older lad winked and said, ‘Happy birthday, boys!’
When they had both got out, Arno's knees were still shaking and Jeroen was no better. Both were speechless and when they slowly came to their senses, they just grinned at each other.
‘Ice cream?’ Jeroen asked and before he waited for an answer, he had already joined the queue to an ice cream stand. Arno sat down in the shade first, where he finally came to his senses. From there he watched Jeroen order, he watched the other people and finally gazed dreamily, but also thoughtfully, at the sky.
‘Here. What's up?‘ Jeroen asked, returning with two ice-cream sundaes, one of which he handed to Arno.
’Was what we just did right?‘ Arno wondered.
’Well, I liked it,’ Jeroen replied and now looked up at the sky as well.
‘But I mean, you're a boy and I'm a boy and now I'm sitting here in Holland and suddenly I realise that? I mean, you?‘
’Yes?’
‘My father says it's wrong for two boys to love each other. And everything that goes with it? He thinks they should just have their cocks cut off. When he sees two homos on TV, he really lets rip. My God, does he know?’
Arno interrupted himself. It was as clear as day, his father HAD to know about it, otherwise why would he keep talking about it? And in retrospect, Arno had given him enough ‘motives’: Arno liked to draw, he took pride in his appearance, he often sang along to songs in the car, which repeatedly earned him punishing looks from his father. All the things his father always called ‘gay’. And the most important clue: Arno had never brought a girl home, let alone spoken to one at home. He had kissed enough? now he realised that he only did that to distract, to show the others: Hey, look, I'm the top teaser!
And then Arno did something he hadn't done since he was five or six: He began to cry softly, while the ice cream Jeroen had brought him slowly melted in his hand.
‘Shhh. It's all right,’ Jeroen said comfortingly, pulling Arno's head to his chest. Now Arno cried even more: never before had anyone been so kind to him, so concerned about him? He couldn't even remember when his mother had held him like this. ‘Except for my T-shirt, you just smeared ice cream on it,’ Jeroen continued, smiling at Arno, who suddenly had to laugh, just as little Thys had done a few hours earlier when he had consoled him with the rediscovered stuffed lion? it was the total confusion of feelings.
Arno raised his head from Jeroen's chest and wiped his eyes. Jeroen put his arm around his shoulder, as Arno looked at him, no longer crying, but still sad.
Jeroen had also become pensive. His face, which had previously looked childlike, now had serious, adult features. ‘I would tell your father. You're his son, he has to realise that he's hurting you by doing this. I hope you have friends you can talk to about it.’
‘Yes, I do? You! I have to admit that I have never been able to talk to anyone like I can to you. When you were talking about your best friend earlier, it became clear to me that I have never had a person like he must have been for me. For a moment I was even angry with him before you said that it was... well...’
‘Now you have someone like that. You can trust me, with me you don't have to pretend to be someone you're not. I like you the way you are.’
Jeroen gave him another hug and kissed him on the cheek.
‘But the main thing is yet to come,’ Arno continued, ‘I think that I? Well, I think you're great and that kiss earlier?.that was the best thing I've ever experienced and I think, I think I'm?..in love with you.’ For a moment, Arno hesitated to say the word, it sounded too much like a Hollywood love film to him, but: it was the truth.
‘When I got into the car, I thought at first: what a jerk,’ Jeroen replied, ’honestly, you were talking some pretty rubbish, but somehow I realised then that there was more to you. Rough around the edges, but soft inside, is that how you say it? And now? I'm glad you're here, since we've been living in Holland again, well, I can't really connect with others anymore. My mother was thinking about taking me to a weird psychologist. At least that's what she told Wilma. I overheard them. She's worried I might lose touch. Whatever she means by that? Well, I have to come to terms with this too, like you? But again: I'm glad you're here.’
Arno swallowed, looked around briefly and then kissed Jeroen on the cheek as well. ‘Thanks for the ice cream! Another ride on the roller coaster?’
‘Screw it, okay!’
‘Yeah, screw it!’
They stood up and joined the queue for the roller coaster again.
It was almost four o'clock.
As soon as Arno got back in the car, he fell asleep. The day and all its events had made him tired. He had a strange dream: he was back home in Vienna playing football with his mates. However hard he shouted, he couldn't get the ball. What was even stranger was that he only saw them from behind. One of the players looked like Jeroen, so he shouted his name? The boy didn't turn around. He said he was there for him? ‘You arsehole!’ he shouted. Then he suddenly saw the red card in front of his face. ‘You're not allowed here anymore!’ said the referee, and when he looked at his face, he recognised his father.
Arno started. Everything was fine, Thys was playing with his toes and Jeroen looked mischievously at him.
‘You have dreams. Who was meant by “asshole”?’ he asked. Great, now he was talking in his sleep too. Arno didn't answer and looked out the window while Jeroen seemed to pepper his mother with questions. Since they were speaking Dutch, Arno dropped out quite quickly. He didn't understand anything except for a few word fragments. His name was mentioned several times, but that didn't seem to bother him, given how tired he was. Sadness had also caught up with him again, this time for a different reason: what would happen after this day? Would he see Jeroen again?
Now Anne and Wilma were talking to each other, and both seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely. Jeroen blushed a few times while they were talking.
‘Well, I don't see why not, and I don't think Jan would mind either. But have you actually asked Arno what he thinks about it?’ he heard Wilma say, again in German.
Jeroen's mother seemed very happy; the outing had done her son a great deal of good. He hadn't been this cheerful for a long time, especially since they had returned from Germany to the Netherlands.
‘Go on, ask him! He's just awake, quickly, before he falls asleep again!’ Anne urged him.
Jeroen cleared his throat, turned to Arno and began solemnly: ‘Hey Arno! I had an idea and I'd like to know what you think of it. You're still here for another two weeks and I'm on holiday too. So I asked Wilma if she would mind if I came to you, to Wilma and Jan. Oh, and you too, of course. We could do so many things together. What do you think?"
He didn't seem to want to hear the answer? Jeroen was visibly nervous. And Arno? If Thys hadn't been there, he would have jumped his neck on the spot. The day couldn't have ended any better. Yes, yes, of course he wanted that. He wanted to spend every free minute of the next two weeks with Jeroen. Savour every hour? Because he knew only too well that after those weeks everything would be over again. But he quickly pushed those gloomy thoughts aside. Instead of the hug, he gave Jeroen a grateful look and he had to pull himself together to stop himself from bursting into tears again - this time with joy.
Soon they were back at the farm? Jeroen's home? Anne had promised Wilma a cup of coffee, and Wilma wanted to call Jan to let him know that they now had two guests to take care of. Meanwhile, Jeroen showed Arno his room. It was clean and tidy? In the corner leaned a guitar, which Jeroen immediately grabbed and took out into the hallway. It absolutely had to come with them. A cat purred, and Jeroen immediately lovingly picked it up, stroked it, kissed it on the head and set it down again. ‘Mina,’ he said casually to Arno, who had taken a seat at Jeroen's desk. ‘Take a look around, I'll pack my things together in the meantime."
There were some photos lying around on Jeroen's desk: one showed him and his family, his father was also visible, a not unfriendly-looking guy. In another photo, he was seen with another boy, who must have been his friend.
‘What was his name?‘ Arno asked into the silence and took the photo in his hand.
’Patrik,‘ Jeroen replied briefly.
