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Oliver is sitting at his desk and watching his computer's screensaver. Normally, he would be out and about with his friends right now. It's not the weather that's keeping him at home. It's not raining, but it's not sunny either. Today, he just doesn't feel like it. Oliver has been sitting there like this for almost two hours now, gazing out of the window and at his screen, lost in thought.
Today at school, he was really annoyed by one of Bülent's stupid comments. Oliver has been playing handball in the sports club for a long time. Bülent, on the other hand, plays in the football team of the same club. During the big break, he simply announced loudly in front of the entire student body that handball is for girls and real men play football.
Oliver was furious straight away and it would have taken just one more word in this vein and Bülent would have had one of his own. Oliver had to make a real effort to keep himself under control.
Why did this saying annoy him so much? Bülent has always been known for his macho sayings. Oliver has never really taken him and his talk seriously. Except today. That's when he made him boil. Did his Italian genes, which he got from his father, come into play?
Oh yes, his father. He never got to know him, as he left for his native Italy immediately after his birth. Since then, he only hears or reads from him at birthdays or Christmas. He never missed him. He has always been able to talk to his mother about everything. She always has an open ear for him and sometimes even one or two useful pieces of advice.
However, there is something that is now causing him concern, but he somehow can't discuss it with his mother. What is bothering him is too intimate to discuss with a woman. This has been going on for quite a while, at least since he decided to start shaving regularly about a year ago. He has found that his beard and sideburns have become a bit too silly for him. It was then that he realised for the first time that there are some things he can't discuss with his mother – or doesn't want to.
Anyway, he just got some blades and shaving foam and practised. In the meantime, a few hairs have appeared on his chest. He just shaves those away too.
Recently, however, he noticed Giovanni in the shower after handball training. Giovanni was born in Italy and only came to Germany with his parents and sister a few years ago. For the first time, he noticed that he has quite a lot of hair on his stomach and chest. And that, even though Giovanni is barely half a year older than Oliver. Giovanni must also shave his face more often. Oliver seems to have inherited his mother's genes in this respect: He probably won't be able to grow a full beard for a long time yet. Oliver also has much lighter hair than Giovanni and it's not as thick either. Giovanni has a blue-black mat on his head.
While Oliver was still looking at it thoughtfully – always careful not to attract too much attention – Sven came out of the shower into the changing room and posed in front of the mirror, examining his muscles.
Giovanni just spoke to him in his funny German: ‘Hey, what are you looking at? Nice muscles, but not even hair on your chest.’
Sven laughed briefly and just replied laconically: ‘Don't worry. Nothing grows on steel.’ He pounded his chest with his fists.
Giovanni just looked stupid. The others started laughing.
Oliver likes Sven. He is almost always in a good mood and he always has a cool saying ready for every stupid remark. And Sven has muscles, short blonde hair and steel-blue eyes. He is the eye-catcher.
That day in the changing room, Oliver noticed something. Giovanni didn't just change his clothes. No, Giovanni showed Oliver his hairy body, his hairy legs and his slightly darker skin. Oliver was not left cold by this.
Sven didn't just show off his muscles either. Sven also made him want to touch those muscles, to stroke his belly and...
It was only Sven's clearly slightly amused look into Oliver's body that recently made him realise that the sight of his two naked sports companions had aroused him. He quickly put his trousers on and just smiled mischievously.
Oliver reflects. Photos of boys and young men with bare chests, in swimming trunks or tight jeans and open shirts flit across his computer screen.
Before that day in the changing room, he had not realised what a naked boy's body triggers in him, what desire suddenly takes hold of him. Yes, all at once he feels a great desire not only to look at his friends, but also to touch them. What would he give to be allowed to kiss Giovanni, his full, dark red lips? Or to simply take the light-skinned Sven in his arms and hold him close?
As much as he longs for the touch of his two friends, as much as he wishes to feel their warmth, to touch them, to let them caress him, to kiss with them – he is just as afraid of rejection. Even though homosexuality is not rejected in principle in his club, it is repeatedly the subject of ridicule. He does not know any gay people in his club. What if his own desires become known among his comrades? What if they think he is gay?
He has to think of something. The sight of his naked friends in the shower turns him on. And nobody must notice it. How should he do that? How should he prevent himself from getting a hard-on? What would they think of him otherwise? How would they react?
Should he even dare to shower with the others at all?
He likes playing handball. This team sport is his whole world. The hugs after every goal scored, the pats on the back when a throw misses the target. So far, everything has been sporty and friendly. Now Oliver feels more when he just thinks about it.
He is currently thinking about the pros and cons of not going to handball for the time being when he hears the front door: his mother is coming home.
Manuela calls out a cheerful ‘Good evening! Anyone at home?’ into the apartment and closes the door.
Oliver answers: ‘Hello. I'm already here.’ With a mouse movement, he quickly stops the slide show on his screen.
His mother opens the door, sticks her head into the room and says: ‘Hello darling, I'll go and make dinner.’
He nods at her and smiles. ‘Darling’ is almost as bad as ‘Olli’.
‘Oliver, can you give me a hand? Dinner's almost ready,’ he hears her call for him after a while.
He shuffles into the kitchen and sets the table. His mother comes in with the bowls.
‘How was your day?’
‘Okay.’
‘And at school, everything okay?’
‘Yep.’
‘And? Was everything good?’
‘Yep.’
‘For God's sake, can't you ever talk in complete sentences?’
"Yep.’
‘Oh Olli... uh... Oliver, look, I'm just worried. You hardly say anything anymore, we don't talk at all, you always seem so absent-minded, and I have no idea what's going on in your head! Do I have to worry about something?’
‘No, it's nothing, it's nothing at all, okay? I've been a little tired and tense lately from school, it's not getting any easier, all this studying!‘
’Wasn't there also handball training today?‘
’No, it's not until tomorrow, but I'm not going then."
She looks at him in astonishment: ’Why not? Is something wrong?’
‘Nooo! We're doing maths soon. I still have to study for that."
Manuela sighs. She realises that he doesn't want to talk and gives up. She is tired and exhausted too; the day was stressful. If he doesn't want to talk now, she won't make him.
Oliver helps her clear the table. She tidies up the kitchen, then lies down on the sofa with a book and is asleep a few minutes later.
He gets another glass of lemonade from the kitchen, sees her lying there, and a slight, wistful feeling takes hold of him. In the past, when he was little, he would always snuggle up to her for a few more minutes, they would talk quietly about the day, then she would send him to the bathroom, read to him as well, even though he could already read himself, but it was always so nice and cosy.
He shrugs his shoulders and goes to his room.
Once there, he lets the computer boot up again. He wants to surf a bit more. One topic keeps coming back to him: is he gay? Is it a phase? How do you actually know that you're gay if you've never been with a boy except for looking and dreaming?
When can you be sure if you are gay or just going through a phase? Oliver is now 17 years old. He celebrated his birthday with his friends that evening. Friday night was just asking for it. The next day, when he got up, he asked his mother not to call him Olli anymore. After all, he is very mature now.
She simply replied, ‘OK, Olli,’ and gave him a knowing smile.
He doesn't really like calling her ‘Mutti’ either. It's kind of childish. But how? By her first name? Manu? Ela? Or even Manuela? Kevin does that with his parents. It's kind of weird, so different, so unusual.
Kevin has been his best friend at school since year seven. They even sat next to each other until the last summer holidays. Now Kevin sits next to Sabrina. The way they keep looking at each other, they must be a couple now. During the long breaks, the two are always invisible. She is no longer with her girls and Kevin is no longer with Oliver and his clique.
Oliver broods. What bothers him about it? He is actually happy for Kevin that he has fallen in love. Nevertheless, he has a strange feeling between sadness and anger. Jacqueline, who is now sitting next to him at school, says that it is clearly jealousy.
Jealousy? Of whom is he jealous? What would he change if he had the chance? One thing is clear: he misses Kevin. His friend Kevin. His smile. His funny sayings. The things they always did together. His eyes. He would love to be in Sabrina's shoes.
If Kevin were in his handball team, he wouldn't even think about not going anymore. He's always felt comfortable around Kevin.
On Oliver's screen, the images of boys from his screensaver are already scurrying again. It has become quite late by now. Actually, he is tired, but still doesn't want to go to bed. So he sits motionless at his desk and watches the naked and half-naked bodies in front of his eyes.
Suddenly, he hears a noise behind him at his room door. He quickly reaches for his mouse, which he can't find right away, and ends this particular slideshow. When he finally moves and furtively glances at the door, he only sees it slowly closing from the outside.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit, he thinks, did she see what my screensaver is? Oh God. I have to pay attention and close my door. Or better yet: set an innocuous screensaver.
Tired, he turns off the computer and gets ready for bed.
The next morning, he gets up faster than usual, tries not to make any unnecessary noise, and makes his way to school. He lets his mother sleep; she is probably on late duty today, otherwise she would be awake by now.
Later that morning, she looks at herself in the mirror with amusement and then shakes her head. What strange thoughts must have flashed through her mind!
