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Raphael
During the four-hour drive, I had sat silently next to my father, who had insisted on shipping me off to this “co-ed boarding school” a month after the start of the school year. He had given up in exasperation after several unsuccessful attempts to strike up a conversation with me. What did he expect after suddenly tearing me away from my familiar surroundings?
“So this is where I'm supposed to spend the rest of my life?” it flashed through my mind as I stared at the heavy entrance portal of the large house. ‘Okay, okay, the rest of my school life.’ The boarding school logo, carved in stone above the door, was repeated in the large flowerbed in front of the entrance in an arrangement of different plants and flowers.
The Maybach had come to a halt. We unloaded my luggage and I followed my father, who was briskly hurrying ahead of me, into the building. On the stairs, I was violently jostled by a rushing, black-haired boy around my age. I almost fell backwards.
“Can't you be careful, idiot?” I snapped at him.
“You're the idiot, why are you hanging around on the stairs?” he spat back at me and disappeared as suddenly as he had appeared.
The office was well signposted. Shortly afterwards, we were standing in the director's outer office.
“Hello, my name is Dr. Hausner, this is my son Raphael. I have an appointment with Dr. Neubert.”
“Hello Dr. Hausner, Raphael, my name is Schmitt, Dr. Neubert is already expecting you.”
My father, the old scrounger, immediately accepted the offered coffee, although he usually only drank tea. The heavy, leather-covered door to the director's office opened and he went to meet my father. At an estimated 1.85 m, Mr. Neubert towered over my father by a few centimetres. With his blue jeans and beige jacket, I estimated him to be in his late fifties, despite his snow-white hair.
“Neubert, good afternoon, Dr. Hausner.”
“Good afternoon, Dr. Neubert,” my father hastened to return the greeting with a slight bow.
Mr. Neubert looked at me over the edge of his pince-nez.
“Hello Raphael, welcome to the Johann Heinrich Pestalozzi boarding school. Would you like something to drink?”
I politely declined, although I was in the mood for a Coke or something, but I just didn't like the look of the place.
“If you would like to follow me,” Dr. Neubert asked us into his office.
“Well, Dr. Neubert, certain circumstances require us to place our son in your care at short notice. It would be really nice if he could take his A-levels at your institute in three years.”
Oh how I hated this exaggeratedly submissive, false tone that my father always adopted in such situations.
“Dr. Hausner, it is very unusual for us to accept a new student after the start of the school year. But the urgent recommendation from the colleague at your old school, Raphael, was reasonably convincing. The decisive factor was definitely your good performance, which should make it easy to integrate you into our 11th grade.”
My father nodded with satisfaction.
“I didn't expect anything else, Dr. Neubert. I'll say goodbye then, if you don't mind. Goodbye, Doctor. And you, don't be a problem for us!” he said, turning to me.
And with that, he was gone.
I noticed a disapproving look on the face of my new principal, which my father, in his ignorant way, did not register. Dr. Neubert looked at me for a while without saying anything.
“Would you like something to drink?”
“A Coke, please, if you have it.”
He went to the door.
“Ms. Schmitt, if you would please bring us a coffee and a Coke.”
Then he sat down with me in the seating area. Even before he could continue the conversation with me, his secretary brought us what we wanted and, in addition, a small plate of chocolate biscuits.
“Help yourself!” the teacher urged me with a grin on his face.
“Raphael, you don't seem to be too happy about this change of school.”
I didn't answer immediately, but looked at him a little shocked. Should I tell him the real reason, that my old man had simply caught me in bed with a classmate and, under threat of a beating, made it clear to me that he wanted to thoroughly expel such nonsense from my mind. Neither I nor my mother could prevent his decision to send me to a mixed boarding school from now on. And if my father had already chosen this boarding school, it was surely because homosexuality was not tolerated there. So I answered the headmaster evasively:
“That's true, but it's not easy when you have to leave your friends so suddenly.”
Dr. Neubert nodded and changed the subject:
“Raphael, in addition to mastering the normal school curriculum, we expect each student to be more involved in artistic, musical or other creative activities. For example, do you play an instrument?”
At first I didn't know what to think of that, but then I answered, “I play the piano a little.”
“Oh, very nice, there have been some wonderful results here. Classical?”
“No, more in the direction of jazz and boogie.”
“Interesting, that would be something new. It's best to discuss it with our music teachers. Now I'll show you the system first. Then our caretaker, Mr. Maier, will accompany you to your room, which you share with Karl-Friedrich, a classmate. I hope you get along with each other, because for the time being it's the only option.”
I was amazed at how much time the headmaster took to explain everything to me.
When I arrived back at the office, a sporty middle-aged man was already waiting for us.
“Raphael, this is Mr. Maier, the heart and soul of this company.“ Mr. Maier, if you would be so kind as to take Mr. Hausner to his room to see Mr. von Seewein. Raphael, I'll see you tomorrow in math,” he said and disappeared into his office.
“Well, come with me then!“ Mr. Maier said in a deep, pleasant voice. He grabbed my large trolley case when he saw that I was sufficiently packed with a huge backpack and two not much smaller travel bags.
“Karl-Friedrich von Seewein” was written on the door that Mr. Maier was now knocking on.
“Yes, please,“ came from inside.
Mr. Maier opened the door and pushed me into the room.
“Maier, what's the idea?” the occupant of the room grumbled at him rather indignantly.
“I'm sorry, Seewein, if you haven't been informed yet, but according to the boss's instructions, I'm supposed to bring Mr. Hausner to you. As you may know, this is the only free bed in the house.”
The man addressed just rolled his eyes theatrically.
Ultimately, he introduced himself to me: “Karl-Friedrich von Seewein,” and held out his hand, “but everyone just calls me KF.”
I grinned crookedly: “Pleased to meet you – Raphael Hausner,” and I dropped one of the bags and took his hand.
KF scanned me and said somewhat resignedly: “Then let's try to get along.”
Mr. Maier pushed my trolley case to the front of the free bed and said goodbye with a ”Well then.”
My first day at Johann Heinrich Pestalozzi boarding school began with a double period of English with Dr. Gabriel. So I should introduce myself in English, which went reasonably well. The only free seat was next to the bully who had almost knocked me down the stairs the day before. He immediately started to insult me, but I could do that too and I shot back. I almost thought I saw a brief grin on his, admittedly, pretty face. His dark complexion harmonized with his brown eyes and jet-black hair. But the magic of the moment was gone the next moment when he whispered, “What are you staring at, faggot?”
“What an ass,” I thought, shaking my head. Nevertheless, I found myself staring at him again and again. Fortunately, he didn't seem to notice. During the break, KF told me that Miguel Hernandez was probably somewhat arrogant; his success had probably gone to his head. I wanted to ask him what he meant by that, but the school bell interrupted our conversation and called us back to class.
That evening, in bed, he came to mind again. 'What an idiot.'
Admittedly, he fascinated me in a way. His graceful movements did not match his gruff manner at all. Over time, my imagination ran away with me as I tried to picture him naked. The rest of my mind, which was still working, scolded me for being a fool. No sooner had I started at the new school than I was already on the prowl for sex. And the object of my desire was, of all people, the biggest jerk in the school. Seen in this light, I was probably the idiot in the story.
I tossed and turned these thoughts to no avail. Fortunately, my remaining sanity slowly kicked in again, and at some point I managed to fall asleep after all.
A violent movement woke me up.
“Man Raphael, you sleepyhead, get up at last, or don't you need breakfast before class?”
KF obviously only managed to wake me up by shaking me vigorously.
“What's going on?“ I grumbled sleepily.
“UP – STAY –ING!” he grumbled impatiently and pulled the blanket away from me, grinning nastily.
“Oh man,” I grumbled when I noticed the tent that was stretched over my midsection. Immediately, the rest of my blood rushed to my head and I swung my legs out of bed.
“Raphael, don't worry about it,” KF said unusually gently, ”everyone feels that way.”
If only he knew what I had just dreamt.
“I'll be right there, go ahead.”
I got through the first few days of school with little noise.
On Wednesday of my first week of school, I had an appointment with Mr. Kramer, one of our music teachers, to play the piano.
I arrived at the music room a little early and was about to enter when I heard that it was still occupied.
I listened and liked what I heard very much. Whoever was sitting at the piano knew his stuff. He had just finished a piece by Rachmaninov, but then he started with the “Honky Tonk train blues”. At a breathtaking tempo, he (or she) played this classic by Meade Lux Lewis and skillfully varied it. So this music was not as unknown here as I had assumed after our principal's welcoming remarks.
I quickly went to the restroom before my turn for piano lessons.
When I returned, my predecessor was already gone. I really wanted to ask Mr. Kramer who it was. But now it was my turn. The lesson began with the obligatory finger exercises. I had previously discussed with Mr. Kramer that I would like to learn some of Scott Joplin's works.
I already had the “Magnetic Rag” quite well down, but we spent the whole lesson working on the finer points and, above all, on my playing technique.
Oh dear, I had let myself in for something.
But Mr. Kramer seemed reasonably convinced of my ability and my willingness to work consistently. When I mentioned that I had also taken organ lessons at home and occasionally accompanied the Sunday service when the organist was on vacation or sick, he was very impressed. When I asked him whether it would be possible to continue learning and playing the organ here, he promised to find out.
I left the music cabinet feeling exhausted but very satisfied.
At the next practice session, Mr. Kramer told me that Oliver Stotz, the local cantor, would be happy to teach me the organ as a trained music teacher. He gave me his cell phone number and asked me to contact him as soon as possible. Then the lessons began, which were quite challenging for me again, but great fun. Mr. Kramer seemed very pleased with how well I had prepared all three pieces by Scott Joplin. He had little to correct, so instead he sat down at the second grand piano and we improvised “Maple Leaf Rag” four-handed.
In the end, he asked me if I was sure I wanted to play piano “just for fun.” Immediately, my thoughts darkened and the good mood was gone.
“Raphael, what's the matter all of a sudden?” Mr. Kramer asked with concern.
“Oh, you know, Mr. Kramer, I would love to make music full time, but my father expects me to succeed him in the company without any ifs or buts.”
Mr. Kramer noticed my glassy eyes and said nothing more than, “Raphael, whatever the case may be, you are a great pianist and you can inspire people with your playing.”
Although I already had a healthy self-confidence, I now felt the urge to show modesty: ”Thank you very much, Mr. Kramer, but I still have a long way to go to become a good pianist.”
He just grinned at me.
“Okay, now enjoy your meal. It's already past six o'clock, we've completely lost track of time,” he said with a laugh.
So we headed to the cafeteria together. I really enjoyed the simple dinner.
Since it was still before eight, I thought it wouldn't be too late to call Mr. Stotz.
“Oliver Stotz,” a youthful, very pleasant voice answered, which almost took my breath away. So I came straight to the point: ”Uh, yes, Raphael Hausner here. Mr. Kramer said that I could take organ lessons from you.”
“Oh, good evening Raphael, nice of you to get in touch. Yes, that could be arranged here. Unfortunately, not many people are interested in this instrument, of which we have a really good example here in our village church.”
“Good evening, Mr. Stotz. I'm sorry to have barged in like this, but that sounds good. When would you have time for me? My schedule leaves me some time on Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday.”
“Hm, Wednesday doesn't work?” asked Mr. Stotz.
“I have piano lessons with Mr. Kramer then.”
“Aha, do you think you could ask Volker, that is, Mr. Kramer, to reschedule your piano lessons?”
“I don't know, I'd have to ask him first.”
“Wait, Raphael, I'll get back to you in a moment. When did you say you had time? Monday, Tuesday and Thursday?”