’Was he... I mean, were you?‘
’Together? No, I don't think he knew. I don't even know if I was aware of it myself at the time. You forget so quickly.’
He stopped packing for a moment, took the photo from Arno's hand and placed it on Arno's knee.
Arno thought for a moment about what to do next. He decided to put his arms around Jeroen's waist and his head on his shoulders from behind.
‘He looks very nice? I think he would have understood you!‘ Arno said.
’100%!’ Jeroen said very briefly and put the photo back in place. Nevertheless, he stayed a little longer, enjoying the embrace and the closeness of his newfound friend. But eventually he had to continue packing. Man, the things he packed, the stuff he had, it was incredible. Arno had the feeling that his suitcase had been the lightest of all when he checked in in Vienna, the few rags he had with him.
Arno glanced at a DVD shelf (Jeroen seemed to be a Steven Spielberg fan) and a bookshelf before turning towards Jeroen in a flash. He had just decided to change his T-shirt and was standing in the room naked from the waist up. Besides, it was the first time Arno saw him without his wool cap? his blond hair reached well below his ears. Unfortunately, Arno only got to see his back, but he liked it too. As already mentioned, Jeroen was slight, but not scrawny, his upper arms seemed to be strong? you could tell that he must have just had a growth spurt. Arno desperately tried to see if he already had some armpit hair, but by then he had already put on a new T-shirt. Jeroen decided to change his trousers as well. Arno only saw the back view again. He was wearing white, tight-fitting shorts that revealed a well-shaped bottom. Of course, Arno got a stiffy immediately and was seriously considering whether he should quickly go to the toilet. But at that moment, Jeroen was already ready.
‘Let's go downstairs,’ he said, brushing Arno's crotch deliberately as he passed. “I knew it,” he chuckled. The little guy knew exactly what he was doing and seemed to enjoy tantalising Arno. “You owe me one,” Jeroen whispered in his ear before leaving through the door. Arno needed a moment? then he came after him.
‘Hi Jan, we're back!‘ Arno shouted, hopping out of the car. “This is Jeroen!”
’I know, we've met!’ Jan replied, while Wilma freed Thys from his baby seat and Jeroen also got out.
‘Oh yes, I'm a stupid ass. Of course, you're related,’ Arno laughed, slapped his hand against his forehead and grabbed Jeroen's bag to take it to the attic.
‘What's wrong with him?’ Jan asked in amazement, looking at Wilma, who shrugged and pointed in Jeroen's direction without being noticed. Jan gave her an “I see” look and smiled as well. Jeroen immediately came into the room where Jan had already put an air mattress and bedding.
‘You can have my bed, I'll sleep here,‘ said Arno, who was just about to jump into the shower. Now Jeroen got to see him in almost all his glory. There was the one, dressed only in underpants? and the other, his mouth wide open.
’See you later,’ Arno whispered to him and disappeared into the shower.
Jeroen looked around curiously? Arno didn't seem to be as tidy as he appeared, and some of his clothes hadn't even been put away: they were either still in the bag or scattered on the floor. For a moment, Jeroen considered snooping around in Arno's backpack, but in the end he refrained from doing so? he had too much respect for him to do such a thing. He couldn't help smiling, though. Underneath the mountain of clothes, the ears of a crumpled stuffed rabbit peeped out. No, this tough guy still had a soft toy. Jeroen sniffed the rabbit and put it on Arno's pillow, wondering what he would say. Then he started to clear out his clothes, there was enough space in the small closet, since Arno didn't seem to use it. Jeroen smiled again and realised: he too had fallen in love with the boy. The only thing he didn't like was that sad look in Arno's beautiful dark eyes? it made him sad too, what must this boy have experienced, he wondered thoughtfully.
‘I hope I can take his mind off things when we're together,’ Jeroen thought to himself, skipping down the stairs whistling and helping to lay the table.
The shower refreshed Arno and breathed new life into him? When he entered the room, he had to smile when he saw his rabbit sitting on the pillow, even though he blushed slightly and felt caught. He put on his AC/DC T-shirt and looked at himself in the mirror again, but he wanted to get downstairs quickly. Jeroen had to see him with wet hair? because Arno himself was in love with his dark, wet, tousled hair. ‘It's a shame that they always stick out when they're dry. If only they could be wet all the time,’ he thought to himself and laughed at his own vanity.
They ate in the garden? and when Arno looked at his plate, he had to laugh: there were sausages with fried potatoes and? apple sauce. Jeroen understood immediately and laughed along, but Jan and Wilma looked surprised again, especially when Arno briefly began to yodel! Arno was very hungry: he had thrown half of his chips away in the amusement park and, as is well known, the ice cream ended up in Jeroen's T-shirt.
After dinner, everyone sat together comfortably in the garden. Although Wilma didn't like it, Arno and Jeroen were allowed to share a bottle of beer. ‘They're not little kids anymore,’ Jan said with a wink. After that, the boys talked about their day, omitting the kissing scene and other emotional turmoil, of course. When it got dark, Wilma lit some candles after she had put Thys to bed. Jeroen got his guitar? not only could he play excellently, he also sang beautifully to it. He had a pleasant, not yet fully developed deep voice, but tried to sound as smoky as possible. Arno listened devoutly, especially when Jeroen sang ‘Patience’ by Guns'n'Roses, one of Arno's favourite songs. It gave him goosebumps down his spine. Unfortunately, he was sitting right next to Jeroen, who was looking devoutly into the candlelight. Jeroen noticed and gave him such a deep look at the end of the song, full of love. Arno looked bashfully to the side, afraid Jan or Wilma would have seen it.
Jeroen took advantage of this brief moment of tension and started singing ‘Hey Baby’, but he was terribly out of tune.
‘That DJ Otzi is Austrian, isn't he?’ he said, laughing at Arno.
‘Spare me, you ass!’ Arno shouted and gave him a loving poke in the side. Jeroen had already got used to Arno's swearing, he didn't mean any of it, it was just his way. Wilma and Jan always gave him a (feigned) stern look when he used such language.
‘Brush your teeth, it's bedtime!’ Wilma finally said. It was almost midnight. A few minutes later, Arno was lying on his air mattress and Jeroen was in bed. Arno was nervous. He really wanted to lie with Jeroen, but didn't dare to ask. Jeroen stared at the ceiling. He felt the same way. He kept thinking about that afternoon when he ‘accidentally’ brushed against Arno and briefly felt his bulge in his trousers. He swallowed and looked over at Arno.
‘Arno? Are you asleep?’ And without waiting for an answer, he asked, ‘Isn't this air thing terribly uncomfortable?’
‘It's okay. I hope it doesn't lose air,‘ Arno answered, shaking his head at the stupid answer.
’Well, if you want,’ Jeroen continued, “you can sleep here in bed if you want. It's wide enough!” The last words were more of a grunt, given the expected proximity of his friend, and his voice sounded almost boyish.
Arno didn't need to be asked twice and a few seconds later he was lying in bed next to Jeroen. It was still very warm, so they both didn't have more than their boxers on. The first few minutes dragged on, both hardly daring to breathe, full of excitement.