Okay, when she came back from the toilet last night, she noticed that Oliver's door was only ajar. She just wanted to admonish him to finally go to bed, since he had to go to school. She quietly opened the door further and saw all the pictures of naked young men on his computer screen, and she was shocked. Oliver didn't seem to notice anything, so she quietly retreated and went to bed, totally confused.
Well, this morning the world looks different again. Smiling, she brushes her hair and applies a subtle make-up. She should hurry, work is calling, Oliver is already gone.
The boy must be in love, she thinks to herself. And it's only natural to make comparisons, isn't it? She doesn't know, and now she has one of those rare moments when she misses Oliver's father; she could have asked him. Should she email him?
Oh well, better not. They have managed well without him all these years... although... she lets her hand with the brush drop... they have managed well all these years, but has Oliver too?
Of course, she never had the feeling that he missed a father who left for Italy right after Oliver's birth because he was so homesick for his country. So he said! Anyway, since then he has been paying regularly, otherwise he stays out of their lives, as agreed.
Oliver, who knows the whole story, once said that he didn't need a guy like that.
But now she wishes there was a father who could have a... a... yes, should she call it a man-to-man talk? ... with the son.
She looks at the clock in alarm: she has to go, and right now!
On the bus, she reflects a little more: her boy has been an uncomplicated child, her Olli! Yikes, don't think Olli! On his 17th birthday, just half a year ago, he urgently asked her to call him Oliver from now on, and she promised. In return, he wanted to call her Manu instead of Mutti. Good friends call each other that too. Well, she can be glad that he didn't insist on her full first name, Manuela.
They were able to talk about everything. It's just not always easy for a single mother with a job to raise a child, keep the household in order and not lose herself.
His adolescence was actually quite easy too. Well, there were a few arguments, but that's normal.
But lately... what is going on with him? He seems so introverted, sometimes he is really dismissive towards her. It can't be because of school, okay, he's not an overachiever, but he's doing quite well, and the fact that he doesn't yet know what he wants to do after graduating... that will work itself out.
But she will think more about it tonight; for now, it's time to work.
When he arrives in the classroom, Oliver drops onto his chair and rests his head on his forearms. He only casually registers how his classmates come in, greet him and take their seats. So he hardly notices Jacqueline sitting down next to him.
‘Morning Oliver,’ she says as usual.
‘Hello Jäckie,’ he mumbles without looking up.
‘What's the matter with you?‘
’Huh? – Oh, nothing, I just slept badly.’
Jacqueline has long since noticed that something is wrong with Oliver. No matter how often she has asked him lately, she has not been able to get anything out of him. She actually likes him. He is so different from the other boys, though she can't quite put her finger on it. She has decided to grill him on the matter. He always reacts dismissively to her questions. She has a plan.
Then the history teacher enters. All conversations stop. After a welcome speech, he returns the corrected exams. For Oliver, it's all a blur. He's too absorbed in his own thoughts. Finally, the exam is thrown next to him.
The teacher addresses him: ‘Oliver, what were you thinking? You can do better than that. What's been going on with you lately?’
Oliver just looks at his teacher with disinterest. He has heard the sentences, but their meaning has not reached his brain.
The teacher moves on. Oliver opens the last page with displeasure and holds his breath.
Oh crap, a four in history! And that even though I studied so hard for it and actually know the material. I'm messing up my grade right now.
He struggles to follow the lesson for the entire period. When the bell rings, he packs his things into his rucksack and leaves the room for the courtyard. He doesn't even notice Jacqueline bumping into him.
When he arrives in the courtyard, Oliver rummages through his backpack. He actually doesn't have his English homework with him. Instead, he finds a light blue envelope with Jacqueline's name written on it. He recognises this handwriting too well; he has copied from it often enough since they have been sitting together. He had actually intended to ask her for the English homework so that he could copy it.
Why is she writing him a letter now? What does she want from him? She's usually not tongue-tied and always says what she wants and thinks outright. A letter from Jacqueline.
‘Will you go out with me?’ It probably won't be that, he thinks and smiles briefly.
He goes to a corner of the schoolyard and carefully tears open the envelope. Then he pulls out a postcard. On one side there is a colourful flower printed on it and a short text: ‘And there came a day when the risk of remaining in the bud became more painful than the risk of blossoming.’ - Anaïs Nin -
What is this supposed to mean?
He carefully turns over the card. There is only one sentence in Jacqueline's neat handwriting: If you ever want to talk, you know where to find me. J.
The backpack slips out of his hand. He lets it slide onto the gravel of the courtyard. Then he reads that one sentence again and the quote on the other side.
The risk of blossoming crosses his mind. Does she mean that I don't blossom, or that I should blossom? What does risk mean here? What does it matter to her anyway? ... Does she suspect something? What does she suspect and I'm not even sure?
At the beginning of the school year, Oliver was disappointed when his friend Kevin simply sat down at Sabrina's table and made no move to sit down with him again. Oliver still hoped that it would only be short-lived. Kevin never talked to him about it. How can it be that his new flame Sabrina is obviously so bewitching him that he simply forgets his best friend.
Sabrina doesn't seem to have spoken to Jacqueline either, who sat in Kevin's usual place before the holidays. Oliver was very disappointed in Kevin.
Now Jacqueline has sat next to him. It could have been worse for him. In any case, she has never been unappealing to him.
However, she started making a pass at him immediately after the holidays. In class, she sat too close to him, he felt. He slid further away with his chair. The next day, she sat so close to him again that he slid away again. After a few days, she probably realised.
She was obviously not only seeking his company in class. Since Kevin stopped standing with him and the other boys during breaks, she often appeared suddenly next to him and forced conversations on him.
Oliver liked her and still likes her. It was just the way she approached him and sometimes even put her arms around his shoulders that somehow made him feel uncomfortable.
On the other hand, they were able to talk to each other about all sorts of things. Jacqueline is no fool. It's just that she obviously felt more for him than he did for her. Oliver liked her as a friend. She probably imagined more.
Once, during a break, she hugged him again, pressed her hip against his side and tried to kiss him. He just tensed up and pulled away from her. Unfortunately, she didn't let up and tried a second kiss. This was too much for Oliver. He felt only anger and fear at the same time, released himself from her grip and just walked away. She called something after him that he didn't understand. He didn't come to class for the next hour so he wouldn't have to sit next to her.
Over the following days and weeks, they ignored each other or only exchanged the barest of words. Oliver no longer dared to look her in the eye. Jacqueline was certainly a little offended. He was annoyed with himself. But what should he have done?
At some point she approached him again and spoke to him. However, she did not touch him again. She certainly did not kiss him. So they became something like friends.
Oliver is standing in the corner of the schoolyard holding the envelope and postcard. He stares into the distance. Bud. Risk. Bloom.
From the side, he sees Bülent and Giovanni coming towards him. Well, it looks like two have found each other.
Bülent calls out to him as he arrives: ‘Well, Olli. Are you going to the girls’ gym again today?‘
’Oh, just shut up and leave me alone,’ he replies testily.
Giovanni holds Bülent back when the latter makes a move to go up to Oliver and give him a smack.
‘Ruisch, Bülli, ruisch. You know how he reacts,’ Giovanni tries to calm him down. ‘Olli, aren't you playing handball later?’
"Nah, Gio, I'm not coming today.’
‘What's up? Heartache?‘ Bülent interjects again.
’Oh, just leave me alone. I don't feel like it."
Oliver turns away, grabs his backpack and walks to the bike racks. After unlocking his bike, he leaves school. He doesn't feel like English either.
He rides aimlessly through the city for quite a while. He doesn't want to go home yet. He wants to think. So he decides to go to his favourite place at the small bathing lake. He should be undisturbed there at this time of day.
Oliver heads for the small sunbathing area and rides to the water's edge. There he lays his bike on the grass and puts his backpack next to it. Then he sits down in the grass and looks out over the water's surface. A pair of ducks comes flying, cackling, and lands on the lake. The two birds swim around each other for a while and then disappear into the bushes on the opposite shore.
Bud. Risk. Bloom.
Oliver takes the postcard out of his backpack and stares at it.
Jacqueline offers to talk to me. But what should I talk to her about? I can't possibly tell her why I can't kiss her, why I don't feel the same way about her that she probably feels about me. Why can't I kiss her, really? She's nice. You can talk to her, laugh with her, but also be serious with her. She's already told me so much about herself. And me?
What can I tell her about me? That I like her but can't kiss her? That I can just about hug her but can't hold her close? That I don't love her because she doesn't turn me on?
Maybe I'll also tell her that I get a hard-on when I watch the guys shower and that I'd love to tickle Giovanni through his chest hair. No, I can't possibly do that. What should she think of me then? Should she think I'm gay?
Am I gay? I've never had sex with a boy. But I haven't had sex with a girl either. It's the same for others. He has somehow never really believed their boasts about the oh-so-hot sex with girls. When can you say that you're gay?
OK, he dreams of kissing a boy. He dreams of having sex with a boy. When he masturbates in his room, his thoughts revolve around one boy or another. He likes to imagine what it would be like if it wasn't his hand that was working his erection, but that of Sven or Giovanni or Kevin, that traitor.
What is that Kevin smooching with Sabrina for, leaving me hanging like this?
