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Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans.
John Lennon, Beautiful Boy
Peter Conrad
The
New beginning
Youth novel
"Danny, will you help us at the flea market again on Saturday?"
The person who wanted to know was Thomas, my best friend, who, along with his older brother, regularly sold all sorts of knick-knacks at the aforementioned flea market. And I was regularly roped in to help set up the stall and sell them. Not a particularly pleasant task in subzero temperatures. I still shivered thinking about last weekend. This time, however, I had a good reason to politely decline.
"I'm sorry, I really can't. My mom and her boyfriend are dragging me to a swimming meet."
"And who's competing? Surely not a water-shy specimen of the human species like you?"
Thank you very much. What could I do about the fact that I was in the hospital with leukemia back then, when everyone else was having swimming lessons? When I wanted to learn to swim later, I almost drowned the first time I went in the water, and ever since then, I've had a somewhat strained relationship with the subject. Although I've learned to stay afloat fairly safely, I still preferred to stay in areas where, while standing, my head could at least stick out above the water's edge.
"Nope, it's not coming to that. Tim, that guy's son, is the great swimmer. My mom thinks spending a day together like this would be the ideal way for us to get to know each other."
"Oh, oh, that sounds like they're actually serious."
"It certainly looks like it. The two spend almost every free minute together. I wouldn't be surprised if wedding bells ring in the near future."
"And what do you think about it?"
"Tough question. Well, my mother is happier than she's been in years, and Reinhardt seems to be doing okay, too."
"And your future stepbrother?"
"Ha, caught you, you weren't listening to me properly."
"How come?"
"I told you we were supposed to meet on Saturday. So far, I've only seen a picture of him and spoken a few words to him on the phone when I called about an emergency and was looking for my mother."
I have no idea why, but in all the time my mother and her Reinhardt had known each other, the opportunity to meet Tim had never arisen.
"Well, then you should at least know how old he is."
"Sixteen."
»So they're still really young.«
We both burst out laughing, having been just a year older. To be precise, I had celebrated my 17th birthday eleven weeks and three days earlier. And on that very day, my mother had met her Reinhardt, fittingly, just when she had invited me to the movies to celebrate. I had just bought a maxi-load of popcorn when some bearded giant in his forties spilled a half-liter cup of Coke down my pants. White jeans and black Coke – that really didn't go together. The giant baby was obviously even more shocked than I was; in any case, he had only just stammered the beginnings of an apology when my mother came running up and started giving him a piece of her mind.
Now, you have to understand that my mother isn't particularly tall, and the sight of a 5'5" woman making a 5'5" man look like a snail was not without a certain amount of comedy. This scene quickly captured the undivided attention of everyone around, and before long, I was about the last one to burst out laughing—but certainly a few decibels louder than the rest of the crowd. This, in turn, silenced my mother, and the two main actors stared at each other for a moment without saying a word. A small, energetic, and angry woman, and a devastated Rambo look-alike. A picture fit for the gods. My mother obviously realized this too, because the angry expression on her face gave way to a broad grin. This, in turn, confused the poor guy in front of her even more, who now had no idea what was happening to him.
Long story short: The gentle giant introduced himself as Reinhardt, drove the three of us to our house (going to the movies was out of the question in our soggy clothes), and then invited us to dinner and to the evening screening. And while I was rinsing the sticky cola residue off my body in the shower, my mother and the culprit apparently became quite close. When I reappeared in the living room in fresh clothes, they were laughing and joking as if they'd known each other forever. Which was true! The two had gone to school together many years ago and then lost touch. And now this surprising reunion, under these circumstances, no less. In the weeks that followed, their rekindled friendship developed into obvious love, with the result that two families would soon become one. Ha, Cupid himself must have smacked the cola out of Reinhardt's hand!
A little more background information on the topic of family. My father died in a plane crash a few years ago, and I still missed him every single day. My mother threw herself into work afterward—not that it was financially necessary, but it obviously helped her avoid thinking about her husband and my father all the time. It didn't help me much, either. At a time when I needed her most, she was hardly home before midnight. Fortunately, it only lasted a few weeks before we both realized things couldn't go on like this and somehow got our act together. We've had a good time together over the last two or three years, and we're looking toward the future with some optimism again. A few months before my last birthday, we've even discussed the topic of "mother plus new husband," and after a few long evenings and sleepless nights, I've come to terms with the fact that this situation would probably arise at some point. That Reinhardt was really lucky: If he had pulled that stunt on my sixteenth birthday, I would have definitely made his life hell trying to get hold of my mother.
Reinhardt himself was divorced; his wife had run off with a Latin lover without giving her or his son another thought. That had been quite some time ago, and ever since, Reinhardt had been playing the role of single father. As I said, we got along well, and if my mother was attracted to a new man, then someone like Reinhardt was certainly not a bad choice. He didn't force his way into my life, didn't try to ingratiate himself, but on the other hand, he was always willing to listen to me, without being condescending. But enough of that for now; I'd rather jump back to current events. Where was I again? Oh yes, Thomas wanted to recruit me and had apparently been rejected for the first time.
"I'm really sorry, Thomas, but you'll have to get by without me."
"The devil's doing you any harm. But hey, at least we don't have to give you any of the proceeds."
"I'll have to live with that, even if I don't yet know how I'm going to manage it."
"Rockefeller Jr. spoke. Well, whatever. Do you know how long the family reunion will last? Will you make it to Katja's party?"
"Shit, I completely forgot about that! Damn, I have no idea if I can manage that. Who knows, maybe my mom and Reinhardt have some joint activities planned for the evening."
"Come on, you just have to come. You're the only one who can get their music system working so that it's enough for the whole house."
"Oh, that's why you want me there?"
"Well, yeah. But just think about the great atmosphere at Katja's parties. Jürgen manages the grill, Lisa gets the drinks. There's guaranteed to be at least fifty people there. Oh, and there are bound to be some good-looking guys there, too."
I had to grin. Now he had me.
"Okay, okay, I'll try my best."
"I knew it. Oh, darn, it's already so late? Bye, I have to go pick up my little sister from kindergarten. See you tomorrow!"
And he was gone before I could even utter an answer. About the thing with the pretty boys: Well, I'm gay. And I'm pretty out. (Has anyone ever noticed how stupid it can sound to mix German and English words?) It wasn't like the whole school knew about me, but pretty much all of my friends knew. It hadn't been completely smooth sailing, but with the help of Thomas and three or four others, I'd gotten through it. A few former "friends" had distanced themselves from me a bit, but at least they'd been willing to keep their mouths shut. So, by now, I was at peace with myself and, on the whole, content with my life. Now all I needed was a suitable boyfriend. (Ha, I was just complaining about English language influences, and now I'm using one myself. But whatever, has anyone noticed that there's no truly appropriate German translation for this term? I mean, if someone says "That's my boyfriend" in English, everyone immediately knows what they mean, unlike "That's my friend." But in German? "Das ist mein Freund" says everything and nothing at the same time—I mean, Thomas is my boyfriend, but he's not my "friend." So which word should one use for the purpose of unambiguous identification? Beloved? Fiancé? Husband? Life partner? Nothing seems to fit. So if anyone has an idea, please let me know. Otherwise, I'll just leave the boyfriend as it is.)
Where was I? Ah yes, cute guys at parties. Well, I really did keep my eyes open, and at Katja's famous parties in particular, there was always a wide selection of guys I would definitely let into my life. However, up until now, it had only been a matter of looking, because usually every cute guy was soon followed by a female partner, and all my hopes went down the drain. I hadn't let it get me too depressed yet, but secretly I hoped that one day I wouldn't leave a party like that alone. I mean, it just couldn't be the case that all the cute guys were either straight or already taken, could it? In any case, on the way home, I resolved not to miss the upcoming celebration under any circumstances. I would somehow find a way to free myself from my family obligations.

---

Saturday morning. Or rather, Saturday night. So, Friday night into Saturday night. Whatever. In any case, at a most ungodly hour.
"Danny, get out of bed! Remember, we have plans today."
I love my mother, honestly, but there have been times when I wished she were far, far away. Like right now. It's not even 8:30 a.m., and my cozy slumber has been rudely interrupted. And on the weekend, no harm in turning over. Oh, that pillow was so soft...
"Daniel, get up already, or do I have to get a bucket of cold water first?"
Grumbling. Daniel, that said it all. If I didn't react now, she'd really nailed the cold water thing. It wouldn't be the first time. Oh, and by the way, in case anyone reads this aloud: Danny is pronounced the way it's spelled, not Dänny. And heaven forbid I hear someone call me that!
So I had no choice but to grumble my way out of the warm duvet. Brrr, what a cold night! It was just the beginning of December, and already the frost was on. I'd probably either have to close the window overnight or find some thick winter pajamas. With a few quick steps, I was at the window, and while I closed it with my right hand, I turned the heating up to full blast with my left. Then I escaped to my well-heated private bathroom, where I went about my usual morning routine.
Fifteen minutes later, I wandered back to my room, which had now reached a reasonably reasonable temperature. A glance at the outside thermometer: minus 8 degrees. Great. So, another day where all the warm clothes would make me look twice as bulky as in my normal outfit. That's what happens when you're a cold person.
"Danny, are you ready? Breakfast is on the table. And dress warmly, it's bitterly cold!"
Someone must have read my mind. That ability runs in the family, by the way; I'm pretty good at it myself. How? Evidence? Okay. I'll try to fathom the esteemed reader's current thoughts. Concentration. Just a little bit more. I'll get it in a minute. Exactly, there it is. Excuse me?!? That can't be true, the reader is thinking, "That guy still seems like quite a mama's boy at seventeen." Thank you very much, but I'm above that! If a mama's boy is defined by getting along well with your mama and respecting and listening to each other instead of constantly yelling and boring each other, well, then I guess I was a mama's boy. Perhaps this freshly tapped thought from the reader was just an expression of envy. Exactly, that's it.
Oh, by the way, I just realized that while I've already wasted a lot of words on my family, I haven't really talked about myself. At least, as far as appearances go. Well, my age is already known: I'm 1.81 m tall (or short, that's a matter of opinion), dark blonde with light highlights, brown eyes. Not fat, not thin, not a muscleman, but no wimp either. The word "average" probably best describes me. Which also applies to my performance at school. Although my teachers keep telling me I could achieve much more if I only wanted to. Ha, that's just what I needed, to be seen as a nerd! I'm also reasonably athletic; I'm learning karate and I'm apparently pretty good at it. In the summer, I cycle miserably long distances. Musical preferences: N'Sync, B3, Phil Collins, and Mike Oldfield—at least the first two bands are de rigueur for a gay teenager, right? Well, that's probably all you need to know about me.
Where was I before I got distracted again? Ah yes, the call to feed. First, I quickly changed out of my pajamas and put on my first day's clothes. "Dress warmly," my mother had said. In this house, that meant that under the fleece shirt and thermal jeans, I also had to wear a sweatshirt and—if you laugh now or dig out the "mama's boy" thing again, you'll feel my karate skills—knitted tights. My mother had always insisted on the latter, and all my attempts in earlier years to dissuade her had failed miserably. By now, I had come to terms with her stubbornness on the matter and with the teasing from my classmates and acquaintances, and for the sake of peace, I never brought the subject up again. Apart from the fact that these things are quite practical, and anything that kept me warm was, deep down, most welcome. So I grabbed a white sweatshirt and dark blue tights, put them both on, and walked in that outfit to the breakfast table in the kitchen. We've always had good heating, and adding the next bowl now would have been foolish.
"There you are at last."
"Why are you pushing so hard? There's still plenty of time, and it's only a ten-minute drive to the swimming pool."
"We don't drive, we walk. After the competition, Reinhardt will drive us home, or we'll do something together. The four of us still have to talk about it."
"Katja's throwing a party tonight, so I should be there by six at the latest." Actually, it's seven, but a little emergency cushion certainly couldn't hurt.
"Do you really have to go there today?"
"I promised her long before you told me about your plans for today." Okay, that wasn't the whole truth, but it has to be allowed.
"Does Katja still have a crush on you?"
The poor thing had actually been following me around practically nonstop since fourth grade.
"I don't think so. After I told her why she'd never have a chance with me, she started looking elsewhere. As far as I know, she's also had a boyfriend for a few weeks."
"Phew, thank goodness. I mean, she's a nice girl, but not exactly what I'd want for my son. So superficial and always following the latest fashion. Promise me you'll never fall for a male Katja."
My mother was the first person I told about my differences. The time after that was anything but easy; it took many weeks for her to accept it. But when it finally happened, she did a complete about-face and was now completely behind me. Which could be quite annoying at times, for example, when we were sitting in an ice cream parlor in the summer and she would point out boys to me every few spoonfuls. "Look, Danny, he's good-looking, isn't he?" Hmph, embarrassing. "Wouldn't that be exactly your type, Danny?" And you couldn't say that she whispered this or even made any effort to keep it somewhat private.
"Don't worry, even if I were into girls, Katja would definitely never have been on the shortlist."
"That's reassuring."
During this conversation, I gradually stuffed myself with three freshly baked rolls and drank two large cups of tea. Fortunately, I didn't have to worry about my figure; I could eat whatever I wanted, and I wasn't gaining weight. This may have been due to the fact that I was constantly making sure I got my daily exercise.
As I leaned back in my chair, my mother looked up from her crossword puzzle.
"Well, finally full? I'm afraid I couldn't afford another eater like you. Two of your kind would eat the hair off my head."
Pure envy was the reason she gained half a pound just by looking at a piece of cake.
"Hey, I'm a growing teenager, I need this!"
"All right, all right. I'll just put this away quickly, you finish getting dressed, and then we'll go. Let's go!"
I trudged to my room and completed my outfit with blue dungarees and a white fleece shirt. A quick glance in the mirror on the closet – yep, I looked good. With a bold flourish, my ID, keys, and wallet landed in their designated pockets, and I was ready to go. I went back downstairs, where my mother was already standing in the hallway, squeezing into her coat. Someone was really in a hurry. I slipped into my well-padded shoes and then pulled on my favorite winter jacket. I had found it in a military clothing catalog; it was supposedly the original US Navy polar jacket. It was wonderfully warm, and with the fur-trimmed hood, I didn't even need a hat. However, I almost needed a guide dog, as the hood rode pretty far over my eyes. Now I added some gloves, and I was more or less ready to face the elements.
"Can we?"
My mother was apparently ready, too. She opened the front door and pushed me through. The minus eight degrees was a flattering sign; there was an icy wind blowing, and the temperature felt like it was definitely well into the double-digit minus range. Plus, there was a light snowfall. I quickly pulled the hood over my head, insulating myself as best I could from the inhospitable outside world.
On the way to the swimming pool, my mother set a remarkable pace, which was particularly surprising because she usually had to slow me down when we walked together, as she couldn't keep up with her shorter legs. Given the weather, this was fine with me, of course. Almost twenty minutes later, we reached the competition venue, where Reinhardt was already waiting for us. After a brief greeting at the door, we went inside, where we first dropped off our warm jackets at the locker room. Reinhardt looked at me.
"So it's really you, Danny. I wasn't so sure about your disguise."
I gave him a pained smile. My mother hugged her future husband.
"Leave him alone, he's never been a fan of subzero temperatures. By the way, where's your son?"
"He's already in the locker room with his team. He has a semifinal race right at the beginning and will join us later. I've reserved a few good seats. Shall we go up to the stands?"
So we wandered to our seats in the pleasantly temperate pool, and gradually I began to feel at ease again. Perhaps that was partly due to the fact that all around the pool there were lots of boys in skimpy swimwear, including some who rightfully deserved to be called eye candy. Reinhardt's voice tore me from my pleasant contemplation.
"Danny, Tim's coach asked me to videotape his team's races. Unfortunately, that means I can't take photos with our own camera. Would you do that for me?"
Photography? Why not? It was one of my hobbies anyway. I had my own small darkroom at home, and I'd even won a few small prizes in photography competitions.
"Sure. You just have to explain the camera to me."
"No problem, I'm sure you can handle it. Look, the device is digital, so you don't need film."
Wow, I've been eyeing something like this for a long time! Reinhardt briefly explained what I should be looking for, and I really wouldn't have any problems with it.
"So, that's basically it. If you feel like it, you can walk around a bit and find some suitable motifs. Here, hang this card around your neck, so you can get into the area where only the staff and the press are allowed."
This was getting better and better! On many of my photo excursions, I'd been annoyed that I wasn't allowed to get close to the really interesting spots. The colorful piece of cardboard on a string around my neck would help me overcome that hurdle this time.
"Can I leave now?"
"Go ahead. Here are a few memory cards. Take as many pictures as you want. There's room for at least 150 pictures on these things, so you can really go wild. Oh, and here's a set of batteries, too."
“Thank you!” And I was gone.
First, I took a few shots of the arena—always keeping a safe distance from the edge of the pit, or rather, the pool's edge—then I focused on more and more individual details. The mother of a swimmer, who was apparently even more excited than her son. The gray-haired ice cream vendor, who wouldn't have another chance at my business until spring. The arena announcer, who was just calling the participants of the first race to line up at the start. Time to head there.
My wonderful ID card actually took me right to the edge of the pool, from where I filmed the gladiators' entrance. One of them had to be Tim, and I tried to recognize him from the small picture I knew. However, since it wasn't the most recent, and the swimmers, with their wet hair and workout clothes, looked a bit different, I didn't succeed right away. I had narrowed the circle of suspects down to three when the announcer began introducing the participants. A few names that meant nothing to me passed by, and then it was time.
"Tim Bergner, last year's champion and holder of the state record in his age group, will be competing on lane four."
I was right; it was one of my three candidates. I took a photo of him and then watched him take off his tracksuit. It would certainly be interesting to see what he looked like in a pair of skimpy swim trunks. But wait, apparently I wasn't granted that view. What was revealed?
Once the tracksuit was completely off, I could see everything Tim was wearing. It was one of those modern swimsuits that covers the body from the shoulders to just above the knees. It said Speedo Aquablade. I wasn't quite sure whether to regret or welcome this. The skin-tight piece of fabric really showed off my future stepbrother's muscular body. So I quickly took a few more photos, then tore myself away from him and turned my attention back to his competitors, another of whom was also wearing the same outfit. All the swimmers had now been introduced, and the starter called them to the blocks. I took a strategically advantageous position from which I intended to photograph the start as authentically as possible. The commands came, the starter raised his pistol, and with the sound of the pistol, I pressed the shutter button, concentrating on the middle lanes and thus also on Tim.
Shortly afterwards, I was rewarded with an obviously very good image on the control monitor. If it looked even half as good up close, I had managed to capture a great snapshot. I tore myself away from the monitor and turned my attention back to the race. Damn, what was that all about? I probably should have been listening more carefully. Ah yes, the 200-meter freestyle. I aimed the camera again, but decided not to press the shutter button, preferring to wait for the swimmers to come back to me after the first turn. Tim and his two lane neighbors were practically neck and neck, and I took the opportunity to zoom in close on the three and shoot a series of six images. While the camera saved them, I followed the race, in which Tim was now managing to pull away from his competitors a little. The camera was ready again just in time for the next turn, and I caught a close-up of my soon-to-be stepbrother.
Now I looked for a good place to get my sights set on the finish line. A man, who was recognizable as a press photographer thanks to his professional equipment, spotted my searching gaze and beckoned me over. He had chosen a really good, slightly elevated spot, and I was allowed to lie in wait right next to him. In the meantime, the race was going very well for Tim; by the last turn, he had already built up a lead of a whole body length. Now he was approaching the finish line with powerful arm thrusts, and I aimed at the spot of his impending triumph. Shortly before he touched the finish line, I pressed the shutter and was rewarded with the camera carrying out my command at exactly the right moment. I took a few more shots and, among other things, caught Tim climbing out of the pool dripping wet. When he was completely dry, he looked at me intently.