Finally Jeroen put his head in his hand, sat up and stroked through Arno's hair with his other hand, before lovingly and gently caressing his cheeks. Arno enjoyed it to the full, especially when he felt Jeroen's warm fingers on his lips. A little later Jeroen pulled Arno's head towards him, to ‘bed’ him on his chest. Arno could feel Jeroen's heart beating like crazy? and he felt his hot breath on his face, which came closer and closer. That afternoon, he thought there couldn't be a better kiss? but he was proven wrong. Jeroen played around with his tongue in a way that made Arno feel dizzy. Meanwhile, Jeroen's hand stroked over Arno's upper body, gently massaging his nipples, moving towards his navel and back again. Arno nibbled on Jeroen's ear, which made him giggle. So he's ticklish, the little one, let's see what he thinks of this, Arno thought to himself and blew with full force into Jeroen's belly button. Jeroen giggled, but in the same moment he was busy again, pulling Arno's head towards him to kiss him. Slowly but surely, Arno wanted to go all out and his hand wandered towards Jeroen's boxer shorts. He would certainly not let it happen, Arno thought, but he was wrong. Jeroen's hand was now also wandering towards Arno's underpants?
It didn't take long before both of them were lying in bed, completely exhausted, still gasping for air. After a while, they both giggled at the immense mess in their underwear. So they got rid of it without further ado and it flew across the room. Arno was still completely exhausted. He had been masturbating for several years, but he had never experienced an orgasm like that before.
‘And that's wrong?‘ Jeroen asked at that very moment.
’It was beautiful, Jeroen,‘ Arno just said and blew a kiss on his cheek. “Good night, my love!”
’Good night, Arno. Sweet dreams? Of me, haha!’
Jeroen fell asleep a few minutes later, contentedly, and Arno was alone with his thoughts again. But this time they were not bad ones. He felt neither fear nor anger nor sadness this time. Only happiness, especially when he looked at Jeroen, whose chest rose and fell calmly in his sleep.
Arno was anything but a late riser, so the first rays of sunlight at half past four already woke him up. For a moment he thought that last night had been a dream, but then he saw Jeroen sleeping peacefully next to him. ‘My God, what a sight,’ Arno thought. He knew? it was one of those small, perhaps insignificant moments for some, that you remember for a lifetime. Jeroen was lying on his back, his head to one side, resting on his right upper arm. His hair almost completely covered half of his face, only his right eye and his lovely, pointed nose were visible. His mouth was half open. Arno knew what he wanted now. He hopped out of bed and got a drawing sheet and a pencil out of his backpack. ‘I have to capture this moment,’ he said to himself.
He sat down at the end of the bed very carefully and started drawing. ‘Just like in Titanic, Leo di Caprio and Kate Winslet,’ he thought, ‘that shitty film, haha.’ But he had seen it often enough, hadn't he? Arno had to make a real effort to stop himself from giggling; he wouldn't wake Jeroen for the world.
He drew and drew, the belly button was just uncovered, the rest covered by the thin blanket. But that didn't bother Arno? he thought little about sex at that moment, it was just this moment of beauty that Arno savoured. It seemed to him as if he were the only person awake in the world? and he was in harmony with himself as never before. Two hours after he had started, his drawing was finished? As impatient as he usually was, he was a perfectionist when it came to drawing. In his opinion, it was simply the best drawing he had ever made. He called it ‘Sleeping Beauty’!
He carefully stowed it in his backpack? and then decided to get some sleep after all. He carefully put his left arm around Jeroen's chest, who instinctively accepted it with a small groan. He felt Jeroen's heart again, but this time it was beating evenly and calmly. Arno let out a satisfied sigh before he, too, fell asleep.
He woke up again around nine? and was greeted by Jeroen, who was just as awake, with a kiss that Arno passionately returned. They decided to leave it at that, however, because they could both hear that little Thys was already awake? in fact, they had their doubts as to whether last night had perhaps not gone unnoticed after all. So Arno tried to make the bedclothes on the air mattress a bit messy? it should make it appear as if he had really slept in it.
Wilma and Jan were already sitting at breakfast when Arno and Jeroen also came into the kitchen.
‘Well, did you two sleep well?’ Wilma asked, grinning mischievously? at least that's what it seemed to Arno.
‘Yeah? It wasn't that uncomfortable on the air mattress,’ Arno lied and promptly blushed. So he tried to distract him and took the happily squealing Thys in his arms.
After breakfast, the two boys lounged around on the couch, watching a little television. Meanwhile, Jan got two bikes from a neighbour and gave them to the boys. It was around one o'clock when Arno and Jeroen decided to take a little bike ride.
They rode behind each other for a while before turning onto a cycle path that ran right next to an artificial canal. There was space there and finally they were undisturbed again. They chatted about this and that, the kind of things that boys their age talk about.
They had already left the city behind them and the landscape was becoming more rural. On the left the canal, on the right trees. At a small pond they decided to take a short break.
‘A beautiful spot. Come on, let's sit down over there,’ Jeroen said, pointing to a weeping willow. No sooner said than done? and no sooner were they sitting than Arno gently put his arms around Jeroen to nibble on his ear. Jeroen kissed Arno's cheek before both lips met again and exchanged tender kisses. Since they were completely alone and unobserved, it didn't take long before they were lying naked next to each other. For the first time, Arno could see Jeroen in all his glory. Like Arno, Jeroen was already hard? but in contrast to Arno, Jeroen had very little pubic hair.
The two caressed each other all over, Arno covering just about every part of Jeroen's body with gentle kisses, while Jeroen moaned with relish. When he approached the ‘lower region’, he cast a questioning and, as it were, pleading glance in the direction of Jeroen, who just nodded briefly and closed his eyes in joyful anticipation? A few minutes later, both came so violently that they groaned loudly.
Somewhat guiltily? someone could have seen them after all - both quickly dressed again, but remained seated.
‘Tastes disgusting,’ said Arno.
‘We have to tell Wilma and Jan,’ Jeroen steered the conversation in a completely different direction.
‘Do we have to? I don't know about that,‘ Arno replied, becoming restless. “They'll separate us because of it and I'll never see you again.”
’Nonsense. I think they'd understand. It's okay what we do, isn't it? And I don't want to do it in secret.‘
’Do you plan on telling your mother?’ Arno wanted to know.
‘I think she suspects already. But of course, when Wilma and Jan find out, she will too.’
‘Give me a few more days. I still have to think about it, okay?‘ Arno pleaded, sensing that Jeroen didn't quite agree.
’I love you so damn much,’ Arno continued in a low voice, “I don't want anyone to destroy that, okay?”
He kissed Jeroen's forehead and they both sank into a silent embrace.
Since the afternoon was already coming to an end, the two decided to go back. Dinner was held in the garden again? since it started to rain lightly afterwards, the family sat down on the couch to watch TV. They chose the film ‘Billy Elliot’ - a film in which the son of a miner discovers his love for ballet and initially meets with little approval. In one scene, Billy is kissed on the cheek by his friend Michael... at that moment, Arno felt Jeroen's gaze on him.
‘I have to go to the toilet,’ said Arno, who had become visibly nervous, and went to the bathroom. Had Jeroen revealed something with that look? Did Wilma and Jan already know? And above all: was he really ready to come out, so to speak? Arno realised that he was trembling all over. He was really scared, but then returned to the couch.
‘The roast chicken needed to go,’ he lied, stroking his stomach as if he had actually relieved himself.
When they were both lying in bed a little later, Jeroen said: ‘You don't have to be afraid at all, I mean earlier, you didn't really have to go to the toilet, did you? I love you too, you're the best thing that's happened to me so far and I won't do anything you don't want me to?’