Oliver wipes a few tears from his eyes. How he would love to be sitting here with Kevin right now, just chatting. Maybe he would even tell him how he feels. Would Kevin understand? They have always got along so well. Would he still want him as a friend?
Oliver lies on his back and folds his arms under his head. He looks up at the blue sky and watches the birds and clouds pass by.
And then came the day when the risk of remaining in the bud became more painful than the risk of blossoming.
Why did Jacqueline send him such a card? Why did she think it would hurt him, that he can't get out of his skin, that he has no one to talk to? Why doesn't he talk to... yes, to whom? To his mother? He loves her very much. She is more than a mother to him. He also sees her as a friend. As long as he can remember, they have both mastered their life together. They are a team. He knows that she loves him no less.
Will she still love me just as much when she finds out about this? Will she understand? This changes everything!
He is currently destroying all the hopes she has placed in him. He wants to do right by her. But how is that possible? Will she understand what he himself does not understand, what probably no one understands?
He sits up, kneels down and hides his head between his arms and thighs. He remains motionless for a few minutes. He is alone. He cries.
A cool wind rises, the leaves rustle. Summer is slowly but surely coming to an end.
Oliver lifts his head and looks up at the sky. It is getting cooler, but it will probably stay dry. He doesn't want to go home yet.
He reaches for the postcard again. If you ever want to talk, you know where to find me. J.
He feels somehow trapped. Trapped in his thoughts. He sits in his thoughts like in a bud. So far it has been very comfortable here. Here he feels safe. If he wants to be left alone, he just needs to close the bud leaves. He has done that far too often lately.
So far, that's been okay. But now he doesn't know what to do. He no longer feels comfortable in the security of his bud. What is he actually afraid of? What could happen to him if he came out and bloomed? Just bloom, as he wants to! What's the big deal? What's stopping him from blooming?
I want to talk to Jäckie. She will understand me. Otherwise she would never have given me this postcard.
Oliver looks at his watch. School is out, so it's time for him to go home too. He's hungry. Just as he puts the postcard in his backpack, a rhythmic humming sound can be heard. His mobile phone vibrates. Who could that be? He fishes it out of his side pocket and looks at the display: Jacqueline! Oh no. He doesn't want to talk to her right now and puts the device back.
He waits until the vibration stops. Then he shoulders his backpack, grabs his bike and sets off for home.
When he arrives home, he puts the history exam on the dining room table. His mother will ask him about it when she gets home anyway. Then he goes to his room, closes the door and sits down at his desk. He leaves the computer switched off.
His mobile phone beeps in his rucksack. He takes it out and reads the text message from Jacqueline: ‘Olli, you weren't in English and Biology. What's up? Please get in touch. J.’
Tomorrow. It can wait until tomorrow.
Manuela has done it, she really has done it! She grins to herself. The new colleague from the other department has invited her to an Italian restaurant for Saturday evening, and she has accepted! Yes!
She has liked him since he sat down with her in the cafeteria on his first day and they started chatting. He is divorced, took advantage of the situation to look for a new job, and got one at the institute where she works as an MTA.
And now they want to go out for a meal and have a nice evening. Would it go further? Of course there have been one or two men in her life, but they were little affairs, meant nothing but a change and sex. She never wanted anything permanent, no one was going to intrude on her little family and possibly play the substitute father, that was out of the question for her.
But now? Soon Oliver would have his A-levels, soon he would know what he wanted to do professionally, soon he would leave.
The normal course in the mother-son world.
And then?
Then she would be left behind. But alone forever until the end in her early 40s? Would Oliver understand that?
Well, she is now convinced that he has a crush on her, so he should understand. Should she talk to him about it?
But no, my goodness, in her mind she can already see herself and Andreas moving in together, even though she has only just received an invitation to dinner. Grinning, she shakes her head, taking things slowly!
She'll just tell him that a new colleague invited her to dinner, that's it. We'll see what happens from there. After all, she hasn't needed a babysitter when she stays out late for a long time.
They never talked about it much when they met the next day at home either.
But she thinks that they should talk about it, maybe that would be a good start. Then maybe I would find out more about his feelings, his thoughts. What does he think about sex? Has he perhaps even...
She can't imagine it and has to laugh to herself again: parents and children are always asexual for each other, per se!
But if it should become more with Andreas, it won't just be one night. And Oliver should learn to understand that she is slowly developing the desire for a partner. Someone to hold her, to cuddle, to go to the cinema with, to cook with, to laugh with, to be serious with, well, the whole gamut of a partnership.
So she will have to talk to him about it after all.
A four in history? She leafs through the work, quite stunned. This can't be true! Outraged, she slams the pages down on the table and is about to yell at him, when she pauses.
What would a rant achieve at this point? He's probably annoyed enough as it is. Damn it, she's had a hard day, she's tired and exhausted and she doesn't want to get annoyed with and at Oliver right now.
She goes into the kitchen, busies with the pot and pan and slowly calms down again. When the potatoes are cooked, she even grins.
She thinks, ‘Gotcha!’ and imagines him saying the three magic words to her: ‘I'm in love.’
‘Oliver, set the table, dinner's ready.’
They sit at the table and eat. Manuela is silent, Oliver only looks at her hesitantly from time to time.
"Well, it's a shame about work, right? But you studied so hard for it!’
‘Yeah, sure, I don't know how it could happen either, I'm really sorry.‘
’Well, sorry isn't enough, son! It's getting really close to the A-levels now!‘
’I know!"
He glares at her, and she quickly changes tactics.
‘What I wanted to tell you: I'm invited by a colleague, Andreas, on Saturday evening. We want to go to the pizzeria in Reuthstraße. Could be late – or early. Or even Sunday. Is that okay with you?‘
She looks at him mischievously. He grimaces into a slight grin and nods.
’Well then, have fun. Is he nice?’
‘Nah, he's a total idiot, that's why I'm taking him out to dinner.‘
Oliver is grinning now.
’You know, I sometimes think about my future, too. At some point you'll leave, it's only natural, and then I'll be here alone...’
‘I know,’ he interrupts her, “you don't have to explain anything to me if you want to go out sometime. Now excuse me, I still have to study. We'll talk another time, okay?”
He gets up, clears the table and disappears into his room.
Manuela cleans up the kitchen, feeling disappointed. He didn't even let her finish. She had hoped that explaining would spark a conversation, but okay, you can't force anything, and not from him anyway.
She gets herself a glass of wine, sits down on the sofa and takes a pillow in her arms. In moments like these, she feels very lonely. She wants to ask Oliver if they want to watch a film together, and he can even make a wish! She grins. How often have they argued about which film they want to watch, and how he usually won. And how he made fun of the films she chose. ‘Mum's watching a tearjerker again,’ he said when she watched films like “City of Angels” or something similar and ended up crying.
But one time, she tricked him! She got hold of this beautiful film “Romeo and Juliet”, made by Zeffirelli. Of course, he moaned: ’Oh no, Shakespeare! Not that again!’
But she insisted and after he had eagerly helped himself to coke and crisps at first, he became quieter and quieter. And at some point his hand reached over to her and she heard a sniffing ‘Pass me a hankie!’
Since then, he has never made fun of her films again.
But those days are probably over. She sighs. Off to bed, tomorrow is another long day.
Oliver enters the classroom. Jacqueline is already sitting at their shared desk.
‘Hey,’ he says, slumping into his chair.
‘Good morning, Oliver,’ she replies, ‘where were you yesterday?’
Oliver mutters something unintelligible.
‘Menno, Olli. What's the matter with you? You've been so weird lately. I brought you English and Biology. Here.‘
’Thanks."
Somewhat offended, she turns to Kristina and whispers with her.
With the bell, Ms Schenk, the maths teacher, enters the classroom and begins immediately after a usual greeting with the lesson.
Oliver has trouble concentrating. His thoughts of yesterday are swirling through his mind again, and then Jacqueline's card. Should he talk to her? He has made up his mind. Today? Today.
He nudges Jacqueline carefully and whispers, ‘Hey, can we meet briefly after gym today?’
Jacqueline turns to him and still mutters slightly offended, ‘What is it?’
‘You know what. Well? Yes or no?‘
’OK, but I don't have that much time."
Their whispering is suddenly interrupted: “Jacqueline and Oliver! What do our two lovebirds have to discuss that's so important that they have to disrupt class?” Ms Schenk looks at them angrily. There is whispering and laughing in the class.
While Oliver just blushes silently, Jacqueline answers: ‘Oh, nothing, excuse me. We'll talk about it later.’
‘All right,’ says the teacher and calls Oliver to the front of the class to solve an equation on the board. At first he does quite well, but towards the end his thoughts drift away again and he can't solve the equation.
‘Oh Oliver, where are your thoughts? You started so well. Don't let your hormones control you too much. You can do that again tonight or later in gym class. Right now, we're dealing with integrals, differentials and areas. Please take your seat and give your undivided attention to our mathematical tasks. You can try to win Jacqueline's favour later.’
It's a good thing she finally stopped talking. He sits down again with his head hanging. He doesn't know whether he'd rather cry with anger or because of Ms Schenk's stupid comments. He just about manages to control his emotions in front of his classmates. Jacqueline smiles mildly at him when he glances at her.