"Hey, isn't that our camera? You must be Danny, right?"
"Exactly. Good race, congratulations. I hope you didn't overexert yourself and saved some energy for the final."
He smiled at me, a little uncertainly. Oh, that smile, those green eyes! At that moment, I was damn glad I wasn't standing in front of him in such a skin-tight swimsuit. My God, that would have been embarrassing!
"Don't worry, I was holding back a little on purpose."
Held back? That wasn't what it looked like! Just as I was about to tell him that, a guy in a tracksuit showed up.
"Great, Tim, well done. The other finalists are already shaking in their knees. Go on, get in the shower, and get dressed. Your final isn't until 1:00, so you can go to your dad's then. But remember: don't eat or drink too much!"
So that must have been Tim's trainer. He sent his protégé to the locker room with a slap on the backside. I almost did the same, but I managed to pull myself together at the last moment. The man turned to me.
"And who are you, a friend of Tim's?"
"Not yet, but I hope to be. His father and my mother are probably getting married."
"Ah yes. Tim already told me about that. So that's your mother sitting up there next to Reinhardt?"
"Exactly. They both thought this would be a good opportunity for Tim and me to get to know each other."
"If that's the case, you're welcome to come into the cabin with us; you're practically part of the family."
Oh no, I'd rather not put myself through that ordeal. Being up close and personal with a bunch of more or less naked boys, no thanks. I mean, yes, please! But not necessarily right now.
"Thanks for the offer, but I'd rather move on and take some more pictures."
"As you wish. The offer stands. Will I get to see the pictures? You filmed Tim's finish, right?"
"I did. As for the pictures, you'll have to ask Reinhardt. It's his camera, and I'm working for him, so to speak."
"I'll do that. Right, I have to go, it was nice meeting you. Bye."
"Bye."
And I was alone again. Alone and quite confused. Wow. No boy had ever made such a huge impression on me at first, or even second, glance. Okay, I had already realized that Tim had a great body the moment I saw it on the starting block, but what threw me most were his eyes and his shy smile. I realized I was clearly in love.
But wait, help, this can't be true! For heaven's sake, not with this one boy! My future stepbrother, the thought of it was almost bordering on incest! Not to mention all the problems it would cause me. This simply couldn't happen. Lost in these terrifying thoughts, I made my way to our seats in the stands.
"So, Danny, did you get along with the camera?"
I was startled out of my thoughts.
"Uh, yeah, thanks. It was actually quite easy."
"Great. Did you take some good pictures?"
"I think so. Some from the hall, plus Tim's start and his finish."
"Very nice. Did Tim notice?"
"I think so. We even spoke briefly when he came out of the pool."
"Hmm, then you're hereby tasked with defending the camera against him. Tim doesn't particularly like being photographed, and if you're not careful, he'll delete the pictures of him immediately."
"Sorry, I didn't know. Otherwise I wouldn't have photographed him."
"No reason to apologize, quite the opposite. Sometimes you have to force his happiness. Later, he'll be grateful when he can show the pictures to his children and grandchildren."
"Well, but I don't want to be blacklisted on the first day."
"Don't worry, it's not as serious as it sounds. He'll grumble a little, but he won't be really angry with you. Or did he say something like that?"
"No. I congratulated him on his win, and he said he'd held back a bit, smiling. Then his coach came and sent him to the locker room."
"Tim smiled? Wow, I'll have to put a red dot on the calendar. Since... well, since his mother left us, he rarely smiles. I think that's a good sign; you'll definitely get along well."
Hopefully. And hopefully I didn't ruin everything with my emotional confusion.
"So, are you staying with your mom for a while? I'll check on Tim in the cabin and then bring him here."
And he was gone. My mother hadn't had a chance to say anything the whole time, which was surely a completely new experience for her. Instead, after Reinhardt's disappearance, she turned to me.
"So, Danny, be honest. Do you have a good feeling about this?"
Great choice of words. I preferred not to tell her how I felt about the whole thing.
"Sure, Mommy. We'll figure it out. And if not, we'll just see who has the stronger arguments: a swimmer or a karateka."
She looked deep into my eyes.
"Do you always have to make everything comical? This is a serious matter."
"Don't worry, honestly. Tim seems okay. He hasn't gone for my throat, and he hasn't seemed to reject me or even hate me. He's probably come to terms with the new family situation just as much as I have."
"Just a settlement? Nothing more?"
"Hey, don't expect too much at once. Reinhardt is nice, and I'm happy for you, but only time will tell how this will all affect my life. In any case, I'm willing to give him every chance. And Tim, too, of course."
"Sorry, Danny. It means a lot to me that you're giving us this chance. I know this isn't easy, especially for you guys. I mean, Reinhardt and I found each other, we love each other—but you're more or less thrown together without knowing much about each other or knowing each other. We're asking a lot of you."
"Don't worry, everything will be fine. By the way, have you talked to Reinhardt about tonight?"
"Not yet, we can discuss that when the four of us are together. Maybe at lunch."
»Okay.«
At that moment, the two objects of our desire, my mother's (Reinhardt) and mine (Tim), approached and sat down with us. Tim's hair was dry again, and I could see its true color: a blonde almost bordering on white, with a few green (!!) highlights. He was wearing his team's tracksuit and white basketball shoes. My mother, the only one who hadn't seen him yet today, greeted him and congratulated him on his victory. The shy smile appeared again on his face, and he thanked me with his head slightly bowed. He didn't exactly seem to be a paragon of self-confidence.
The announcer announced the next race, in which two swimmers from Tim's team would again be competing. Reinhardt reached for the video camera to complete his task.
"I still have to film the next two races, after that, nothing else happens that I need to record until Tim's final. What do you think about us all going to the sports bar together for dinner?"
He received general approval. Shortly afterward, the race started, and two minutes later, both of Tim's teammates were eliminated. He seemed to be more or less the only figurehead of his club, because in the next race, only one of his teammates managed to qualify for the final, coming in last. The loud cheers from the stands freed me from the need to make much of a conversation; I just glanced cautiously and somewhat uncertainly in Tim's direction every now and then, and caught him doing the same in my direction a few times. Whether that was because I had captivated him with my superb physique and outstanding personality, or whether there was simply a bit of nervousness around the future "big brother" at play – well, who could say?
Then it was time to head toward the manger. Reinhardt packed up the camera, and we all rose from our seats.
"You three go ahead, Tim knows the ropes. I'll just drop the camera off at the coach's. I don't feel like lugging it around with me."
We did as we were told and set off. Our walk was more or less silent. My mother tried a few times to engage Tim in conversation, but always received only monosyllabic answers and then gave up. This continued in the restaurant, where, to our great surprise, we immediately found a free table for four. Then my mother couldn't stand it anymore.
"Well, Tim, that was a really great performance you put on there. How long have you been swimming?"
"For about eight years. And I'm really not that good."
"But things looked different earlier. You were a lot better than the others in your race."
"Thank you." Finally, the corners of his mouth turned up slightly again. Let's see if that could be strengthened a little.
"She's absolutely right. You might even beat me."
My mother burst out laughing, and Tim looked back and forth between us in confusion. Once my mother had calmed down somewhat, she explained to Tim my somewhat strange relationship with the wet element. And then she felt compelled to comment on my performance in this regard.
"To beat Danny, you'd first have to get him into the water! And if you then hung a ton of lead on your body and gave Danny half the distance as a head start, well, then the risk of losing to him would at least not be completely eliminated."
Of course, I couldn't let this go uncommented and turned to my mother in well-feigned indignation.
"Come on, I'm really not that bad. I'd have a chance against him if he only had to carry half a hundredweight of lead. If he'd let me have a three-quarters lead."
Now we'd done it with our combined strength, Tim burst into raucous laughter, which drew the attention of the neighboring tables. Fittingly, Reinhardt came to our table at that moment, clearly delighted by the sight of his son laughing until he cried.
"I see the ice is broken. What's so funny here, Tim?"
"It's about Danny's swimming skills."
"Exactly, I was just giving Tim some crucial tips on how much he needed to improve his technique to have a chance against me in the pool."
"That was very kind of you."
"Well, that's part of being a big brother, isn't it?"
Tim, who had calmed down a bit in the meantime, burst out laughing again at this exchange, while Reinhardt and my mother looked at each other with joy and relief. My mother turned to Reinhardt's son.
"Tim, this is self-service. Shall we two go and get food and drinks for all of us?"
Reinhardt intervened.
"Leave it, Maria, I'll take care of it."
"No way, Reinhardt. Look at Danny, he's wearing a fresh white shirt, he definitely doesn't need any Coke stains on it."
"Well, I'm really not that clumsy!"
"Still, we'd rather not take any risks. Agreed, Tim?"
"Sure. Dad, Danny, what do you want to eat and drink?"
While Reinhardt placed his order, I quickly scanned the menu. Ah yes, there was something there that suited my taste. Tim had finished with his father and now looked at me questioningly.
"I'll have the gypsy schnitzel with fries and a large Spezi."
"As the Lord wishes."
Then the two temporary waiters left, leaving Reinhardt and me alone at the table. Reinhardt (that is, Reinhardt, not the table!) looked at me briefly and intently, then smiled.
"You two did a great job with Tim, thanks. It's been ages since I've seen him this happy. Sorry if the joke was on you."
"It was worth it. He seemed like he could use a little cheering up."
"Correctly observed."
"Is he always this reserved? I don't mean just like that, with a stranger like me, but in general. My mother praised his race, but he acted like he wasn't nearly as good as she made him out to be."
"This is a big problem. Ever since his mother left, well, he's been in a bit of a crisis. Less physically than mentally. He believes it was his fault, that he's simply not good enough and good for nothing. No matter how many people congratulate him on his achievements, he just doesn't believe them. Damn, the boy is a state champion, and he'll probably be again this year, but he didn't want to participate in the championship at all because he was convinced he wasn't good enough. He seems to have lost all self-confidence."
"Stupid situation. What can you do?"
"Not much, except proving him wrong again and again. I consider what happened earlier a good sign. As I said, I haven't witnessed such a fit of laughter from him in a long time. So again: thank you!"
"No problem. After all, we're a family now, or at least we will be soon. So, I'll go after the two of them; they probably won't be able to carry everything on their own."
"Should I go? Or at least come with you?"
"No, you better guard the table. Besides, I like my shirt the way it is, which is to say: white."
"Hey, not you too! Come on, zip off!"
I hurried over and caught my mother and Tim at the perfect moment, just as they had paid at the cash register and were about to head to our table with three trays. I grabbed one of the trays, and when my mother realized who the cheeky thief was, she was filled with relief.
"Heaven sent you, I have no idea how the two of us could have gotten rid of this!"
"It wasn't heaven-sent, but my own brilliant intuition that this was exactly what would happen. I'm not going to risk my food ending up on the floor because of the staff's weakness."
"Oh, thank you, me too!"
But she laughed at her words. Such banter was commonplace for us. The three of us pushed our way back to our table, where Reinhardt had heroically defended the empty seats against the ever-increasing crowds. Phew, we made it, and without any casualties! Luckily, because my stomach was rumbling violently by now, I dug into my food without much preamble, which I devoured in record time. Afterwards, I leaned back contentedly and watched the other three eat.
My mother, as usual, had only treated herself to a plate of salad and a bottle of mineral water. Reinhardt was working on a roulade accompanied by a glass of beer, and Tim was content with potato soup and a glass of orange juice. When everyone had finished their meals, my mother turned the conversation to the rest of the day.
"Reinhardt, have you planned anything we could do after Tim's final race?"
"No, not yet. I thought it would be better if we all talked about it together."
"Good thinking. Danny already has plans for tonight; a friend is throwing one of her famous parties, and he doesn't want to miss it."
"It's a shame, I was actually hoping we could do something together, especially so the boys could get to know each other a little better."
Hmm, I really didn't want to disappoint him, but I also didn't want to miss Katja's party. Wait, what was that? Was that an idea crawling through my brain? Wow, that could be the solution.
"I'm really sorry, Reinhardt, but the party's been planned for a long time. But I have an idea: Why doesn't Tim just come along? We could get to know each other some more, and you two would have a free evening."
"I don't know. Maria, what do you mean? What kind of parties are these?"
"Don't worry, Reinhardt, the group may have gone a little crazy, but they're completely harmless. I actually think it's a good idea. Tim will get to know a few of Danny's friends, and the two of them can bond without us two old folks constantly stepping on their toes."
"If you say so. Tim, what do you say?"
"I don't know. I don't want to intrude. Who knows if Danny's friends will even want me there."
"Don't worry about it, they want it. Especially the girls!"
"But they'll all be older than me."
"Not all of them. Most are seventeen or eighteen, but there will be a few your age there too. Mainly younger siblings, they're always invited. As long as they're not too young. Anyway, how much older am I than you? Six months, nine months? It really doesn't make much difference."
"Okay, if you say so."
"Hey, don't be so gloomy! I promise you'll have fun."
Maybe that was exactly what he was afraid of, because he was looking at me now with a somewhat pained, even a little fearful expression. But there was no way I was going to let him off the hook now. Aside from the fact that I really liked him, what Reinhardt had told me privately had left a certain impression. I mean, when my father died, that was bad enough, but at least we knew it was a tragic accident and that none of us could have changed it. Tim, on the other hand, seemed to blame himself for his "mother" abandoning him and his father, and I could imagine quite vividly what was going through his sweet little head.
"Okay, that settles that. What time does Tim have to be home?"
I looked at his father. Reinhardt, however, shrugged.
"Tim hasn't been a big partygoer so far, I have no idea. Maria, what do you think?"
"Well, it's Saturday, so let him off the leash a little. One o'clock should be enough; Katja's parties usually end by that time anyway."
"Great. Now we just have to figure out where I can pick him up. I don't want him wandering the streets in the middle of the night, possibly alone."
"He could stay in our guest room, which would be only a five-minute walk from the party, and he'd go with Danny."
"That sounds reasonable, Maria, thanks for the offer. So, it's a deal. And what are we two old people doing tonight?"
"I don't know, didn't you mention something about a new pub around the corner?"
"The Hotchkins? Good idea, I've been meaning to try that."
Reinhardt looked at my mother, and you could see his grey cells working.
"Hey guys, can we count on you two? It might get late for Maria and me too, and I think it wouldn't be a bad idea if she spent the night with us. But then we need to be sure that everything will go smoothly for you. What do you say?"
I looked at Tim, and Tim looked at me. He shrugged. That was enough encouragement for me.
"Go ahead, I told you you'd have a free evening. And I'll look after the little one."
The last sentence earned me a middle finger from the aforementioned person, but also a slight smile, which revealed that the gesture wasn't meant too seriously. Then Tim turned to his father.
"Dad, we'll have to stop by our place later. I don't have the right clothes for a party or anything for an overnight stay."
He was probably right, and Reinhardt also recognized this.
"No problem. After your victory, we'll go home. You grab a few things, then I'll treat you all to coffee at the Italian restaurant, and then we'll drop you two youngsters off at Maria's house. Agreed?"
There were no dissenting voices. Now that we'd all been fed and the lavish palaver had successfully concluded, we left the hospitable venue and returned to our seats in the stands. Tim went straight to the locker room; his final race would be called in half an hour. I got the camera ready again, changed the memory card and batteries, and set off to take more pictures. As I leisurely walked away from the other two, I overheard them telling each other how happy they were that everything had gone so smoothly. Well, what can I say? I was very pleasantly surprised myself. Although there was hardly any chance that Tim would return my deeper feelings—I also liked him as a brother; I could have done much worse. Now I just had to wait and see what would develop from this.
Half lost in thought, half taking photos, I didn't even notice how quickly the time passed, until Tim's race was called. I hurried to get a good position in time for the start. There he was, standing on the starting block in his smart blue swimsuit, and I just had time to aim at him before the starting gun fired.
Over the next minute and a half, I took several more photos, mostly with Tim in the spotlight. Tim, in turn, justified the attention he received with an extremely good race, never giving his opponents even the slightest chance. At his finish, he was more than two body lengths ahead and set a new national record. The spectators went wild, especially two particular spectators, and I was thrilled, too. Fortunately, thanks to my strategically chosen position, I was one of the first to congratulate Tim after he climbed out of the pool. He seemed a bit more confident now, as if he had proven to himself that he wasn't all he was cracked up to be.
After the next race, my mother and Reinhardt gathered to witness the awards ceremony up close. Naturally, I was there with my camera. Tim received his medal and a rather large trophy, and he was beaming from ear to ear. A sight that, in turn, brought tears of joy to his father's eyes. His son really seemed to mean a great deal to him, which was exactly how it should. Good prospects for the future, that is, if he could feel at least a fraction of that for me over time. It was obvious that my mother had already taken Tim into her heart.
As Tim stepped off the podium, he immediately rushed over to us and received the congratulations he deserved from the other two. When Reinhardt told him how proud he was of him, Tim couldn't hold back his tears either, and the two hugged each other tightly. My mother put her arm around my shoulders (not easy given the size difference) and smiled happily to herself. She seemed quite pleased with the day so far.
Afterwards, the hero of the day went to the locker room to change out of his tracksuit for something more appropriate. Fifteen minutes later, we all met at the cloakroom in the foyer. Tim appeared in all black: a black turtleneck, black jeans, a black jacket, black gloves, and a matching hat.
"I'm ready, we can."
"Did you dry your hair properly?"
"I have it, don't worry. I don't want to catch something just before Christmas."
By now, we'd also retrieved our jackets and coats, and I slipped into my outermost line of defense. Tim looked me up and down.
"Cool jacket."
"Thanks. Above all, nice and warm!"
"Tim, you have to remember this: Danny and sub-zero temperatures are like fire and water, they just don't mix."
Tim and Reinhardt laughed. Thanks, Mom.
"Just mock her and freeze."
We walked towards the exit and I pulled the hood over my head.
"Are you sure you're not subject to the mask ban in that elevator?"
"So what? Tim, we could never take the tram with you for that. You'd be immediately flagged as a fare dodger."
"Touch."
"Well, at least you can never get lost if you fall into a snowdrift."
Now we were all laughing, and two minutes later we reached Reinhardt's car. A dark green Chrysler Stratus, not bad. I've always had a preference for American cars, and even though this wasn't a Viper or even a Corvette, it was definitely better than the everyday German counterparts.
After a five-minute drive, the temperature in the car slowly became comfortable, and I leaned back into the seat. A quarter of an hour later, which was mostly filled with uninterrupted conversation between my mother and Reinhardt, we reached our destination, a newly renovated old building. Reinhardt turned off the engine.
"You're coming in for a few minutes, right?"
Since I knew from personal experience how quickly a car cools down in the prevailing outside temperatures, this offer came in very handy. We got out and entered the house, where we had to overcome a height difference of three floors until we reached the apartment door with the nameplate "Bergner." Reinhardt opened the door and, like a doorman at a luxury hotel, guided us past him into the hallowed halls. "Halls" was quite appropriate, by the way – large rooms, high ceilings, a full-size bowling alley could have easily fit in the hallway. I'll have to talk to my mother about this at some point. If we were to move in together, hopefully it would be in our house and not here, as nicely decorated as the apartment was.
We took off our jackets and coats and slipped out of our snow-soaked shoes – which presented Reinhardt with a small problem.