Arno was a bit relieved: ‘I feel the same way, I've never had anyone like you before.’ After that, he became very quiet because he had to think about how limited their time together was. Jeroen realised that something was wrong with his friend: ‘I know what you're thinking. But let's just enjoy the here and now.’
Arno was amazed at this mature statement from the fourteen-year-old. He gave Jeroen the biggest hug he could manage, kissed him deeply on the mouth, and a little later they were both asleep in each other's embrace.
The next morning, Wilma asked Arno if he would help her with the shopping.
‘OK. I'll get Jeroen,‘ Arno replied.
’No, that's all right. Jan needs some help in the garden. You help me and Jeroen will help Jan, OK?’ Wilma replied.
Somehow Arno sensed that something was wrong. Was Jeroen involved? He felt quite sick as he took a seat next to Wilma in the car. They stopped in front of a huge supermarket in an even larger car park. When Arno wanted to get out, Wilma stopped him.
‘Stay seated for a moment, Arno. I want to talk to you,‘ Wilma said lovingly. “You and Jeroen have become good friends, haven't you?”
’Yes, he's all right.’
‘Just nice? Jan and I think you are more than friends. He was in your room last night to bring you a bottle of water, but you were already asleep, in the same bed?’
Arno couldn't listen anymore; he yanked open the car door and ran away. But where did he actually want to go? Realising the senselessness of this action, he stopped after about fifty metres in a meadow. He didn't dare to look back towards the car; he felt like crying, but he could still hold it back. Only when he felt Wilma's arm gently on his shoulders did all his defences break down. He sobbed in her arms without uttering a word.
"Shh. It's okay. I mean, it's okay for us what you and Jeroen do. You don't have to cry just because we know. It's not forbidden what you do.’
Arno could now find the words: ‘Yes, it is! My father says it's not normal and everyone who does such things should be punished. I'm just a big pile of shit. I don't want to be like this, but I can't help it and Jeroen...’
When he mentioned Jeroen's name, his words were gone again and the next bout of crying began.
‘Jeroen? He loves you,’ Wilma said comfortingly, ’and your father doesn't realise what a great boy he has. You're not a pile of shit, you're a great lad and we're all very happy you're with us.’
She fell silent after that. She had probably realised at that moment that time would not stand still for Arno in her house. ‘Come on, let's go back to the car. You're not going to the supermarket looking like that, are you? Let's go.’
When they arrived home, Jan was sitting in the garden with Jeroen, and of course they had also talked about it together. Arno was again amazed at Jeroen's maturity, because in the garden it was far less emotional than in the car park. Jeroen seemed relaxed, took a step towards Arno, hugged him and kissed him on the lips in front of everyone.
‘Great. I'll be crying again in a minute,’ Arno thought to himself, but the opposite was the case? he felt liberated from a heavy burden and returned Jeroen's kiss.
After that, Jeroen disappeared? he wanted to call his mother and tell her that he and Arno were together.
‘If you want, you can use my mobile phone, if you want to call home as well,‘ Jan said.
’No, that's okay,’ Arno replied. He really wasn't ready for that yet.
The next few days were the best Arno had ever experienced. They went on trips, played a bit of football with other boys (although Jeroen was a terrible footballer?), lazed around and enjoyed incredible hours together.
One day, the family took a trip to the capital, Amsterdam. Arno was enchanted by the charm of this city; the people there seemed so much more relaxed to him than in his hometown. They took a canal cruise, visited the Anne Frank House (which touched both boys very much) and had a picnic in the large Vondel Park.
As mentioned, Arno was impressed by Amsterdam's easy-going attitude, especially by the fact that no one seemed to care who was walking with whom. He saw several male and female couples strolling hand in hand through the streets, without anyone turning to look at them.
Jeroen could once again clearly see what was going on in Arno's mind. As another happy-looking same-sex couple passed them, Jeroen risked reaching for Arno's hand, looking nervously at how Arno would react. Everyone saw it. Wilma and Jan were walking behind them? they saw it too. Arno didn't care; he returned the gesture with a firm handshake. If he had thought a few weeks ago that he would be walking hand in hand with another boy in public, he would have shaken his head. That day ended far too quickly, and more and more often the two of them delayed going to bed, wanting to savour their time together.
It was the last week of Arno's stay, and his mood swings became more frequent. Jeroen, the calmer of the two, always managed to distract Arno.
‘Come on, let's go and play football,’ he would say, although he hated football himself, but knew that Arno loved the game. They had already made friends with a few other boys on a small square not far from Wilma and Jan's house, and they regularly played football with them. Arno loved Jeroen, but when he played with him in a team, unfortunately he couldn't help thinking “he's totally useless”. This was also the case on this Wednesday, which was to end badly?
Arno ended up in a team with Jeroen, Klaas and Hans. Klaas was similar to Arno in character – a great player, but also a loudmouth and a natural leader. In the game against four other guys, nothing worked: Jeroen stumbled around, lost almost every ball and they quickly fell behind 0-3 (they usually played until the first team scored 10 goals). At this score, Arno played a - admittedly sloppy - pass towards Jeroen, who was the last player in front of his own goal. He promptly fumbled the next ball and it was 0-4. Klaas had had enough and swore at Jeroen, who immediately blushed and looked to Arno for help. Arno had only understood the word ‘homo’ from the snippets of Dutch he'd heard. He immediately stormed towards Klaas, seething: ‘What did you say?’
‘That bloody homos like you and your friend shouldn't play football!’ Klaas snarled at Arno. Arno was now completely freaked out and before Klaas could react, Arno had rammed his fist into his face. Klaas stumbled and fell, and blood immediately started running from his nose. Hans, apparently Klaas's best friend, now wanted to attack Arno, and Arno immediately stood in front of him too. Jeroen intervened, put his arm around Arno's shoulders and said: ‘Come on, let it go Arno!’
It was all too much for Arno: ‘Don't you dare touch me, you fucking fag!’ he snapped at Jeroen, who didn't know what was happening to him. It was a shock. Jeroen staggered as if Arno's fist had hit him too. Tears welled up in his eyes, he couldn't believe what his beloved Arno had just said.
Arno ran to his bike and rode off. Aimlessly and still raging with anger. How could he even begin to think that these weeks would change him, make a good person out of him? And Jeroen? He really thought he could make a fag out of him, a fucking queer! His father was right? they all belong dead!
And so he cycled along, convincing himself of all this nonsense. He would have liked to go back to Vienna by bike, never to see any of these people again. It's all shit! He hated them all and they could all go whistle for all he cared! Most of all, or so he tried to convince himself, he hated Jeroen! Now Arno stopped, Jeroen! He knew it was a lie, that he didn't hate him, but loved him. But now it seemed to be all over. Slowly Arno calmed down again, at least as far as his anger was concerned.
He continued on his way, though he no longer knew where he was. There was a motorway underpass ahead of him. Arno thought, ‘What would happen if I just rode across the motorway on my bike? I'd close my eyes, let go of the handlebars. Some truck or car would catch me. No one would mourn an asshole like me. No one!’
Just a few hours ago, Arno seemed to be the happiest person in the world. Now he felt alone as never before in his life. And he had pushed away the only person who really loved him with all his might.
Jeroen walked home in a trance. Jan was sitting in the garden and immediately sensed that something was wrong.