“Yes, that's right.”
“See you in a moment,” and he had already hung up, only to call back less than ten minutes later: ”So, Raphael, I've just spoken to Volker on the phone. He would move your piano lessons to Monday. Please call him right away. Then please come to me at the Saint Nicholas Church on Wednesday at 3 p.m.”
“Okay, Mr. Stotz, thank you very much, see you next Wednesday”
“Yes, great. Good night, Raphael” and he had already hung up.
After consulting with Mr. Kramer, I now had piano lessons with him from 4:00 to 5:30 p.m. on Mondays and organ lessons with Mr. Stotz from 3:00 p.m. on Wednesdays.
Satisfied, I made my way to my room. When I arrived here at the boarding school, I would never have dreamed that I would be able to indulge my greatest passion here so freely. Now I was glad to be so far away from home. More precisely, from my father. With this joyful news, I quickly fell asleep that evening.
The presence of the new guy annoyed me to some extent. What was his name again? Oh, right: “Raphael”. First of all, he ran over me as soon as he arrived, what a klutz, then he kept staring at me in such a gay way. I mean, I have nothing against gays, after all, my “tutor” Carsten was one too. However, he never made any advances towards me. Well, Carsten was blind, so he couldn't have been fascinated by my appearance. Besides, he was Andreas' boyfriend. So it was possible for us to concentrate exclusively on the piano. We had arranged Monday for my piano lessons with him.
This afternoon it was time again and I was well prepared, or so I thought. But somehow I couldn't concentrate and I played Carsten accordingly. I sensed how hard he was controlling himself not to completely destroy my performance. It was thanks to his composure that I didn't freak out, because what I played didn't correspond to my ideas or my actual ability. His objective, professional criticism was one hundred percent comprehensible to me, but that afternoon nothing went well.
Perceptibly unnerved, Carsten ended the lesson early.
“Miguel, what's the matter with you today? I've never seen you so unfocused!”
“I don't know either. Maybe it's better if we call it a day,” I replied somewhat resignedly.
“Okay, Miguel, see you next week.”
When Carsten had left the room with Max, his guide dog, I was still sitting at the grand piano, still confused. In fact, I couldn't think of any reason for my lack of concentration. On the contrary, it had always been the case that when I was brooding over something and couldn't get anywhere, I just needed to sit down at the piano and forget about all my problems.
Suddenly the door was flung open and HE was standing in the room – Raphael!
“Oh, it's you?“ he stared at me, startled at first.
“What do you want?” I snapped back.
A mocking grin stole across his handsome face. Did I just think “handsome”?
Did he notice my bumbling attempts at playing earlier?
He had.
“What would I want here? You're not the only one who can play this instrument,“ he smirked.
Squinting, I watched as he approached me.
“Well? What's the matter? Are you going to stand there all day?” Mr. Kramer will be here in a moment.”
With a sigh, I got up and left the music room almost in a hurry. How embarrassing was that? Annoyed and confused, I decided to go for a jog before dinner.
At the lake, I ran into Carsten again, who greeted me by name even though I hadn't said a word. Surprised, I asked him: “How do you know it's me?”
Carsten laughed: ”Oh, Miguel, even if I can't see you, I can still hear you and, in this case, smell you too.”
“Oh! Do I stink that much?”
Carsten laughed again: “No, Miguel, but we just spent almost an hour together, so I remember your mixture of deodorant, aftershave and sweat very clearly, even if a hint of detergent has been added. You seem to have changed your clothes. Let me guess: you want to go for another run.”
“Quite right,“ I replied, amazed.
I took a deep breath.
“Carsten. May I ask you a question?”
“Apart from the fact that you've already done that,” I grinned inevitably, “we'll see if I can answer it.”
I hemmed and hawed a little until I plucked up all my courage: ”How do you realize that you're gay?”
“Oh, Miguel,” he replied, ‘something personal and direct.’ Carsten thought, ”I don't know if there is a general explanation for that. Some say they knew it from the beginning, when they started to think for themselves.”
Again he paused.
“It wasn't like that for me. I didn't think about it. Maybe because I was fully stretched with all the other things. I don't know it any different. I was once told that it was and is very exhausting for me to orient myself. Then the piano took up all my attention. But to answer your question: I think that my very first encounter with Andreas in the stairwell of our boarding school when he arrived gave me the impetus. His voice captivated me immediately. At that moment, I wasn't thinking in any sexual categories. It was only over time that I slowly realized that I had already fallen in love with him. Love at first sound, so to speak. Although we happened to share the same room, it took a long time for us to find each other. Andreas was aware of his sexual orientation, but he had had very bad experiences at his old school, so he was very reserved. He later told me that he had come out to him during his first conversation with Dr. Neubert. I think we are very lucky with our headmaster, who is extremely empathetic and also an absolutely tolerant and open-minded person. For me, however, it was only with the steadily growing sympathy for Andreas that I became aware that I had fallen in love with him and was therefore probably gay. Especially when I felt more and more physically attracted to him. May I ask why you are asking this question?”
“Hm,” I replied, lost in thought, ”I think that's why I was so unfocused today.”
“What now? Am I confusing you?” Carsten asked jokingly.
“Huh? Oh, no Carsten, it has nothing to do with you.”
“Then it's okay. You know, Miguel, that I'm in a committed relationship with Andreas.”
“Yeah, sure. I was just curious. I'll trot off. See you at dinner.”
“I'll see you later.”
“Joker, see you later.”
The following Monday, I was amazed to discover that Miguel played the piano quite well, even if it wasn't entirely convincing to my ears either. At least he took lessons from Carsten von Feldbach, a kind of star of the school, who had already given fantastic concerts with the school orchestra and on a guest appearance in Dresden. The fact that Carsten was blind didn't matter at all. Unfortunately, I hadn't had any contact with him yet. I had only been at this boarding school for two weeks.
In any case, I was really looking forward to Wednesday. I set off at half past two sharp, after all I didn't want to be unpunctual on the first day. Fifteen minutes later I was standing in front of the church of St. Nicholas. Unsure whether I should go in or not, the decision was taken out of my hands by an extremely attractive man in his mid-to-late twenties who came straight up to me.
“Hello, I'm Oliver Stotz. Are you Raphael from the Johann Heinrich Pestalozzi boarding school?”
“Yes, exactly, hello Mr. Stotz.”
“I'm glad you came. Let's go in, the door should actually be open.”
He led the way to the middle of the three-aisled church building.
He proudly pointed back to the main entrance, above which the organ gallery was located, as it were, in front of the tower. In an elaborately carved organ front, a comparatively large instrument extended almost to the early Gothic vault of the central nave.
“It is a little-known fact that this instrument was built by Gottfried Silbermann as early as 1710, in other words, before his first officially documented organ in Frauenstein. We can only speculate that he happened upon it on his way home from Strasbourg and tried to build an organ here without the help of his brother Andreas. But since all the written documents from that time have survived, it was possible to determine that it was actually a Silbermann organ that replaced a previous instrument. The suspicion arose quite quickly, because there are simply a few typical features that point to the famous organ builder. At the end of the 19th century, the instrument was overhauled for the first time and unfortunately also modified in line with the spirit of the age. About a hundred years later, in 1995, a comprehensive renovation and careful reconstruction was decided and carried out. In any case, we are quite proud of this great organ and it's great fun to play on it.”
He paused for a moment, and I was amazed.
With a lump in my throat, I asked reverently if I could really play and learn on it.
Mr. Stotz laughed amusedly.
“Sure, Raphael, why not? An instrument that no one plays is of no use to anyone. Let's go up!”
So we climbed the rather steep stairs to this extraordinary instrument. After he had turned it on and there was enough air, Mr. Stotz simply asked me to play something.
I had expected that, which is why I had refreshed my dusty knowledge again yesterday, just at one of the pianos at school. So I tried my hand at what is probably Bach's most popular organ piece, the 'Toccata and Fugue in D minor', which I managed quite well after the long break. After I had finished, there was silence for a moment. I looked at my organ teacher, whom I had visibly impressed.
“Raphael, that was wonderful. And very expressively played, even though you don't know this instrument at all. All respect. How long have you not played?”
“About a month, but not this piece for a while. However, I want to confess that I practiced it yesterday at boarding school on a piano. I thought to myself that I should probably play something for you,” I answered mischievously.
Mr. Stotz smiled.
“Without having heard more from you, I would say that you already have the representative position here if you want,“ he grinned at me.
“Representative position?” I asked, confused.
“When I'm not around, I would say that you can easily accompany every service.”
I was very happy about this recognition.
“And,” he added, ‘I would also like to leave this place to you and just sit next to you and listen to you.”
I was flabbergasted; I didn't think I was that good, or at least not yet.
“Now don't look so incredulous,’ he smiled at me kindly, ”of course for a fee, even if you won't get rich from it.”
“I would be honored,” I blurted out.
He smiled at me again; I almost imagined that he was flirting with me.
“Do you have certain pieces or composers that you would prefer to practice?”
I thought about it, but couldn't come up with anything specific for the organ.
“Well, on the piano I would like to start with a few basic works by Scott Joplin, but here? Can it be something jazzy?“ I asked my organ teacher, feeling a little unsure.
“Yes, sure, why not? I don't think he would mind,” he said, pointing towards the cross above the altar. Again the twinkle appeared in his eyes.
I smiled and nodded.
“Hm, then George Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue,“ came to mind spontaneously.
“Oo... keee,” came the drawn-out response from Mr. Stotz.
“And as luck would have it, I have a special arrangement here just for organ,” he beamed at me.
“You see, I also really like this music. Have you played this piece before?”
“No, not yet.”
“Do you want to try it from the sheet?”
“Yes, please.”
Mr. Stotz put the score on my music stand and explained:
“Raphael, it's best to play the organ arrangement a little slower, or vary the tempo a little. This is because the reverb in the church is too intense for some parts.”
I started playing, and the realization on the keys went quite well, as I was somewhat familiar with the piece itself. Mr. Stotz helped me with the registration.
I thought it sounded quite passable, which Mr. Stotz confirmed with an encouraging look.
Of course, I made quite a few mistakes and my playing technique still left something to be desired; I also wanted to take over the registration bit by bit. It was really fun, although it was exhausting. We completely forgot about the time in our zeal. The clock showed that it was already well past six o'clock again. I couldn't believe it. A real feeling of happiness spread in me, and Mr. Stotz couldn't get out of his permanent grin either.
Nevertheless, he said at some point: “Raphael, we should slowly call it a day despite everything. I have never seen a student with such enormous stamina as you, really. I think I'll get you your own key so that you can come in anytime to practice without me.”
I must have looked a bit dumbfounded, but at least he laughed: “Hey Raphael, don't look so shocked. You're really good. But now get out of here. You won't get any dinner otherwise.”
The prospect of going to bed on an empty stomach created an almost rushed atmosphere of departure, which gave Mr. Stotz a real laughing fit.
“Well, Raphael, take care, and I'll see you next week.”
Before I fell asleep, I thought again of this pleasant afternoon in the village church with the equally understanding and attractive cantor. So I drifted off into the land of dreams. Again and again, the image of Oliver Stotz with his friendly and winning smile flickered before my mind's eye. I dreamt that he stepped out of the church, spread his arms, I rushed at him and threw myself at his neck. He laughed happily, embraced me around the hips and spun me around.
This movement startled me and I sat in bed, bathed in sweat. This dream was so real that it took me quite a while to sort myself out. When I realized what was going on, I let myself fall back onto my pillow. Where would it all end? However, the longer I thought about it, the more certain I became that Oliver Stotz had really flirted with me. How could it be that from our very first meeting, there was such a familiar and – yes – warm atmosphere between us?