"Sorry, but we don't have any guest slippers at the moment. I threw the old ones in the dumpster last week. Is that a problem?"
The two of us guests looked at each other, then at the carpeted floor, then shook our heads.
"No, Reinhardt, really not."
"Very nice. Tim, can you pack some things? We'll wait for you in the living room."
"Okay, I'm on my way."
He made his way downstairs, and while Reinhardt opened the living room door for my mother, I watched his son leave. He stopped after a few steps, paused briefly, and then turned to us.
"Danny, do you want to come to my room?"
I certainly wouldn't miss this opportunity, but I tried not to show my enthusiasm about the invitation too clearly.
"Sure, why not?"
I followed Tim to the end of the miserably long corridor, where he opened a door bearing a large "No Trespassing" sign intended to deter uninvited visitors. Well, I guessed I didn't fit that description, so I fearlessly followed him into his private chambers. His room was considerably smaller than I had expected, considering the scale of the other rooms I'd already seen. My surprise must have been obvious.
"What is it, don't you like it?"
"Yes, yes, I was just thinking of something bigger."
The room was considerably smaller than my own. At most half the size, although almost twice the height. But it was very comfortably furnished. In a corner by the window stood a convertible couch, which served as a bed at night and a seat padded with lots of pillows during the day. Opposite it was a small wall unit with a fold-out desk, a small television, and a stereo system. Behind glass were a good dozen trophies and even more medals. There was also a wardrobe and a few shelves. Various posters hung on the walls, although I couldn't quite make sense of their combination. I mean, how do Lara Croft and the Backstreet Boys fit together? I turned back to my host, who now set about answering my unspoken question.
"I could have had a bigger room, but I like it better this way. It's somehow more comfortable when you can't get lost in your own room. The next room up is three times as big; I wouldn't even know what I could fit in there."
"Funny, but the word cozy just came to mind."
Tim smiled at me (seemingly relieved).
"You better sit on the couch while I pack my bag."
I did as I was told, and before Tim put his announcement into action, he turned on the radio, where the Spice Girls, whom I don't particularly admire, were performing. The couch was even more comfortable than it looked, and I took the opportunity to put my feet up for a bit after all that standing around by the pool.
Meanwhile, Tim had taken out a gym bag and began packing various things from several compartments and drawers. At first, I tried to follow his instructions, but eventually the short night before took its toll, and I must have actually fallen asleep.
"Danny? Hey, Danny, wake up!"
"Hmm... What? Oh crap, sorry, I must have dozed off. What did you just say?"
Now Tim didn't smile at me, no, he grinned mockingly! Okay, I guess I deserved it.
"I wanted to know if there's any dress code for the party. What should I wear?"
"Whatever you want, as long as you don't show up stark naked—which wouldn't be advisable in these temperatures anyway—everything goes." Huh, my mind wasn't quite there yet, otherwise I certainly wouldn't have blurted that out. Although, the idea... Tim stark naked... isn't so bad after all.
"What will you wear?"
"I don't know yet. Maybe white jeans and a blue shirt. Let's see what's hanging in the closet."
"I have something like that too. Would you mind if I wore it?"
"No problem. It doesn't bother me, but I would advise you never to show up to a party wearing the same dress as my mother. She can get pretty toxic."
"It's good that you told me that. I'll be careful. Luckily, I have a wide selection of clothes, so I should always be able to find something that's significantly different from what she's wearing."
Wow, that little guy had a sense of humor! Very good. We looked at each other and burst out laughing. When we'd calmed down, Tim looked at me somewhat uncertainly.
"What do you think, should I change now or wait until just before the party?"
"I guess it's better at my place. Especially safer. After all, your father wants to take us all to an Italian restaurant, and there are a lot of things he can pour on our clothes there."
Tim didn't seem to mind my little dig at his father; in fact, he was about to burst out laughing again. But he pulled himself together.
"You're right, that wouldn't be so great. So I'd better pack everything."
That's exactly what he did. Shortly afterward, he disappeared for a moment and returned with a smaller bag, which presumably contained his toiletries. He then packed these into his large sports bag.
"So, that's all, we can go as far as I'm concerned."
"Then we should probably see what our old folks are up to."
With a bit of sadness, I said goodbye to the comfortable couch and left Tim's room, trailing Tim in tow. Loud laughter erupted from the living room, and after a brief knock, we entered.
"Dad, I'm ready."
"Do you have everything you need?"
"I think so."
"And if he forgot something, it's not so bad, Danny can definitely help him with everything."
"Well, if you think so. Then go ahead, the Italian is waiting."
We left the house, got in the car, and five minutes later we were where we wanted to be. We found a nice spot by the window and perused the selection. Luckily for me, they served not only ice cream, but also a wide selection of cakes and pies. I opted for quark cake and a hot chocolate, and surprisingly, Tim agreed with me. We didn't have to wait long, and our order was soon served.
Reinhardt generously refrained from soiling other people's clothing and limited himself to decorating his own shirt with a coffee stain—which earned him a pained look from my mother.
"So Reinhardt, if we move in together, I refuse to constantly wash your dirty clothes! How can such a big guy be such a clumsy guy!"
"I plead guilty, but I point out mitigating circumstances. Look at that cup handle; it's not for such large hands."
She had to agree with him, though, and the rest of the coffee klatch passed peacefully and without further incident. Afterward, it wasn't long before Tim and I were dropped off at our house. The usual mix of farewells and reprimands followed.
"So, here we are. You guys behave yourselves, we're counting on you, got it?"
"Sure, Mom, don't worry."
"Hmm." She pulled me aside and lowered her voice. "Take care of Tim a little, so he doesn't end up sitting around the party all alone. He doesn't strike me as a great person to approach others on his own."
"Don't worry, I'll make sure he has fun too."
We went back to the other two, where Reinhardt was just catching up with his son.
"So, Tim, have fun. And remember, Danny's in charge. If he tells you something, listen, okay?"
Hmm, that sounded promising. Although, I certainly wouldn't take advantage of it. Never. Honestly.
"Got it."
A few brief farewells, and the two adults drove off. I looked at my charge.
"So, we're rid of those two lovebirds. Come in."
I opened the front door and pushed Tim into the hallway.
"The cloakroom is on the left, hang yourself up."
"Where can I put my wet shoes?"
"There's a rubber mat directly behind you. Put it on there."
While I was throwing my jacket onto a hanger, Tim took off his shoes, and it became clear once again that our hallway was a bit too narrow for two people. In other words, we kept bumping into each other. When Tim tried to push past me to the coat rack, I stopped him.
"Wait, this won't work. Give me your jacket, I'll take care of it."
"Thanks, it's probably better this way."
When all the jackets and shoes were finally where they belonged, I led Tim to the stairs.
"Go on upstairs, my room is the second door on the left."
"And what about you?"
"I'll be right there, I just want to get something from the kitchen. Now that your father's gone, it shouldn't be too dangerous to open a bottle of Coke. Would you like a glass too?"
"Sure, thanks."
Tim dragged his bag up the stairs, and I emptied the fridge of a large bottle of Coke, along with two glasses. Thus laden, I followed Tim toward my room.
My future little brother had left his bag there and was taking his time to look around. As I mentioned, my room was considerably larger than his and featured, among other things, a large-screen TV and a computer system with two printers, a scanner, a slide scanner, and a 19-inch monitor. Tim, however, had noticed something completely different.
"Tell me, what do you have two beds for?"
There were actually two such pieces of furniture in the room, and there was a good reason for that.
"The one on the left belongs more or less to Thomas, my best friend. He's been staying here pretty regularly for at least ten years—no wonder, he has an older brother and three younger sisters, and he's always happy to get away from the chaos for a night or two."
"I don't know, I always wanted siblings. It's no fun being alone."
I hadn't really thought about it yet. Being alone didn't bother me much, and besides, as I said, Thomas was a frequent guest.
"Well, it looks like your wish is finally coming true. I can't serve you as a sister, but I'm available as a brother."
"Well, I was thinking more of a younger brother, but I guess I can live with it."
Tim smiled at this, so I didn't worry about it any further.
"So this is Thomas's bed, and I thought I'd sleep here."
"Do you want to? Mom said something about the guest room, but if you want, you can sleep here. We just have to change the bedding."
"If I'm not bothering you too much, I'd actually prefer to be here. Please don't laugh at me, but this is the first time in ages that I've spent the night in a strange house, and all alone in a strange room... well, I'll have to get used to it."
"No problem. Besides, it's probably more fun with two people. If you want, you can take your toiletries to the bathroom—that's the door next to the closet. I'll take care of the bedding in the meantime."
Tim took his bag and opened the door, only to turn to me shortly afterwards with wide eyes.
"You have your own bathroom? Complete with a shower and tub?"
"Yep. After I started getting into more and more arguments with my mom, she had an additional bathroom installed."
"Great." And he disappeared into the aforementioned sanctuary.
I, in turn, grabbed all the bedding from Thomas's bed and carried it to the guest room to swap it with the one there. Back in my room, I made every effort to make the bed as perfect as before, but to be honest, I wasn't much of a star in that regard. Thomas, on the other hand—well, let's just say, both the couple and his future wife would be delighted with him. As I was making the final, more or less unsuccessful adjustments, Tim came back out of the bathroom.
"Well, is everything stowed away?"
"Yes. You're really lucky, having such a huge bathroom all to yourself. When I think of home... It's especially annoying in winter when you have to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, it always means a trek down the freezing cold corridor."
"Well, as the saying goes: My toilet is your toilet. At least tonight you'll be spared such an unpleasant trip."
"Thanks. With benefits like these, I might even be able to get used to having an older brother."
"I hope so, our parents are counting on us."
"It's not my fault. By the way, when do we have to leave? Should I get changed already?"
"We have plenty of time. We don't have to be at Katja's until seven, so it's enough if we leave around three-quarters."
Tim looked at his watch. It was just before four.
"So what do we do with all this time?"
"Well, I don't know what you're doing, but I'm going to jump in the shower now."
"What, I think you're afraid of water?"
"That only applies to deeper waters. I don't mind a nice hot shower. By the way, you've already had a fair amount of water today, but if you want, you can have another one after me."
"Hmm. Thanks for the offer, but I'm not really in the mood for a shower right now."
"No problem, it was just a suggestion."
"Uh, without wanting to sound too pushy, but..."
Tim stopped mid-sentence.
"Come on, spit it out, I'll tell you if you get too pushy."
Which I could hardly imagine.
"Well, my bones are a little sore, and the best thing to do is a hot bath. So, if it's not too much trouble..."
"Absolutely not. When I come home from karate training, that's my favorite thing to do, too."
"Thanks."
"No problem."
I went to my closet and took out a few extra large bath towels.
"Here, take these."
Then I took some clean underwear from my closet and put it in the bathroom. Now the big question arose: Where should I undress? In the bathroom? Well, that would seem a bit silly. In the room? In front of the boy I had a more or less crush on? Not the best idea either. I decided on the happy medium. In the room, I would undress down to my underwear, and then do the rest in the bathroom. I undid the straps of my overalls and let them fall down. Then I pulled the fleece shirt over my head. Then came the moment of truth: I let the jeans slide down my legs. Tim didn't pay much attention to this, but continued to look around the room with interest. He had just discovered my CD collection and was studying it closely. I put my removed clothes on a chair and headed towards the bathroom.
"Right, I'm off. If you want, put on some music or whatever. If anything happens, just come in. With the water running, I won't hear you calling or knocking from outside anyway."
"Okay." Without turning his head toward me, I disappeared into the bathroom.
Once there, I first slipped out of the rest of my clothes, stuffed them into the laundry basket, then laid out my toiletries, adjusted the water temperature to a comfortable level, and finally jumped under the water jet, closing the shower door behind me.
As usual, I completely lost track of time and my surroundings while standing in the shower. There was hardly anything more pleasant for me than the warm water flowing down my back. I was at peace with myself and the world, but suddenly there was a knock on the frosted glass of the shower stall.
»Danny?«
"Yes, what's up?"
"Sorry to bother you, but do you mind if I turn on the tub?"
"Go ahead, I'll be done soon anyway."
"Don't worry, I don't want to rush you. Stay as long as you want."
I really should be ending my shower orgy now, but on the other hand... It was just so pleasant. And again, I was startled by Tim some time later.
"Do you mind if I get in the tub?"
I looked at my waterproof watch. Oops, I'd actually been in the shower for half an hour! Not particularly hospitable. And now I was going to see Tim naked, and he was going to see me too! But whatever, after all, he was the one who came up with the idea, not that I pressured him into it.
"Go ahead. Sorry I'm so slow."
"No problem, I often lose track of time when it comes to things like this."
As I reached for the shower gel and soaped myself thoroughly, I saw Tim's shadow through the frosted glass walk to the tub and then step in. Shortly afterwards, I heard a satisfied groan. I hurried with my errands, and five minutes later, I was wondering how best to escape from the shower stall and the bath. I didn't really come up with anything. So I rinsed myself thoroughly again, then turned off the tap, opened the stall door, and stepped out. It was to my advantage that Tim couldn't really see me from his position at this point; between us lay the shower stall and its outward-opening door. So I could feel more or less safe from his gaze and dry myself undisturbed. My things, however, were at the other end of the bathroom, and I would soon have to leave the privacy screen. Well, there was one more option. I tied one of the large bath towels around my waist and moved into Tim's field of vision.
"Well, little brother, is it nice?"
I dared to look in his direction without really seeing anything, because with the exception of his head, his entire body was hidden under a thick layer of foam.
"Thanks, big brother. Simply wonderful. I can already feel my muscles relaxing."
"Then that's fine. Stay inside as long as you want. I'll let you know in advance so we can leave on time."
"Okay. I'll try not to fall asleep."
I grabbed my things from the stool and left the bathroom. It was now almost five, still way too early to get fully dressed for the party. So I just slipped into my clean clothes, which, like the morning before, consisted of a T-shirt and tights (now that's what you call a well-trained son). Let's see how Tim would react.
Once that was done and I had quickly dried my hair, I sat cross-legged in my computer chair and started up my Mac. I wanted to use the time Tim was spending in the tub to quickly check my emails. The computer booted up, and a few minutes later I was engrossed in answering a classmate's call for technical assistance. I didn't notice that Tim had gotten out of the tub and returned to the room until he spoke directly to me.
"I'm back. That was simply wonderful, exactly what I needed."
"Very nice. Doesn't surprise me, for a water rat like you."
"That's just how I am. Even as a little kid, I jumped in every puddle."
"I really hope you've given up that habit by now."
"I think so. It hasn't happened to me in the last three months, anyway."
I turned my chair and looked in Tim's direction. He was standing in the room, wearing only boxer shorts, looking around.
"Do you have a hairdryer somewhere?"
I pointed to my bed, where the device was lying half-hidden by the pillow. To get there, Tim had to walk past me, and I was able to admire his swimmer's body up close. And "admire" was the right word. Although it was already December, he still had the remnants of a summer tan, and his smooth skin was untarnished by any hairs or other unsightly things. Luckily, my loosely hanging T-shirt covered a certain region of my body. Tim, who had stopped a meter away from me, was now staring at precisely these lower parts of my body. However, as his next words showed, he had something other than my aforementioned problem in mind.
"Tell me, what are you wearing?"
Even though I knew exactly what he meant, I decided to act a little uncomprehending.
"A T-shirt, why?"
"Nonsense. I mean down there. They're pantyhose, right?"
"Oh, that. Yes, you're right."
"And you wear something like that?"
"Not entirely voluntary, my mother insists."
"Well, I would never play along with that."
An idea came to me: he just shouldn't feel too safe.
"Just wait, once we're a family, this order will apply to you too, you can count on it."
"Never! If necessary, I'll talk to my father about it; he'll talk her out of it."
"I wouldn't be so sure about that. My mother can be damn stubborn, and knowing her, after a conversation like that between the two of them, not only you but your father too will be walking around in those things."
"I really can't imagine it."
"Trust me. But it's not that bad; at least they're nice and warm."
"That seems to be the most important thing for you."
"Exactly. If winter can't be avoided, then at least I don't want to freeze. And don't tell me you only wear jeans in this cold."
"Nope, I never said that either."
Tim went ahead and got the hairdryer, then returned to "his" bed and sat down on it, reaching for a pile of laundry that I just noticed.
"Thermal underwear. Between you and me, I don't like being cold either. Besides, my dad would never let me go out without something underneath. But he'd never think of putting tights on me."
"Well, that's more of a mother's domain. We'll see. Either I'll be allowed to wear something like you in the future, or you'll soon find a stack of tights in your underwear drawer. I'm afraid the latter will happen, though; the odds are probably about 10:1."
Tim grumbled something into his nonexistent beard and began putting on the aforementioned long underwear. I watched him, and a few moments later he was dressed head to toe in light blue. He also added a pair of thick socks. This sight reminded me of another question that had been bothering me since the swim meet.
"Tell me, do these swimsuits really do anything? I mean, okay, you won, that should be proof enough, but still..."
"As you may have noticed, someone else in my semifinal was wearing a suit like that, and he only came second to last."
"Hmm, right, I completely forgot."
"But seriously: my coach says you have to believe in it for it to work. I believe in it, and as you can see, it seems to be working. Plus, there's something else behind it: in return for me wearing it, our team is fully outfitted with swimwear and training gear from the sponsor."
"That's quite an incentive, though."
"Exactly. We're neither a particularly big nor a particularly good club, and we have to be careful with the money. So, of course, an offer like this comes at just the right time."
"Well, if you keep winning like this, your club's status will probably change for the better soon. And don't start saying you're not that good again. Finally believe what everyone else tells you. Or does that just not register in your head?"
Tim looked down embarrassed.
"Maybe you're right after all. It's just... well, I guess I'm pretty critical of myself."
"You're no longer critical, you're overly strict. But we'll get rid of that."
Now Tim laughed, and I leaned back in my chair, satisfied. I just couldn't get enough of the sight. He reached for the hairdryer, then looked back in my direction. And his gaze froze! Hey, I thought he'd gotten over the whole thing with the tights? But wait, he wasn't staring at me, he was staring past me. But at what? Oh my god! I suddenly realized what had shocked him. I hadn't given the computer the attention it deserved for several minutes, with the result that the screen saver had activated. And it consisted of a slide show. To be precise, a slide show of rather explicit and revealing images that I had downloaded from the internet during late nights. In a split second, I turned to the computer and moved the mouse, thus ending the screen saver. Of course, covering the well after the kid fell in. Good work, Danny. I didn't dare turn back to Tim.
A period of time passed that seemed like an eternity to me, but was probably only a few short minutes, if not seconds. Then Tim found his voice again.
"Um, Danny, are you gay?"
Well, what should I answer? I thought feverishly, but there was no way out in sight. There was really nothing left to hide or deny. This was probably the end of my friendship with my future little brother, which had begun so hopefully. Without turning around, I answered him in a low voice.
"Looks like it, doesn't it?"
"However."
"And?"
"What and?"
"Well, are you angry, shocked, disgusted? I'm assuming you don't want to sleep in this room anymore. I'll change the bedding again."
"Not so fast, okay? I need to figure this out myself first."
Hmm, could there really still be hope? Okay, I knew I probably didn't stand a chance with him, but I would be perfectly content if he accepted me as a brother and friend. I gathered all my courage and turned to him. I saw an expression on Tim's face that I hadn't seen before. He wasn't smiling, nor was he angry, and I couldn't detect the introverted look that had been so pronounced that morning. Then he looked straight at me, and I found it extremely difficult to hold his gaze.