‘What's wrong?’ he asked Jeroen (of course they spoke Dutch) with a worried look.
He still couldn't talk, so Jan decided to take him in his arms for now.
Jeroen now started to sob, punching out at Jan, who had a hard time calming him down.
‘Please call my mother,’ he sobbed, “I want to leave here!”
It took a good 10 minutes before Jeroen had calmed down. In the meantime, Wilma had also come and they all sat down on the couch to talk Jeroen through it.
‘You know, Arno has probably overreacted. A lot has happened in his emotional world in the last few weeks,‘ said Wilma.
’Still, he shouldn't talk to me like that. What about my emotional world?’ Jeroen said somewhat defiantly.
‘You have nice people around you, even if your father lives in Germany. He is always there for you. You have everything he didn't have. I spoke to the headmaster of his school. He was the one who nominated him for this trip. He told me a few things. Some very unpleasant things,‘ Wilma sighed.
’What kind of things?’ Jeroen asked curiously.
‘His father is a real bad guy, who beats both Arno and his mother and drinks all the money. It has been going on forever. When Arno was eight, his father beat him up so badly that he had a torn lung and was in hospital for weeks. And Arno, the poor guy? He feels he has to protect his mother and is hopelessly overwhelmed by the task. Especially since his mother has long since given up. So she is of no help to Arno either. He is the only one who is still trying to fight? Among his friends, he plays a tough guy, and he has had run-ins with the police before, but it's hard to imagine what he is really like inside. And now he comes here to us? has people who like him, a friend who loves him. Today, it probably all came up again.‘
Tears rolled down Jeroen's cheeks. Now he felt helpless and he was very scared. Afraid of what would happen when Arno was back home in Vienna.
’Can't we help him?’ he said sadly. ’Why don't we just leave him here with us? He could stay with us, couldn't he?’
Jan shook his head sadly: ‘It's not as simple as you think. If we were to leave him here, it would be something like child abduction.’
‘But we have to help him,’ Jeroen said again, each word squeezed out with difficulty because the lump in his throat just wouldn't go down.
‘Believe me,’ said Wilma, whose eyes were also filled with water, “you have helped him more in the last few days than anyone before. You showed him all the beautiful things he probably didn't even know existed.”
Jeroen got up silently. “But okay, you can call home if you want,” said Jan.
‘No,’ Jeroen shook his head, went into the garden and swung himself onto his bike. He had to find Arno.
Arno had now left the city far behind him and was riding along silently. He slowly realised what he might have done to Jeroen. “I've ruined everything with my selfishness, as if I were the only one in the world who had problems,” he thought to himself. He was terribly ashamed and overlooked the stone lying on the path in front of him. He flew off his bike and landed roughly on the ground.
‘Ouch, fuck!’ His head hurt, but on the whole he was okay? except that the bike was pretty much wrecked, unfit to ride, so to speak. So he decided to walk back towards town, which turned out to be quite arduous, because his right knee had also taken a beating? and pushing a broken bike around wasn't really that easy either. When, to make matters worse, it began to pour with rain, Arno sought shelter under a tree to rest. His knee and his head ached as he huddled together. One thing became clearer and clearer to him: what his future would hold was entirely up to him. He had to stop blaming his problems on other people. The thought that he recognised some of his father's traits in him made him feel sick. The hurtful way towards others, the immediate hitting? That had to stop. And that's exactly what he swore to himself under this tree, as the rain pelted down on him. ‘Enough of this? I'm not a child anymore,’ he swore to himself, speaking half aloud. He decided to wait out the rain and then move on. He was still afraid, though: how would Jeroen react when he faced him? Would he forgive him? What could he possibly say to him? A simple ‘sorry’ would never be enough to make up for the damage, he felt. Arno was exhausted, sad and closed his eyes? maybe a little sleep would help him.
He had barely fallen asleep when he had a strange dream: he found himself in the air, flying over the road he had travelled by bike as he approached a motorway bridge. He saw from above that the traffic on the bridge had come to a standstill. Ambulances with shimmering blue lights were standing in each other's way. In the middle of the road, three paramedics were kneeling over what appeared to be a seriously injured person. ‘Great, so now I'm really in trouble,’ Arno thought to himself as he approached the scene from above. One of the paramedics strangely looked like his physics teacher? what was he doing here? Just a few more moments? then he would see who was lying on the road. The paramedics shook their heads and pulled a silver aluminium blanket over the battered body. Everything was quiet, no one seemed to be breathing. Arno walked slowly towards the victim, he needed to know who was under the blanket. He fully expected to see himself, but when he slowly lifted the blanket, he saw a tuft of blonde hair peeking out from under a blood-smeared, black wool cap. He removed the cap and stared into Jeroen's face, into two lifeless eyes. ‘I love you,’ Arno heard from somewhere as he woke with a start. He trembled all over: the dream was worse than all his other nightmares. He was also freezing, although it had stopped raining, but the drops had somehow found their way through the canopy of leaves onto Arno's body. He decided to continue on his way, since it would also be getting dark soon.
Jeroen didn't really know where he was going either, of course he wanted to find Arno, but more than anything he wanted to be alone with his thoughts. Silently, he rode through the streets. He felt so sorry for Arno. And on Sunday he would have to go back to Vienna, without anyone being able to do anything about it. Lost in thought, he didn't notice that suddenly another bike was riding next to him. It was Klaas.
‘Fine, he'll want to get back at me now,’ Jeroen thought to himself, but immediately saw that this would not happen. Klaas had stuffed a handkerchief into his nose, which was quite swollen. With a guilty expression, he looked at Jeroen: ’I'm sorry for what I said. Please forgive me.’
‘Thanks,‘ Jeroen said appreciatively, he hadn't expected that, “you can help me look for Arno. He just left earlier.”
’He's got a hell of a punch, your friend,‘ Klaas said and tried to laugh. He didn't succeed? the mood was too tense.
’How did you know that Arno and I were together?’ Jeroen asked.
‘Well, it's obvious to anyone: the way you talk to each other, the way you look at each other, the way you interact with each other. Again, I'm sorry. I don't have anything against you two, on the contrary: you're both nice guys, I was just so upset about the game that I... I mean...’ Klaas stopped, got off his bike and held out his hand to Jeroen.
‘Friends?‘ he asked.
’Friends,‘ Jeroen replied and shook hands with Klaas.
’Come on, let's get going. It'll be dark soon,’ Jeroen said and they both swung themselves back into the saddle.
Arno had covered a few kilometres in the meantime, and the area now seemed a little more familiar to him. Yes, of course: he had been here with Jeroen a few days ago, and from a distance he suddenly saw the distinctive weeping willow appear – where he and Jeroen had made love. He decided to take another break there.
Since Jeroen really didn't know where to look, he instinctively followed the route he had taken with his friend a few days ago. Both boys took turns calling out to Arno.
‘There! There under the tree! Is that him?’ Klaas suddenly shouted.
Jeroen's heart was in his throat. It really was Arno? He had been worried about him, but now he didn't know what to say to him. After all, he had hurt him quite a bit.
Klaas stopped with his bike on the path. He knew this was between Arno and Jeroen, and he could always apologise to Arno later.
Jeroen approached Arno, who had also realised who was coming towards him. His throat also felt tight.
Both stood facing each other, about a metre apart. Neither of them was able to say a word. So it was once again the more level-headed Jeroen who dared to take the first step. He slowly approached him, embraced him and, crying, buried his head in Arno's shoulders.