I decided to pay close attention to his body language next Wednesday.
After I finally fell asleep again, I dreamt of my organ teacher again.
The next day, I only perceived my surroundings schematically, several times my thoughts were far away and the teachers admonished me not only once to concentrate on the lesson. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Miguel's mocking grin, which, to my own amazement, no longer bothered me at all.
So I daydreamed my way through the week and the weekend and became more and more fidgety the closer Wednesday came and I would see HIM again. At lunch, I couldn't get a bite down and immediately afterwards I rushed into the shower. Of course, I had forgotten to take fresh underwear with me, so I walked back to my room with only the towel around my hips, which, of course, caused quite a stir on a Wednesday afternoon. Most people just gave me a blank look, but I ran into Kevin, our class clown, and he was with a few others. He was with a few others and couldn't keep his loose mouth shut: “Oh, hey Rafi, are you putting on a strip show in broad daylight now?”
He wiggled his hips exaggeratedly. I was about to counter with a casual remark when he had already torn the towel off my body. Since I didn't have my hands free with shower stuff and the like, I couldn't react fast enough and suddenly found myself standing outside. Normally, I wouldn't have minded and I would have gone along with his game, but somehow I couldn't that day. So I ran like stung by an adder to get to my room as quickly as possible. The smirking students and the shaking heads of the teaching staff did not escape me. To make matters worse, not only KF but also his girlfriend Lilo, with whom he always studied on Wednesdays, were waiting for me in my room.
“Hello Rafi, interesting outfit,” was his prompt comment, Lilo looked sheepishly to the side. Nevertheless, my face turned red like a tomato. I threw the shower utensils on my bed and quickly fished a pair of boxer shorts out of my closet. But then the drama began: what should I wear? I had never given it much thought before. Unsure, I stared into the closet until the other two noticed.
“Don't you have anything to wear either?” KF asked in a mocking tone that unmistakably contained a dig at the female presence. Lilo just gave him a strong nudge in the side.
“Ouch,“ he cried out shrilly.
“Just don't make any more of your unqualified innuendos,” Lilo said, unmoved, and turning to me, she asked, “Do you need help? Do you have a date?”
Unable to answer, I listened to her further advice: ”You have those black, hip-hugging jeans. And a tight white T-shirt to go with it,” she suggested, looking at my wardrobe and the glorious sunshine, and sat down again with her boyfriend.
Could I dare to do that? It was clear that the T-shirt would regularly slide up.
Anyway, more okay. So I obediently followed the recommendation of my roommate's girlfriend.
Dark socks and my black sneakers, done.
I finally managed to leave on time. Man, was I excited.
Almost like in my dream, Mr. Stotz stepped out of the side entrance of the church. He spread his arms a bit, but not as an invitation to rush at him. He was wearing white jeans and a loose black T-shirt.
“Hello Raphael,” he greeted me and actually pulled me towards him with at least one arm in a friendly way. In doing so, he inevitably got his hand under my T-shirt. I felt all warm inside.
“Please call me by my first name from now on, otherwise I feel so old compared to you, okay?”
“Yes, of course, Mr. Stotz... uh Oliver, okay.”
'That got off to a very encouraging start,' I thought to myself and beamed at him.
He returned the favor with an equally radiant look and a wink. Now I was getting hot.
Somehow we were standing around a bit indecisively, although the purpose of my visit was clear.
Finally, we entered the house of worship and immediately went up to the gallery.
“Raphael, you mentioned last time that you were learning a few pieces by Scott Joplin on the piano. Surely that includes Maple Leaf Rag, doesn't it?”
“Yes, that's right, I'm working on that right now.”
“Good, I sat down over the weekend and arranged it for our organ. Do you want to try it right away?”
I looked at him in amazement, and he grinned from ear to ear.
“Yes, of course I'll try it.”
I had to seriously hold back so as not to fall around his neck. I quickly sat down at the console. Oliver put his score on the desk and we discussed the differences to the piano. He had chosen a very powerful, almost shrill registration. I began to play and it sounded fantastic, considering my mistakes. Oliver had put his hands on my shoulders, which sent a pleasant shiver down my spine.
“Again, please,” he whispered in my ear. I felt all tingly inside. ”And a bit faster.”
I did as I was told and, lo and behold, it sounded even better.
I simply changed the manual to get the different timbres Oliver had chosen for the individual sections. This Silbermann organ had two of them.
Oliver's hands were still on my shoulders, and he seemed to know that the slightest movement made me shudder again.
No sooner had I finished than he ran both hands up my upper arms. That was too much; I automatically stiffened my upper body, causing him to pull his hands back in shock.
“Sorry,” he murmured.
“I didn't mean to offend you.”
“Pity,” I blurted out, and swung my legs over the organ bench.
I only briefly withstood his gaze and instead looked at my sneakers.
What was he doing? He put his bent index finger under my chin and lifted my head until I inevitably sank into his bright eyes.
“What do you mean, Raphael?”
I looked at him for a long time, should I or shouldn't I? Then I made a decision.
“Oliver,” I began softly, ”since last week, I can't get you out of my head. I dream about you at night.”
Again, there was a pause that was far too long.
“Now say something. Say that under these circumstances, you can no longer teach me.”
I felt tears welling up in my eyes.
“No, Raphael, no. I want to continue teaching you and see you sitting right here on this organ bench. I have to admit that I have never met an organ student with as much talent and enthusiasm for learning as you. In fact, I stood in front of my closet forever today because I didn't know what to wear.”
That was it. I started laughing. “Man Oli, that's exactly how I felt too. Fortunately, the selection wasn't very big and I had a consultant.”
“A consultant?”
“Yes, my roommate's girlfriend.”
Since the mood had now relaxed a bit, I told him the whole story of the day.
“Oh dear, Raphael, you were pretty rattled.”
“You can say that again,“ I grumbled.
“I must have changed ten times for that,” he admitted.
Once again we smiled at each other.
An indescribable feeling of well-being flowed through my body, I felt so good that I could have uprooted trees. I now felt an incredible desire to play on this dreamlike instrument.
I turned around and started Beethoven's Ode to Joy. I had already practiced this most famous excerpt from the Ninth Symphony on the piano forwards and backwards, so I was able to concentrate on the registrations.
And so the European anthem resounded in the Church of St. Nicholas in an improvisation lasting several minutes. Suddenly I had the idea of playing a medley with the European fanfare, although I didn't immediately succeed in doing so as I had imagined. It took me several attempts to get this short piece of music, which has always been played at the beginning of a Eurovision broadcast on television, to sound at the appropriate time. Unexpectedly, I received support from Oliver, who, obviously enthusiastic, set a number of fantastic registrations. His precise knowledge of this instrument was unmistakable. As I swung my legs back over the organ bench, pleased with the result, I looked into a beaming face.
“That was fantastic,” he enthused, ”simply incredible.”
In the following weeks, I really blossomed.
I practiced like a man possessed on both instruments – Oliver had actually given me a key to the church and the organ. – And my piano lessons on Monday and the organ lessons on Wednesday always went by much too quickly, especially the Wednesdays.
The phenomenal thing about it was that my other – already good – school performance also improved. I literally became a model student.
As much as possible, I kept away from Raphael, which I managed quite well with a few brash remarks.
Nevertheless, I always tried to keep an eye on him. So I noticed that every Wednesday he disappeared towards the village at half past two, all spruced up – not to say dressed up. This increasingly worried me; where did he think he was going? However, I wondered why I was actually interested in it. Somehow I began to doubt my sanity. When he left the JHP boarding school again at exactly 2:30 p.m. the following Wednesday – Mr. Kramer had to postpone my piano lesson – I must have been spurred on and followed him; I had to know what Raphael was up to. I was all the more surprised when he disappeared directly into our village church and did not reappear for over half an hour. Incidentally, the organ could be heard from then on. However, it did not occur to me that Raphael might be playing there. I cautiously opened the heavy church door and found myself in a kind of vestibule. This way I could penetrate further into the interior of the church without being heard.
I had always been fascinated by organ music, but what I heard now had a very special charm, even though the playing was interrupted again and again. Suddenly a variation of the “Maple Leaf Rag” sounded, which sent a slight shiver down my spine. Completely unusual on an organ, but played powerfully and in great harmony. I completely forgot why I had actually come here. After an hour and a half, the organ playing ended. I heard two people talking quietly as they came down the creaking stairs from the organ loft. I pressed myself against a pillar of the three-aisled church and was amazed to recognize that it was Raphael, who was walking towards the exit, joking with an attractive man in his late twenties. I couldn't believe my eyes when the two of them embraced and said goodbye.
Why on earth did that hurt me now?
Five minutes later, I also left the church unnoticed.
From then on, my thoughts revolved only around Raphael, which completely confused me. At first, I didn't understand what was suddenly going on with me. I began to dream about him in a completely confused way.
One night I woke up with a start and realized that I had had a wet dream, something that hadn't happened to me in years. On the one hand, I was extremely embarrassed, but on the other hand, I suspected again that I might be gay. That couldn't, no, that must not be the case. However, with a bang, this suspicion instantly solidified into an irrefutable realization. I let out a loud, plaintive “Nooo!” which, of course, woke my roommate Fabian. He came running in, asking anxiously what was wrong. With some effort, I was able to convince him that I must have had a nightmare. Nevertheless, he remained sitting on the edge of my bed for a few minutes, unsure of what else he could do.
“Thanks, Fabian, I think I'm okay now,” I remarked, prompting him to go back to his bed.
I couldn't think of sleeping anymore. So I admitted to myself that I probably had a crush on Raphael.
Shit, man.
Was he really gay? Suddenly, the question arose as to who the guy in the church was that Raphael was kissing, and a completely new and unknown feeling arose: I was getting really jealous, all the more so when I imagined what else the two were doing together. I sat up only to fall back down again. Okay, they had only hugged briefly, but in a church!
“What am I going to do now?”
My thoughts now revolved around this question in an endless loop.
Meanwhile, it was half past five and I decided to go jogging. Even a frantic lap around the lake in the pouring rain did not help. I urgently needed to talk to someone. But who? I plunged headlong into a hot shower. When I entered the washroom, I ran into Andreas and Carsten, who looked at me in shock. Evidently, I had surprised them. Andreas was the quickest to regain his composure and, after he must have noticed that I was quite rattled, he asked with concern: “Miguel, what on earth happened to you?”
I hadn't realized that my confused thoughts were so obvious.
I turned to the wall, embarrassed.
“Miguel, there's nothing to hide.“ Andreas' casual remark didn't make it any better.
On the contrary, I felt like crying: ‘Man, Andreas! I don't know why, but I'm gay!’ I practically screamed.
“So what? We are too,” Carsten said dryly.
“For you it's normal, but for me? My father will kill me.”
As I said this, my legs gave way. Andreas was on me in a flash and caught me before I hit the ground. Almost like a drowning man, I clung to him. The fact that we were both naked and not exactly in a relaxed state, I suppressed at that moment.
After what felt like an eternity, I broke away from him. Carsten was now standing next to us, putting his arm around me.
“Are you okay?“ I heard his gentle voice.
“Yes, thank you,” I replied, looking down.
“Miguel, can we leave you alone? Now warm up first, you're freezing.”
“And then you come to our room, and we'll talk!“ Carsten added in a tone of voice that brooked no contradiction.
“Aye, aye, captain,” I blurted out.
“Joker,” Carsten replied.
The offer of a conversation with the two of them obviously loosened the knot in my desperate thoughts.