"Leave it, I'll sleep here in the room anyway. That is, if you don't mind."
"Absolutely not, but... I mean, will you be able to handle it?"
"Don't worry about it. Besides, I don't have to worry about you attacking me in the night, do I?"
I'd rather not tell him how much I'd love to do just that. Besides, I knew I would avoid it at all costs.
"You can be absolutely sure, you're in no danger from me."
"Why not?"
I thought I had misheard.
»Huh?«
"I mean, do you think I'm ugly or why am I not in danger from you?"
I had to digest that first. And then I decided to be somewhat honest with him.
»Äh, Tim, ich finde dich wirklich nicht häßlich, ganz im Gegenteil. Aber ich kann dir garantieren, daß ich niemals, wirklich niemals, irgendetwas gegen deinen Willen tun würde.«
»Da bin ich ja beruhigt. Ich dachte schon ich hätte irgendwas an mir, was dich abstößt.«
»Wirklich nicht.«
Eines mußte ich nun allerdings wirklich genauer wissen, seine Frage, ob ich ihn häßlich finden würde, hatte in mir doch einige Zweifel geweckt.
»Sag mal, Tim, flipp jetzt bitte nicht aus, aber … bist du etwa auch schwul?«
Er starrte mich eine Minute schweigend an.
»Du brauchst die Frage nicht zu beantworten, vergiß es einfach.«
»Nein. Du warst ehrlich zu mir, also muß ich es auch zu dir sein…«
Ich unterbrach ihn.
»Tim, du mußt gar nichts. Meine Ehrlichkeit war auch nur erzwungen, wenn nicht die Sache mit dem Computer gewesen und ein weiteres Verschweigen eh unmöglich gewesen wäre, hätte ich es dir bestimmt nicht gesagt, zumindest nicht schon heute.«
"It's okay. You want to know if I'm gay? To be honest, I don't know. I've never thought about it. I mean, I've never been with anyone, neither a girl nor a boy. And it's not like I've ever been missing anything. But I can tell you one thing for sure: I don't have a problem with you being gay, really."
Phew, now I was relieved. The weight that had been lifted from my heart was the size of an Ice Age boulder. And the impact had certainly been recorded by all the surrounding seismological stations.
"Thank you, Tim. This really means a lot to me. I really like you, don't worry, as a brother and a friend. I'd hate for this to put a strain on our relationship."
"Like I said, it won't. But just to be on the safe side, so I don't let it slip: does anyone else know about this? After all, I don't want your mother to have a heart attack because of one careless word I said."
"Definitely not her, she was the first to find out. But it's nice of you to think of it. Well, apart from my mother, all my friends actually know, so there's no danger."
"And my father?"
"If he doesn't know from my mother—and I doubt she told him without asking me first—then he's still clueless. And I'd prefer it stay that way for now. I'll certainly tell him at some point, but I really want him to hear it from me, at the time I see fit."
"Okay, my lips are sealed."
"Thanks."
"But what I'm really interested in is: when and how did you notice it yourself? If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine, but I'd really like to know."
So I started telling Tim my story, with all the ups and downs, the support and the rejections. I even told him about the time I seriously considered suicide. Now that was something I hadn't told anyone before; not even my mother knew about it, because I didn't want to worry her. Why I told all this to Tim now – I have no idea. Maybe it was just because I just had to tell someone. I had buried that time deep in my memories, and somehow it felt good to let it out for once. Tim listened very attentively, asked a few questions, and made a genuine effort to understand everything.
"You really wanted to kill yourself?"
"Well, not really, otherwise I certainly would have. But the thought did cross my mind a few times."
"Why?"
"I was scared. Afraid that no one would want anything to do with me anymore. Afraid that I would lose my mother after losing my father. Afraid of no longer having any friends. I was fourteen or fifteen, so such thoughts can be quite terrifying."
"Sorry, that was a stupid question."
"You don't need to apologize. The question wasn't that stupid. It's just hard to understand for someone who hasn't experienced it themselves. At the time, I thought I had no one to talk to about it. Luckily, I eventually got the courage to tell my mother, and from then on—with a slight delay—things started to look up again. And Tim?"
»And?«
"If you ever need someone to talk to and don't want to go to Reinhardt or even my mother, then try me. You can talk to me about anything; I will never laugh at you or despise you for anything or anything. You'll see, if you let someone in on your problems, it will be much easier to solve them."
"Thanks. Honestly. No one has ever made me an offer like that."
"Well, it's written. Whenever you want to come back to it, that's fine with me. But darn it, we've wasted a lot of time chatting. We need to get going; I have some things to do before the party at Katja's."
"Shit. My fault again, I kept us so long with my curiosity."
"Stop apologizing all the time. It's late, but not too late. Besides, I was the one who delivered such a long monologue. But come on, let's get dressed and then head out."
"Agreed. And Danny... thank you for telling me all this. It means a lot to me that you confided in me."
"Hey, no secrets between brothers, okay?"
»Okay.«
With these words, we both stood up and got fully dressed. I turned off the computer, grabbed two large plastic bags, and headed toward the bedroom door.
"Come on, Tim, we need to dismantle some of the furniture."
He looked at me with a rather confused expression.
"What do you mean by that?"
"So, my mom is a total radio freak. She wants to be able to listen to her favorite station in every room. But we only have one radio hooked up to the cable, and she can't get that station via antenna. So I built a radio link for her from that one radio, with speakers in all the rooms she's in. And now we're dismantling this radio link, minus the speakers, and taking it with us to the party. That way, Katja can entertain the whole house from the system in her room."
"Aha, so that's why you absolutely had to go to this party."
"Well, I'd like to think I'm being invited solely because of my inimitable charm, but I fear my technical genius also plays a role."
In the meantime we had arrived on the ground floor.
"So come on, you hold the bags for me, I'll pack the equipment."
Ten minutes later, everything was stowed away, we slipped into shoes and jackets, and set off on the short walk to the venue of the major cultural event.
After a few minutes of intense suffering under the prevailing cold, I pressed the bell, and apparently Katja had been standing right behind the door, because the door was opened immediately.
"Hi Danny, I'm so glad you could come. Thomas told me about your little dilemma."
"Are you happy to see me or the contents of these bags?"
"Well, how could you doubt me! The answer to that is obvious. Bring me the bags! You can pick them up here tomorrow."
"Your warm greetings always surprise me. By the way, this is Tim, my future... er, future stepbrother, I mean. I thought I'd bring him along, I hope you don't mind. Tim, this disheveled figure here is Katja, the unwelcoming organizer of today's event. And if she doesn't let us in soon and save us from the cold, we're going home."
"No way, get in. Danny, you can't leave until the system is running. Your new brother is cute, he can stay anyway. You have to tell me
just say whether I should set him up with a girl or a boy."
Oh oh, she had really put her foot in it. Poor Tim turned alternately bright red and deathly pale.
"Just don't listen to what Katja says. If you take her seriously, it's your own fault. Besides, Katja, your matchmaking never worked for me. How do you think you could do better with Tim?"
"Quite simply, he's definitely better looking than you."
"Okay. You want a party without music—you'll get a party without music. Tim, how about a cozy video night at our house?"
"Oh no! Oh, please, please, Danny, you said yourself that I'm not to be taken seriously! Please stay here and set up the system, I beg you! I'll do anything you ask. Should I organize a male escort for you tonight? Or should I force a few of the guys who are coming today to play a round of strip poker with you? Name your wish, and it shall be granted."
"You know what, I don't want to be like that. I'll save that wish for a better opportunity, and I guarantee I won't forget. So come on, Tim, take off your jacket and get to work."
Katja jumped up and down happily.
"Yippee, I knew I could rely on you. You are and will always be my favorite gay."
"Thank you very much."
Suddenly she put her hands over her mouth.
"Oh my God, sorry Danny. I hope Tim already knew, or did I let it slip again?"
"He already knows, even if only for a little over an hour."
"That's reassuring. So, you know where everything is, I have other things to worry about."
"Is anyone else here yet?"
"Jürgen is preparing the grill, and Lisa and her boyfriend have already stocked the bar. The first guests will probably show up in about half an hour. Do you have enough time?"
"Don't worry, it's not the first time."
Katja disappeared, and Tim and I set about fitting wireless receivers to the speakers in the rooms. Once that was done, we went to Katja's room to connect the transmitter to her system. Just as I was about to open the door, the owner of the room came running in.
"Wait, Danny, my system is broken, we have to use my brother's."
"Does he already know about his luck?"
Katja and her little brother Ralph, just fifteen years old, didn't get along particularly well—well, I felt a little sorry for the poor little fellow. Living under the same roof as Katja all the time must have seemed like a completely undeserved, constant punishment to him.
"No, but he's not even home. He's out with his friends. Just go in and plug everything in. Right, I'm off."
I wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea of just breaking into a stranger's room and messing around with someone else's property without asking, but I had to get by somehow. With Tim in tow, I walked to Ralph's door and opened it with a flourish, then took a long step into the room that was completely unknown to me. It was pitch black, so I reached purposefully for the light switch, and shortly afterwards, the light from several halogen spotlights blinded my eyes. But not enough to prevent me from seeing that Katja had been completely wrong when she said her brother wasn't home. Ralph was there, lying on his bed—and he was clearly not alone. I could only really see him, but there were a few blond hairs that didn't match his brown ones, and besides, I was pretty sure that the last time we'd seen him, he'd only had two feet, not four. He was fully dressed, but the position of his body didn't leave much room for interpretation as to what was going on. The kid had nerves – party preparations were in full swing all over the house, and he was calmly enjoying himself with his girlfriend! Yeah, youth. He wasn't thrilled by my impetuous intrusion, though.
"Damn it, what's going on? Who's there? Get out of here!"
Did he want to know who had broken in, or did he want the intruder to leave immediately? As much as I could understand his reaction, my natural curiosity got the better of me, and I decided to answer his questions first.
"It's me, Danny. Your lovely sister told me to connect the radio transmitter to your stereo. Apparently, you're not even in the house."
Ralph continued to remain in the position in which I had found him.
"That was never mentioned, damn it."
The little commotion had now also attracted Katja.
"What's going on here? Ralph? I think you're out with your friends?"
The person in question slumped a little.
"Danny, please give me two minutes, okay? And get that stupid goat off my back."
»Okay.«
I pushed myself back out through the bedroom door, pushing Katja and Tim ahead of me. Once we were all outside, I closed the door and spread myself out in front of her, preventing Ralph's sister from rushing back in.
"That little bastard, what is he doing here?"
"Uh, just as a heads-up, the little bastard lives here. This is his room. We're the ones who really have no business being in there."
"And what do we do now? He'll never let me use his system!"
"You have only yourself to blame, you model big sister."
At that moment the doorbell rang again.
"I suggest you take care of your guests while I try to sort this out. If Ralph sees your face again, he'll definitely get stubborn."
"Okay, I'll count on you. But later I want to know who that slut was he was messing around with. Our parents put me in charge!"
"Ah, come on, Katja. Your brother's growing up. My God, they were both fully clothed, nothing much could have happened. Besides, do I need to remind you of the stunts you pulled when you were fifteen? So go ahead, get lost, I'll take care of everything."
She gave me another doubtful look, but my last remark seemed to have sunk in. Shaking her head, she made her way to the front door, which was now ringing furiously. I turned to Tim, who was leaning against the doorpost with a grin on his face.
"Well, I have to give you credit for one thing, Danny, when you're out and about, you can experience a lot."
"I promised you'd have fun."
Tim didn't get a chance to answer because at that moment the door to the room opened and Ralph stuck his head through the crack.
"Danny, would you please come in? Alone."
I glanced briefly at Tim, who shrugged, and then I followed Katja's brother into his room. His visitor had curled up under the covers, only a piece of blond hair peeking out, and a quiet sob could be heard from the corner. Upon closer inspection, I noticed that Ralph's eyes also looked a little red and tear-stained. He sat down on his bed next to the curled-up bundle and stroked the hidden head soothingly.
"Danny, thanks for kicking Katja out."
"It's okay. Ralph, I'm really sorry to barge in like this, but your sister claimed you weren't home."
"My plans have just changed a little."
"You don't need to justify yourself; that's probably more my job. But come on, it's not that bad. I mean, hey, you're getting old enough, aren't you? So how about you introduce me to your girlfriend and we tackle the technical stuff together?"
Ralph gave me a slightly pained look, then turned to the still softly sobbing bundle, took it in his arms, and slowly pulled it upright, the protective blanket slowly but surely slipping away to reveal a tear-stained face. A tear-stained, pretty face. The face of a boy!
"Danny, may I introduce you to Christoph? Chris, this is Danny, a friend of my sister. You don't have to be afraid, he's okay. He's..."
Ralph stopped mid-sentence.
"Go ahead and say it. It's not like I'm making a secret of it. I'm gay. And I'm probably not the only one in this room right now. By the way, is Christoph with an 'f' or a 'ph'?"
»What is ›ph‹.«
"Well, great, you two fit together perfectly. Ralph with a 'ph' and Christoph with a 'ph'. You couldn't have chosen better."
A slight smile spread across two rather stressed faces. Ralph looked at me questioningly.
"What should we do now?"
I thought about it for a moment.
"Is there any way out of your room other than through the main corridor? A back exit, perhaps?"
"No. I mean, there's a back exit, but we'd still have to go downstairs and past the living room."
"Hmm. What about the window? Any way to get down safely?"
We were on the first floor, but maybe there was some kind of flower trellis or something like that.
"The entrance to the underground parking garage is under my window, no chance of getting down there safely."
Damn. I was slowly running out of ideas. In the meantime, the doorbell had rung several more times, and the number of guests was increasing. And Katja had surely already told everyone that she had caught her brother performing "immoral acts." Any attempt to sneak the two lovers out of the house unnoticed was doomed to failure.
"Have you ever thought about coming out? If not, now would be a good time to start."
"You can't be serious! That would be the end of us!"
"So for me, it wasn't the end. And practically everyone out there knows about me."
"Don't worry, my sister will make sure I don't survive."
"Does anyone even know about you two yet?"
"My parents."
Those were the first words I heard from Ralph's friend.
"About you as a couple or just that you're gay?"
"Both."
This answer now seemed to surprise Ralph greatly.
"What? You told your parents? Why?"
"I couldn't help it. They've known I'm into boys for a while, and since I've been with you so much lately, they put two and two together and asked me about it. I wouldn't have told them on my own, but I just couldn't lie to them. Will you forgive me?"
He stared at his friend with wide eyes that made you feel like you had to forgive anything. At least, that's how I felt, and Ralph wasn't spared that impression either.
"Okay, okay. I'll have to get used to it, though. When did that happen?"
"Two weeks ago, after the weekend you spent with me."
"It's been that long? And your parents never said anything, they just smiled at me and treated me like they always do! They even invited me to more sleepovers!"
"You see, Ralph, it's not that bad. Your parents haven't had any problems with me so far. The way I see it, you only have two options: either you leave quietly and silently, where you'll definitely be noticed. Then there'll be a lot of gossip, and everything will happen behind your back, without you being able to defend yourself. Or you can go out there with your head held high, say nothing about the subject at first, but if someone confronts you about it, tell the truth. Your decision, but I don't see any other alternatives."
The two caught sinners looked at each other silently for a moment. Then they nodded, hugged each other once more, and stood up. Ralph took the lead.
"Okay, let's get to it."
I stopped them both on their way to the door.
"Wait, you should do something with your faces first. You're not exactly looking your best right now. The bathroom's right across the street, right?"
"Correct."
"Okay, wait a moment."
I stuck my head out the door and beckoned Tim over.
"Please go to the corner of the corridor and check if the air is clear."
Tim looked at me questioningly, but then did as I asked. He glanced around the corner and gave me a thumbs-up. I opened the bedroom door wide and pushed the two lovesick boys out into the hallway.
"Come on, get going before someone else comes. You'll be back in five minutes, then we'll take care of the tech first. That gives you a little reprieve."
Ralph and Christoph disappeared into the bathroom, and I could hear the key turning in the lock. They could have thought of that earlier in Ralph's room!
For my part, I walked over to Tim, who was staring at me with wide eyes. I grinned and shrugged.
"Did you know this beforehand or was it a surprise for you too?"
"I had no idea. But I think they make a cute couple, don't you?"
"Hmm. In any case, they were lucky that you surprised them."
We stood at the corner for a while, and I explained to Tim what would happen next. Then we heard the key again, and the bathroom door opened. The two boys dashed back down the hall to Ralph's room, and I followed them, pulling Tim along with me. When we arrived in the room, Ralph and Chris were sitting close together on the bed, but when they saw Tim, they immediately moved apart. I had to grin.
"Just sit there, Tim is cool."
Ralph looked at Tim questioningly.
"Is he your... your friend?"
"My future brother. He knows about me, and now about you too. So let's get the technology up and running. That is, if you're still willing to make it available after all this."
"Do I have a choice?"
"Yes. Just say no and I'll leave."
"I actually believe you. But that probably wouldn't be such a good idea anyway. I can't afford to make all those people down there angry with me. Let's get started."
There wasn't much to do; the biggest problem was that, as usual, all the necessary sockets and plugs were located in the most inaccessible places. Just as I had plugged in the last connection, there was a knock on the door. It opened, and Thomas entered.
"Katja sent me to ask how the music is going. And I'd like to see the girl who turned little Casanova's head."
Thomas looked around the room, but couldn't find any female being.
"What, have you already smuggled the little girl out? Good work, Katja will freak out when she finds out."
The four of us looked at each other, the corners of our mouths twitching, then burst out laughing. Even the two people we'd caught joined in. Thomas, on the other hand, stood there completely stunned, unable to keep up.
"Uh, could someone enlighten me?"
"But that would actually be a job for your parents, don't you think?"
Thomas gave me a slightly offended look. Well, I didn't want to let him die stupidly.
"Thomas, this is Tim next to me. We've already talked about him."
"Ah, yes, I'm glad. Good idea that you brought him to the party, that way you're killing two birds with one stone. So, who's that next to Ralph?"
Katja's brother grabbed Chris's hand, gathered all his courage and answered Thomas.
"This is Christoph. He's the one who turned my head."
Thomas gasped for air like a carp out of water.
"That...that...I just don't believe that. Danny's been looking for his dream prince for years, and these two little brats are a couple?"
His expression revealed that he found the whole thing funny.
"Congratulations, you two. Ralph, I hope you realize that if this gets out, half the girls in your grade will fall into severe depression."
I had to agree with him; both Ralph and his friend were truly very attractive. If they weren't a little too young for me, I'd probably be kicking myself for not having tried to get close to Katja's little brother sooner. Thomas brought me back to reality with his next question.
"And how are we going to proceed from here?"
Together, we explained to him how we envisioned the matter proceeding. Thomas wore a serious face and nodded in agreement at the end of our explanations.
"Danny's right, this is the best solution. I think you don't have to worry; the people here are all hand-picked. We've been making sure for a long time that only people who don't have a problem with Danny show up at our parties. It would be stupid if, in the middle of the best mood, some intolerant asshole started hitting on one of our best friends."
Well, that was news to me. And I had sometimes wondered why everything had always gone so smoothly. No one ever looked at me strangely at such celebrations, and strangely enough, those who made silly remarks at school never showed up. Why that was so suddenly became clear to me—and at the same time, I realized that I had even better friends than I had ever dared hope.
"Danny, here are some CDs. You'd better get the music going before angry crowds make their way up here. In the meantime, I'll show Tim around and introduce him to everyone."