The rest of the double maths lesson passes Oliver by indifferently. In the break that follows, he immediately retreats to the toilet and stays there until the first bell rings.
Hormones! Shit! She hasn't got a clue. Jacqueline's favour! I've really got other things to worry about. What am I going to say to her later? I've got to get rid of it. Hopefully she'll keep it to herself. She's not really a gossip, but what I'm going to tell her later is kind of special. Hopefully she'll keep it to herself. Hopefully I can rely on her.
The double German lesson passes without any noteworthy events. Oliver sits quietly and tries to follow the lesson. In sports class, he gives his all. He feels the need to exhaust himself completely. As soon as the teacher finishes the lesson, he runs to the changing room, takes off his clothes, grabs his towel and goes to the shower. Either they haven't bought any heating oil again or the heating is broken once more. The water is freezing!
After a short shower, he leaves the room while his classmates enter. Oliver doesn't want to be with them any longer than necessary. He has always liked to sneakily watch when they dried themselves and changed. Today he doesn't want to see any half-naked or naked classmates. So he is quickly dressed and on his way to the bike racks.
Jacqueline is waiting for him there. However, she is not alone: Kristina is standing next to her, talking at her. Oliver approaches the two of them.
‘Hi Jäckie, hi Krissie,’ he says cautiously and stands close to Jacqueline.
Kristina pauses in her monologue and looks up at Oliver from top to bottom, appraising him. He stands there and looks furtively into Jacqueline's eyes.
‘So, Krissie, see you tomorrow,‘ Jacqueline says and makes a hand gesture to Kristina to indicate that she should go away.
She doesn't seem to notice this gesture or perhaps doesn't want to.
’And you two handsome guys? What nice things are you doing?’ She almost undresses Oliver with her eyes.
‘Nothing special,‘ Jacqueline replies, “we have something to talk about. See you tomorrow.”
’What's up?‘
’Krissie, we don't have much time, would you please...’
‘Yes, yes, all right. I see that our Olli is trying to win your favour.‘ She giggles and turns to leave. “Bye, sweethearts!”
’Stupid cow!‘ whispers Oliver.
’Thank God she's gone. Olli, you wanted to talk to me?’ Jacqueline smiles openly at him.
‘Yes, Jäckie. I wanted to... I mean... thank you for your card. The saying really touched me.‘
’Olli, something's up with you. You're so different.‘
’Can we sit down or do you have to leave right away?‘
’Man, Olli, you're all worked up.’
They both go to the bench next to the bike racks and sit down next to each other, almost a metre apart.
Oliver leans forward and rests his head in his arms. ‘I don't know what to do.’
‘Olli! Come on, what's going on? Why don't you know what to do?’
"Jacqueline. You're the only one I can tell. If anyone.’
She remains silent and looks at him. He sits next to her like a picture of misery. What is the matter with him?
‘Jäckie, you must still be disappointed about the way I rejected you.’
"Is that it? Don't worry about it. I'll be fine. You made it clear and that's better than if you had screwed with me. Like Thomas with Lara.’
‘No, I would never do that. I like you much too much for that. But...‘
She looks at him questioningly. He looks up cautiously. His eyes are red and wet.
’Do you promise to keep this to yourself?‘
’What? You're not saying anything.’
‘It's... I want to tell you the reason why it didn't work out between us.‘
’Don't keep me in suspense. What is it? Don't you like my brown hair? Is there something wrong with my nose? Don't you like my breasts? Come on!‘
’It's... none of that. I think you're great the way you are. I think it's me.’
She continues to look at him with wide eyes. He sighs and takes a deep breath.
‘I...’ His voice fails him.
‘You?’ she challenges him.
‘I don't like girls.’
"What do you mean? Does that mean you...? No, I don't think so!’
He looks at her anxiously. Oh shit, she doesn't understand. I'm done for. Now she'll run around telling everyone. It's over.
‘Yes, I am... gay.’
She looks at him. Then she closes her mouth. He wrinkles his nose. A few tears come out of his eyes.
‘OK, I'd better go now,‘ he whispers sniffling and gets up.
Jacqueline slides closer and pulls him back onto the bench by the arm.
’Oliver! Why didn't you say so right away? I really like you. You're so different from the others at school. That's probably why I like you so much. Now I understand how different you are. Come here!’
She puts one arm around his shoulder and closes the circle with her other arm. Oliver looks down and raises his nose again.
‘That means...’ he begins tentatively.
She interrupts him energetically: ‘Stop it! You are and will remain my friend. And that's that. I really like you. You are who you are. Even if it's a shame for us women!’
She kisses him gently on the temple. He shrugs.
‘It's so hard. What should I do now? Everything's shit.’
‘Come on, Olli, what's so bad about being gay? How did you realise?’
"I don't know. It just happened suddenly. I'm just into guys.’
‘Have you ever... I mean... have you ever been in bed with a boy?‘
Oliver shakes his head.
’Man Olli, that's a thing. And I was already getting depressed because I thought you didn't find me attractive.‘
Oliver twists the corners of his mouth into a brief smile. Then he becomes serious again.
’Hey, Jäckie?’
‘Yes?‘
’You won't say anything, will you?‘
’No, of course not! I'll go around and tell everyone else.‘
Oliver looks at her in horror. Jacqueline laughs.
’What do you think? Does anyone know yet?‘
’No, I haven't told anyone yet.‘
’Your mother?‘
’Not her either.’
‘Oh dear! But you do want to tell her, don't you?‘
’I guess I can't avoid it.‘
’Do that. She has a right to know.‘
’I don't know how to tell her. Or when.’
‘As soon as possible. Before she finds out herself. My cousin wanted to keep it to himself. But then my aunt somehow found out. She was pretty angry because he didn't trust her. Well, more disappointed. And your mother is fine. She won't bite your head off.’
‘Do you think so? I'm just afraid that she hopes so much that I'll get married and have kids. I think she really wants me to have a family, with all the trappings. Not a messed-up one like ours.’
‘You can get married. Okay, to a man then. And the way you always talk shit about kids, I can't really imagine you as a father. It's probably better if you don't have any children.‘ She laughs.
’Well, how will everyone else react? My aunts? Grandma? Grandpa? Or my father?’
‘Don't worry about that. She'll have to straighten that out somehow. Nothing is going to change. You haven't changed either. Hey, Olli, I want you to laugh again! Don't worry about it. It'll be fine.‘
Jacqueline breaks her embrace. Then they both get up.
’Well, I have to go home now. Thanks for telling me.’
‘I'm scared. But I wanted to talk to someone. I was bursting.‘
’Hey Olli, I noticed that. There, I've said it. I'll keep it to myself in any case. I don't want to lose my only gay friend!"
Oliver leans over and hugs her. He gives her a little kiss on the cheek.
‘Okay, sweetie, I'll see you tomorrow, I have to go.‘
Then they both lock their bikes and make their way home.
’Wow, your son has a cute girlfriend!’ Susanne, Manuela's colleague and friend, hands her a coffee from the vending machine.
‘Thanks, I can use it now, I'm all tense from this stupid series of experiments... what were you saying?‘
’Well, I went shopping during my lunch break and cycled past the school, and there they were sitting on a bench, hugging and gently kissing each other, sooooo cute! Sometimes I wish I was young and had a big crush again! I have to get on with my work, I'll see you tomorrow, OK? Maybe we can go out again in the evening, then you can tell me everything, yeah?"
Susanne storms off as usual, leaving Manuela at a loss. Then she grins broadly, because she knew it!
Will he invite her to dinner sometime? In any case, she absolutely has to suggest it to him – no, she can't, officially she doesn't know anything yet.
She can only wait for him to tell her. Or should she tell him that Susanne saw him? Snogging on the bench? Hmm, that could be embarrassing for him. Although, sitting on a bench right next to the school and smooching? She could bet that all her fellow students already know, but she doesn't! His mother! Actually, she could be a little angry now, but what about herself? Who did she rave about her first boyfriend to? Her parents? Certainly not!
She sighs. So she will have to continue waiting.
Finally it's Saturday. The week was exhausting, this series of experiments is still weighing on her shoulders, but she shakes it all off, tonight she wants to enjoy herself and see what happens.
At dinner, Andreas asks her how her son is doing. She beams at him:
‘He's doing great! The little guy has a crush and his girlfriend is supposed to be really pretty. I know because Susanne saw them both near the school a few days ago.‘
’Oh, he hasn't told you yet?’ Andreas looks at her questioningly.
‘No, but do you remember who you told about your first girlfriend back then? Your parents?‘
’Hahaha, no, certainly not, I told my best buddy back then. You're right, it will probably take a while before he reveals himself, it's something special for kids, their first great love. But at least you seem happy for him. No jealousy?’
‘Oh, come on! It's only natural! For years I've been thinking about it, and it's going to happen. He'll fall in love, not just once, I hope, he'll pass his A-levels, go away to university, fall in love again, be unhappy, be happy, then one day meet the right girl, get married, have children – I wish him all the happiness in the world and a delightful daughter-in-law for me! Do I have too many dreams?‘
’No, you're allowed to dream, and you look adorable when you dream out loud. And who knows, maybe your dream will come true? Cheers, to a great evening!"