“See you in a bit,” Andreas confirmed, ‘and, Miguel, we'll help you if you want.”
“Thanks. See you in a bit.”
It was still quite early, so I went straight to Carsten and Andreas's place after showering.
“Ah, Miguel, come in. Nice outfit,’ Andreas remarked.
“Uh, do you mind if I show up here in my bathrobe?”
“But no, it's just surprising.”
“I just thought that your room was on my way, so to speak.”
“It's okay. Miguel, what's going on? Come, sit down!”
Andreas had sat down on Carsten's bed. I sighed: “I don't really know where to start.”
“Best from the beginning,“ Carsten suggested with a smile and a slight irony in his voice.
“Okay, from the beginning,” I repeated hesitantly, trying to sort out my thoughts. “So, there's this new guy, Raphael Hausner.”
I told them about our first meeting on the stairs and the constant mutual teasing. On the other hand, there was this strange fascination that this guy radiated, up to the incidents in the church and the feeling of jealousy that was actually foreign to me. Which is why I then concluded that I was attracted to Raphael, which in turn would explain my physical reactions.
The way I told them all this, it became clear to me that, firstly, I had a crush on Raphael and, secondly, I was probably gay.
“Guys, thanks for listening to me. That helped me a lot.”
“Hey Miguel, always a pleasure,” Andreas grinned at me.
“How I'm supposed to tell my parents, however, is completely beyond me,“ I shook my head.
“Now, first of all, see you at breakfast, but you should get dressed first,” Andreas said.
“Do you really think so?” I flirted, wiggling my butt a little, ‘Can't I do it like this? All right, see you in a minute,’ I laughed, suddenly feeling free.
Mr. Kramer turned up at the church today, completely unexpectedly and unannounced. At first I didn't even notice him, because he had inconspicuously sat down on one of the benches in the middle of the choir room.
Oliver asked me to simply play Beethoven's Fifth and put the score on the music stand for me.
I had practiced this arrangement intensively over the last two weeks. Somehow I had a strange feeling. After 30 minutes I knew why: Mr. Kramer wanted to evaluate my playing and he seemed to have liked it. When he came up the stairs, Oliver grinned at me somewhat slyly. An extremely animated conversation developed between the two music educators, which I could only follow with my eyes growing ever larger. Mr. Kramer came up with an idea that took on more and more concrete forms as the conversation progressed.
“Tell me, Raphael, what would you think of an organ and piano duet?“ he wanted to know.
I looked at Mr. Kramer in amazement.
“A bit unusual, isn't it? Is that even possible?” I replied evasively.
“Well, there are the Scott Brothers in England who have published various arrangements for organ and piano. It would be worth a try.”
“And who did you have in mind as a duet partner?”
“Miguel Hernandez comes to mind spontaneously.”
“Not really,“ I blurted out. I didn't feel like dealing with this arrogant jerk at all. My surprise seemed to be written all over my face, but Mr. Kramer interpreted it as admiration rather than dislike.
“Why not? Miguel is excellent at adapting,” he continued.
I couldn't imagine that at all.
“And he loves jazz and boogie-woogie just as much as you do.”
That too.
Turning to the cantor, he asked:
“Oliver, you also have a grand piano here, if I remember correctly?”
Surprised, I looked at Oliver, who just grinned and nodded.
“Very nice! Raphael, you have 'The Fifth' perfectly on the organ, as I was just able to see for myself. Miguel can play it on the piano,” Mr. Kramer continued undeterred. ‘Why don't we meet here next week and develop a suitable arrangement for you for piano and organ as a quasi-orchestra. I usually have piano lessons with Raphael at this time, so I'll just order him here. Oliver, would you please set up the grand piano and have it tuned?”
“Yeah, sure,’ Oliver replied in a good mood.
Admittedly, I found the idea itself very appealing and exciting, but with the unsympathetic school as a duet partner?
The two music teachers were so enthusiastic and convinced of this idea that I didn't dare to contradict them.
Somehow it was all getting a bit too much for me now. So I decided to go for a swim. I was almost alone in the changing room. When I entered the pool after showering, I realized that there were actually only a few people doing their laps. Suddenly I recognized Carsten, who quickly covered the 50m with a few strokes like a fish. Fascinated, I watched him for a while. When he took a break, I approached him:
“Hello Carsten, you swim like a fish.”
He laughed: “Well, Raphael, weekly training keeps me in pretty good shape. It's an excellent counterbalance to playing the piano. But you seem to think that too. If you swim anywhere near as well as you play the piano, you shouldn't be much slower than me.”
I was amazed and asked him how he knew that I played the piano.
“Raphael, there aren't that many people who play a keyboard instrument at the JHP boarding school. Since I plan to study music and piano, I can tell when another pianist is suddenly practicing. Everyone has their own individual style, and I really like yours.”
I blushed slightly at this praise from the JHP piano icon.
“Thanks, Carsten, such recognition from you is music to my ears. But I'm thinking about something else right now: I just watched you swim and wondered how you do the lane?”
“Oh, that's easy: there are acoustic signals here to keep the likes of me on the right track!”
I had to laugh at this formulation. “Well then.”
“I'll call it a day, see you later, Raphael.”
“See you later, Carsten.”
Now that Carsten had mentioned it, I could hear the signals too, which I would otherwise not have noticed. Inspired by his words, I now wanted to swim a few laps too. However, I was pretty out of practice.
I was pretty exhausted when I got into the shower and slipped off my swimming trunks to regenerate under the water jet. That's when I noticed HIM. Suddenly, my blood rushed not only to my face. Before I once again earned a malicious and brusque remark, I fled the shower room. I no longer cared about the smug and amused looks of the few other bathers.
“Raphael, please wait,” I heard Miguel's call, which lacked any sharpness.
Surprised, I turned around.
Miguel had followed me immediately into the changing room, just as naked as I was.
“Raphael, look at me! I feel the same way you do!”
There we were: Big-Raphael, Big-Miguel, Little-Raphael and Little-Miguel.
Luckily we were alone and we scrutinized each other.
Miguel began to grin friendly and a smile crept onto my face as well.
“Here, I think these are yours.” With that, he handed me my swimming trunks, which he had brought out of the shower with his own.
Even though there was a distinct crackling sound in the air, we wanted to leave this very public place quickly and inconspicuously. So we dried ourselves and got dressed for the street, but not without glancing at each other again and again and giggling childishly.
On the way home, I thought about what Oliver and Mr. Kramer had said.
“Miguel, I've been taking organ lessons at the local church for a few weeks.”
“I know,“ he blurted out.
“Really?” I said, taken aback by the sudden dark look in his eyes.
“Be that as it may, Mr. Kramer came to the church unexpectedly today and he and Oliver, my organ teacher, came up with the absurd idea that the two of us should play a piano and organ duet. Pretty crazy, right?”
Miguel stared at me in disbelief.
“Where did they get that idea?” he finally asked.
“No idea. To be honest, I was pretty shocked. Especially after all the banter between us.”
With a mixture of surprise and arrogance, he laughed.
“You see, it's exactly this arrogance that has kept me at a distance from you all this time, and I can't imagine making music with you because of it.”
Now he looked at me completely dumbfounded.
“Are you serious? Do I seem arrogant to you?”
“You could say that again, my dear.”
Ashamed, he lowered his gaze.
“Raphael, I just wanted to keep my distance from you.”
“Aha, I wouldn't have noticed that,” I replied sarcastically.
He looked sadly into my eyes.
“Raphael, at the beginning it was a reflex after we bumped into each other on the stairs. Then somehow instinctive.”
“And why?” I asked annoyed.
After a while he stopped and said:
“Raphael, I'm gay and I have a crush on you.”
I looked down at him, because I towered over him by a good 15 centimeters. Then I remembered the scene in the swimming pool and I had to admit to him that he had this difference of 9% in his favor in other respects more than I did. I shook my head.
“What are you grinning at now?”
After we left the pool, we wanted to get back to the boarding school quickly.
Suddenly Raphael started babbling about a duet of the two of us on the piano and organ, which was an idea of Mr. Kramer's, who couldn't imagine it because of my arrogance.
That shocked me to some extent. I never wanted to appear that way to others.
I tried to explain to him that I just wanted to keep my distance from him.
“And why?” he wanted to know.
I took a deep breath. Should I confess to him that I had a crush on him and was therefore probably gay? On the other hand, if I thought about his reaction in the shower in the swimming pool, wasn't he too? That was obvious, wasn't it? I stopped. Close the eyes and go for it, I thought.
“Raphael, I'm gay and I have a crush on you.”
I looked up at him expectantly, but still skeptically. Inevitably, I grinned, because at that moment I realized that although he towered over me by about 15cm, he lacked those 8% from his point of view in other places. He promptly asked me why I was grinning now.
“Hm,” I grumbled, ”but don't be mad, okay?”
“Why should I be angry all of a sudden?“ he asked in surprise.
“Well, I realized that I'm about 15 centimeters shorter than you, but you have that 8% of you that is less from another point of view,” I grinned at him cautiously.
Raphael laughed out loud.
“That's exactly what I was thinking, only the other way around! Is that a problem?”
“Nah, sure. Now tell me, what about you?” I finally wanted to know.
Raphael hesitated for quite a while.
“Miguel, to be honest, even when you were always giving me a hard time, I thought you were a sweet guy and never understood your negative reactions. At some point, I put aside everything regarding a friendship with you.”
“Shit,“ I blurted out and I felt my eyes moisten.
“But your reaction in the shower earlier?” I asked quietly.
“Miguel, look, give me a little time, you know, Oliver, my organ teacher is a really great person, I've never met anyone like him in my life.”
That was too much, I ran off without looking back.
I arrived at the JHP boarding school completely out of breath and immediately retreated to my room, which I didn't plan to leave anytime soon.
Once again, I had ruined everything with my cheeky mouth. Why did I have to play the unapproachable jerk to Raphael from the start? Well, I actually didn't know from the outset that I ever wanted to have anything to do with him. Was I too arrogant to even have a normal conversation with him? At the latest after our first encounter in the music cabinet?
I fell asleep with thoughts like that and even more confused thoughts. I woke up in the middle of the night and realized that I was still fully dressed. Since I had to go to the bathroom anyway, I put on my pajamas right away.
I woke up before the alarm went off and dragged myself to the shower in the bathroom, where I was alone at this early hour. I was also the first at breakfast and couldn't wait to load my plate, since I hadn't eaten since yesterday at noon.
Sated but listless, I made my way to class. Inevitably, I would sit next to Raphael here. I decided not to let on, but to keep the usual distance, which might be difficult due to yesterday's events. On top of that, we had a double period of sports that day. I kept asking myself how that would go. It would be best to excuse myself with a general feeling of discomfort. Although I hadn't wanted to miss the sight of my naked classmates for some time, it was better to put that aside today if I didn't want to make a fool of myself in front of the whole class.
So, let's go, I said to myself, trying to encourage myself.
As one of the first in the class, I sat down in my seat and waited for what might come.
Miguel was gone as soon as I mentioned Oliver.
Now I was once again caught between two stools.
Oliver.
This man had become a beloved friend of mine in a very short time. He had literally taken my heart by storm with his warm, open manner of approaching me. How could I ever face him again if I were to defect to Miguel with flying colors?
The fascination, including the butterflies in my stomach, that Miguel evoked was, of course, still there. To be honest, it never went away. However, because of my perfect relationship with Oliver, I was able to block out Miguel relatively easily. The last few weeks were the most intense of my life in every respect: everything seemed perfect. I studied harder and learned more than ever before. And not just in school, but also on my two instruments.