With these words, Thomas pressed a bag full of CDs into my hand, grabbed my bewildered future stepbrother, and pulled him out of the room. Okay, if he says so. I reached into the bag and pulled out the CDs, a colorful mix, spanning the charts of the past few years.
"Ralph, this is your system, so you equip it."
He nodded. While plugging in the cables, I'd noticed that he had a 5-disk changer—once it was set up, we'd have peace (or rather, music) for a long time. Three minutes later, the first track started playing, and we decided to go into the lion's den. But before we left the room, I had something else to say.
"Listen, guys, I hope this isn't offending you, but... you know about safe sex, right?"
The color their faces now took on would have done credit to a Dutch greenhouse tomato. A bashful nod was their response.
"Well, that's fine. I just wanted to make sure you weren't doing anything stupid. So let's go downstairs. And remember, just mingle with the guests as if nothing at all has happened."
"Okay. And Danny? Thanks."
"It was a pleasure. Let's march!"
Pushing the unsteady couple ahead of me, I headed downstairs, where the festivities were slowly getting underway. Among the guests, I spotted Thomas's oldest sister, who was just the right age for my two charges. I didn't know if they already knew each other, but I knew they would find out. With gentle pressure, I steered Ralph and Christoph in the direction they wanted.
"Hello Caren, have you managed to persuade Thomas to bring you along again?"
"Hi Danny, well, you know he can't say no to anything I ask. This is Patrick, by the way, my friend. Patrick, this is Danny. He's the one who has the unpleasant task of keeping Thomas out of trouble."
I had to grin; that was actually true—well, at least there was a small grain of truth in it. Thomas sometimes had these strange impulses. For example, he once managed to yell at three bald guys who had more or less accidentally bumped into him. Luckily, I was there to mediate. All I'm saying is: karate. Luckily, it happened on a school trip, otherwise it could have had unpleasant consequences. But back to the current situation. A boy with fiery red hair extended his right hand toward me.
"You'll certainly have your hands full. At least if you can believe what Caren says about her brother."
"It's not quite that bad. By the way, this is Ralph and Christoph. Ralph is in the unfortunate position of being Katja's brother. Or do you already know each other?"
"I've seen Ralph before, but Christoph is new to me. You don't go to our school, do you?"
"No, I go to the same school as Patrick. We already know each other."
The two lovers were obviously in good hands, so I was able to slowly pull away.
"So, have fun, I'm going to take a tour of the house."
I left, trying to spot Tim in the growing crowd. Ah yes, there he was, at the other end of the living room, where Thomas was introducing him to a group of our friends. Tim seemed quite comfortable, and I decided to leave him in Thomas's care for a little while longer. I slowly felt my stomach start to rumble, and I made my way to the manger. Halfway there, however, I was intercepted by our hostess and her boyfriend. I greeted Karsten and immediately tried to disappear again, but I hadn't counted on Katja.
"Stay here! Where are you going in such a hurry?"
"Into the kitchen, if you don't mind. The forced labor you've sentenced me to has made me quite hungry. So if you'll excuse me..."
"No way! You still owe me some answers. So, who was that chick who came on to my little brother?"
"You'd better ask him yourself. By the way, who have you told all this?"
"Just Thomas and Karsten. And Jürgen. And Lisa."
"No one else?"
"No! But why do you want to know?"
Hmm, that sounded better than I feared. If I hurried, I'd be able to catch all of those in time—before there was a big bang.
"Katja, I'm absolutely serious about what's coming next. I want it to stay at just a few people, understand?"
"Well, tell me, since when have you been so interested in my brother?"
"Do you understand me?"
Katja must have seen from my look that the matter was really important and deadly serious to me.
"Yeah, okay, I understand. I promise."
"Good. Karsten?"
"I'm staying completely out of it. I don't care what the little heartbreaker did, no one will find out from me."
"Very nice. Okay, I have to move on."
For the moment, my protesting stomach was forgotten, and I went in search of the people Katja had mentioned as being in the know. A quick glance around, I spotted Lisa handing out drinks with her friend Mike. I pushed my way over to them.
"Hello Lisa, Mike."
"Danny, hello, what can we offer you?"
"Nothing at the moment, thanks. Mike, can I steal your girlfriend for a minute?"
"Go ahead, I can manage on my own. It's not like I have to worry about you."
"Don't be so sure, maybe I've just discovered my bi-sense."
I pulled a surprised Lisa into a quieter corner.
"I heard Katja told you that we caught her brother having, well, a kind of tryst."
"Yes, she did, and I think she should have kept that to herself. I certainly didn't want to know, and I hope you don't plan on spreading it around either."
It's nice when it turns out that you assessed someone correctly.
"Don't worry, I was just about to persuade you not to tell anyone. That doesn't seem necessary now."
"You can count on it. The poor boy is punished badly enough with Katja as a sister. But something else: Thomas was with us earlier and introduced us to your future brother. God, he's cute! And so shy. Knowing you, you immediately fell in love with him."
Great, now it was my turn to blush.
"Am I that easy to see through?"
"Only for those of us who know and love you. Besides, I can relate to Tim. Hell, even I could be weak around him. If you ever tell Mike, I'll staunchly claim I never said it!"
"Too late, I recorded everything for future blackmail attempts. Right, I have to go, do damage control. Save me something nice, something nice to drink, I mean."
I left Lisa to herself again and took another look around the crowd. There were probably fifty or more people there by now, and I decided not to volunteer to clean up after the party this time. Just as I was about to head to the kitchen to see Jürgen, someone tugged on my arm from behind. I turned around, and Thomas and Tim were standing in front of me. The former spoke to me.
"So, there's your brother again. I've shown him around a bit, but now I'd like to start looking for a girlfriend for the evening. So if you'll excuse me..."
And he wanted to get away, but I stopped him for a moment.
"Thomas, you can leave right away, just one more thing. Katja only told you, Karsten, Lisa, and Jürgen about what happened earlier. I'm in the process of sealing everyone's lips, so please shut up too, okay?"
"All right, I'll keep quiet like the grave."
"Okay, zip off."
He was gone, and I was left alone with Tim. He seemed quite cheerful.
"Well, little brother, how do you like it? Do you regret coming along?"
"No, honestly not. The people are nice, the music is good, and somehow I'm starting to realize what I've been missing for the last two or three years."
Well, that made a completely different impression than the little heap of self-doubt I had encountered earlier in the day.
"Very good. Listen, I have one more person to silence. Luckily, this person works in the kitchen, and I desperately need something to eat anyway. Are you coming with me, or do you want to continue mingling with the crowd?"
"I'll come with you. First of all, I'm hungry too, and secondly, I don't want to walk around all alone. Of course, only if I'm not a burden to you."
"Don't worry, you're not. So come on, this is the way."
The path to the kitchen was unmistakable; the smell of steaks and sausages practically drew me in the right direction. Once there, we saw Jürgen loading a large electric grill with all sorts of delicious food. Unfortunately, there were a handful of other guests in the kitchen, and I had to get rid of them first.
"Good evening, gentlemen. Hygiene inspection. Please leave the kitchen, everyone except the cook. Hurry, hurry!"
The unwanted listeners left with a quiet grumble – I really couldn’t take such little things into consideration.
Jürgen grinned at me expectantly.
"Greetings, Keeper of the Fleshpot!"
"Greetings to you too, O master of good tone!"
We once performed together as Roman senators in a school play – something we always remembered fondly.
"So, Mr. Sanitation Inspector, what can I do for you? And who's that next to you?"
"This is Tim, my brother."
"I'm glad. But why did you send everyone out? Surely it wasn't just to introduce me to Tim and reminisce?"
"You've seen through me. Listen, Katja told you something about Ralph earlier..."
"Don't remind me! That old chatterbox never knows when to shut up. If we told everyone everything we've experienced with her, we could write entire TV series about it."
"So, may I assume that you haven't spoken to anyone about it and won't speak to anyone about it?"
"Absolutely. What Ralph does is his own business, and Katja is the very last person who should be acting like a moralizer."
"Very good. Now that the business matters are settled, what can you offer us to eat?"
Jürgen hadn't done things by halves and had once again cleared out his parents' butcher shop. (By the way, Jürgen's parents' profession was quite obvious, but he was a kind soul and shrugged off the occasional taunts about his body shape with boundless generosity. As a friend, he was one of those rare specimens you could rely on 100 percent.) Three minutes later, Tim and I were sitting at the kitchen table, tackling two plates well filled with meat and sausage.
"Inspector, may I let the other customers back in now?"
"You may."

---

The rest of the party went along the usual lines: lots of music, dancing, more or less meaningful conversations, good food, and more or less substantial drinks. With the exception of two glasses of beer, I stuck to non-alcoholic beverages, and Tim was also very conservative in that regard. My intention of looking for attractive guys had largely faded into the background due to the events of the evening; I no longer had the real desire to do so anyway. The party had degenerated into hard work.
Sometime in the middle of the festivities, Katja pulled me into a small storage room. I had a vague feeling I knew exactly what was coming next.
"Danny, damn it, you should have told me!"
»Was?«
"That thing with Ralph and his... his friend! Where do I stand now?"
"What do you mean, how are you supposed to look now? Is it so bad that your brother likes boys? Surprise: me too! It hasn't bothered you before."
"It doesn't bother me that Ralph is gay. Well, not particularly. But this Christoph guy was supposed to stay with him, and now I have to figure out how to fix it. Do you happen to have his parents' phone number?"
"Man, Katja, I just met him! And what do you need his number for anyway?"
"Look, I have to call them and get them to come pick him up! There's no way he can stay here!"
"Nonsense. When you were fifteen, friends were already staying over at your house, with your parents' knowledge and approval."
"But that was something else!"
"So? Was that it? I don't see any difference. It's actually completely legal."
"And what about our parents? How am I supposed to explain this to them?"
"You don't have to explain anything to them. If anything, it's something Ralph has to do. As long as you don't spill the beans, your brother just has a friend visiting, and this isn't the first time. When they're ready, they'll talk to your parents on their own."
"And I'm supposed to just put on a brave face?"
"Well, first of all, I don't see any foul play, and secondly, how many times did Ralph have to watch your conquests suddenly join you at the breakfast table?"
"Fine, fine! Whatever you say! But I deny any responsibility. If anything gets out about this and my parents start a fuss, I'll tell them it's all your fault! And now I have to get back to taking care of my guests!"
Wow, she was really on edge. Whatever, I wasn't going to let her bad mood ruin my evening.
Around midnight, everyone began to leave, and half an hour later, only the volunteers from the cleanup crew remained. Katja and Ralph's parents generously allowed such parties from time to time, but demanded that by the time they arrived—which would be around 2:00 a.m.—quiet had been restored and the worst of the mess had been cleaned up. Lisa, Mike, and Jürgen took care of the kitchen and dishes; Thomas, who had spent the second half of the evening entertaining a girl from our parallel class, wrestled with the vacuum cleaner; a few others moved furniture. Tim and I dismantled the radio receivers, but Ralph and Christoph were nowhere to be seen.
The first bag was full, only the transmitter from Ralph's room was missing. I went upstairs and, remembering the afternoon's events, knocked softly on the door this time. No answer. I knocked a little louder – again to no avail. So I pushed the doorknob, half expecting it to be locked, but no, the door opened. The two missing men were lying peacefully asleep on the bed, fully clothed and cuddled up together. A cute sight. I decided not to dismantle the transmitter; it would have made too much noise and would certainly wake them both. Instead, I just turned off the hi-fi and then looked at the two boys with amusement again. Although I didn't want to disturb them, I decided to at least carefully take off their shoes. Once that was done, I took the blanket lying on the floor and spread it over them. Finally, I briefly stroked Ralph and Chris's hair, whispered "Sleep well," and then sneaked out of the room. Tim was waiting for me at the door. I grinned, put my index finger to my lips, and quietly closed the door behind me.
"Well, I think we should head home. I'll get the transmitter back tomorrow."
Tim looked at me penetratingly, his head tilted slightly.
»Danny?«
»And?«
"I think you're the best big brother I could ask for."
If this were a genuine romantic comedy, I'd be so moved I'd burst into tears right now. Ahem, to be honest, I was really close to it. But I just managed to swallow it all and, with a generous gesture, show Tim the way to the stairs. Downstairs, we said goodbye to those still present. I warned Katja to leave the boys upstairs in peace. Then we got dressed and walked through the dark, freezing night toward home.
How glad we both were when we reached the safe entrance of the well-heated house! Who had ordered this freezing cold? Ten minutes past 1:00, I locked the front door from the inside, and we peeled off our jackets, scarves, gloves, etc. Tim stared at the bag of equipment.
"Do we have to rebuild this now?"
"Nope, the transmitter is still missing anyway, and who knows when my mother will show up here again."
"Thank God."
"I assume you want to go to bed right away?"
"To be honest, I'd rather just jump in the shower again. My clothes and my hair stink of cigarette smoke, and I've been sweating quite a bit."
Tim had danced with different girls a few times, and there had indeed been an awful lot of smoking, as I could tell from a quick sniff test on my fleece shirt.
"Right. That's a really good idea. This time you can start, so you don't have to wait forever for me again."
We went upstairs, Tim disappeared into the bathroom, and after a short while, I heard the water running. I went to my closet and picked out some warm pajamas. At the same moment, the phone rang.
»Thom.«
"Hello Danny, it's me, Mom."
As if I didn't recognize her by her voice.
"Hello, Mom. So, how was your evening without us pests?"
"I almost said 'boring,' but of course that's not true. We really had a lovely few hours. Hopefully, you did too? Did everything go well?"
"Of course. Tim seemed to enjoy it too, and he made some new friends."
"Reinhardt will be relieved. Wait, he's standing next to me. He'd like to talk to Tim. Can you give him the phone?"
"I'm sorry, he's in the shower right now. Can I help?"
"Oh no, it doesn't have to be that way. He probably just wanted to hear from himself how things were going."
"Tell him not to worry. So, what time should we expect you tomorrow? Do you have anything special planned?"
"Knowing you, you'll probably want to sleep in, and Reinhardt says Tim doesn't mind a sleepy morning either, so we thought we'd pick you up around 11:30 and drive somewhere together for lunch. Agreed?"
"Clear."
Just at that moment the bathroom door opened and Tim came into the room wearing only a towel.
"Mom, wait a minute. Is Reinhardt still around?"
"Yes why?"
"Tim just got out of the bathroom, I'll give him the phone."
I handed Tim the phone, grabbed my pajamas, and retreated to the bathroom, so I couldn't hear what Tim was discussing with his father. When I left the bathroom ten minutes later, ready for bed, Tim was already in bed.
"So, everything okay with your old man?"
"Yes, everything's fine. He thanked me for the lovely evening. Or rather, for being able to spend it alone with Maria."
"Maybe we should get separate apartments, the two of us here, the two of you."
"Oh no. It's nice to be alone for a while, but in the long run, I'd definitely miss Dad."
"I feel the same way about Mom. Did he explain his plans for tomorrow…" I looked at my watch, "I meant for today?"
"He did. So we can sleep in a little."
"Yes, I have to do something first."
"What?"
"I still have to pick up the transmitter from Katja. I'll arrange to be there around half past eleven. That gives me plenty of time to pack up and still be back in time."
"Do you mind if I come along?"
"Not at all. But then we'll have to get up around 9:30 to have a quick breakfast."
"No problem. Will you set an alarm?"
"I'm working on it right now."
Once that was done, I reached for the light switch, turned off the lights, and then carefully walked to my bed. On the way there, I stopped by the window.
"Do you mind if I tilt the window slightly? I sleep better with fresh air. If it gets too cold, we can always close it again."
"No problem, I can't sleep with the window closed either. I always find it horrible when I can't open it during a storm or heavy rain."
He was right up my alley. When I reached my bed, I settled down, stretched out, and snuggled into the warm duvet.
"Good night, Tim."
"Good night, Danny. And thanks for persuading me to come along."
"It was a pleasure. So sleep well and fast."

---

"I think you're shit!"
Help! What a horrible noise! After a brief period of disorientation, perhaps not surprising for someone who had just been woken from a deep sleep, I turned off my clock radio as the source of all evil. If I had any say, the radio editor who had dug out that old tic-tac-toe game again would lose his job right now.
With a well-aimed blow, I silenced the source of the noise. A glance at the other bed showed that Tim had reacted similarly to me, sitting upright in bed with sleepy eyes.
"Did that have to happen, Danny?"
"Sorry. Next time I'll plug in headphones and sleep with them on."
"Hey, I didn't mean it like that!"
"I know. What do you think? Do you want to go through the bathroom first?"
"You just want me to be the first out of bed and close the window!"
"Exactly! Besides, you can turn up the heating at the same time. After all, what's a little brother for?"
Tim resigned himself to his fate, threw off his blanket, sat on the edge of the bed and slipped into his slippers.
"Argh! They're freezing!"
"Now you know why I sleep with socks on."
"Thank you for informing me in time."
"No problem."
He put on his socks, got up, closed the window, turned on the heater, grabbed his laundry, and went into the bathroom, pleased to see that it was already comfortably warm. For my part, I lay back again and reflected on the events of the previous day. It had certainly been one of the most interesting days of my life so far. The most important person, of course, was Tim, even though I was in a bit of a dilemma in that regard. On the one hand, I enjoyed my role as big brother and assumed (probably not without reason) that we would quickly become fast friends—if we weren't already. On the other hand, there was also my other side, the one that longed for a little more and different kind of attention. My grandmother always said, "There's a lid for every pot," but no matter how hard I'd searched, I hadn't found mine yet. And now fate has suddenly thrown someone at my feet who could have come straight from my imaginary dream boy catalog—and he's my future little brother, of all people! Tim's difficult-to-interpret signals in this regard didn't help me sort out my feelings either.
Then, of course, there was the discovery of Ralph and Christoph. I'd always known that, statistically speaking, there must be other boys around me who felt the same way I did, but I'd never imagined they'd be so close, and that I'd even get to discover them personally. The trouble is, the more I thought about them, the more I felt jealous of their shared happiness. Damn, shouldn't I have been first? After all, with my two years' advantage, I had the "elderly rights."
Tim's reappearance in the room startled me out of my musings. He was standing there in his blue thermal underwear, holding out the clothes he'd worn to the party.
"The stuff still smells of smoke."
"Throw the clothes in the laundry basket in the bathroom, my mother will wash them."
"You think so? I can take her home with me."
"Then your bag will stink afterwards, too."
"Right. Thanks."
Tim threw the items mentioned into my dirty laundry.
"That's it, the bathroom is all yours."
The time had come. There were no more excuses; I had to leave my nice, warm bed. Luckily, the room had warmed up somewhat by now. So I slung my feet over the edge of the bed, stood up, and marched to the bathroom with more energy than I would have thought possible after the previous night. After a quarter of an hour, I had finished everything, partially dressed, and returned to the room, where Tim was still sitting on his bed in the same position as before, reading one of my books.
"I thought I'd better not get fully dressed yet. We'll definitely want to have breakfast before we leave, right?"
"You're right. I practically walk around the house like this all the time in the winter. It's more practical than constantly changing clothes. So let's see what we can fill our stomachs with."
Once in the kitchen, we opted for warmed baguettes. While I fired up the oven and loaded it, I verbally maneuvered Tim through the depths of our kitchen cupboards so he could set the table. Then I went to the fridge and inspected the jam supplies.
"Tim, what would you like? Strawberry jam, plum jam, or Nutella?"
»Nutella.«
"A chocolate child. Sweet."
"There must be one of those here, otherwise you wouldn't have the stuff, would you?"