‘I'm so sorry for what I said,’ Arno managed with difficulty before he too began to cry. Over and over again, he stroked Jeroen's hair and told him how much he needed him.
‘I always hurt the people I love the most. I would never have forgiven myself if you had just walked away now. I'm nothing without you!’
‘I always hurt the people I love.’ ‘Because you are always hurt by people who should love you!’ Jeroen only thought this sentence to himself, he didn't know how Arno would react if he told him what Wilma had told him. At least this was not the right moment for it.
After a while, the two of them broke away from each other and only now did Arno realise that Klaas was with them. He looked at the ground in shame as Klaas approached him.
‘He's bound to give me a smack now,’ thought Arno, ‘I wouldn't blame him.’
‘Sorry for calling you a fag,‘ Klaas said, “you're a great footballer!”
’Sorry for punching you? That was absolutely crap. Inexcusable,’ Arno said.
The two shook hands.
‘Forget about it, Mike Tyson,‘ Klaas said with a wink, picked up Arno's broken bike and said, “Let's go home!”
After saying goodbye to Klaas, they arrived back at the de Bleekers’ house. Wilma immediately rushed outside and hugged them both.
‘Now, you're going to take a shower first. You're frozen, ‘ she said to Arno and ruffled his hair. ’But afterwards we'll talk. It's not okay to just leave. That was very stupid of you. Now, don't cry, go take a shower!’
He took the little scolding lying down and thought of his mother, who was always hopelessly overwhelmed in such similar situations. She never scolded him, even when it would have been appropriate sometimes. Nevertheless, he missed her for the first time since his arrival at this very moment.
Arno climbed into the shower with wobbly legs before the hot water ran down his body? how good that felt to him now. After about 20 minutes he came back into the living room.
‘Nah, your knee looks lovely,’ Wilma said. ‘Come and sit down,’ she ordered Arno and began to tend to the wound on his knee.
Then she started talking? Arno listened in silence.
"You know that you have hurt Jeroen very much. He is a decent guy and I don't tolerate such things. He actually wanted to leave, but then? I hope it's all right with you, I told him about your home? About your family, especially your father.’
Arno remained calm. Under different circumstances, he would have shouted, ‘None of your damn business!’ But he sat there and listened sadly.
‘All this must be very hard for you, but it's not your fault! Do you hear me? It's not your fault!’ She stroked his face lovingly, and Arno wondered where all the water in his eyes came from, because tears were flowing down his face again.
‘But you should also know that you have a second family here. Whenever you have problems, call us and we'll put you on a plane. You'll have to come back on Sunday, but that's not the end of it. We'll always be there for you. But you have to promise me something too: don't do anything so stupid again, and above all? keep fighting! Finish school and in two or three years, the world will be open to you. Others have done it before, and they had it much harder than you do. We all love you very much. You are not alone? and you never will be."
Wilma looked into Arno's eyes? she was visibly moved when she saw simple gratitude there. Then she hugged her big one: ’From today on, I have two sons!’
‘Isn't she great?‘ Jan said to Jeroen, putting his arm around his shoulder. Both had watched the scene at a safe distance. Jeroen was grateful and he was sure: his love for Arno would last forever!
’Go on. Run along,’ Jan nudged him, which he didn't need to be told twice.
A few moments later, they were alone in their room. Arno was terribly exhausted, so Jeroen moved to the air mattress to let his friend the bed. Arno had caught a slight cold, sniffed and sneezed from time to time.
‘Thanks for everything, Jeroen,’ he said into the silence. “You are undoubtedly the sanest of us two!” He went to his backpack, rummaged around and took out an envelope.
‘Here! I had intended to give it to you when we parted, but I think today is a better time. I made this drawing after our first night together. It shows you as you are to me: perfect!‘
Jeroen accepted the drawing with a shaky hand.
’It's? beautiful,’ he said haltingly. “But don't you want to keep it as a souvenir?” he asked.
Arno shook his head. ‘It's already stored in my brain. I'll carry it with me always. I love you and I miss you already.’
Jeroen went over to his bed again and kissed him. ‘I wish Sunday would never come,’ he whispered, trembling in Arno's ear. ‘I'll miss you too, so much that it hurts just to think about it.’
He held him in his arms. There was no reply. Arno had gently fallen asleep in his arms.
Jeroen looked at himself in the drawing again. Arno could not have done him a greater favour. He had long since forgotten the insulting words of the afternoon.
The next day was spent very quietly. Arno had caught a cold, and the weather was terrible. It was raining and didn't look like it would stop during the day. So they decided to spend the day lounging on the couch. They played card games, watched TV and listened to music. Jeroen picked up his guitar again and sang some ballads for Arno, who kept dozing off.
In the afternoon, Arno was feeling a bit better after Wilma had prepared him a tea (based on an old family recipe). Since Arno slept most of the time anyway, Jan took him into the city centre in the late afternoon? he wanted to run a few errands?
The tea? which contained a good shot of rum? made Arno dizzy and when he woke up after another nap, he had no idea for a moment where he actually was. It took a few seconds before he realised that he was in Holland? at least for a few more days? That's when he became sad again. Where was Jeroen, anyway? Were the last few weeks just a dream? He looked around helplessly, only to fall asleep again shortly after.
When he woke up again, it was morning. Arno had slept for 15 hours straight and felt great, at least as far as his health was concerned. He still coughed, but the hot head and the scratchy throat were gone. He lay in his chamber, no idea who had brought him there. Probably Jan, he thought. Jeroen had slept on the air mattress again, but was already awake and immediately realised that Arno was feeling better. He immediately crawled into Arno's bed.
‘Good morning,’ he breathed towards Arno.
‘Good morning,’ Arno sighed. ‘Only two more days?’ That was what Arno had on his mind.
But he soon had other thoughts when he felt Jeroen's gentle hands on his body. The little one really went for it, kissing him all over. Arno's head immediately became hot again, this time with excitement. Jeroen's tongue gently caressed his nipples while he pleasurably jerked Arno off. Arno did the same and jerked Jeroen off. Both came almost simultaneously, before they collapsed into each other, exhausted. Jeroen lay on top of Arno for quite a while, too exhausted and too lazy to get up. Eventually, they both got up.
‘I'm going to take a shower. You coming?’ Jeroen asked, which Arno didn't need to be asked twice. Under the shower, things went further again? when Arno soaped Jeroen's back and saw Jeroen's magnificent ass, his penis swelled again immediately.
Jeroen just turned his head to Arno, looked at him lovingly and said, ’Make love to me!’
‘But only if you really want me to,’ Arno replied.
A moment later, he moved gently and carefully inside Jeroen, who moaned softly. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked, concerned. ‘Go on, go on,’ Jeroen breathed. Arno almost lost his senses? it felt so good. He came for the second time in an hour, this time even harder, so hard that his knees went weak and he sank to the floor of the shower. Jeroen also sank to the floor and they both remained seated for a while, enjoying the water that pelted down on them. ‘That was definitely the best thing I ever experienced,’ Arno purred. ‘Tonight you can, if you want!’ he said to Jeroen, who, still confused, just nodded.
Late that morning, the whole family went to a huge shopping centre. Wilma, who was likely to be quite affected by the impending farewell, wanted to spoil Arno one more time.