No, I couldn't just push Oli aside, but I knew I had to talk to him urgently.
I had always been afraid of such situations, even as a child, and especially during puberty. Whenever I realized that I had done something wrong and wanted to straighten it out, I was always afraid that from that moment on no one would like me anymore and that everyone would turn away from me.
I would see Miguel again at dinner.
But Miguel didn't come. At first I thought, 'That's fine,' but soon I was overcome by doubts.
Until late into the night, my thoughts kept switching back and forth between Miguel and Oliver. It's a wonder that I still fell asleep at some point.
Relatively late the next morning, I dragged myself out of bed.
Miguel was also nowhere to be seen at breakfast. My unease and concern grew immeasurably. If he didn't show up for class, I would sound the alarm.
I was one of the last to enter the classroom, just before class started. Miguel was sitting in his seat as if nothing had happened. However, he didn't look at me.
He only nodded in response to my “good morning”.
At least he stopped his taunts from then on.
At that point, I didn't know how this was going to continue in a reasonable way.
I decided to just leave him alone for the time being.
That was very difficult for me, because the more intensely I thought about Miguel (again), the more I felt a connection with him, even without us talking to each other.
I thought I knew, I even sensed, how he was doing. Seconds before he expressed a thought or did something, I already knew what was coming. Could that be, or was I imagining it, because his thoughts and actions were perhaps generally foreseeable, right?
What we experienced in the upcoming sports lesson, however, was as fascinating as it was inexplicable to me.
During the break, Mr. Kramer ran into me and spoke to me:
“Miguel, do you have time for me right now?”
“Sure, Mr. Kramer, what is it?” I asked back, although I could already guess.
“Miguel, I don't know if Raphael has already spoken to you, he is your desk neighbor, as far as I know. The idea of a duet with piano and organ has come up.”
After this formulation, I grinned to myself.
“That has already come to my attention,” I replied with the same understatement,
“Raphael has already told me about it. I don't think I can imagine that.”
“Oh, that would be a shame. I've known you for quite some time now, so I think I can assess your abilities on the piano very well. I also know how you can fit in with the orchestra when you play together. The two of you could make a great duo.”
“But what if I don't want to?”
“That would be highly regrettable,” he said, unable to hide his disappointment.
“You know, Mr. Kramer, I feel a little steamrollered,” I explained my displeasure.
But the music teacher was not satisfied with that:
“Oh, that was not my intention, because when I heard Raphael play the organ the other day, you immediately came to mind. I am deeply convinced that the two of you would harmonize excellently. Let's just do it this way: You sleep on it for a night and let me know by noon tomorrow. What do you think?”
I hesitated to answer. It was clear to me that Raphael played the piano and organ very well. But this Oliver somehow caused a blockage in me, although factually it had nothing to do with it. Making music together would undoubtedly have its charm.
“All right, I'll think about it and let you know tomorrow.”
“Good, Miguel, see you tomorrow.” And he had already disappeared back into the school building.
I still didn't say a word to Raphael, which I admit was very difficult for me. I had the feeling that on the one hand he left me alone, but on the other hand he kept a very close eye on me, ready to start the conversation as soon as I signaled it to him. I had never known such a connection to anyone before.
Contrary to my original plan, I did take part in physical education after all, because I felt an enormous urge to move. The fact that basketball was to be played that day was just right for me. As luck would have it, Raphael and I played on the same team. I was the smallest on the field, but a little nimbler. Again, I sensed Raphael's attentiveness, with which he repeatedly brought me into the game. Because of his height (sorry for the dirty thoughts that immediately crossed my mind) and his precision when shooting at the basket, I passed to him more than once, and he almost always scored a three-point shot. Yes, over time we developed an almost blind understanding for each other and didn't give our opponents a chance. The first game ended 58:17, which prompted our gym teacher to split us up by swapping me with Kevin from the other team. After that, however, nothing went well. The rest of the game was pretty uncoordinated and tough. So we ended the sports lesson pretty exhausted and extremely dissatisfied.
In the shower, KF said to Raphael and me: “It was really stupid of Scheibner to separate you after the first half. You played really well together. Even though I was on the opposing team, it was great to watch you, I'll give you that.”
And Fabian added: “You're like nitro and glycerine. Completely harmless on their own, but explosive and unbeatable together.”
This saying led to loud laughter and mostly approval. Everyone thought they had to pat us on the back. That distracted me a bit, because I was struggling with the flow of my blood, especially when I made eye contact with Raphael.
And Kevin's comment, “Really cool, man,” didn't make it any easier either. I don't know whether our classmates generously overlooked the, fortunately only slight, changes in my and, incidentally, Raphael's lower body region, or whether they didn't even notice them, or whether they even accepted us as a “dream team.” In any case, this double period of sports was surprisingly pleasant on the one hand, but also eerie on the other.
Even though we still didn't talk to each other, we at least went to lunch together.
I was already so far along that I would accept Mr. Kramer's “duet proposal” after all, when the wildest dreams haunted me again that night. Again and again, this Oliver interfered, so that I couldn't find a connection to Raphael. I woke up completely exhausted from the noise of my alarm clock and it took me several attempts to leave the cozy bed. During breakfast and the rest of the morning, I weighed the pros and cons of a duet with Raphael. In class, I was met with the pitying, mocking glances of my classmates when a teacher caught me off guard again. But I noticed that Raphael looked rather worried. Again I sensed this bond, which I “only” had to get involved with.
So I decided to fight for Raphael.
My agreement to this “project” of my piano teacher would certainly be an easy way to get started.
So I gave Mr. Kramer the green light, which made him visibly happy, although he only said:
“All right, Miguel, then please be at St. Nicholas Church next Wednesday at three. We'll just move your piano lesson there.”
I didn't inform Raphael yet.
There was still radio silence between Miguel and me.
Nevertheless, I managed to do my schoolwork with a reasonable degree of concentration and to practice consistently on both of my instruments.
On Monday, I finally plucked up the courage and simply approached Miguel at school in the morning:
“Good morning, Miguel. So what do you think? Should we dare to do the experiment that Mr. Kramer came up with on Wednesday?” I deliberately avoided mentioning that Oliver was instrumental in the idea.
As if he had been waiting for my question, he replied as if it were the most natural thing in the world:
“Yeah, sure. It'll be fun.”
I looked at him in amazement.
“You know what, come with me to my piano lesson with Carsten today.”
At first I was even more amazed and couldn't manage a reply. Now he laughed at me.
“So, it's a date, half past two at the music cabinet. I'll let Carsten know.”
I finally found my voice again, and this last sentence was also clear to me in the wording seconds before he uttered it.
“Great, Miguel, I'm glad. I'm already curious to see what it will be like,” I laughed back now.
We even managed to follow the morning lessons attentively.
During lunch, we were already huddled together, discussing our repertoires. I remembered that Mr. Kramer wanted to hear Beethoven's Fifth. In the course of our conversation, we also mentioned that we were both practicing Gershwin's “Rhapsody in Blue.”
In general, we realized that we had exactly the same preferences in musical styles and composers.
At half past two, I entered the music cabinet.
For the first time, I was to play the piano together with Miguel under the critical ears of Carsten von Feldbach. Miguel had already informed Carsten about this.
He was calm as a cucumber, while I was a bit nervous.
“Okay, guys, let's hear you,” he urged us.
So we sat down at the two instruments and Miguel began with his finger exercises, which seemed familiar to me. Apparently effortlessly, I started these finger exercises. After a short period of parallel playing, we began a kind of question and answer game: one of us played a sequence of notes, the other repeated it. Each “answer” was more or less varied. The sequences also became more and more complicated and extensive until we finally ended up with “Maple Leaf Rag” without having discussed it.
This “finger exercise” turned into a quarter-hour improvised ragtime, with a few technical mistakes, but with a fabulous, non-verbal coordination, which not only gave me tremendous pleasure. We played as if we had never done anything else. After we had finished, Carsten applauded appreciatively after a short pause.
“When did you practice that?” he asked.
We looked at each other in disbelief and answered as if from the same mouth:
“Never, we just played together for the first time ever.”
“I don't believe you. You're kidding me.”
“No, Carsten, really. It's true,“ Miguel confirmed.
“Well, it was fantastic for that, so I assume that you noticed the mistakes yourselves, which were due solely to your imperfect playing technique. Do we want to work on that?”
“Yes, of course, that's why we're here!” we both said at the same time.
As always, the devil was in the details, so a busy, exhausting and quite entertaining hour followed.
When Carsten ended the hour, everyone was very satisfied with the result.
We briefly discussed whether we should also take my lessons with Mr. Kramer together. But we wanted to hold back a bit from the music teacher. So we arranged to meet again for dinner.
I was not at all sure how I would act towards Raphael.
In retrospect, the joint lessons with Carsten were the best idea I ever had.
Raphael and I harmonized in a way I would never have dared to imagine.
Once again, time passed far too quickly. After that, I was hopelessly in love with this guy. Still, I tried not to let it show.
As we sat at the dinner table, Raphael suggested that we practice together in the church the following Tuesday.
“Oh, that's a great idea. Can we even get in?”
“Yep, no problem,“ he said, ringing the keys.
“That's good, then we can try it out in peace,” I confirmed, but I had to admit right away that I wouldn't be free until about four o'clock, to which Raphael just smiled: “Morning or afternoon?”
“Man, Raphael!”
“Yes, all right, then let's go in the afternoon. So let's march out of here at four.”
“I should be able to make it, see you tomorrow,” I said, saying goodbye to him.
I didn't tell him that I wanted to practice with headphones on my keyboard. I don't remember how long I sat at the “Rhapsody” anymore, sometime after midnight Fabian asked me if I didn't want to go to bed, even though he wouldn't be disturbed by my – for him – soundless playing. In fact, I was dead tired, as I realized at that moment, and almost fell asleep in bed, just managing to put on my pajamas.
I fell into a deep sleep full of music in my dreams.
Although it was only about five hours of sleep in the end, I woke up before the alarm went off and felt fitter than I had in a long time.
On my way to the bathroom, I ran into Carsten and Andreas.
“Good morning, you two. Did you sleep well?”
“Man, Miguel, what's with you today?“ Andreas grumbled.
“Hihi,” I laughed, “I slept better than ever. In a dream world full of music.”
“Oh,” Carsten replied, “it's been a long time since I could say that about myself. And the way you sound, it was nice and restful.”
“Yes, it was,” I replied now a little melancholy.
“When I dream of music, then I usually roll some difficult parts back and forth.”
Even in the shower, I talked with Carsten about the world of music.
“Boa you two! Your good mood in the early morning is unbearable!” This sentence from Andreas was immediately confirmed by a few other morning grouches, which only elicited a pitying laugh from Carsten and me, though. Out of consideration for our poor fellow students, we held back from further discussion from then on. Instead, Carsten received a fleeting kiss from his Andreas.
And nobody took offense at it.
It occurred to me that I hadn't yet told my tutor why the two of us had shown up at his house yesterday. After a moment's thought, I decided to leave it at that.
Now I really should hurry up to get to breakfast and class on time.
Mr. Kramer opened my piano lesson with the question:
“Hello Raphael, where is Miguel?”
“Uh,” was all I could manage.
“You played so fantastically together with Carsten just now.”
“How did you know?” I couldn't get any further because Mr. Kramer was indignant: ‘Well, listen. Do you think two people can make such a racket at two pianos for an hour and a half without anyone in the building noticing?”
“Was it that bad?’ I asked meekly. And that's where he had me.