Oops, I gave myself away there. Let's quickly switch to another topic.
"What do you want to drink? Coffee, tea, cocoa?"
"Cocoa, if it's not too much work. I can't stand coffee."
Another commonality. I usually reach for tea, but I decided to cut it a little fuss and just go with Tim's choice.
"So, cocoa. No problem."
A few minutes later, we were sitting across from each other, chewing, and I immediately realized that one of my mother's worst fears was about to come true. She was getting another eater of my caliber in the house. I was already eating a lot, but Tim was practically inhaling his breakfast. I was starting to worry that I'd made a mistake with the amount I'd prepared.
"Uh, Tim, should I throw some more baguettes in the oven for you?"
He briefly paused his chewing, quickly glanced at the remaining supplies, and then shook his head. Phew, lucky me. I made a mental note to ask him in advance how much he intended to eat in the future.
I leaned back comfortably and watched Tim follow the baguettes with a large glass of hot cocoa in one gulp. When he put it down and looked at me, full and satisfied, the corners of my mouth twitched upward involuntarily.
"What is?"
"There's a mirror hanging over there. See for yourself."
Tim stood up, went to the mirror, looked in, and then licked the cocoa mustache from his upper lip.
"These are the very drops I was missing."
Well, that was it, now I had to burst out laughing. Laughing, we cleaned up the traces of our breakfast, then went back upstairs and got dressed. The thermometer read 6 degrees below zero, and thick snow clouds hung in the sky. Tim quickly packed his bag so he only had to grab it later, then we set off to Katja's. The walk there was uneventful, apart from the fact that Tim slipped on a snow-covered, icy puddle, grabbed onto me for support, and thus caused us both to fall. Cursing and rearranging our bones, we got up, brushing a lot of snow off our clothes.
"Look, I think you've given up on the whole jumping-in-every-puddle thing?"
"Sorry, it's just in my blood. But at least the water was solid, so it shouldn't have scared you too much. No danger of drowning in it. That's progress, isn't it?"
Ah yes. What was that about, is it okay for a big brother to put his cheeky little brother over his knee? On the other hand, I was glad that he had given up some of his reserve and shyness.
With our senses significantly heightened, we managed to complete the rest of the journey without further mishap. I rang the doorbell, and shortly thereafter, a tall, blonde woman opened the door.
"Danny, very nice, we were hoping to see you today. And that's your brother, we've heard about him too."
"Good morning, Ms. Maurer. Right, this is Tim. We're here to pick up the rest of my equipment. I didn't get around to it last night."
"No problem. Come in."
We entered the house and took off our shoes.
"Are you in a hurry, or do you have a few minutes? We'd like to discuss something with you."
I looked at the clock; we were well on time.
"No problem. If it doesn't take too long."
"Absolutely not. Come into the living room."
We followed her into the aforementioned room, where her husband was already seated. After a general greeting, they escorted us into two armchairs. A brief silence, then Mrs. Maurer spoke again.
"Danny, do you have any idea what we found last night when we quickly checked Ralph's room to see if everything was okay?"
Oh dear, I actually had a pretty good idea. The Maurers immediately recognized the look of shock on my face, and theirs broke into a smile.
"So you know what I'm talking about. Listen, we just invited you in here to thank you. The boys told us earlier what you did for them, and Katja also reported, a little indignantly, how you took the responsibility away from her."
"So you don't have a problem with it?"
"But no way!" The laugh lines on Mr. Maurer's face sprang into action. "We've had a suspicion for a few days. We drove past the cinema, and guess who was standing in the box office line holding hands. Very conspicuously yet unobtrusively, of course. However, we wanted to give them the time and opportunity to decide for themselves when they wanted to tell us something."
"So you didn't mention to her today about last night's somewhat unusual sleeping arrangement?"
"No, really not. After seeing the two of them clinging to each other, we immediately decided not to say a word about it. Well, they came clean about it at breakfast today."
I was relieved. It certainly seemed as if everything was on its way to a happy ending for Ralph and Christoph.
"By the way, they couldn't remember taking off their shoes or covering themselves. Do you have any idea who intervened?"
I smiled at Ralph's parents and at the same time wondered how such a bitch like Katja could have grown up under their care.
"When I went to get the transmitter, I found roughly the same scene as you did last night. It looked so peaceful that I couldn't bring myself to disturb them, so I only did what I was sure wouldn't wake them, and then I quietly left."
"That was really nice of you, we think you helped the boys immensely. We're so glad you stumbled upon them and not Katja. She's a little... well, she's not particularly sensitive sometimes."
Not particularly sensitive! This description easily qualified for the understatement of the century award. Even using her name and the word "sensitive" in the same sentence blatantly violated the new spelling rules.
"So, like I said, we wanted to thank you. Um, I hope I'm not being too offensive, but I'm really interested to know if you... well, if you've found a boyfriend yet. He should consider himself very lucky."
"Well, I'm still single. Do you happen to have another son Katja's age and with Ralph's looks and personality?"
The two laughed, and Mrs. Maurer shook her head regretfully.
"We're really sorry, we don't. Otherwise, you would be very welcome as our son-in-law."
"It's a shame. But there's nothing we can do about it." I looked at my watch. "Now Tim and I should get started on the tech stuff. Our parents are picking us up for lunch at 11:30."
"Oh, go ahead, we don't want to keep you unnecessarily. But... uh... maybe you should knock when you get upstairs."
I had learned that lesson. We stood up, and shortly thereafter, we were standing in front of the famous bedroom door. I knocked, and we were immediately invited in. Ralph and Christoph were sitting on the bed, holding PlayStation controllers. They had paused their game when I knocked, and now they looked at us with wide eyes, blushing a little again. Then a mischievous smile broke out on their faces.
"Well, you two, did you sleep well?"
I just couldn't resist doing that.
»Yes.«
Oh, they even answered in stereo! Ah, love must be beautiful!
"Danny, we need to..."
"Stop! Not another word! My capacity for expressions of gratitude is pretty much exhausted."
"Who tells you we wanted to say thank you?"
That was Chris, all alone this time. And Ralph felt compelled to continue.
"We were actually going to complain that you simply turned off the music last night. Turning it down would have been perfectly sufficient."
"Ingratitude is the world's reward. It shouldn't happen again. Now, while I dismantle the transmitter, you can show Tim your toys." I didn't know if he was interested, but I suddenly didn't have the energy to continue talking to this content, happy couple. It reminded me too much of what I was missing.
Five minutes later, everything was safely stowed in the bag we'd brought with us. We said goodbye to the two young lovers, went downstairs, checked in with Ralph's parents, and shortly after, we were back at my house. We spent the next fifteen minutes reinstalling the technology where it belonged, and we had barely finished that when the horn honked outside the front door. We slipped on our shoes and jackets, left and locked the house, and climbed into Tim's father's waiting Chrysler.
The reunion between Reinhardt and his son was tremendous, and the one between my mother and me... well, it was definitely there. The two "oldies" immediately grilled us about the previous evening (as true gentlemen, we left the subject of Ralph and Christoph out of the equation) and were very pleased to learn that we had actually "gotten along" quite well. You could almost hear a relay click in their brains, triggering the "switch to the next family reunification stage." We'd barely arrived at the restaurant (another Italian restaurant, by the way; the Bergners seemed to have a thing for it—not that I'm complaining), my mother began laying out the plans for the further integration of the families in front of Tim and me.
"Guys, we thought it would be nice if we all went somewhere together for Christmas and New Year. Like a real family."
Tim jumped on it immediately.
"Great. Off to the Alps, skiing!"
I slumped in my chair, a pained expression on my face. It was already cold enough here. And I really couldn't stand those treacherous, slippery wooden boards. I could already picture myself spending the holidays in the hospital with broken legs. Reinhardt seemed to have noticed my skepticism.
"Let's see. We'll come up with something we all like. I already have an idea." His words were accompanied by a mysterious smile.
That ended the topic, and soon the food was on the table. My mother had the pleasure of watching Tim eat a normal, non-competitive meal for the first time. As Tim prepared a cartwheel-sized pizza, my mother's face grew long and long. She cast a dubious glance first at Tim's plate, then at her usual salad bowl, and then shook her head in resignation.
"Tell me, Reinhardt, how come those boys can eat as much as they want without anyone noticing! I count every single calorie and still don't lose weight. Tim, where do you eat all that?"
She had asked me this question often enough, and now she received an answer from my little brother that she had also heard from me.
"I don't know. Hollow legs?"
If he had any, they were now being filled at a tremendous pace, and before my mother had even finished half her salad, Tim's plate was empty. Mine, too, by the way. All in all, there were four fairly satisfied people at the table.
During dinner, we talked about what we could do with the rest of the day. Unfortunately, our plans (which ranged from the Christmas market to the sauna) were ruined by a severe headache. It hit me out of the blue, and I hadn't even finished the glass of wine our old folks had bought Tim and me to celebrate. Naturally, my mother was the first to notice my pain-contorted face.
"Danny, what's wrong, you suddenly look so pale."
"Nothing serious, I just suddenly have a terrible headache."
My mother immediately switched to "poor-my-boy" mode, and ten minutes later we were in the car heading home. By the time we got there, I felt like a hundred dwarves were playing bowling inside my head. And the brothers always hit the bullseye! I was really surprised because I couldn't explain it. I definitely didn't have a hangover, and headaches were pretty unheard of anyway. Anyway, when I got home, my mother immediately put me to bed, gave me two painkillers, and then wanted to send Reinhardt and Tim away.
"I'm sorry, but you can see I have to take care of Danny."
I really couldn't allow that to happen. It was enough that I was incapacitated; the other three didn't need to suffer as well. I managed to convince my mother that her presence wasn't necessary and that I could suffer quite well on my own. After she asked half a dozen times whether she could really leave me alone, Reinhardt pulled her out of my room by the arm. All three of them wished me a speedy recovery and then set off for the Christmas market. I lay back in bed and tried to find a position for my head that made the pain somewhat bearable.
Apparently the pills had actually worked, because at some point I fell asleep, and when I woke up, it was already dark outside the window. The headache was gone, replaced by a dull feeling, which, while not pleasant, was considerably easier to bear. I carefully sat up, and when I didn't feel any particularly negative reactions from my body, I decided to see if I still had the house to myself.
Of course I hadn't. It was already almost seven, and my mother had long since returned, pottering around in the kitchen—extra quietly so as not to disturb me. I walked to the kitchen table and sat down on a chair with a sigh.
"Danny, there you are. How are you? Is the pain gone?"
"It's getting better. At least it doesn't hurt anymore."
"Do you have any idea what happened to you? Did you perhaps drink too much yesterday?"
"Mom, I just drank two beers! If that had been too much, I would have caught it early and not waited until we were comfortably having lunch. So, on a different topic, how was your afternoon?"
"Really nice. We wandered from stall to stall for three hours, quite leisurely. We snacked everywhere: waffles, roasted almonds, candied apples, cotton candy, mulled wine, etc. I'm already dreading getting on the scales tomorrow morning."
"So, did you at least bring me something?"
My mother smiled at me and took a large paper bag out of the kitchen cupboard.
"Here, I know exactly what you're getting at."
I was seen through. A maxi bag of roasted almonds, my teeth already grinding in barely contained anticipation.
"Agreed?"
"Indeed. Thank you."
"Oh, I just remembered. Reinhardt also sent you something."
She disappeared for a brief moment and then reappeared with something huge and fluffy in her hands. It took me a while to figure out exactly what it was, then it dawned on me. A giant stuffed dog stared at me with button eyes the size of five-mark coins.
"My God, where did you get that from!"
"Reinhardt drew 'Free Choice' twice at a lottery booth, and he asked me what I could give you to enjoy. Since you like dogs, I suggested this little animal. Tim got a bear at least as big. You should have seen the two of them dragging those creatures across the market to the car; they get pretty heavy after a while!"
I could vividly imagine that. According to the unofficial teenage code, I was way too old for stuffed animals by now, but I was still happy about the gesture. Besides, my room was big enough – though I couldn't quite imagine where Tim would be with his bear in his small room. In any case, I decided to thank his father profusely at the next opportunity.
"So, my boy, how are things? Are you hungry for dinner?"
I listened to myself. I didn't really have a solid opinion on the matter. But before I woke up in the middle of the night with a growling stomach, I finally let myself be persuaded to eat a few slices of toast. Afterward, I said goodbye for the night and went to bed that Sunday at a time that, under normal circumstances, I would have heroically protested against even at the tender age of ten. The giant stuffed dog found its sleeping place on Thomas/Tim's bed.

---

Monday. I hate Mondays. Or at least those that don't fall on a holiday or during the school holidays. I agreed with the Boomtown Rats: "I wanna shoot the whole day down." But it was no use; there were still a few days to go until the Christmas holidays.
The pain dwarfs in my head had left me in peace, although I felt a bit like my head was wrapped in cotton wool. I was awake, but I wasn't really present. Purely instinctively, I worked through the morning checklist, ate a breakfast that wouldn't normally have been enough to fill a cavity, and then, under my mother's worried gaze, made my way to the building euphemistically named "Gymnasium" – instead of the much more truthfully titled "Dungeon."
As usual, I met up with Thomas and a few others. Most of them had also been at the party and weren't showing any of the symptoms I was suffering from—so food poisoning was probably out of the question. It quickly became apparent that I wasn't good company that day, and some people were seriously concerned about my unnatural pallor. But whatever, I had to go through with it.
The first two hours were relatively bearable; they passed me by without me noticing much of it—a blessing, actually. Later, my headache from the day before returned, and by the end of the third hour, I was so nauseous that only a sprint to the bathroom could prevent a more serious disaster. I—pardon the pun—was vomiting my guts out and was about to collapse in the cubicle. Luckily, Thomas had followed me unnoticed and stepped in to help, holding me upright.
"Man, Danny, what are you doing!"
I would have liked to know that, too. After I recovered a bit, with Thomas's help, I made my way back to the classroom, where recess had already begun. The next lesson was history, and luckily our teacher (unfortunately, an older year) was already there. He looked at Thomas and me, let us briefly explain what had happened, and then marched straight to the office, instructing Thomas to slowly escort me there as well.
I didn't really follow what happened next. They must have called my mother, and I only regained some sense of self-awareness in our family doctor's office. There, I had to undergo the usual procedures; among other things, the doctor discovered that I had a fever of almost 100 degrees. The kegels were pounding in my head again, and I generally felt something like what I had just vomited up in the toilet.
My mother, of course, had insisted on being present for the examination and was now genuinely worried. I had hinted right at the beginning that I had already escaped the Grim Reaper once, and since then we'd lived in constant fear that the blood cancer might return. My current symptoms weren't particularly reassuring. Given my medical history, the doctor naturally took her time. She tapped here, listened there, poked there. At the end, she gave us an encouraging smile.
"Young man, I don't think you need to worry too much. I'll have another blood test done, but I think you've caught the flu, which is currently going around here. Haven't you been vaccinated?"
Me?!? I should voluntarily subject myself to a needle? Never! I shook my head vigorously – and immediately regretted it bitterly. The pain dwarves stopped the bowling and instead used several giant church bells.
"Which news do you want to hear first, the good news or the bad news?"
"The bad one."
"You'll feel really dirty for a few days."
Great, I couldn't imagine anything nicer.
"And what's the good news?"
"You won't have to go to school this year."
Well, that was something, at least. The doctor drew some blood, wrote some prescriptions, and then we headed home, stopping briefly at the pharmacy. Once there, I immediately went to bed.
Shortly afterwards, my mother appeared with various medications. I'd be seriously interested to know who decided that effective medications had to taste awful! But that wasn't the worst of it; that was yet to come. The brave pill expert had actually prescribed me suppositories for my headache! Errr! Having someone fondle my backside was definitely not a pleasant thought, at least not when it was my own mother. But I endured that heroically, then my mother left the room, leaving the door ajar, and after the headache had subsided somewhat, I drifted off into a restless sleep.
When I woke up again, my bedclothes were soaked with sweat, and my watch insisted it was already just after three in the afternoon. The headache had become a somewhat bearable dull throbbing, but my throat felt dry, so I gathered all my strength and called for my mother. I doubted my hoarse croak had reached her, but shortly afterward, she came storming up the stairs and into my room.
"How are you, Danny? Is everything okay?"
"I'm feeling better. I need something to drink."
"I'll bring you some tea right away; you have to take your medication again anyway. Show me your forehead. Hmm. Not quite as hot anymore, but we'll take a proper reading. My God, you're soaking wet! And so is your bedding. Listen, I'll give you a clean pair of pajamas, put them on, and then lie down in the other bed."
So it was done, and five minutes later, I felt somewhat more comfortable in dry surroundings. With a defiance of death, I swallowed the disgusting medicine, and the tea offered with it had a very pleasant effect on my throat. Then my mother came with the thermometer, and I resigned myself to my fate. She didn't believe in taking measurements in the armpit, insisting on the more traditional method. I don't think I need to go into that any further here. In any case, I had just endured the invasion of my posterior region and was patiently waiting for the results when the doorbell rang.
"Stay lying down, I'll go and see who that is."
As if I were able to run away.
Shortly afterward, she was back in the room, but she was anything but alone. Behind her, Reinhardt and Tim pushed through the door and stared in my direction. It took me a moment to understand why they were staring so much, then I pulled the covers over my exposed bottom with the thermometer sticking out of it as quickly as I could. Thanks so much, Mom. She truly had a rare talent for maneuvering me into the most embarrassing situations. At that moment, she obviously realized what she'd done again.
"Oh God, sorry Danny, I hadn't thought of that."
Reinhardt smiled at me briefly and then grabbed his son.
"Come on, Tim, let's wait outside for a minute. Let us know when we can come back in."
The two left the room, my mother quickly finished what she had so shamefully forgotten and apologized to me again in a whisper. Well, I've never been able to stay mad at her for long, and this was no exception.
"All right. So, what do you think, can you fry eggs on me yet?"
"Not anymore. 38.9 – that sounds a little better. Now, get dressed again and cover yourself so I can let your visitors in."
I'd barely finished that when she called Tim and his father back into the room. How did they know about my condition, or did they just drop by? I didn't need to ask them that question, because Reinhardt immediately answered it voluntarily.
"Hi Danny, sorry to show up like this, but when Maria called me and told me what was going on, we thought you might appreciate a little visit. Now, tell me, what are you doing?"
I'd heard that last sentence before today. From Thomas, if I remembered correctly. Somehow, this question from a healthy person to a sick person seemed to be ingrained in human DNA. Cut your finger – "What are you doing?" Break a leg – "What are you doing?" Catch the flu – "What are you doing?" Impregnate the neighbor's daughter – "What are you doing?" Well, at least I'd probably never have to worry about the latter situation. Everything in life has its good side.
My mother kindly took on the task of telling them what had happened since our separation yesterday afternoon. I was able to rest my voice and somewhat enjoyed the concerned attention the other three were giving me. When my mother finished, I received more looks full of sympathy. Reinhardt shook his head sadly.
"I'm really sorry, Danny, and I hope you feel better soon. Luckily, there's still a little time until Christmas, otherwise I'd have to…"
He stopped mid-sentence. I don't like that kind of thing at all, first arousing curiosity and then leaving you hanging. The other two felt the same way, and my mother slipped into her role as chief inquisitor. A role, by the way, that she had practically perfected.
"What else would you have to do?"
Reinhardt hesitated a bit, but then gave in.
"Okay, it's not exactly the most appropriate moment, but whatever. Maybe Danny will take this as an incentive to improve as quickly as possible. I booked a trip to Florida for the holidays for the four of us this morning. I hope you don't mind me deciding this all on my own, but it should be a surprise."