He raises his glass and looks at her, beaming.
Later they will go to a bar, have a drink, talk for a long time and at length, flirt, dance – and when he asks her if she wants to have a coffee at his place, she lets all her doubts go...
She wakes up late at night. Andreas is sleeping soundly next to her. She looks at him for a long time and feels a lot of tenderness for him. It was a nice evening and a wonderful night that she would like to repeat. Yes, she can imagine something lasting with this man.
She snuggles back into the blanket and turns onto her side. Hmm, she can't get back to sleep, she's happy and wonders when she should talk to Oliver about it. She wants them to get to know each other soon.
She gets up, quietly dresses, finds a piece of paper and writes a few lines. Then she quietly sneaks out of the house. She wants to go home and talk to Oliver in peace tomorrow morning over a leisurely breakfast.
About her feelings, about Andreas, about her dreams, her goals, her fears, and maybe he'll tell her about – hm, she doesn't even know the name. Anyway, she'll find out.
Elated, she enters the apartment and hangs her jacket on the coat rack. Well? Where is his jacket?
She looks down, his shoes aren't there either. Worried, she goes into his room, quietly opens the door – his bed hasn't been slept in, no sign of Oliver!
‘Oliver,’ she calls and runs into the living room, but it's all dark, no one is there, no note, nothing. She digs out her mobile phone, no text message. She calls him, but only reaches his voicemail. She's starting to panic and writes a text message: ’Where are you? Get in touch. I'm worried!’
What should she do? Her heart is racing, she is completely confused. OK, he knew that she might stay out all night, but he has never disappeared for a whole night just like that. He must know that it would make her worry.
Should she call the police? They would probably have a laugh if she reported her almost 18-year-old son missing on a Saturday night.
But she will call the hospital! Nervously, she looks up the number, almost crying as she gets connected and asks if maybe a boy has been admitted.
No, she is told, it has been a quiet night so far. Could he help her? The young man is very understanding when she frantically explains that her son is missing, but he gives her exactly the same answer that she would get from the police: he'll turn up! Probably partying with his mates at the disco. Is she worried about drugs?
‘No!’ she replies indignantly. Her son and drugs, nonsense. She thanks him and hangs up.
And now? She makes herself a coffee. Should she call Andreas? He could come to her – no, not a good idea. They had a great night, but she doesn't want to confront him with her worries now either. And Oliver will probably come home in a minute with a really guilty conscience. Well, he'll get what's coming to him! She gets herself another cognac with her coffee, sits down on the sofa and takes a deep breath. What could have happened? He didn't expect her to come home in the middle of the night. He must have called a mate, asked him if he wanted to come to the party or something, and now he's there and has lost track of time.
She will wait a little longer.
A little later she has fallen asleep.
Manuela has left earlier to meet her colleague Andreas. She would stay away overnight. Aha, there is probably more planned than just a dinner for two. Oliver smiles. He realises that his mother is a woman, a single woman who sometimes also meets with a man. A woman with feelings who falls in love. A grown woman who certainly goes to bed with a man from time to time. Why not? It's a strange thought. She's his mother, not just any woman.
She's in luck. She can snuggle tonight and... He stops the thought and shakes his head.
Oliver is standing at his wardrobe, wondering what to wear. It's late summer, so it's still quite warm during the day, but it tends to get cool in the evening and at night.
Yesterday, Kevin approached him after school. He actually wanted to talk, to explain how things are going with Sabrina and how he sees the friendship between him and Oliver. That he actually wants both, but can only have one at a time.
On the one hand, Oliver was reassured that Kevin still wanted to spend time with him and still cared about their friendship. On the other hand, he also understands that his girlfriend is taking up all his time. He would love to be in love himself. Kevin means a lot to him. Obviously, he feels differently than Oliver. That makes him sad.
After a long and not particularly encouraging conversation for Oliver, they actually arranged to meet up for a night out at the disco. That was something, at least.
He chose a warm jacket from his wardrobe, along with a pair of dark, almost black jeans, which he put on straight away. He stepped back and looked at himself in the mirror on the inside of the wardrobe door. He looks quite presentable. The trousers emphasise his backside and leave no doubt that his underpants are well filled at the front too. The jeans are a little low-sitting, so the white waistband of his briefs can be seen. He pulls the belt with the large buckle through the loops and tightens it.
Then he rummages further through his T-shirts and shirts.
Hm, I need more black things. This is all much too light and much too colourful.
From the back corner, he pulls out a dark shirt without sleeves. He bought this years ago. He puts it on, looks in the mirror and smiles.
It's pretty tight and quite short, he notes with satisfaction. It barely reaches the belt buckle. That's it.
He slips his feet into his dark blue sneakers. Now he's ready to face the world.
No, wait! Something is still missing. He goes into the bathroom and opens the side of the small mirrored cabinet where his mother keeps her make-up. Today he wants to be particularly spooky. He fishes out a kohl pencil and carefully draws a black line around his eyeballs. Then he discovers a very dark red lipstick, so dark that it is almost blue. He opens it up, looks again in the mirror and shakes his head. That would be too much now, let it be, Oliver!
Shortly after eight, he jumps on his bike and rides to the youth club at the other end of town.
‘Hey Olli! How cool is this? Do you have any specific plans today?’ Kevin pulls him by his open jacket and touches his stomach as Oliver arrives in front of the club.
‘What do you think? You already have someone to snog.‘
’Don't pout again. I tried to explain it to you. – Ah, here comes Brina. – Hello, my sweetheart, that's a hot outfit. Don't make the other guys mad!"
Sabrina kisses Kevin with sound. Oliver looks embarrassed and pouts.
‘Let's go inside. I want to dance now,’ he grumbles, turns around and heads for the entrance of the youth club. Kevin grabs Sabrina's hips and follows him.
They hand in their jackets. Sabrina whistles between her teeth when she sees Oliver's thin vest. ’Heyyyyy, Olli! That's super hot!’
He winks at her and storms to the bar. With difficulty, Sabrina and Kevin follow him. Sabrina orders a soda, the boys start with beer. The music booms deafeningly through the hall.
‘Man, Olli, you really want to party tonight, don't you? Does your mum know?’ shouts Kevin.
‘She's got a date tonight. I probably won't see her before noon tomorrow,‘ he shouts back.
’What? Your mum's got a date? Awesome!"
Oliver likes the music: a crude mixture of Depeche Mode, Sisters of Mercy, Gossip, Mando Diao and other stuff that has been sounding through the charts for the last 40 years.
Oliver has a second beer after the first. Sabrina and Kevin are dancing closely entwined. That is, they are practically grinding their mouths together and kneading each other's asses. They rub against each other rhythmically on the side.
Oliver takes a last gulp and, slightly swaying, heads back to the bar. He could go for another beer right now. But then a catchy four-four time signature sounds, accompanied by a synth melody and a booming bass. He stops and listens to the new song.
He is no longer standing still. He dances as if no one were watching. The singer is singing for him. The song moves him. It spurs him on to dance against the solemn, melancholy melody and the demanding bass. The DJ mixes this song with another in the synth style that Oliver likes so much, and then another. The rhythms are as simple as they are catchy. He feels the bass right in his midsection.
Oliver dances his soul out. He sings along to the familiar lyrics. He is alone with himself in the midst of many other dancers. It doesn't matter if they are all dancing individually or in pairs. He is lost in the crowd of dance enthusiasts and the loud drone of bass, rhythm and singing.
Then it gets darker on the dance floor. The music slows down. Oliver turns around a few more times. The love song has invited all the couples on the dance floor to snuggle and smooch together. Oliver looks around disappointedly. He feels out of place. Time for a beer.
Back at the bar, he sucks on his bottle. He watches the dancing couples. Kevin and Sabrina are swaying again and chewing their lips off. Oliver is jealous.
To the right of the dance floor, he sees three boys standing. They are talking. They wave their arms wildly. They look pretty in the colourful light of the moving spotlights. Three boys, not much older than he is. Not a single girl in sight. They touch each other from time to time. Not by accident, no, it looks like they do it on purpose. They don't seem to mind. Two of them are now standing opposite each other and obviously looking into each other's eyes. They take each other's shoulders and sway slightly to the slow music. Then they kiss. Oliver doesn't even try to take his eyes off the scene. They have it good. There are two of them.
Suddenly, the third one looks him straight in the eye and winks at him. Oliver quickly turns his head to the side and scans the dancers in the middle intently. His gaze rests on Kevin, who is gently caressing Sabrina's bottom. Both are dancing closely and with their eyes closed. Where are they right now?
He dares to glance at the three handsome guys again. He just sees that the two who were kissing just a moment ago are now disappearing towards the toilets together. Oliver wonders what they could possibly want in the toilet together. It's normal for girls, but for boys?
Suddenly, he notices the third person from the group standing next to him at the bar, ordering two beers. He then shouts at him over the loud music: ‘Hello, handsome. Did you like what you saw?’
The smile is beguiling. It makes Oliver feel uncomfortable.
‘What did I see?’ he asks back loudly.
‘You've been watching us for a while. ‘N beer?’ the other shouts, holding out one of the two bottles he has just received from the bartender.