He laughed out loud: “Man, Raphael, you should admit to me, as your music teacher, that I can very well distinguish who is playing the piano behind a closed door. It was immediately clear to me that the second pianist was not Carsten for a change, and that only you could be the one. By the way, it was quite crowded in the hallway: you had plenty of enthusiastic listeners.”
“Really? That's a bit embarrassing.”
“What? Raphael, you're not serious, are you? An artist needs an audience.”
“Well, maybe an artist does...”
“Stop it, Raphael, you should get used to having listeners who actually like what you play. Now tell me what you've been working on since last week.”
Still a little confused by the stir that Miguel and I had unwittingly caused, I sat down at the grand piano and began to play the “Rhapsody in Blue” as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
I would probably play Beethoven's Fifth on the organ tomorrow, which is quite different. Of course, I chose the orchestral part.
Mr. Kramer sat quietly in his chair, nodded approvingly and had only a few details to improve. However, nothing related to playing technique, which was probably because these subtleties could not be easily transferred to the organ.
“As a piano piece, it sounds really good. I'm very excited to see how it will be on the organ and in combination with Miguel on the grand piano the day after tomorrow. Please don't think about the organ anymore, just concentrate on the piano. Let's continue working on Scott Joplin.”
I had practiced that diligently as well. So I was able to surprise Mr. Kramer with quite a bit of progress. When I had finished, there was silence at first. I carefully looked over at him. He nodded approvingly: “Raphael, respect. You have really done a good job. No objections from me, let's go to dinner,” he laughed, relaxed and satisfied.
When we arrived in the dining room, it was already very busy. I looked around for Miguel, who was already sitting at a table in a quiet corner. After I had loaded my tray, I sat down with him.
“Mr. Kramer asked about you right at the beginning of the lesson. Our joint lesson with Carsten seems to have caused quite a stir.”
He just grinned mischievously at me.
“I've already noticed that too.”
We agreed that we would leave together at four o'clock in the afternoon.
Miguel then said goodbye relatively quickly for today, which gave me the opportunity to practice a little on my new keyboard so that the embarrassment wouldn't be too great. KF had a “late start” today because he was involved in the volunteer fire department. So I had my peace and quiet until 11 p.m. Nevertheless, I used my headphones so as not to disturb the neighbors, as the walls were reasonably thin. First, I tried my hand at the orchestral part of Beethoven's Fifth, which was specially arranged for the organ. At least with the simple timbres and similar touch, I should be able to prepare myself for our experiment to some extent. I was so absorbed that KF really frightened me when he suddenly lumbered into the room at a quarter past eleven.
“Jeez, you scared me, what are you doing here?”
“'Scuse me, I live here,“ he grunted, and I laughed. He squinted at me rather guiltily. I could tell that he was a bit worked up. Strictly forbidden as a matter of principle, KF never really went over the top.
“Is something wrong? Are you okay, KF?” I asked him, a little worried.
He stared glassy-eyed in my direction
“All's well,“ he mumbled, ‘I'm going to bed,’ he announced, and he was already lying down.
“Oh man, at least take off your shoes.”
“What?” he snapped
“Wait, I'll help you.”
“No, don't touch me, you fag,” he said unexpectedly and shrill.
Shocked, I let go of him. I had no idea where he got that from, or if it was just a saying. I didn't need a homophobic idiot right now. I didn't say anything at first, it wouldn't have been worth it in his condition anyway. Nevertheless, I decided to be on my guard and to speak to him about it the next day. After what felt like half an hour, he had finally taken off his boots and at least his cargo pants. This procedure in itself was amusing to watch, had it not been for the hostile comment. As soon as he lay down, he was already snoring. If that was the case, I might as well spend a little time with my keyboard. When I happened to glance at the clock at some point, it was actually already past one.
Oh dear, but now quickly to bed.
Despite the snoring of my roommate, I fell asleep quickly, I was so dog-tired.
This time it was me who had to drag KF out of bed with great effort the next morning. He even let me accompany him to the shower to fight his hangover as inconspicuously as possible. When we were back in our room after quite some time, he even thanked me for my support.
“And, Rafi, please excuse me. I didn't mean that last night,” he added with his eyes downcast. Since I was very happy that this had resolved itself in this way, I replied with a grin.
“It's okay, KF, I would have been very surprised too. You were probably more loaded than it seemed.”
“That's right,” he admitted, and I noticed tears in his eyes. He was still sitting naked on his bed, his mind far away.
“Hey, what's wrong?” I crouched down in front of him.
He sighed deeply: ‘Lilo has broken up with me.”
“Oh, I'm sorry, really.’ So we were sitting opposite each other, suddenly he fell forward and wrapped his arms around me. I took him in my arms as a matter of course and pulled him to his feet.
“That bad, huh?” I asked, continuing to hold him. He didn't seem to mind that he was now touching me along my entire length. Or maybe he wasn't even aware of it. After a while, he exhaled forcefully, pulled away from me, and said, ”Thanks, Rafi, that felt good. Now we'd better get dressed and go to breakfast.”
Then he added with a wry grin: “Otherwise people might think something.”
That made me laugh again.
“Well, hurry up,” I told him.
Together we went to breakfast, even if there wasn't much time left.
We arrived at class on time.
Miguel was already sitting in his seat in a good mood.
An English vocabulary test was the only surprise on this school day. After lunch, Miguel had another double period of computer science from 2:00 to 3:40 p.m. I had the morning off and decided to go for a swim.
Shortly before four, I was at the gate. Miguel arrived and we headed towards St. Nicholas.
The church was closed, so we would be alone. As we entered, I immediately noticed the grand piano that was set up at the altar on the side opposite the pulpit.
“Should I close it again?“ I asked Miguel.
“Hm, I don't know. Actually, no, right?” He replied uncertainly.
By now, Miguel had already struck the grand piano once. It was freshly tuned. Immediately, the acoustics of this place of worship captivated us.
Now I realized a circumstance that could possibly pose a problem. Due to the “geography” of the room, we had no chance of visual contact. That was certainly completely different in the music room at our school; there the two grand pianos were placed exactly opposite each other. There was constant eye contact.
“How should we approach it?”
“We'll just play, and we'll see,” Miguel suggested pragmatically.
So I went up to the gallery, turned on the organ, and took a seat at the console. I heard Miguel play a short sequence of finger exercises. Just like yesterday, I simply started playing. And lo and behold, a harmonious “question and answer game” developed again, just like on Monday. In my field of vision, I saw only the console and the stop knobs. I tried to concentrate on Miguel and again I could actually feel him, sense what he was going to do. We varied and improvised anew, but still we ended up with “Maple Leaf Rag” again. When we ended, the overwhelming applause of a pair of hands was suddenly heard. I turned around and leaned over the balustrade of the gallery to see who had sneaked in unnoticed as a listener.
It was Oliver.
He was walking towards the altar, which took my breath away.
Even though I couldn't see Raphael, I could feel him. Is that even possible? The more I focused on him, the more clearly I thought I could sense how he would play next. No, I didn't just think it, I actually felt it. It was an overwhelming, fantastic feeling.
Never before had I felt more joy in playing than during this first duet in the church of St. Nicholas.
We ended up with the Maple Leaf Rag again, just like yesterday, Monday, but we took a completely different approach. Probably because it is currently our favorite piece, which we then also improvised on, not completely differently, but quite differently than yesterday.
I am not sure, but I think we played for almost half an hour and completely blocked out everything else around us.
So I was quite startled at the end when there was a sudden burst of applause after we stopped playing. I hadn't even realized that we had attracted an audience.
As I tried to work out who it was, I saw Oliver coming towards me.
I don't need to mention that my elation suddenly turned to despair. With great effort, I restrained the urge to jump up.
“Hello, you must be Miguel, right? I'm the cantor here, Oliver Stotz. Sorry to barge in like this, but that was really great, really. Your virtuosity impressed me very much. How long have you been playing the piano, if you don't mind me asking?”
Admittedly, this person had a very winning charisma that also had an effect on me despite my reservations.
“Thank you very much, Mr. Stotz, I am pleasantly surprised that we are practicing together for the first time today. Oh yes, I have been playing the piano for about 12 years.”
Mr. Stotz nodded appreciatively.
In the meantime, Raphael had also joined us.
“Hello Oliver, what brings you here?”
“Well, Raphael, I work here and when there is such great music in this church, I have to listen to it.”
Mr. Stotz had turned around and walked a few steps towards Raphael to embrace him.
That was too much for me, I had to get out of here. I fled the place and made sure I got back to the boarding school.
When Oliver hugged me in greeting, I already suspected what was going to happen. Miguel ran out of the church as if the devil himself were after him.
Oliver looked around in shock and sank down on the nearest pew.
I let out a deep sigh: “Please move over a bit,” I asked Oliver, so that I could sit down next to him. There was a long pause during which I wondered how I should start this conversation, which I should have had a few days ago, at least before Miguel met with Oliver. Before I could start, Oliver spoke up:
“Raphael, I don't know why Miguel stormed off like that. Although I have an idea. It's the reaction to my hug. That's probably how you react when the cantor of a community embraces another man. It's just not intended. My bond with you, which has existed since the first moment we met here, is still so unique and at the same time so self-evident to me that I have trouble thinking clearly. And I have a lovely wife.”
“WHAT? And I thought you loved me.”
“Did you feel that way? I didn't mean it that way. Are you disappointed now?”
“YES! No. I mean, I feel a lot for you. I don't know such understanding and warmth as between us from home. Is that wrong?”
“Not wrong. The fact that there has been a crisis between me and my wife for some time made my feelings immediately run high when I first met you. Through the music and our shared enthusiasm for this instrument,” he said, pointing in the direction of the Silbermann organ, ”we had a level at which no one could disturb us. At least that's how I imagined it. When I was with you here, in this wonderful world of music, I completely blocked out the rest of my life with all its facets, the difficult ones and even the beautiful ones. There was only you and this fantastic instrument. At home, it was exactly the other way around; I was suddenly able to face everyday life very easily again and take loving care of my wife. I am very sorry if I have unintentionally triggered something and given you hope. The fatal thing is that at the beginning I thought that the two could work in parallel, because for me they were and are two worlds that have nothing to do with each other. Raphael, I like you very much too. But you are very young and secondly, I am something of a teacher to you. I'll end up in hot water, may God forgive me for the comparison. Please forgive me.”
He looked at me with glassy eyes.
When I realized the implications of his words, tears welled up in my eyes and I buried my face in my hands. He had carefully put a hand on my shoulder, but I shook it off. These words hit me hard, but then Miguel came to mind again. Can you love two people at the same time? I couldn't figure it out. At first, I imagined that the two had nothing to do with each other, and I also separated the two worlds. On closer inspection, however, it was only because I was able to “block out” Miguel because he apparently didn't want to know about me. So I was able to accept my connection to Oliver fully consciously and enjoy it to the full. However, my relationship with Miguel had changed fundamentally in the last few days, so that his apparent rejection was only apparent. Seen in this light, everything was fine now. However, I wanted to continue taking organ lessons with Oliver. Would that be possible?
“You know, Oliver, Miguel reacted so violently because he fell in love with me. Basically, it was the case that I had already fallen for him at our first, somewhat unpleasant encounter. However, at that time he had given me a clear signal of rejection.”
“I don't understand that now,” Oliver admitted.
So I told him the story from the beginning. This led to the fact that the whole picture was now clearer to me as well. So what was the problem now?
“Oliver, I would just like to continue taking organ lessons with you and maybe actually take on one or two substitutions. Do you think we can manage that?”
Oliver now looked me in the eye and replied:
“Raphael, we'll manage it. After all, our personal circumstances have now been clarified and they don't really get in each other's way at all.”