So he had pulled off the surprise! I decided to voluntarily take the most disgusting medications without complaint and to undergo the most humiliating treatments in order to be fit again in time. I only had to look at Mom and Tim's faces and I could imagine how surprised and delighted I must look. It didn't seem as if anyone wanted to complain to Reinhardt about his solo efforts.
The next few minutes passed in animated chatter about how excited everyone was about the idea. Well, the others chattered, and I just listened. Tim's eyes shone with joy, and he could hardly sit still. Suddenly, my mother, utterly shocked, put her hands over her face.
"My God, I completely forgot that I have to go to Paris for five days tomorrow!"
Oops, she was just like me! I hadn't even dreamed that she was invited to an international architects' conference. She was even supposed to give a lecture! A great honor, and one she'd never received before. After a brief discussion, we decided that she could easily leave me alone for the time being—although, given my current condition, the situation had changed drastically.
"I'll call right away and cancel."
Great, now I was feeling guilty because she had to miss out on something she'd been looking forward to for weeks. It was written all over her face how sad she was, and when she tried to reach for my phone, Reinhardt stopped her.
"Wait a minute, Maria. Let's see if there's a better solution. I know this all came very suddenly, and it would certainly have been nicer to be able to discuss everything more calmly, but that can't be changed now. How about Danny coming with us and staying with us while you're in France? He'd only be alone for an hour or two at most; the rest of the time, either Tim or I would be with him."
Reinhardt earned his living as a freelance foreign language translator, primarily for specialist books. He was obviously very successful, and—even more importantly for this particular case—he worked from home. Hope began to grow in my mother's eyes. Nevertheless, she still had her doubts.
"I don't know, that's asking a lot of you. He has to see his doctor again on Thursday."
"That's no problem, I can organize my working hours the way I need them. We don't have a guest room, but Tim is certainly willing to sleep on the couch in the living room for a few days."
Although the man immediately nodded in agreement, I resolved not to chase him out of his cozy room under any circumstances. But I wouldn't burden my mother with that now; there would be plenty of time to sort it out later.
"I still don't feel comfortable with the idea. I mean, Danny is sick and suffering, and I'm having fun in Paris."
"Spit from the Eiffel Tower for me once and you will be forgiven."
General laughter.
"You see, Maria, he's joking again. You'll see, when you get back he'll be back on his feet. You can talk on the phone every day."
He had done it, my mother had been convinced.
"Okay. I don't know how I'll ever thank you for this, but if all three of you agree, let's do it."
"So that settles everything. When does your flight leave?"
"7:55 a.m."
"Hmm. Then maybe Danny should move today. It'll be very tight tomorrow morning."
We had to agree with him. The idea of having to get out of bed at five or so didn't seem particularly appealing to me. So we agreed that Reinhardt and Tim would quickly drive home and get everything ready, while Mom would pack everything I needed, and I could get dressed in peace. And that's exactly how it went.
Then, in the middle of our preparations, the medicine woman called with the relieving results of my blood tests. All the relevant values were within the ideal range, and there was no indication of a recurrence of the leukemia. After hearing this, my mother had to sit down for ten minutes and cry happily. I, too, immediately felt several degrees better. Anyone who has ever seen the inside of a cancer ward can certainly relate.
While we were waiting for our private taxi, Thomas called and wanted to know how I was doing. Since my throat was more or less back to normal, I quickly filled him in on what had happened and what would happen, gave him the Bergners' phone number, and he promised to keep me updated, like school would tell me. I would also bring my PowerBook and modem with me, so I could check my emails regularly whenever I wanted. If I were allowed to use the Bergners' phone line for that purpose.
Reinhardt picked us up around six. I was even more heavily wrapped up than usual for the few steps to the car and from the car to the Bergners' front door, and that's saying something for me. I reckon a sumo wrestler could have easily hidden behind me in this outfit, with his arms outstretched and Prince Charles, complete with glider ears, on his shoulders. Luckily, Reinhardt's car offered more space than the SLK my mother had bought herself for her last birthday. The Stratus was well heated, so I managed the drive to my temporary home well, despite a traffic jam. Shortly before seven, I entered the room that would be my quarters for the next few days. Reinhardt pointed to Tim's lounger, which had already been made up as a bed.
"Make yourself comfortable, Danny. We'll give you a few minutes to undress in peace. If anything happens, just call."
Before I could begin these tasks, my mother said goodbye to me, half in tears. She was suddenly in a bit of a hurry, which was no surprise, since she still had a lot to prepare for her big trip at home. She promised to call every day, wished me a speedy recovery, and swore me to behave myself. After I promised her that, she left with a final wave.
Now I could change in peace. I grabbed the pajamas I had found at the top of my travel bag, and five minutes later, my body had returned to its normal shape, having lost several layers of clothing. I tested the comfort of the lounger, found it extremely acceptable, and lay back comfortably on the soft cushions. Shortly afterwards, there was a knock at the door, and at my invitation, Tim strolled into the room.
"Well, are you lying comfortably?"
"Thank you, excellent. But we should talk about a few things. First of all, this is your room, so save yourself the knocking. After your surprise appearance earlier, there's very little of me you haven't seen yet."
Tim giggled quietly to himself.
"And secondly, I don't feel entirely comfortable with the idea of stealing your room. I think it would be better if I slept in the living room with you. You have to go to school and need a good night's sleep. Besides, all your stuff is in this room."
"Out of the question! You're sleeping here, you need a quiet place. The living room is completely unsuitable because it faces the main street, and it's always pretty loud there. If I need something from the room, I'll just get it. I plan on keeping you company more often anyway—if I don't annoy you."
"Tim, you're definitely never going to get on my nerves. I just feel a little bad about the whole thing. I'm already a burden to you, and then I banish you from your most personal domain."
"Well, unfortunately I don't have two beds. Unless..."
"Unless what?"
"Well, we still have a folding bed. I always sleep on it when my cousin comes to visit."
"Why didn't you say so? I'll sleep on the thing, and you can have your bed to yourself."
"I thought you might want a little privacy."
"Uh, I'm not in the mood for that at all right now. To be honest, I'd rather not have to brood here all alone. I'd just get stupid ideas and end up bored to death."
"Are you well enough to tolerate my company?"
I listened to myself. The medication was working. I still felt a bit nauseous, and I was sure I couldn't perform any major feats of strength at the moment, but overall, I felt significantly better than I had that morning. My head felt as if it were padded with cotton wool, so crazy bowlers and bell ringers no longer had such an easy time with me.
"Don't worry. If I'm really feeling down and want to suffer all alone, I'll let you know in time."
"Okay. I'll tell Dad we'll both live here. But only on one condition: you stay in bed, I'll take the folding bed. And there's no discussion about that!"
Oh my God, that little one could get really authoritarian! But hey, better a half victory than none at all. I decided not to make a fuss about it, and so it happened that half an hour later, half of the remaining space in the room was taken up by the aforementioned folding bed. Luckily, as the name suggests, this could be folded up during the day and stored away to save space.
Reinhardt asked us again if we were really sure about this arrangement, but when we both said yes, he was obviously very pleased with it. Incidentally, unlike me, both Bergners had heroically given themselves the flu shot, so they were in no danger from me.
Time flew by, and suddenly it was nine o'clock in the evening. In the meantime, Tim had brought me a light supper in bed, and Reinhardt brought my pills and juice. I got a bit of a shock when he announced it was time to take my temperature, but when Tim's father saw my slightly shocked expression, he just grinned and showed me the thermometer he intended to use. It was one of those new things that takes your temperature in your ear, and I was extremely relieved. The technological marvel showed 38.5. After this somewhat reassuring measurement, I answered Reinhardt's question about whether I needed anything else in the negative. He wished me good night and a speedy recovery, left the room, and I decided to try to go to sleep. Tim agreed with his father's wishes and said he would watch a little more TV in the living room. I actually wanted to tell him he could do it here, but somehow I suddenly lacked the strength, and my eyes began to close. I must have been sleeping pretty soundly, because I didn't notice Tim coming back into the room and stretching out on the folding bed. I was probably too preoccupied with my rather confused fever dreams.

---

I woke up around five in the morning, mainly because the painkillers had stopped working. Once again, I felt like my head was about to explode, but I didn't really know what to do about it. I practically wished my mother would come along with the box of suppositories, but as tempting as the thought was, I could never bring myself to ask Tim or even Reinhardt to help me with that. So I would just have to bravely endure the pain.
For the next hour and a half, I suffered agony, and when Tim finally got up, it took all my acting talent to hide my condition from him. I pretended to be still asleep and watched through tiny slits of my eyes as he grabbed a few things and then left the room, obviously on his way to the bathroom. I couldn't stand it anymore; I decided to administer the painkiller myself. With fidgety fingers, I ripped open the packaging and grabbed the slightly slippery thing, then took it to its destination. The latter was easier said than done, because this destination was characterized by being incredibly difficult to see. After two or three failed attempts with a trembling hand, I finally hit the jackpot. Now I could only hope that the effect would kick in as quickly as the day before.
I was lucky; after just a few minutes, the pain subsided. I collapsed back into the duvet with relief, just as Tim re-entered the room. Today, his thermal underwear was bright red, and when he saw I was awake, he gave me a beaming smile.
"Danny, you're awake! How are you, did you sleep well?"
"Thanks, I'm okay. Good morning. Ready to face the cruel reality of school?"
Tim laughed.
"It's not that cruel. At least not for me."
"Oh yeah? How are you doing in school?"
"You really don't want to know."
"Oh yes, I want that!"
"Do you promise not to laugh at me?"
"Sure. I promised you that on our first afternoon together, remember?"
"Right. Okay. A."
WHAT? Oh God, I was in for a real bummer! If my mother found out, she'd always tell me how good my little brother was at school and that I should take him as an example. And yet I'd always been happy with my grade point average—which was always between 1.8 and 2.2.
"That's not good at all, Tim, not at all. You're ruining the standards."
"I'm sorry, but I'm not going to intentionally mess up work because of this."
"Huh, I guess I'll just have to live with it."
"Exactly."
Tim walked past me to gather his school supplies at his desk, and his eyes fell on the empty suppository wrapper. Damn, why hadn't I thought to throw that away? Curiously, he picked it up and examined it.
"Cool, the doctor prescribed those things for me a few months ago. They're so strong that they actually made me a little high. But the pain was gone in an instant."
Das konnte ich bestätigen, meine Kopfschmerzen hatten die Schlacht für den Moment auch verloren.
»Hast du dir das Ding selbst verpaßt?«
I nodded.
"And you waited until I was in the bathroom?"
I nodded again.
"How long have you been in pain?"
"For an hour or two."
"Idiot. All you had to do was wake me up and I would have helped you."
"Hey, maybe I'm embarrassed in front of you!"
"Uh, in case you've forgotten: I'm your brother, no reason to be embarrassed in front of me. Besides, I already had the chance to admire this side of you yesterday. And even if you didn't want my help, at least you didn't have to wait for me to be gone to help yourself."
Hey, roles reversed? Just three days ago, I was trying to tell him that we were siblings and could trust each other with everything. Okay, I'll plead extenuating circumstances. My mind was just a bit clouded due to illness.
"All right, I got it. No more false shame, especially not in emergencies."
"I certainly hope so. Okay, I have to get dressed; I have to leave in ten minutes. Dad and I already had breakfast. Should I tell him to make you something when I leave?"
"No, thanks. I don't feel like eating yet."
My mother would put a red dot on the calendar for that statement.
"Okay, whatever you say. But don't be afraid to call him if you need anything; I'll leave the door ajar."
During our conversation, he slipped into his shirt and trousers, then grabbed his school bag and walked to the door.
"Well then, get some rest. And get better. Bye."
"Have fun. See you this afternoon."
And he disappeared, leaving the door ajar as promised. Well, somehow it was quite nice to be the center of attention for a change and be mothered by everyone. However, the pain and other symptoms came at a high price.
I managed to fall asleep again, only to be awakened by a hand stroking my hair. I forced my eyes open and looked into the smiling face of Tim's father.
"Good morning, you troubled child. How are you today?"
"Good morning. I'm feeling better now, but I had a headache again this morning."
"Did you take anything for it?"
"Yes, and it worked."
"Well, that's good then. Now, let me quickly take your temperature."
The miracle thermometer was used again and showed 37.9 at the end of the measurement. Well, it could be better.
"Are you hungry?"
Hmm. Interesting question. I think so.
»Yes.«
"How about a warm pudding? Tea with that? You have to take your medication anyway."
»Okay.«
"Good. I'll be back in a quarter of an hour, I hope you can hold out that long. By the way, best regards from your mother, she called from the airport."
I glanced at my watch; it was already 9:30. So she was probably close to Paris by now. Well, she deserved it, she'd worked so hard for this.
In the meantime, Reinhardt had disappeared from the room, and I was wondering where and how I should best eat. The best thing would probably be to join him in the kitchen. I sat up and dangled my feet over the edge of the bed to test it. No negative reaction. So I slipped into my slippers and got up slowly and carefully. I was a little dazed, but not so bad that I couldn't have made it. I needed to go to the bathroom first anyway. Although I had no idea where to find it. So I shuffled into the kitchen, where the owner looked up in surprise from his errands when he saw me standing in the doorway.
"Reinhardt, could you please tell me where the toilet is?"
"The last door on the left, at the end of the corridor. Tell me, are you sure you can make it there alone?"
"I think so. But if you hear a loud crash, please come and take a look."
"Don't joke about it, young man! I promised Maria I'd take good care of you. And I intend to keep that promise!"
"All right. But I can really do it, don't worry."
"Well done."
With slow steps, I made my way to the door, and sure enough, behind it lay a spacious bathroom. I did what I'd come here to do, washed my hands, and got the fright of my life. When I looked in the mirror, a terrifying figure stared back at me. My eyes were dark sockets, and to call my complexion chalky white would have been an understatement. And that after only a day and a half! I tore my eyes away from the sight and made my way back to the kitchen. There, Reinhardt was just about to put my breakfast on a tray and take it to Tim's room. I managed to convince him that I'd rather eat in the kitchen.
»Na gut, wo du eh schon hier bist. Setz dich.«
I sat down in the seating area and looked at the pudding plate in front of me with mixed feelings. On the one hand, I felt distinctly hungry, but on the other, the sight of the food made me feel a little nauseous again. What the heck. I wasn't in the mood to starve, and the only thing I could do was get it out again. Spoonful by spoonful, I shovelled the chocolate pudding into my mouth, sipping hot tea every now and then. It wasn't long before the dishes were empty, and my morning ration of pills had also found its way into my stomach. As I leaned back, I could see Reinhardt's satisfied expression.
"So, the world looks much better again, doesn't it?"
"Right, I needed something to eat. Thanks. Oh, by the way, could you do me a favor?"
"Sure, go ahead."
"If only you could cover all the mirrors in the house, the sight of my face almost made me fall over."
"Well, you certainly don't seem to have lost your sense of humor."
"This is pure self-defense, otherwise I wouldn't be able to stand all this crap."
"How about you, are you going back to bed?"
"Right away. I just want to sit for a while. I've been lying down for most of the last 24 hours."
"I can understand that. But it's not particularly comfortable here. How about we go into the living room? You can sit comfortably on the couch there, and if it gets too much for you, you can just lie down. I'd like to discuss something with you anyway, of course, only if it doesn't get too much for you."
Now he'd piqued my curiosity. I was feeling relatively well at the moment, and I didn't feel like being bored alone in Tim's room anyway.
»Okay.«
"Go ahead, you know where it is. I'll just put the dishes in the dishwasher and then follow."
So I slowly crept into the living room and lounged cross-legged on the aforementioned couch. A quick glance around, I could see that this was clearly the home of a tech geek. A TV with a monster picture tube, plus a stereo system from a brand whose nameplate alone cost a three-digit sum. Tim's father was obviously successful not only professionally but also financially. No wonder he could afford to jet off to Florida with four people.
While I was still pondering these things, Reinhardt came into the room, bringing a quilt. He brought it to me and placed it around my shoulders.
"Here, it's not quite as warm as the kitchen. We don't want to take any more risks."
Anyone who brought me a warm blanket automatically had a big thumbs-up in my eyes. I pulled it tightly around my body and snuggled up in it. Reinhardt sat down in an armchair opposite me and just stared at me for a while. Then he got down to business.
"So, Danny, first of all: if it's too much for you, just say so, and we'll postpone it. There's really no rush."
"All right, I'll let you know in time before I fall off my chair."
He laughed.
"Good. But seriously. Danny, I love your mother."
I had already noticed that too.
"And I like you too, a lot."
That sounded really encouraging.
"And I know Tim feels the same way."
It got better and better.
"Danny, Maria, and I would like to all move in together, become a real family. But that's not something we two oldies can decide on our own; you two boys have at least as much say in the matter. I'd like to know what you think about it, whether you'd be comfortable with this idea, and I'd like to hear your honest opinion. I don't think this will come as much of a surprise to you."
True. I'd been expecting a suggestion like this for quite some time. Okay. He wanted the brutal truth? He was going to get it.
"Reinhardt, first you must know that the most important thing to me is that my mother is happy. She's had to endure a lot, first my illness, then the death of my father. If it makes her happy, I'd also put up with a monster of a stepfather and an annoying little brother."
A look of disbelief and shock spread across Reinhardt's face. He started to say something, but I interrupted him.
"Wait, I'm not done yet! I said I could handle this too. But I'm really glad I don't have to handle this, but instead get people like you and Tim."
Relief showed on his face.
"Well, I have to tell you one thing: I'll have to get used to your sense of humor."
"Don't worry, it'll be okay."
"So you agree?"
"You have my blessing. But what about Tim?"
"Oh, you don't have to worry about that! He really likes Maria; she probably gives him what he's been missing since his mother disappeared. I think I made a reasonably good father, but I could never replace his mother. Well, and as for you…"
I was literally hanging on his every word.
"...he absolutely admires you. I have no idea how you managed it in such a short time, but when he talks about you, his eyes sparkle. He looks up to you, and unless you do something completely stupid, you've gained in him not only a little brother but also your biggest fan."
My God, he really didn't need to put me on such a pedestal. On the other hand, I was happy that Tim had such a high opinion of me.
"I hope this clears up any remaining doubts you might have. We'd like to move in together early next year. At first, we were thinking about the period between Christmas and New Year, but then we decided we'd rather enjoy those days together somewhere."
"It shouldn't be my fault. Just let me know the exact date in advance so I can quickly sprain my ankle and not have to help with the hauling."
"Oh no, you won't get away that easily! Self-mutilation is severely punished."
Now we were both laughing, and the slight tension that had hovered over us at the beginning of the conversation had completely vanished. However, one important question hadn't been brought up yet. I had to change that.
"Now please tell me where we'll be living together. Here or at our place?"
"As much as I like it here, it would probably be a bit too cramped for four people. We need a living room, a bedroom, a large study, and, depending on what you—Tim and you—decide, one or two children's rooms. Please excuse the term "children's rooms."
"So you two are moving in with us."
It was actually logical; we had more than enough space. When my parents planned and built the house, they factored in further additions to the family. It was never planned for me to remain an only child, and both my father and mother firmly believed in the idea of a multi-generational home. There was enough space to accommodate my family later on, including two or three children – well, back then, no one suspected that little Danny, who had been cornered at kindergarten for looking up a girl's skirt, would later move on to the other side. So, what about the children's rooms?
"I assume Tim wants his own room, right?"