‘And I don't want to hear any “no, that's not possible” from you, understand?’ she said to Arno.
First they went to Esprit. ‘Just choose whatever you like, okay?’ Jan said, and a little later Arno and Jeroen had disappeared between the shelves. After a while Arno found what he was looking for: he chose a black T-shirt with the word ‘No surrender’ in silver letters. ‘I hope that's okay with them,‘ he said to Jeroen, “after all, it costs 25 euros.”
Wilma just shook her head when Arno held the T-shirt up to her. “So it is too expensive after all,” Arno thought.
’I see I'll have to play fashion adviser,’ she said to Jeroen with a stern look.
An hour later, they were standing in line at the checkout and Arno didn't know what hit him: together with Wilma and Jeroen (Jan went to a toy store with Thys in the meantime), they had selected two more sexy T-shirts, a pair of dark blue jeans, and a black and white summer sweater.
‘I'll pay you back for all this sometime,‘ he said to Wilma, touched, “I promise!” Wilma just waved him off and gave Arno a big hug. “Don't get jealous, Jeroen,” she said cheekily to Jeroen, lovingly pinching his cheeks.
’You owe him one now!’ Arno said, winking. Wilma knew exactly what Arno really wanted: time alone to find a farewell gift for Jeroen. She wanted to slip him 50 euros without being noticed, but Arno waved it off gratefully. He wanted to spend his own money on Jeroen; he hadn't needed much of the 100 euros he had with him.
‘OK, Jeroen. I think Arno would like to buy something for his family. We'd better leave him to it, OK? So, Arno, shall we meet here in an hour?‘
’OK,’ Arno murmured. What a great woman Wilma was.
Arno went straight to a jewellery shop? he wanted to buy Jeroen a silver ring because he thought it would suit him well. He could also use it as a necklace. He had the words ‘Love Faith Hope’ engraved on the ring. With the change, he bought him a snow-white shirt with the word ‘Angel’ embroidered on the left breast pocket. After all, he was his angel too. He had both items gift-wrapped and went back to the agreed meeting place.
‘So, did you find anything?‘ Jeroen asked curiously.
’Yep, a bottle opener for my dad,’ Arno replied, not without a touch of irony, “and a blouse for my mum. With windmills on it, so typically Dutch.” Arno sounded very credible and Jeroen seemed to believe his every word.
Since the rain of the last few days had stopped and it was very warm again, they decided to spend the afternoon at the open-air swimming pool. Wilma must have taken a hundred photos that day: she thought it was just sweet how Arno and Jeroen took care of little Thys, who enjoyed being the centre of attention.
That evening they all went to a pizzeria – the mood was both celebratory and sad. Arno's time in Holland was numbered.
It was Saturday morning – the last full day for Arno in Holland. The very next afternoon, Arno would be back on the plane to Vienna. The previous night, Arno had also kept his promise, and it was just as great for Jeroen as it was for him the day before.
Arno was up early as usual. He went to the kitchen and wrote a note: ‘Don't worry, I haven't run away again. I just want to spend the next few hours alone. I'll be back for lunch. Love you all, Arno.’
Then he got on his bike, which Jan had had repaired in the meantime. He wanted to revisit all the familiar places from the last week, all alone, with himself and his thoughts, which were full of sadness and joy at the same time. Joy because he was able to experience all of this, sadness because the next day he would have to say goodbye to the person he loved most: Jeroen!
On the football pitch, he kicked the ball he had brought with him into the goal a few times. It was a place he didn't like to remember, but which he still had to revisit, probably to come to terms with himself once and for all.
‘Thanks again, Jeroen, for forgiving me!’ he said to himself and continued his tour. He cycled along the canal to the weeping willow, where he of course also stopped. A magical place! With a knife he had brought with him, he carved his and Jeroen's names into the bark. He didn't feel foolish at all when he kissed the tree goodbye. ‘Thank you, Jeroen, for loving me,’ he whispered, the big lump in his throat was back again.
One last look back? he saw himself and Jeroen lying there.
‘Goodbye,’ he stammered, swung himself onto his bike and rode off.
Since it was Saturday, it took a while for other people to appear, but slowly other cyclists or joggers came towards him, all of whom greeted him kindly. ‘It's incredible how friendly everyone is here. When I think of my neighbourhood,’ Arno thought, and again his thoughts turned to the next day.
Arno went to the swimming pool again; he could just about afford the entrance fee. He did a few laps, but decided to leave again very soon. After all, he had only been there the day before – the memories were still very fresh. It was therefore strange to be there alone.
With mixed feelings, he returned to the de Bleeker house at half past twelve. He couldn't believe his eyes: the garden was decorated and full of people. Thys squealed with joy when he saw Arno: he missed the little one terribly too. Jan was busy lighting the barbecue, while Wilma cut all kinds of meat into small pieces and put them on skewers. Jeroen had jumped up immediately, silently took Arno by the hand and led him to a secluded corner of the garden, where Anne, Jeroen's mother, was sitting. As a matter of course, she rose to embrace Arno. ‘Thank you for what you did for Jeroen,’ she whispered in his ear, and hugged him even tighter when Arno began to cry uncontrollably. “You've all been so kind to me,” he sobbed, “I don't deserve it!” ’But you do. You've helped Jeroen so much to get his life back on track, and with that, you've helped me too. You're welcome at my house anytime!"
Arno went to the bathroom to wash his face, so as not to scare the others with his tear-stained features. He looked out of the first-floor window: the party was for him, and him alone. Jeroen's grandparents were there, and two other elderly people, probably Jan's parents. Jans' brother was there, with his wife and twin girls. A few neighbours had also come. One of them would later take the bikes that Jan had bought for him and Jeroen two weeks earlier.
The boys he had often played football with had also come. Klaas and the others. So he stood there, silently gazing out of the window. It was only when he realised that Jeroen was restlessly looking for him that he decided to go down. It was his party, after all.
It was a great party. Arno's farewell was celebrated late into the night. There was eating, drinking, singing, laughing and crying. Jeroen had brought his guitar again and took turns singing love songs and funny songs. Another boy had brought his Playstation and a Singstar game, which was great fun when Jan tried to sing ‘Grace Kelly’ by Mika. A lamentable attempt? great fun for everyone else. As night fell, Jan surprised Jeroen and Arno by showing a slideshow of all the photos he and Wilma had taken of Arno during his stay. The film music from Jeroen's favourite film, Artificial Intelligence by Steven Spielberg, was playing in the background. These pictures made the garden go completely quiet. Everyone present was aware of the great friendship that had developed over these weeks and the difficult day that the boys still had ahead of them. Arno's favourite photo was from the day they had spent in Amsterdam. It shows him and Jeroen from behind, holding hands, heads bent in conversation, in the middle of Vondelpark. Jeroen's favourite photo was from the day they met, on the way home from the amusement park. It showed Arno sleeping in the car. ‘Sleeping Beauty,’ Jeroen said to Arno at that moment, wiping a tear from his eye with the flat of his hand.
Of course, both boys received a CD with all the photos on it. Arno also got some packages for his family in Vienna. Incredibly, they had even bought something for his father. At around half past twelve at night, the guests left, all hugging Arno goodbye, and he couldn't believe that even Klaas seemed to have tears in his eyes.
‘See you soon, buddy,‘ he said in broken German.
’See you soon!’ Arno said.