He held out his hand to me, which I gratefully took.
Nevertheless, I now exhaled audibly.
“Why are you sighing now?”
“Because I don't know if I'll be able to reach Miguel with this.”
“Shall I talk to him?“ Oliver suggested.
“I don't know,” I admitted, “I think it's up to me.”
“All right, Raphael, hopefully see you tomorrow, good night.”
“Oh my God, is it that late already?”
He laughed, ”Yes it is, you'd better get home.”
I arrived at the dining room completely exhausted, the boys were just about to call it a night. When they saw my pained expression, they must have taken pity on me. Besides, there was far too much food left. There were still plenty of cheese and sausage plates, as well as far too many pre-portioned “mixed pickles,” not to mention bread. So I loaded up my tray, because I was very hungry, and made my way to my room. I promised to return the tray for tomorrow's breakfast. I had barely sat down at my desk and was about to eat my dinner when the door flew open and Fabian shot in.
“Raphael, you damned asshole, what have you done with Miguel, who has been lying on his bed for hours and crying his eyes out.”
Not at all prepared for this, I just looked at him completely bewildered.
“Now move your ass and talk to him!” he snapped at me.
Unable to answer, I followed him to his room. He practically pushed me in and then closed the door behind me.
Miguel was curled up on his bed facing the wall, sobbing. This sight gave me a huge stab. Carefully, I sat down next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. I gently began to stroke him. He seemed to be calming down slowly.
“Fabian, thank you, it's good.”
If I told him now that it was me and not Fabian, he would probably freak out immediately. I knew him so well by now. So I decided to come straight out with it.
“Oliver is married. To a woman.”
He turned around abruptly and stared at me. I could literally see his mind working.
“Miguel, I love you. Do you hear me? Only you!”
He wiped the tears from his face with his sleeve and stared at me, disoriented. I tried an encouraging smile and dared to stroke his cheeks.
That worked, he relaxed.
“How come?” I said softly.
“Not suddenly, Miguel, but from the moment I arrived here. But we've already been through that, haven't we?”
“That's not what I mean. Why does this Oliver suddenly have a wife?”
Raphael laughed briefly: “Not suddenly either, Miguel. He only told me earlier.”
“Damn, what an ass,” I replied angrily.
“Miguel, no. It's not that simple. It's a bit tricky, it has, how should I put it? It has an 'emotional logic'. At least I can understand it.”
Now I sat up straight and looked at him expectantly.
“So tell me.”
“Have you eaten yet?“ he asked, changing the subject. As if to answer himself, my stomach growled quite loudly, making us both grin.
“Okay, Miguel. I'll quickly get my tray, I got a few things from the kitchen, that's enough for both of us.” And just like that, he was gone.
My heart leaped for joy when I remembered the three words that Raphael had just said. Was it that easy? And here I was crying my heart out and telling Fabian all kinds of crazy stuff. I must have come out to him too. How embarrassing that was, I could have sunk into the ground in an instant, once again there was no hole when you needed one. To make matters worse, he now came into the room. He carefully assessed the situation.
“Hey, Miguel, are you okay?” he asked without any mockery or anything like that in his voice.
“Yes, thank you, Fabian. Raphael will be back in a moment. He went out to get something to eat.”
“Ah, okay. No problem. I still have to do some homework anyway. It doesn't bother me if you eat something on the side,“ he said with a laugh.
Raphael was back in a flash with a tray full of sandwiches with sausage and cheese.
“Oh, Fabian, do you mind if we eat in front of you?” he asked when he noticed Fabian.
“No, why should it? I just explained that to Miguel.”
Raphael carefully placed the tray on the bed; I only had a single chair at my desk. So we were able to tuck in to the late supper together. Since we were both quite hungry, we made short work of the ten loaves.
Then Raphael told me about his conversation with Oliver Stotz. Together with the background to it, especially the parts that I hadn't heard myself, the situation finally became clear to me as well. With a noticeable thud, the weight was off my mind, or rather my heart. Suddenly I felt like cheering.
“So all my jealousy was completely in vain?” I realized and had to grin, ‘so much wasted energy.”
After a short pause, I asked uncertainly: ’But you are continuing to take organ lessons from him?”
“Yes, Miguel. Why not? The circumstances have been made quite clear. You don't have to worry about anything. I only love you.”
“So please no sex scenes here!” came from diagonally opposite.
Raphael blushed dark red as he realized that he had completely ignored Fabian's presence. But the latter just laughed when he looked at us, because I had also changed my face color a little. I think tomatoes were pink in comparison.
“That's sweet!“ he chuckled.
“Fabian!” we both exclaimed at the same time. Which only intensified his laughter, which we now also joined.
“Guys, that's not a problem anymore these days. Besides, you're not the only ones here.”
That, however, seemed to sadden Raphael rather, his eyes became glassy.
“You say that so easily, Fabian. Do you know why I'm here at all?”
I probably made an equally questioning face as Fabian.
“Because my father is a homophobic asshole!”
Then he told us his story in a few words.
“However,” he ended, ‘I'm ultimately very happy to have ended up here. It's completely beyond me how I'm supposed to explain this at home.”
“You said it!’ I blurted out, ”I have no idea how to explain this to my parents either. I grew up in a strict Catholic home!”
Fabian looked at us in complete disbelief.
“I'm not gay, but I'm quite sure that my family wouldn't have a problem with it if I were. Why don't you ask our head teacher if he can't help you? Or someone else. It shouldn't be the case that you still have difficulties with this in this day and age.”
“Yes!” came the synchronous reply from Raphael and me.
So the evening came to an encouraging end after the promising clarification discussion, even though there were considerable doubts regarding our families.
Fabian finally urged us to go to bed slowly, as it was getting close to midnight and actually all underage boarders should be in their beds by 10 o'clock.
Accordingly, it was not only difficult for me to get back on track the next morning. Once again, KF had to pull out all the stops to get me out of bed.
So I was the last one in the shower, almost. Just as I put down my towel, Miguel entered the bathroom and stood next to me. The man simply had an invigorating effect on me, which got my blood pumping. Fortunately, we were alone. He just gave me a cheeky grin, which I immediately returned when I saw that he felt the same way.
“Good morning, Raphael, but we should hurry anyway.”
“You're probably right, we're the last ones here,“ I sighed.
“We still shouldn't give the others any reason to attack, should we?”
“Yes, that's right,” I acknowledged Miguel's words of caution, and ended my stay under the refreshing water. We even managed to get to breakfast without attracting too much attention.
I was able to follow the lesson attentively, even though I was increasingly looking forward to our musical afternoon.
Miguel and I had arranged to meet at 2:30 p.m. to make our way to St. Nicholas together. When we arrived there, I noticed Oliver's relieved expression.
“I'm glad you came after all,” he greeted us.
“Hello Mr. Stotz!“ Miguel greeted him calmly.
“Oh please, Miguel, call me by my first name too.”
“Hello Oliver,” I forestalled Miguel, who then headed straight for the grand piano in the church.
I climbed the gallery and Oliver wanted to wait for Mr. Kramer.
When I had turned on the organ and sat down at the console, I could already hear Miguel playing.
Once again, I simply repeated his finger exercises with slight variations, which he threw to me as musical balls, and then I returned them, also embellished.
Slowly I immersed myself in our world, where I felt again what Miguel was up to. This time we playfully arrived at Beethoven's Fifth Symphony. As if it were the most natural thing in the world, Miguel took the lead, and I transformed the organ into an accompanying orchestra. After half an hour we were done and hadn't even noticed that Mr. Kramer had arrived in the meantime. Considering that we hadn't discussed it further, I thought the result was quite good. I heard the two music teachers discussing and went downstairs to the choir room.
“Hello Raphael, when did you practice that?” Mr. Kramer greeted me.
“Hello Mr. Kramer, not at all, we haven't gotten around to that yet.”
“I find that hard to believe, the way you played it was so powerful and harmonious. In particular, your coordination is amazing. Others can't do it even with a hundred times of practice,“ he shook his head.
“Volker, I don't know how they do it. The two of them harmonize in an uncanny way. They actually only played together briefly yesterday. And it was something completely different. I'm absolutely thrilled,” enthused Oliver.
With all due modesty, I nodded my head slightly and saw out of the corner of my eye that Miguel was also grinning contentedly. I remembered Mr. Kramer's words when he said that Miguel was 'excellent at adapting' and I also felt that I could easily respond to Miguel.
“The minimal tempo changes and your small variations give this symphony a light touch, which admittedly doesn't correspond to a classical performance, because the Fifth wasn't composed for organ and piano at all. Nevertheless, there are some passages that you should still work on.”
So we discussed and practiced this piece under the guidance of Mr. Kramer and Oliver Stotz.
Once again, the time flew by in no time. It was incredible when Oliver suddenly said:
“Guys, it's already a quarter to six. I think you should start thinking about heading home.”
Mr. Kramer looked at his watch in disbelief and shook his head.
As the three of us entered the cafeteria, chatting casually, we attracted some curious glances from our fellow students. A few grinned knowingly.
I felt really comfortable in my own skin. I would have ruled that out completely just a few weeks ago, when my father thought he absolutely had to commit me here. I grinned a little smugly inside that my father's plan backfired.
“Raphael,” Miguel pulled me out of my thoughts.
“Shall we get some fresh air?”
“Hm, I still have to do some homework,“ I replied.
“Oh dear, I should probably do that too. Would you like to come to my place? Fabian won't be home until after ten tonight.”
“Yes, I'd like that,” I winked at him. I wondered if he had the same ulterior motives. Despite his poker face, I was sure that it wouldn't be about homework.
I think Raphael sensed that I didn't just want to do homework with him.
I had barely laid out my materials when there was a knock at the door.
“Yes, please,” I said as usual, and Raphael was already standing in the room.
“Come on, sit down at Fabian's desk. I asked him for permission, that's why he cleared it. Normally, he piles all kinds of paper on his desk. I think we should do math and English. Dr. Gabriel will probably write a vocabulary test tomorrow.”
“Really, you think so? Okay, then we should start with that, then the two math problems and finally we'll revise English again.”
“Good plan.”
So we actually concentrated on our work. With mutual support, it was much easier for me than alone. I told Raphael that too, whereupon he beamed at me and confirmed that it was the same for him. I wasn't sure whether he was just saying that out of kindness to me, because I knew from the lessons that he had advanced to the top of the class in a short time. And that without outside help.
“Don't worry, Miguel, it's always easier to learn in pairs. Especially if you're on the same wavelength,” he surprised me. Can he read minds?
Raphael laughed, probably because I had looked a bit stupid. I grinned and shook my head.
In fact, the vocabulary as well as the quadratic equations went easily from the hand, respectively into the head, so that after an hour we sat uncertainly and insecurely opposite each other. Somehow it had struck us speechless.
I would have liked to just hug Raphael, but suddenly I didn't dare anymore. Nervously, I played with my pen and looked at the grain of my desk. After what felt like two hours, I wanted to say something:
“Raphael...”, but I faltered because he started at the same time.
“Miguel...”
He also interrupted himself again immediately.
“You first,” I stammered a bit faster and looked at Raphael expectantly.
After the very efficient hour of English and math, an uncertain silence suddenly set in.
I would have loved to just hug Miguel, if it hadn't been for my hormones demanding more. But an invincible tiredness set in very quickly. As fulfilling and successful as this day had been so far, it was also exhausting.
“Miguel...“ I started, but immediately stopped, because Miguel found his voice again at the same time:
“Raphael...”
“You first,” he added immediately, and gave me a look that literally melted me.