Oliver looks into this charming smile with wide eyes, noticing his stomach again. While he realises that his beer bottle is already empty, he shakes his head and grabs the offered drink.
What the heck, he thinks to himself.
‘I'm Robert!’ the donor calls out and lightly taps his bottle against Oliver's.
‘Cheers!’ Oliver shouts back and takes a big gulp.
Robert looks at him, frowning.
‘And you?’ Robert wants to know at the top of his voice.
‘What, and me?’
"What's your name?’
‘Oh, sorry, Oliver!‘
’It's not that bad!"
While they make small talk for a while – as far as that's possible at that volume – Oliver drinks his bottle of wine. He's quite tipsy. He announces that he wants to dance now and storms to the dance floor.
Oliver dances for a while with his eyes closed. So he doesn't notice that Robert followed him at first, but then withdrew when he noticed that Oliver was hopping around completely absorbed in himself.
At some point, he decides to relieve the pressure on his bladder.
He is just about to open the door to the bathroom when it is pushed open forcefully, slamming against his head. He sees stars for a moment and stumbles. A strong arm embraces him and prevents him from falling.
‘Oh, sorry. Did I hurt you?‘ he hears Robert shouting over the loud bass.
’Ah, yes. – But I'm all right now!‘ Oliver holds his forehead.
’Oh, shit, you're bleeding! Come on, I'll try to stop the bleeding.’
Oliver lets him drag him to one of the sinks. Robert dabs his forehead with cold water. Oliver doesn't know what's more unpleasant to him right now: the dull pain on his forehead or the pressure of his almost bursting bladder.
‘Enough wiping. I have to take a huge piss!’ he calls to Robert, who holds out a new paper towel.
After he has finished, he turns around. He staggers a little. He walks deliberately to the sink and looks in the mirror while he washes his hands.
I got a good bump there. Shit, it's bleeding again. He thinks to himself and grabs a paper towel from the dispenser.
Robert appears behind him: ‘Let me see! Hmm, it looks worse than it is! It won't even need stitches!’
‘How would you know?’ asks Oliver, annoyed.
‘I'm a paramedic!’
‘Oh, so you're getting new customers here?’
"Oh man! I'm sorry. I'm just glad nothing worse happened.’
‘My head is spinning. That's all that happened! I'd better go home.‘
’Hey, will I see you again?‘
’So you can slam the door in my face again?‘
’Maybe not quite so harshly, a little more lovingly.‘
’We'll see.’
‘Before you go: zip up your fly!"
Despite this smile, Oliver heads for the cloakroom and gets his jacket. It's pretty chilly outside. He fumbles awkwardly with his bike lock. It takes him ages to open it. Finally, he tries to get on. After two attempts, he gives up and pushes his bike home through the night.
What time could it be? My head is throbbing. Man, am I drunk. It's a good thing my mum's not at home.
After hours of walking and repeatedly getting up to fix his bike, he finally reaches his apartment building. He somehow manages to lock his bike to the bike rack in the front yard. The front door is still reasonably easy to open. He stumbles up the stairs to the second floor, glancing cautiously at the doorbell to make sure he's at the right door. Then he unlocks the apartment door with difficulty and a lot of noise.
Man, I feel sick. I think my skull is coming off. I'm dog-tired. I can't wait to get into bed, he thinks to himself as he kicks his shoes off and hangs his jacket next to the coat rack. He then closes the apartment door with his shoulder. Hmm? Light? I must have forgotten.
Manuela starts. What was that noise? The front door! She jumps up and runs into the hallway. Oliver stands before her with hanging arms and a huge bump on his forehead! Dried blood and the brownish-blue colouring of the hematoma make him look ghostly. She is frightened.
Oliver stands before his mother and looks into her eyes with his mouth open. He tries to say something. The shock of not being home alone, and his rather strong alcoholisation, only allow him to produce a croaking gurgle. He looks sheepishly at the carpet in the hallway. He leans against the wall.
It's almost noon. She's been awake for a while, and has already had three cups of coffee. Oliver wasn't really in the mood for a conversation last night when he staggered home so drunk and she surprised him with her presence. So she didn't press the issue.
Her son has been out a few times. He has always been home by midnight at the latest. She has always been able to rely on him. He has also drunk a beer or two. But has he ever been so drunk?
She smiles at the memory of when he was delivered by Kevin's father, drunk as a skunk, from the latter's birthday party. She was, of course, quite upset. While she held a bucket under her son's head, Kevin's father explained the alcopops mishap and apologised a thousand times for not paying more attention. Between the individual convulsions, Oliver tried to explain to her that he had only drunk two or three of these drinks at most. Ultimately, her darling had just been really sick. Since then, he has probably not touched one of these sweet slop drinks.
Last night was pretty intense. She gave him a lecture about responsibility and keeping promises. He just looked at her blankly with his made-up eyes, though. It's as if he didn't get any of it.
Black eyes. That's a new one, too. And that get-up of his: dark trousers, tight black vest... kind of weird.
And then there's that lump. Has he been in a fight? Or just had an accident? Hopefully nothing serious. Well, at least he came home alone and wasn't brought in by the police. Then it's probably not that bad. Still, she still feels responsible, even though he'll be turning 18 soon and can then do whatever he wants anyway.
Her sweet little Oliver is growing up.
There's a noise coming from his room. Then she hears the shower running in the bathroom.
I'd better go and get breakfast ready, she thinks.
How should I talk to him right now?
Something like:
‘Good morning, did you sleep well?’ No, no, don't answer, it's purely rhetorical, I didn't sleep particularly well either. Good heavens, look at you!
Would you please pass me the butter and then explain to me where you've been? You know I was very worried, right?
Nah, not like that...
I know you've been a bit confused lately. I suspect you've fallen in love! Actually, my colleague saw you and that girl together near the school.
That's too bad.
Maybe: You know, I know that first love is something special, and hormones are going crazy anyway, and I have to admit that I was waiting for you to talk to me, like you used to, but okay, I guess it's too much to ask. Would you like to tell me a little about her now?
Hm... not really.
She has finished setting the table. Her son shuffles into the kitchen and sits down at his place without saying a word.
‘Good morning, my dear. Good heavens, you look terrible. Coffee? What happened last night?’ ’All right, drink up first. Pass the butter, please, and then an explanation of where you came from in the middle of the night looking so battered?’
Oliver, I know you've been pretty confused lately, I always hoped you'd talk to me! I'll be honest with you: I know about you and the young girl, my colleague saw you! It's a difficult age anyway, the hormones are going crazy.
No, don't look so bewildered at me, Oliver, we really wanted to talk openly with each other, son, I'm just worried, can't you understand that?’
‘Good morning. What girl? I was at the youth club with Kevin and Sabrina yesterday. That's all."
Manuela puts her hands on the table and looks at her son very seriously:
‘Is that all you have to say to me? Seriously, my friend, I don't want to hear the details of your first sexual experience – don't look at me like that! – I just want to know if you have a girlfriend now and don't give me that stuff about some girl I just told you that my colleague saw you with!
Please, Oliver, talk to me!’
He looks at her in amazement: ‘There's nothing to talk about. Sabrina is with Kevin. You know that. My head is throbbing.’
He can't get the jam jar open.
She's suspiciously quiet after tonight, he thinks to himself.
‘Oh, so you just make out with a young girl in front of the school, do you? Give me the jam, you idiot, do you want an aspirin?"
She's about to blow her top, she thinks to herself, but actually she wants to stay calm. Firstly, she can see that he's really not feeling well, and secondly, she's afraid he'll shut down completely if she explodes.
He rests his head on his forearm and slurps at his coffee cup.
‘I didn't snog with anyone. Who says such a thing? I can get aspirin myself, too.’
His skull threatens to burst. The bump puckers.
She breathes in and out slowly and looks at him calmly. Oh man, he's really in a bad way, she thinks.
‘Well, shall we start by you telling me what happened last night?’
Oliver remains silent. Slowly her voice gets a little louder.
‘Hey, excuse me for having the audacity to ask questions when my son turns up here in the middle of the night, drunk as a skunk and with a black eye. None of my business, right?’
She slams her hand down on the table so hard that the knives on the plates clink and immediately regrets it, but she realises that she can no longer suppress her anger. What the hell is this guy thinking?
He looks up, startled.
‘Mamanu! No need to make such a fuss.’ “Okay, I'm sorry about coming home drunk. I didn't count. I don't usually drink beer, or only a little. But yesterday... oh crap.
And then some idiot slammed the toilet door on my head.” He points to his bump and looks shyly at his mother.
‘It's nothing. It'll grow back together again."
He gets up. The chair slides across the kitchen floor, scratching. He grabs a glass of water, which he fills and dissolves an aspirin in it. He sits down at the table again and stares at the open jam jar that his mother has put in front of him.
‘Okay, so we'll work on the drinking then!’ She smiles at him and calms down a little. “Do you want to turn the jam into wine or why are you staring like that?”
And then there's the girl. Olli, darling – er - Oliver, please don't be angry, but look, I also had a first love, well, it was more of a crush, I mean, it's only natural, you're only 17, of course, you're almost an adult and at that age it's only natural to have a crush, and you know what? I even wished for it! I really wished I had a son in love by my side, he would tell me about his girl, I would tell him about my memories, we would tell each other about our crushes... my goodness, don't look at me so grimly! And don't let me stutter here, just say something!’