A little later, he and Jeroen went up to the attic for the last time.
Arno was packing. He laid out his new robe for the next day, while Jeroen did the same for himself. Both boys were silent. Packing was a welcome distraction, and they took an unusually long time over it.
When Arno had finished, he sat down on the wide window sill, still in silence, and gazed thoughtfully into the night. Jeroen came in a little later and sat down with his back against Arno's front. They sat there in silence for a while, gathering their thoughts.
‘We'll meet again, 100%!‘ Jeroen broke the silence. “Maybe you can come back for Christmas,” he continued.
’Yes, maybe,’ Arno replied, although he knew he couldn't afford it. Sure, they had offered him to come back anytime, but could he really take advantage of that?
‘What's next for you in the autumn?‘ he asked Jeroen.
’I'm going to a new school. One with a musical focus. Let's see how it goes. And you?‘
’Sixth grade, three more years until graduation.‘
’And after that?‘
’I don't know. Just away from home!’
‘You don't like to talk about it, do you? Wilma... I mean, she told me everything.‘
’Yes, I know, but it's something I don't want to talk about. I have to deal with it alone.’
‘You don't have to. I'll always be with you, even if only in my thoughts. Never forget that.‘
’What do you want to do?‘ Arno changed the subject.
’I don't know yet, maybe something to do with music. But above all, I want to be one thing: happy! As happy as I've been in the last few weeks.’
‘Yes, you have made me very happy too. In a few days everything will seem like it was just a dream. A wonderful dream. I love you very much,’ Arno whispered and kissed Jeroen's neck.
‘I love you too,‘ Jeroen replied and snuggled his head against Arno's chest, gazing out the window.
’Everyone is asleep out there,’ he said. “It's as if we're the only ones who are awake!”
Once again, Arno was amazed? as he often was? by his friend's mature insights.
It was already half past three, and Arno and Jeroen both didn't want to fall asleep, after all, these were their last hours.
‘Good morning,’ they both suddenly heard. It seemed to them as if they had only just fallen asleep, but a new day had already begun outside. Sunday. Arno's departure day.
It all happened very quickly. After a quick breakfast, Arno's luggage was stowed in the car and he had to say goodbye to the first person: Jeroen's mother, who had spent the night at the de Bleeker house. Unfortunately, there was no room for her in the car.
‘Remember what I said, you're always welcome, and thanks again,’ she said, hugging him and giving him a pat on the back. Arno's bones ached from the short sleep on the windowsill, but his soul ached even more. It all seemed so unreal to him somehow, like a film playing before his eyes.
A short time later, they were sitting in the car. Jan was driving, Wilma was on the passenger seat. Between him and Arno sat Thys in his seat, the only one who chuckled happily.
All the others were silent. Arno couldn't even look at Jeroen. He was wearing a black shirt, buttoned up to the top. A few strands of his hair were hanging in his face. He kept sniffing the air and was holding a plastic bag in his hand. Arno could see from the few glances he had exchanged with him that his hands were shaking. Jeroen was fighting hard to keep from bursting into tears. Arno was also overcome by fits of sobbing, which he suppressed by looking out of the window. The mood in the car was just plain sad, and Jan and Wilma hardly spoke either.
‘Well? here we are,’ he heard Jan say far too quickly. They had arrived at the assembly point, the place where this adventure had begun three weeks earlier. It seemed like yesterday to Arno.
The bus was not there yet, but most of the children who also had to say goodbye that day were there. The fat girl was there too, who had been on three holidays with them. She was also here for the last time. The children's holiday programme was only for children up to the age of fifteen, an age Arno was to reach in September.
You heard it everywhere, sniffling, but also laughter. ‘No one can have it nearly as hard as I do today,’ Arno thought to himself and was probably not wrong. He still didn't dare to look at Jeroen, who was standing close to him and was still shaking.
And then the bus arrived. The children fell into the arms of their host parents and were told to get on.
Arno said goodbye to Thys first, giving him a little kiss on the forehead.
Then to Jan? the tears were already flowing, then to Wilma, who was audibly sobbing.
Then? Jeroen!
They both cried bitterly as they held each other. Arno didn't care about anyone else, he kissed Jeroen on the lips one last time, unable to say a single word. Jeroen seemed to lose his strength for a moment and sank down briefly, but Arno held him up. He too couldn't utter a word.
Arno broke free of the embrace, reached into his backpack and gave Jeroen the two small packages that he had only bought on Friday. Jeroen gave Arno the plastic bag that also contained two small packages.
Crying, he kissed him on the lips one more time. He was the last to get on the bus. On the bus, everyone stared at him strangely, but Arno didn't even notice. He found a window seat so he could still see his ‘new family’. They all waved, and Jeroen leaned against Wilma for support, still sobbing, his face swollen with tears.
Arno pressed both hands against the windowpane – he was breathing heavily, it felt as if his heart was going to stop beating. There, outside, was the love of his life, and who knew when he would see him again.
The bus started moving? Jeroen tore himself away from Wilma. He ran alongside the bus and screamed, howling: ‘I love you! I will always love you! Always?’
The bus rounded the corner? and Jeroen was gone. They were all gone. Arno closed his eyes and cried? a counsellor took a seat next to him and tried to comfort him. Without success. Some other children cried as well, a few others just seemed to enjoy themselves.
Two hours later, they arrived at the airport. Arno's mood was still at rock bottom; he still felt as if he were in a bad dream. He wanted to wake up and realised that, unfortunately, it was reality.
Like three weeks before, he considered locking himself in a toilet to miss the flight. However, the thought seemed rather immature to him. Check-in went relatively quickly, the plane was scheduled to take off at 5 o'clock in the afternoon.
Arno had a window seat and watched the comings and goings on the surrounding runways to distract himself. But when the plane took off a little late, he started to cry again. Now he had definitely left Holland behind!
When the aeroplane reached cruising altitude, Arno suddenly remembered: the plastic bag! He rummaged around in his rucksack and took out Jeroen's presents. He opened the first one and found a letter and a CD. The CD contained some of Arno and Jeroen's favourite songs, sung and played by Jeroen himself.
With a shaky hand, he read the letter.
Dear Arno!
By the time you read this letter, we will have already said goodbye. I just wanted to thank you for the last few weeks? they were the best weeks of my life. After my parents' divorce, after Patrik's death, I didn't have an easy time? until you came along. You showed me what it means to be happy. I will always carry you in my heart and thoughts. I will always be with you and hope that we will meet again soon. I love you more than anything? and will always love you.
Take care? See you soon!
Jeroen
Jeroen had stuck a small strand of his hair in the bottom left corner.
Underneath it was written: P.S. Don't think I haven't noticed how much you like my hair.
Arno smiled. He was sad, but he smiled. Everything would be all right again.
Then he opened the second package, swallowed and again tears came to his eyes: it contained Jeroen's black woolly hat! There was a small note: Patrik will understand.
Arno closed his eyes and pressed the cap against his chest. Again he closed his eyes filled with tears. He missed him terribly.
He didn't know what the future would bring. What he did know was that it wouldn't be easy. That he still had a long, hard road ahead of him in every respect. That he still had a lot to struggle with, but, he thought, ‘Who doesn't?’
What he hoped was that he had enough love in his heart to make it, thanks to Jeroen, the blond angel. The boy with the black woolly hat.
The aeroplane touched down gently again in Vienna.
Arno was at home.