“Come over here,” I urged him, because my knees were too weak for me to be able to stand up.
As if he had been waiting for it, half a second later he was sitting on my lap with his arms around my shoulders. After a brief hesitation, he pressed his lips to mine. I opened them slightly and immediately felt his tongue. I closed my eyes and let him have his way. In retrospect, I was amazed that our tongues hadn't become hopelessly tangled. But for the moment, I just enjoyed Miguel's affection. Time lost its meaning. So today I can't possibly say how long we lost ourselves in this kiss. Anyway, we scattered when we were loudly addressed, obviously not just once:
“What's going on here? Hello you two! Heeeello!”
Fabian had come home.
As quickly as Miguel had settled on me, he jumped off again.
“Man, you scared me,” he hissed at his roommate. But he just laughed.
“Hey, I addressed you at least five times, but you only registered it when I literally shouted. So no unwarranted complaints, okay?”
Embarrassed, Miguel looked at the ground. I couldn't utter a sound either.
“Don't look so dazed. Man, you've really been hit,” Fabian expressed his impression. But we still weren't able to react.
“Don't worry, I won't tell anyone. Although I think that you are already the main topic of conversation at school.”
“WHAT?“ we exclaimed in unison, which caused Fabian to burst out laughing.
“We don't really know what's going on with us yet,” Miguel explained, and I looked at him questioningly.
“That is, we already know what's going on with us. It's just completely new to us,” he corrected himself.
“Be that as it may, boys, we should go to bed, because it's curfew,“ Fabian replied and began to undress unabashedly, which we followed unconsciously but with interest.
“Stop drooling and get laid instead. But please each in his own bed,” he admonished us with a grin.
“Yes, Dad,” we replied again at the same time. With a laugh we said goodbye and I went to my room.
It was the beginning of an intense time in which Miguel and I found each other more and more. We practiced our instruments with great diligence and even greater fun, and as with me before, Miguel's other academic achievements also improved.
I can't even describe the feeling of happiness that surrounded me from that moment on.
The only thing that was completely beyond us was how we would ever tell our parents, which is probably why we tried to suppress the thought of it. Given my starting point, it was actually clear that I would simply have to break with my family if I wanted to continue living my life as I was doing at the moment. However, the fact that Miguel couldn't count on any understanding at home either made our situation much more difficult.
It was still a mystery to me how I should tell my parents that they would have a gay son and a gay son-in-law. This idea was so absurd that at first I laughed almost hysterically and then I burst into tears. Fortunately, I was alone, Raphael was at his organ lesson and Fabian at sports. It was now perfectly clear to me that I wanted to, indeed had to, tell my parents. Firstly, I hated the game of hide and seek of the last few weeks and secondly, it was clear to me that they, as my parents, had the right to know what was going on with their son. More often than usual, my mother asked me during every phone call if I was okay – and she asked several times during a single conversation. She seemed to realize that something was wrong, at least not the way I had been pretending up to that point.
Suddenly, an idea came to me: they say that music connects people. Maybe Raphael could play his way into their hearts, so to speak? Traditionally, the Hernandez family's annual Christmas baking took place on the Saturday before the first Sunday of Advent. It followed the same pattern every year: Mom always invited four to five friends to help her. The strange thing about it was that there was always some old movie playing on the side, in the past via a projector, today via our huge TV. In terms of space, our huge living/dining room with the open kitchen was no problem at all. The fact that Dad regularly fled would make my plan easier, so I was able to “test the waters” with Mom first. Strangely enough, I wasn't at all deterred when some of my mother's friends were there. They had all been infatuated with me since I was born. Only Elvira Bäumler, the pastor's housekeeper, could pose a problem.
I imagined that I would simply entertain the group of ladies with music together with Raphael, and that this would help to break the ice. I knew my mother well enough to be 95% sure that it would work. During the next phone call with her, I asked somewhat hypocritically whether she already knew which of the girls would be coming to the Christmas baking session.
“Why are you suddenly interested?”
“Just wondering...”
“Just like that... I see. Miguel, what's going on?”
“Now tell me, is the priest's housekeeper coming again, for example?”
“I don't know yet. Are you coming too?”
“I was planning to, if I'm allowed to bring someone.”
“Really? Who?”
“A classmate.”
“Okay. I'll pick you up on Friday afternoon.”
“But I have to take my keyboard with me.”
“Why is that? You have our piano, I just had it tuned.”
“Yes, but if you're watching one of those old movies again, I can't use it. But we have to work out an arrangement and the keyboard's midi interface is quite helpful.”
“Yes, well, if you think so. Didn't you want to bake your Butter-S again while you're here?”
“We'll see, Mom, I can't say yet. It depends on how we get on.”
“We're looking forward to seeing you. See you on Friday.”
“Yes, okay Mom, see you on Friday. Good night, please give Dad my regards.”
“I will, sleep well, my darling.”
And she had already hung up.
Now I just had to convince Raphael of my plan. I wanted to ask him right away at dinner. So I made my way to the dining room and met Raphael on the way.
“Hey, Rafi, how was it?”
“Strenuous, but good. And you?”
“Well, the lesson is postponed again until tomorrow.”
“Now I'm really hungry!”
I laughed: “When are you not hungry?”
“Never, actually,” laughed Raphael.
When we had loaded up our trays, we sat down in a quieter corner, as always.
“Say, Rafi. This weekend, I'm hosting the big Christmas baking event at my house, and I'm usually involved in that too.”
“Oh, that's sure to be nice,” he replied, adding sadly, ”we don't have anything like that.”
“You know what, just come with me! Then I'll introduce you to my parents right away. That way, I would finally come out to my mother, that is, if you agree.”
“Phew, do you really mean that?”
“Yes, Rafi, I'm serious and I'm just tired of the game of hide and seek,” I emphasized almost pleadingly.
Raphael looked at me intently and then said,
“Okay, Miguel. I'm in. How did you think this would work? So far it always sounded so inconceivable?”
“That's right. But I think we can get my mother through the music. She'll love you. You're easy to like. I'm almost sure it'll work.”
“And your father?” Raphael wanted to know.
“That's the tricky part. He'll run for the hills again.”
“Why is that?”
“Well. It's something of a tradition that some old fool is always being looked at during the bakery.”
“I see,” laughed Raphael, ‘and that's when your father always takes off?”
“Yes exactly. Hm, Raphael, there's something else…”
“Really?’ he asked skeptically, ”What else?”
“There will be a few of my mom's friends there.”
“You're kidding? You want to out us to everyone?”
“I've known them since I was a kid. I hope Ingrid Neuhäuser will be there this time. She has a gay son who is now 35 or so. Anyway, I remember that his coming out was discussed at a Christmas baking session a few years ago, and there were no negative reactions at the time. So there is a certain hope.”
“Okay, Miguel, I trust your instincts and your plan. What exactly did you have in mind?”
“We'll help with the baking first. I'll make sure there's no too gruesome movie. Do you have any ideas?”
“Casablanca,” Raphael said spontaneously.
“Yeah, good idea, we definitely have that.” After the movie, we'll just sit down at the piano and keyboard and play casually. Finally, a Christmas medley. What do you think?”
“Sounds easy. Should we come up with a more detailed plan tomorrow and at least run through it once?”
“Agreed, preferably after my lesson with Mr. Kramer.”
Everyone was still lost in thought and we finished our dinner.
Together we made our way to the accommodations.
“Miguel, I'm really looking forward to this weekend. Sleep well, I'll see you at breakfast.”
“Yes, I think it will be good. Sweet dreams, see you tomorrow.”
So we parted ways for today.
Miguel surprised me every day. Just a few days ago, he was completely distraught because he didn't know how he could possibly tell his conservative parents that he was gay. Now he wanted to come out to his mother's friends as well. And me too. Not that I had any fundamental problem with it, I had long since been “out” at home, albeit with nasty side effects, such as verbal abuse and threats from my father. He, in turn, expected nothing more and nothing less from me than to become “normal” again; otherwise I would probably face permanent expulsion from the family home, including being disinherited. I was well on my way to achieving that. I didn't even want to think about it. And yet I was just happy here. I could finally make music to my heart's content and I had also met the sweetest person in the world. I would really like to see him accepted at home just as he is. As far as music was concerned, he was already accepted for that reason. Fortunately, my father's information about this institute was more than sketchy.
In any case, Miguel and I arranged to meet again at Miguel's parents' house to practice for an audition.
That same morning, in the usual school routine, Miguel received the message that Mr. Kramer was once again unable to make it. When Miguel then explained that he wanted to practice with me instead, Mr. Kramer was more than happy about it.
So we found ourselves in the music room that afternoon, working on a “mom-conquering program” at its finest. Miguel had brought his keyboard for this purpose, so we had the same instruments for practicing as we would have for the “performance” at Miguel's home. As we had often done before, we wanted to start with simple finger exercises, during which we passed the musical balls back and forth to each other and playfully developed a “Ragtime Special” from them. We then wanted to move on to boogie woogie. These transitions required the most practice to achieve precise coordination. Finally, we wanted to perform our interpretation of Gershwin's “Rhapsody in Blue” for the first time. To do that, I would use the sampled organ and some wind instruments on Miguel's keyboard. Once again, I was amazed at how well we worked together without having had much discussion, just by me concentrating intensely on Miguel. Our “Ragtime Special” was to be a medley of three of Joplin's most famous pieces, “The Entertainer”, “Maple Leaf Rag” and “Pine Apple Rag”, as they were partly known from the film “The Sting”. It was great fun improvising the transition to the boogie-woogie, but we had to practise it intensively, because we wanted it to sound the same as when we played it off the cuff, even though we wouldn't be playing it off the cuff anymore. Varying the individual titles was not a problem, because the individual passages and themes were given. We agreed on the “Swanee River Boogie” and the “Honky Tonk Train Blues” as boogies. With a few bars and key changes, we then ended up in C major, which allowed us to play most of the well-known Christmas songs. It was quite amazing that we had put together and practiced a great piano duet program in less than three hours. Some passages worked right away and would sound harmonious even the tenth time around, while others needed a lot of practice.
In the end, we were very satisfied and confident about our plan, at least from a musical point of view. However, it was by no means clear whether Miguel's hope for acceptance of his orientation would grow out of it. Out of pure self-interest, I sincerely hoped he would. However, we didn't say another word about it.
It was clear that our session had made me extremely happy, but also quite tired. It was just that we were able to make it to a relatively small dinner before I fell into bed, dead tired. There was no doubt that Miguel felt the same way.
That Friday, my excitement woke me up before my alarm clock.
I didn't see Miguel again until breakfast, when he didn't look particularly bright-eyed. Despite all the pondering, the morning passed relatively quickly and after lunch I was just able to pack my things for the weekend. On Miguel's advice, I held back in the cafeteria, because there would be a sumptuous dinner at Hernandez', after coffee and cake. We had barely dragged our luggage and Miguel's keyboard case and its contents into the foyer when a slender woman of medium height and age came storming in. She was unmistakably Miguel's mom, with hair that was just as jet black, with a few white hairs showing through. She seemed completely unpretentious, wearing her white strands with dignity. She radiated a strong sense of self-confidence. Immediately she embraced her son. I almost thought she would crush him, but he seemed used to it and returned the embrace.
“Hello Mama, you're right on time.”
“Hello Miguel, yes it went surprisingly well for a Friday afternoon.”
“Mama, may I introduce Raphael, my classmate.”
Ms. Hernandez turned to me, scanned me for a moment and extended her hand.
“Hello Raphael, nice to meet you.”
“Hello, Ms. Hernandez. Nice to meet you too. Thank you for having me as your guest.”