‘Manu, please don't make a drama out of it. I came home drunk once. Fredy and Klaus do it every weekend. Don't worry, I didn't even like the beer.’
‘So, you want a son with a crush at your side? Is that what you really want? So much so that you already imagine me snogging a girl in front of the school? Who's telling you that anyway?
I'm not hungry. I feel sick. I'm definitely not going to practice drinking. And neither is falling in love.’
‘Are you even listening to me? My colleague told me, she saw you. Okay, you don't want to talk about it. Too bad. Very too bad!"
She feels the tears coming and can't understand it. Or can she? Is it the disappointment? The feeling that her baby is completely slipping away from her?
She feels so helpless and swallows.
‘Okay, so you don't want to fall in love. May I ask why not? I mean, you don't have any experience at all, love is such a great thing! Give it a chance. Give me a chance to talk to you about it. I'm in love right now! Is that shocking to you now? Wouldn't it be funny if we both walked around with a goofy grin, the sign of the newly in love?‘
She tries to show a little happiness, but does she succeed?
’Are you sending your colleagues after me now? Let me reiterate: I'm not in love.’ He pauses, having a flash of inspiration.
‘Now I understand: your colleague saw me with Jäckie the other day. We sat on the bench after school and chatted. That doesn't mean I have a crush on her. Jäckie is a friend, not my girlfriend.’ He takes a deep breath.
‘You don't tell me everything in your love life either. I'm not even sure if I want to know that much. Stupid grin... so so. Was that what you had when I came home tonight?"
What's with her and being in love? If only it were that easy, he thought, sighing loudly.
‘I'll set my colleagues on you? Are you crazy?
Son, let's be honest... you are sooo important in my life, but let's not overdo it, no?
And yes, I am in love and I may have had a stupid grin on my face when you came home, but that was more from the worries I had about you, so that's what you call stupid, yeah? Mother worries about her son, how stupid!
Okay, you don't want to talk to me, fine, then I don't want to anymore either.
I'm just sick of having to drag every word out of you, feeling crappy about it, letting you lecture me as if you were some kind of supermom, Oliver, it's enough! It's enough just to get me nowhere. You don't want to know anything about my love life? Why should you? You couldn't care less about how I feel, why should you, I'm just your mother!’
She gets up, leans on the table and can't stop the tears from running down her face.
‘You'd better go back to bed and sleep it off. I'm going out for some air.’
With that, she turns away and leaves.
Oliver stays seated for a while longer. Then he silently clears the breakfast table.
Thoughts stream through his throbbing skull: Shit, I couldn't tell her. Instead, I insulted my mother. I can't get it together. What's actually stopping me from just telling her? For now, she's just pissed off.
He pours water into his glass again, dissolves another aspirin in it, and sits back down at the table.
I have to tell her.
After a quick walk around the block, Manuela comes home breathlessly, the air has done her good. She sees Oliver, who is still sitting at the table, takes off her jacket and sits down quietly. Waits.
They sit there for minutes without either of them saying anything. Oliver rests his heavy head on his arms and looks at the table top. He breathes heavily. His skull threatens to burst.
‘I'm sorry,’ he whispers almost.
‘What are you sorry for? The booze? Come on, forget it, there will be much worse things to come.‘ She grins and looks at him expectantly.
’That I upset you so much. I didn't mean to offend you, Manu.’ He sighs. Then he looks her straight in the eye.
‘I'm a bit out of sorts. I don't know how to start.‘ He really doesn't know. He just knows that it has to come out somehow.
’Your colleague is wrong. I'm not in love with Jacqueline. She comforted me because I was feeling low. After that, she kissed me briefly.’ He looks back at the table. His brain is pulsating. No more beer!
‘Oh, I see.’ She leans back. “In other words, you're lovesick! You've fallen for a girl, but she doesn't want anything to do with you. Man, I'm sorry to hear that, that's obviously stupid! Don't you have a chance with her?”
He shakes his head.
‘No, it's not that. Oh Manu, I... it's something completely different. Jacqueline is really a very nice girl. If I were to fall in love with a girl, it would be with her. That's not it. I don't know how to say it."
He sighs.
She sits down comfortably in her chair, crosses her arms and looks at her son lovingly.
‘All right, son, you seem to be in a real fix. Come on, now, pull yourself together and tell me. I don't know if I can help you, but maybe it will make you feel better to talk about it, something is really getting you down!‘
’At the moment, I don't think anyone can help me.’
He takes a deep breath in and out. Then he looks his mother in the eye and says quietly, ‘I'm gay.’
He wipes a tear from his eye and looks back at the table in front of him.
She still looks lovingly smiling, but now her mouth is contorted, she looks at her son in disbelief:
‘You think you're gay? So, you mean homosexual? And you're so worried about it and so out of sorts?"
She just can't help it: she grins.
‘Oh Olli, and I'm so worried and I'm racking my brains about what could be wrong with you! Look,’ she sits up straight and takes a sip of coffee, ’so, you think you might be gay. You know, that's completely normal. I think every boy goes through a phase like that at some point. Especially when he gets a girlfriend late. Or when he is pined for by a young girl like... Jackeline, is it? ...and he can't return the feelings. A lot of boys think they might be gay then! But not you, son!‘
Now she actually laughs at the idea that her Oliver might be homosexual.
’Oliver, you have nothing, absolutely nothing gay about you, I would have noticed that long ago! Trust me and please don't beat yourself up like this, there's absolutely no reason to. Good heavens, poor child, you've really been worrying yourself sick, haven't you? You see, it's good that we've finally talked about it. Now go back to bed for an hour, then the world will look quite different again!"
She gets up, comes over to him and wants to take him in her arms to ease his mind.
He avoids her by getting up from his chair and standing opposite her. He looks his mother in the eyes in horror.
"You don't understand me! I'm gay! I like boys! This isn't a phase. It's been going on for too long. I know it.’
His voice breaks.
With undiminished aggressiveness, he continues: ‘What does that even mean, I can't get a girlfriend? I have a girlfriend. Her name is Jacqueline, by the way, not Jackeline. She's probably the only one who understands me! I'm just not in love with her. I don't want to get into bed with her. Or any of the girls!’
He takes a deep breath.
Before Manuela can say anything, he continues: ‘And you haven't noticed anything. You couldn't anyway. It's not written on my forehead that I'm gay. How do you think I would have to be for you to recognise me as gay? Should I wear your clothes, walk in your heels? What do you mean, I have nothing gay about me at all? Do you think I should talk in a fruity way and waggle my arse like those token gays in the TV series? Sorry, I don't have any broken wrists. But you can believe me when I say that I like boys!‘
’Waiiiit! Now just hold your horses! What about your wrists? Don't change the subject.
How exactly do you know that you're gay? Have you ever... oh no, don't tell me you've already... ‘
Completely exhausted, she sinks into the chair.
’No,’ he interrupts her, ’I haven't slept with a boy yet. I just know it anyway. I feel that I'm gay.’
‘What does that mean, that you're gay?‘ she whispers, looking at him fearfully. “Can't you do anything about it? I mean, there must be a way for you to go back to normal.”
She gets up again and walks around the table.
’What do you mean, go back to normal? I'm normal. And there's nothing I can do about it either.’ Oliver looks at her in dismay.
‘I'm sure you just haven't met the right girl yet. If you fall in love one day, everything will be different again. You're not gay and no, it doesn't mean you'll start wearing my clothes or acting in any other way gay – what a terrible word – but look, these gays are just different, you can see it in their eyes! Just look at them on TV or in those typical gay barbershops! The way they move! The way they walk, the way they talk, the way they leer at other men.
That's not you! You do sports, you're wiry, you walk normally, you talk normally. No and no again, Oliver, there's no way you're gay! Why are you saying something like that? Do you want to get me down? Scare me?’
‘The gays on TV are just a stereotype. How did you even come up with the idea that all gays are like the ones shown on TV? Not every man looks like Til Schweiger or Bruce Willis, not every woman is like Nicole Kidman. These are all just clichés that they show us on TV and in the cinema.
I do sports, I'm not a fairy, I'm not as effeminate as gays are always portrayed. Nevertheless, I wish for nothing more than to be affectionate with a boy, to fall in love with a boy. What's so terrible about that?‘
’No, I don't want to get you down. I love you. I just want you to understand me. Is that too much to ask?’
With a pleading expression on her face, she rushes towards him: ‘Oliver, you're my only child! We belong together. We've been living together for almost 18 years now and yes, I know it hasn't always been easy for you, but it hasn't been easy for me either! As a single mother, you have to carry everything, you can't share anything. Tell me what I've done wrong.’
She puts her hands on her hips and shouts at him: ‘WHAT HAVE I DONE WRONG?’
She sinks back into the chair and bursts into tears.
‘Mamma!’ He sits down on a chair right next to her, avoiding touching her.
‘Manu, you certainly didn't do anything wrong,’ he tries uncertainly. ’It's always been inside me. I haven't changed there. I've just gotten older and realised what I'm like, how I feel.
Yes, it hasn't always been easy. I'm sure I haven't always been easy and I've been unfair to you because I didn't understand what it means that my father left us.’
Oliver takes a deep breath and says calmly: ‘You know I'll help you any way I can because we belong together and have always been able to get through anything together. Why can't we get through this together too?’
After a short pause, he continues in a much more aggressive tone: ‘It's unfair of you to yell at me and blame me for the fact that my father abandoned us. I'm sorry that I didn't turn out the way you would have liked me to. I won't let you blame me. You're being unfair.’
Oliver looks at his mother and sobs. Then he says quietly and almost imploringly: ‘I'm no different than I was before. Please understand me. What am I supposed to do? Date a pretty girl and be unhappy?’
‘No, you shouldn't be unhappy, that's nonsense!’
She now looks almost tender again.
‘But what about what's going to happen? What are grandma and grandpa going to say? The rest of the family? Your classmates, teachers, my colleagues. Am I supposed to stand up and say, ‘Hey, by the way, my son is gay!’ I have a son and I'll never have to deal with a daughter-in-law, never have to endure the crying of a baby, isn't that great? Yahoo!’
Her voice is getting louder again. ‘You do realise what you're doing to me, don't you? How often have I imagined you starting a family later on, having children, me going shopping with my daughter-in-law, playing with the kids... And now? Now you want to tell me that you'll soon be arriving home with a boy, sitting here on the sofa, holding hands, smooching... Oh God, no, I can't bear the thought!’
She jumps up again, circles around her son and looks at him as if she were seeing a stranger.
"Is it about the way you're standing? Is it about me destroying your reputation in front of all these people? Is that what you're accusing me of? I don't really expect you to jump for joy. I don't give a damn about the others!
And yes: you'd better get used to the idea of not getting a daughter-in-law presented by me, and certainly not any screaming grandchildren. I don't know how you're going to explain it to grandma and grandpa or your colleagues. I don't even know if you have to explain it at all!
Sorry for failing and no longer meeting your expectations.
Sorry that I don't meet your expectations, that I disappoint you because I am the way I am.
Sorry that I disgust you, because I am different, feel differently and love differently.
If you want, I'll never bring my boyfriend here, if I ever have one.
If you really want me to, I'll never show you the one who means something to me, who I will love.
I don't want you to be disgusted by me. I thought you cared about me. And now I'm suddenly repulsive to you."
He sobs. Tears run down his cheeks.
‘Earlier you said we belonged together. How do you imagine that, if I disgust you? If you find me disgusting, did you ever love me? We belong together, was it all just talk, as long as I danced to your tune? Did you ever love me? What if I move out?’
The last thing is barely audible. Oliver is crying.
She stands there, completely stunned.
She sees her crying son and cannot believe what she has said in her agitation.
She wants to go to him, take him in her arms and tell him that everything is fine.
‘I would like to hold you in my arms and tell you that everything is fine. But it's not. I beg you, Oliver, sit down at the table with me. I apologise for everything I just said. But it came from deep inside me, totally spontaneously, after you destroyed a part of my world.
However, it's not your fault. But it's not mine either.
Please come here and sit down! And please take a handkerchief!"
She gets up and gets him one, which makes him smile slightly.
‘Oliver, I don't know how things should and will go on between us. You just threw it in my face that you're gay. I can't even pretend for your sake that I think it's great, quite the opposite. But what I just said... well, no, you're not repulsive to me and never will be.
I'm still totally beside myself and will need time. You realised over time that you're gay. I had just two minutes! That's a bit much, don't you think?
Of course I want to get to know the person you will one day love. How I will deal with the situation then, I can't tell you now, it's all so strange.
But I can learn. I can learn what it means for you to be gay. I can and I will deal with this topic. I don't know yet what the outcome will be.
I just know that I still love you and that moving out is out of the question.
We have been through so much together for almost 18 years, and now a new challenge awaits us. I am still somewhat shocked, but I am slowly calming down.
There are many topics waiting for us. You just asked whether I have to tell the family and colleagues at all. You see, these are all things that are now buzzing around in my head, and I don't have the answers.
I will have to think about a lot of things, educate myself, we will have to talk to each other again and again, I will try to understand everything, I will certainly fail at some things, but I will try hard, for you and for me... I can't do more at the moment. Would that be enough for you to start?’
Her head hurts and she feels a little dizzy. She doesn't know how it will all continue, but she meant every word she just said. She will try with all her might. It is certainly not easy for him either, that has just become clear to her from his outburst.
How will he react? She shivers.
Oliver sniffs the air. He looks at her. A moment ago, he was shaking with anger and fear. Now he sees his mother struggling to keep her composure. How could it come to this, that they yell at each other, that they forget what they have in each other, that they do belong together after all? Nothing will ever be able to tear them apart.
He raises his nose again and begins: ‘Manu, I'm sorry. Sometimes I don't know which way is up. It's all still so new for me, too. One day I'm euphoric, I want to embrace the world. That was how I felt when I told Jacqueline. The next day I feel devastated, then I'm just afraid of what the others at school will say about me, how they'll treat me when they find out. I'm afraid of losing friends, of being rejected.
It took me a while to stand by myself and my feelings. I had hoped so much that you would understand me, maybe not immediately and maybe not everything. I don't understand everything yet either.
If you turn away from me, I don't know what I'll do."
He walks towards her and opens his arms. He stops just in front of her. His face is wet with tears. He can feel the pain of his bulge again. Then he wraps his arms around her neck. She does the same to him.
‘Please help me. I'll help you too. I just want us to stay together and not fight about this. Please understand, even if I wanted to change it, I can't.
Being gay is part of me. I don't come without it."
She gently caresses his back.
They remain still for a few minutes in an intimate embrace. Both calm down. Then they separate, stand facing each other, take each other's shoulders and just smile.
‘Oliver, you're my son. What more can I say?’
Time
passes,
what
should
it
do
else
–
a
few
years
later
Hi guys... yes, you outside the story here. This is Manuela, Oliver's mother. Remember me? I thought you might be interested to know how things have gone for us.
Well, it hasn't always been easy, that's for sure. Oliver gave me a lot of literature, we sometimes talked all night, he explained a lot to me, he usually told me when he had experienced something negative, when he was pushed back, when he was called a fag. Then I comforted him or even scolded him for defending himself so little.
We also clashed many times, and there were arguments from time to time. But that's only natural, it's meant to be that way when two people live together, one of whom is no longer a child at some point.
Maybe our solidarity helped him, because over time he became more and more self-confident and also got together with a group of people who were all homosexual. Of course, it helped him tremendously to be able to exchange ideas with like-minded people and talk openly.
Andreas has also been a great help to him. Do you remember him? We're married now! Oliver's boyfriend Tim was at our wedding. Nothing was explained, and it wasn't necessary. When I was asked about it, I just said, ‘Yes, that's Tim, Oliver's boyfriend,’ and that was the end of it. Sometimes it can be that simple.
We don't see each other very often anyway, since Oliver has now found a job after graduating, has his own small apartment and doesn't always want to come to mommy and stepdaddy's for cake on weekends. But that's okay too. Andreas and I also need a lot of time for each other.
Our life is – how should I describe it – so normal!
Well, now I have to go. Oliver has a new friend who seems to be very special. We are having dinner with them tonight. Hopefully he's as great as Tim. He was great: I loved going shopping with him, he had great taste. I always had fun. And people always looked: me and then such a handsome young man by my side. I always laughed inside.
Well, I'm excited to see who we'll meet today. Will it be the right one this time? Whether daughter-in-law or son-in-law, the excitement is there, I'm very excited.
I am glad that you were with us during an exciting time in our lives. And even if there are moments when you feel like the ground is falling out from under your feet, talking should help! Talk, show understanding for the other person... and with patience and pulling together.
Then, little by little, normality creeps in.
Really nice!
So, take care, I wish you all the best!
Oh yes, Oliver sends his regards.
Life can be so beautiful. What I did a few years ago. Meanwhile, Manuela is doing quite well with my being gay. Her understanding has really helped me, even though it was quite bumpy at the beginning.
At first she didn't understand it at all. But she wanted to deal with it. And she has really made great and rapid progress.
I still remember when she came home from one of these parents' meetings and was really upset about the lack of understanding of some fathers and mothers. How could you just abandon your child with his problems?
I gave her a big hug for that.
But sometimes it was really embarrassing for me to see how uncompromisingly she stood up for me and gay rights. That's who she is, and I love her for it.
I have a strong e-mail friendship with Jacqueline. She moved to the other end of the country, got married there and has a child almost every year. We often remember our school days together and the little card she slipped to me that had such an impact. Today we laugh about ourselves back then.
Afterwards, Manuela and my stepfather Andreas (yes, exactly the one) are coming to my house. They really want to meet my new boyfriend, who I've been with for a few weeks now. We're going to cook, because René is a fantastic cook. They'll like him.
Which reminds me: I haven't heard from my father since he stopped paying child support. Anyway, I hardly know him anyway.
I still have to do some shopping for tonight.
Take care and be who you are. Best regards from the best mum in the world to all those who are still hesitating!