"Not really. He said he'd be happy to share a room with you, but only if that's okay with you."
Was I okay with that? A difficult question. On the one hand, I really liked the idea—without any ulterior motives. I simply enjoyed having Tim around. On the other hand, I wasn't entirely sure how this would affect my feelings toward him. Well, I would just have to pull myself together.
"I wouldn't have any problems with that. And if, contrary to expectations, it doesn't work out, we can always go our separate ways."
But there was something else. This was the right time for the final test for Tim's father. This test could still ruin everything, but better now than later, when nothing could be done.
"Reinhardt, there's something you should know about me. There's one thing that might fundamentally change your opinion of me."
"What is it? You don't have a corpse in your bed frame, do you?"
Contrary to my usual nature, I wasn't really in the mood for jokes.
»Mir ist das wirklich ernst. Ich sag es jetzt einfach heraus, es gibt eh keinen Weg dir das irgendwie schonender beizubringen. Reinhardt, ich bin schwul.«
To describe his reaction as astonished would be a massive understatement. Well, at least he hadn't gone for my throat yet.
"You're gay? You?"
»Yep.«
"I have to digest that first. I really wouldn't have thought so."
"Does this change anything between us?"
"However, that changes a lot!"
Reinhardt got up from his chair and walked toward me. I was a little worried now. But he just sat down next to me and hugged me.
"Idiot. The only thing that will change is that one day I'll have only one daughter-in-law instead of two, and a son-in-law to boot."
Phew, now it was my turn to look more relieved. Although, if I were him, I wouldn't be so sure about that daughter-in-law either. Reinhardt grinned at me.
"I'm sorry, but revenge is blood sausage. How do you think I felt earlier when you started with that 'monster of a stepfather'?"
Okay, okay. I guess I deserved it.
"Danny, you're still the same nice boy I'd like to have as a son. What I don't know is how Tim will react to that. I actually hope I've raised him to be a tolerant person, but we've never spoken directly about this."
"Tim has known since Saturday afternoon."
So, now I had completely thrown Reinhardt off track. He stared at me with wide eyes.
"And how did he react?"
"Uh, do I really have to answer that question now? After all, you've spoken to him a few times since then, haven't you?"
"Huh, right. Sorry, but that caught me a bit off guard. That was pretty brave of you to tell him on the first date."
"It wasn't. It was pretty stupid."
"You have to explain that to me now."
And I told him the chain of unfortunate circumstances that had led to the discovery of my great secret. When I finished, Reinhardt laughed.
"That's what you call a stupid move. So, do you regret it now?"
»Nein, wie könnte ich, wo Tim so super reagiert hat. Und du jetzt auch. Danke.«
Daß Tim selbst von einigen Zweifel ob seiner selbst geplagt wurde, hatte ich in meiner Erzählung vorsichtshalber weggelassen. Das war etwas, womit Tim selbst rausrücken mußte, wenn er dazu bereit war.
"No need to thank me. This shouldn't be anything special. So, we've talked for quite a while now, how are you? Isn't it getting too much for you?"
Hmm, now that he mentioned it, I did feel a little weak—but then again, our conversation had pretty successfully distracted me from my condition. Still.
"I think I'll lie down for a while."
"Do that. It's almost time for your next batch of pills anyway, I'll bring them to your room."
And so, a few minutes later, I found myself in Tim's bed, still sitting upright against the wall, awaiting the arrival of the poison bomb. I wasn't disappointed; it wasn't long before Reinhardt appeared with pills and drops – the side effects of which I'd rather not even begin to think about. But there was no way around the disgusting stuff, so I bravely swallowed it all.
"Good, little one."
This brought a pained smile to my face.
"Try to get some sleep. Tim will be home around 1:30, and I'll prepare a quick lunch for us. Would you like some then?"
"I can't tell you right now. If I should be sleeping, let me sleep. I'll let you know if I need anything."
"Fine. Okay, then, I'll leave the door open a little."
And then I was alone again. I decided to follow Reinhardt's advice, and I actually fell asleep shortly afterward.

---

Panic. Screaming people. The strained, calm voice of a stewardess. Screeching metal. Fire. Flashing lights. Then darkness. And a voice from far away.
"Danny... Danny, come to. This is just a dream... wake up... come on... please wake up..."
The voice slowly pulled my mind out of the terrible, burning dungeon it was trapped in. I opened my eyes and looked into Tim's worried, yet so handsome, face.
"Come on, Danny, everything's fine. It was all just a bad dream."
That was it, though. I knew that dream very well; I remembered it all too well. After my father's death, I had had it every night for months, then less and less frequently, but it wasn't until about a year ago that I'd finally been free of it. Or so I thought. Why had it come back now? Was it just because of my already tense mental state?
Tim sat half on the bed and held me in his strong swimmer's arms.
"Danny, everything's fine. You were just dreaming. Are you okay?"
At that very moment Reinhardt stormed into the room.
"What happened? Tim, what's going on?"
"Danny had a nightmare, it took me a while to wake him up."
"I see. Danny, are you okay?"
I tried to pull myself together, but my whole body was still shaking. My pajamas were soaked with sweat again, and my vision was pretty blurry. But I had to answer somehow, so I mustered all my self-control in my shaky voice.
"It's okay. It was just so... so real. So intense."
I looked into my brother's eyes.
"Thanks for getting me out of there."
"No problem. Would you like to lie down again now?"
"Please hold me for another minute until I calm down."
While Tim was doing just that and his father was picking out a dry pair of pajamas for me, I found time to glance at my watch. It was just before six; I had slept through the entire afternoon. Or almost, because I vaguely remembered Reinhardt waking me up briefly at some point and giving me my medication.
Slowly but surely, calm returned to me, and I told Tim he could let me go again—but not without thanking him again. His father handed me the new pajamas.
"It's probably better if you change. I'll bring you some fresh bedding."
"Leave it, you already have enough on your plate with me."
"No way. Besides, I've already prepared a full set of bedding. When Tim got the flu, he felt the same way. And once everything's done, I'll bring you a light dinner and your medication."
Well, it looked like I had no say in the matter. With Tim's help, I got up from the bed to give Reinhardt a chance to remove the soaked bedding. I sat down on the folding bed, and shortly thereafter, Tim's father disappeared from the room. Three minutes later, he was back, making up the bed again. Once that was done, he left me alone with Tim again.
"I'll bring the food in ten minutes. When I get there, I want you in bed in dry clothes."
Aye aye, sir. I started peeling off my pajama top. It should have been a simple task, but for me it was as difficult as... like shoveling the garage door in 20 cm of fresh snow. Eventually, I managed it, and I realized I couldn't just change into the fresh clothes. I'd sweated like a pig several times now, and no matter how dirty I felt, I had to get it off my system.
"Tim, can you get your father?"
"What, are you feeling worse?"
"No, but we need to change the plans a little. Please get him, okay?"
"As you wish. I'll be right back."
In fact, I barely blinked twice before the two of them were back in the room with worried expressions.
"What is it, Danny? Do you need anything?"
"Reinhardt, I need to take a shower. I stink, and I feel extremely dirty."
"Danny, I can imagine that, but I don't know if showering is such a good idea. You can barely stand as it is."
I could hardly disagree. But Tim had an idea.
"He could go into the tub. We'll help him get in and out, and while he's in there, one of us will make sure nothing happens."
Reinhardt looked at me questioningly.
"What do you think, Danny? Either this or we wash you here in bed."
Nope, I wasn't that frail. At least, I hoped so.
"Let's try the tub."
"Good. I'll run some water right away."
"Should I get some towels?"
"No, I'll do it. You stay here and keep an eye on Danny."
Hah, like I'm running away!
About a quarter of an hour later, Reinhardt came back to us. He handed me a bathrobe.
"Take off your pants right here and put these on instead. It'll be too tight in the bathroom."
Easier said than done. In the end, Tim had to help me get rid of my socks and pants. Since I was still a little embarrassed in front of him, the whole thing made my face so red it could have passed for an overgrown, ripe cherry. Luckily, I was so frazzled that no other part of my body even got any ideas.
We had just finished undressing when Tim's father arrived to pick us up. With careful guidance from both sides, I made it to the bathroom. It's strange, considering just a few hours earlier I had covered the same distance relatively effortlessly under my own steam.
Arriving in the bathroom, a tub invitingly filled with warm water awaited me. Reinhardt took my bathrobe, and the three of us stood somewhat hesitantly at the edge of the tub.
"Hmm, what's the best way to get you in here without you slipping or hurting yourself?"
Reinhardt cast an appraising glance over my entire body.
"Tell me, when was the last time someone made fun of you? Literally, I mean."
Huh, not that, please! That was just too... Ah. Before I could even begin to protest, Reinhardt had used his height and strength, lifted me from the ground, held me in his arms like a baby, and slowly and carefully lowered me into the water.
"Is the water okay like this? Not too hot or too cold?"
"Just right."
"Good. Just lie there for five minutes. Should I help you wash, or should Tim do it?"
Please not Tim. It was bad enough that he had to watch all of this. His strong, big brother – helpless as a toddler.
"Of."
"Okay. Tim, please stay here and make sure nothing happens."
"All right, Dad."
I leaned back and tried to submerge as much of my body as possible in the pleasantly warm water. I managed to get only my head and the tips of my knees sticking out. Somehow, I immediately felt a little better.
»Alles okay, Danny?«
I glanced at Tim, who was sitting on a stool and looking at me with a worried expression.
"Thank you, that's wonderful. I'm sorry to be such a burden."
"Someone recently told me to stop apologizing for everything. I'll just pass that advice on to you."
Okay, okay. I got a taste of my own medicine. It wasn't long before Reinhardt reappeared in the bathroom and sent Tim into the kitchen to watch the tea water boil.
"Okay, let's get started. How would you like it? Should I help you completely?"
"I think it's enough if you scrub my back; hopefully I can do the rest on my own."
"As you wish. But please don't be embarrassed if you need more help. I can assure you there's nothing I haven't already seen or done with Tim."
Very calming. Still, I was glad that I really only needed help with my back. The wonderfully warm water had revived my spirits somewhat. A few minutes later, everything was done. I got out of the tub and reached for a large bath towel. Reinhardt, however, stopped me and first rinsed the soap residue off me with the shower hose. Then he took the bath towel, wrapped me in it, and then lifted me out of the tub again. All of this with such ease, as if I weighed nothing at all.
»So, ich nehme an du möchtest dich alleine abrubbeln.«
A direct hit. When I was dry and dressed again, Reinhardt took me back to Tim's room. I lay down, was left alone for a moment, and then my dinner was served. A few slices of toast, tea, and the inevitable medication. I bravely devoured everything, and just as I was finished, the phone rang. Tim's father rushed out and came back into the room shortly after with the phone. I had a hunch who was on the line, and my hunch was immediately confirmed.
"Danny, it's your mother, can you talk to her?"
I picked up the phone and answered.
"Danny, how are you? You actually sound pretty good."
It's a good thing she hadn't called half an hour earlier.
"Thanks, I'm feeling much better too. Reinhardt and Tim are taking really good care of me. And how's Paris?"
"It's still standing. It's a wonderful city, the city of love. Maybe I should send you here sometime. You might find a handsome boy for yourself here. Oops—I hope this conversation isn't on speakerphone! I really didn't mean to give you away."
This caused me to let out a hoarse croak, which, with a lot of imagination, could have passed for laughter.
"Don't worry, it's not on loudspeakers. And even if it is, they both know."
"What? You told them? And how did it go?"
"Excellent. Don't worry about it. But I'll tell you all about it when you get back here, so you don't get penniless from the long-distance call. I'll give you your sweetheart again."
The man in question, smiling, picked up the phone again and left the room. What a load of secrecy!
While Reinhardt ran up the phone bill a little more, Tim cleaned up the remains of my meal. Five minutes later, everyone was back in Tim's room. Reinhardt looked at me somewhat reproachfully.
"But that wasn't the whole truth you told your mother. You're already feeling much better."
"I hope you didn't betray me. I want her to have fun in Paris. If I had told her what was really going on with me today, she would have jumped on the next plane and been here in a few hours."
"I understand what you mean. I haven't told her anything, and I won't for the time being. But if you get worse, I won't be able to keep it from her. Agreed?"
"I can live with that."
"Good. How are you now? Did you cope with the exertion?"
"I think so. What I'm missing now is a quiet, restful night without headaches and other problems."
»Dann versuch am besten zu schlafen. Du hast doch auch etwas gegen Schmerzen, nimm davon lieber gleich etwas, als Vorbeugung. Diese Zäpfchen sind dermaßen stark, daß sie bis morgen vormittag vorhalten sollten.«
»Okay, ich zwäng mir so ein Ding rein.«
"Should I help you?"
I thought about it back and forth. Whatever, it didn't make any difference now.
»Okay.«
"Good. Tim, could you please get the thermometer in the meantime?"
Tim did as he was told, and while he was out, his father gave me the painkiller. Then the thermometer kicked in, showing 38.8, and shortly afterward, my two nurses left the room, leaving me to myself. Luckily, I didn't have much time to dwell on it, because after just a few minutes, I drifted off dreamlessly into Morpheus' arms.

---

Okay, now it was time to be strong. Danny, don't be a wimp, you have to go through this. What could possibly happen? But no matter how much I told myself that, no matter how often I dug up the statistics in my head, a bad feeling still remained. This naturally affected my general condition, and slowly but surely, I fell behind the others. Which, of course, was immediately noticed. Reinhardt also fell behind.
»Alles okay, Danny?«
"Yes, everything's great, fantastic, wonderful."
"You're a damn bad liar."
"I know. But I had to try."
"Come on, let's go, it'll be fine."
He put his massive right arm around my body, and together we walked through the narrow passenger tunnel to the entrance of the Airbus that would take us to Orlando. Now it should be clear what had thrown me off track. Okay, the anticipation of Florida was enormous, but the closer the day of departure drew, the more I realized that this inevitably involved boarding a plane. That's something I hadn't done since my father died. My mother had, and although it had taken a lot of effort for her at first, she had flown across Germany and half of Europe in the last few years. I, on the other hand... well, as I said, I was perfectly aware that flying was a very safe form of transport. I also knew all the basic physics, but I still felt nagging doubts. I mean, these turbine-powered wannabes are incredibly heavy and are only kept in the air by tricks—no matter how scientifically sound those tricks may be—and if those tricks fail, the way down is incredibly long, and the impact is incredibly hard and final. But wait, I had to pull myself together now; after all, I couldn't let my (albeit understandable) cowardice ruin the others' well-earned vacation. Besides, it was way too late to jump out anyway. Jump out? Oops, apt choice of words.
With a look of death-defying contempt on my face, I summoned my courage and trudged onto the plane with a fairly steady stride next to Reinhardt. After all, the reward for my courage was truly something special, at least for someone like me. Almost two weeks out of the German cold and off to a place where we could run around in T-shirts and shorts! That was pretty much my idea of paradise. My cocky little brother, by the way, had rushed ahead as if he were afraid the plane would take off without him. Ah yes, the enthusiasm of youth!
Wait a minute, some might say. The guy was just lying terminally ill in strangers' beds, and now he's suddenly on his way to the land of the great Big Mac? Well, folks, I've decided to spare myself (and you) the heartbreaking description of my ordeal over the past two weeks. With slight daily improvements, I've mostly been repeating what had happened on my first day with the Bergners. Fortunately, a few days ago, the family's healing doctor had given the green light for the trip to Uncle Sam, so—even though I still didn't feel 100% recovered—I was able to board the plane in good spirits (or not so good). The almost week I spent with Tim and his father had the welcome effect of bonding the three of us together, something my mother was also delighted to note upon her return from the baguette capital. She'd brought me a real Parisienne, by the way! Well, unfortunately, not one on two legs, but one wrapped in foil. And it was now making its way to Florida with me in my wallet—not that I had any high hopes of needing it there.
But back to the story and back to the plane. When Reinhardt gave us our first look at the tickets at baggage check-in, my eyes almost popped out of my head. It actually said business class! I rummaged through my memory for a moment, but found no reference to a recent lottery win. While both families were doing well financially, shelling out that much money for transportation seemed a bit excessive. While I certainly wasn't going to complain, I was somewhat relieved when Tim's father explained how we came to have this honor. It turned out that he had been translating technical literature for this airline for some time, with the result that he himself had free business class tickets, and his companion received this luxury at the price of tourist class. Sometime soon, I'd ask him if he also happened to work for Lincoln. My 18th birthday was only a few months away, and then I'd need my driver's license, and a Lincoln Navigator at a discount price would complete my happiness. Okay, not quite complete, but I'd still find the right passenger. It had to happen at some point!
Once on the plane, we were shown to our seats, and I generously gave Tim the window seat. Hopefully, that way I wouldn't notice too much of the takeoff. I made myself comfortable and waited for what was to come. I watched the other passengers for a while, then dug out the information material that the operators of this flying heap of metal had prepared for the amusement of the passengers. A glossy brochure, the safety instructions of which jumped out at me the moment I opened it. Very reassuring indeed. At the sight of my pained expression, Tim giggled beside me.
"Really that bad?"
"Uh... hm... yes. Do they also have to explicitly point out that something could happen?"
"I think so, just to protect yourself against claims for damages."
Very nice. I continued browsing and found some more reassuring information, such as information about the video and radio programs and duty-free shopping. A slight sense of relaxation spread through me, and I didn't even notice how the departure time was getting closer. I was startled by the captain's voice, who threatened that the flight attendants would now begin their safety briefing.
"Not this too!"
My mother, who was sitting behind Tim and me with Reinhardt, leaned forward and whispered soothingly in my ear.
"You have to go through it, it won't take long."
Like the proverbial sheep being led to the slaughter, I endured the speech, and when it was over, I wished it would continue for a few more hours. It had suddenly become clear to me that with the end of the chatter, takeoff was imminent. The flight attendants handed out candy to help them cope with the pressure equalization (I would have preferred general anesthesia), and then the plane began to roll. I shrank back in my seat and clenched my hands around the seatbacks. Tim was no longer amused but rather worried.
"We're not taking off yet, first we have to taxi to the runway."
My level of tension dropped to 99%. Tim smiled reassuringly and placed his left hand on my right. 98%. The rolling continued for quite a while, and a crazy thought flashed through my mind. 'Thank God, we're rolling to Florida.' 97%. We made a few turns around the airport. 96%. The plane stopped. 'Engine broken down, flight canceled!' 25% and falling! (Yes, yes, I know: total nonsense. But the things that go through your head when you're so scared you don't know what to do.) Suddenly, there was a roar, the plane began to shake, and began to move, gaining more and more speed. I was back to 100%. The armrests would definitely have to be replaced after my flight; they were guaranteed to be permanently decorated with my fingernail prints. I didn't want to hear any more of this, so I squeezed my eyes shut. I didn't have a total blackout, but I wasn't far from it either.
I can't say how long I remained in this state of paralysis, but by the time I was able to perceive my surroundings again, the roaring and shaking had stopped, and I felt a bit like I was in a fast, comfortable car on a freshly repaired highway. I cast a cautious glance around and saw nothing but relaxed faces. Apparently, everything had worked as planned, and we were about to cover the first few kilometers on the way to Disney's Fairytale Land. I turned my head to the right, and from there, Tim was looking at me with a grin so wide it almost burst the boundaries of his face.
"So, survived?"
"Just barely."
"Look at this."
My little brother pointed at the screen in front of me. I had no idea what he was trying to say, but the constantly rising altitude reading wasn't exactly reassuring. But whatever, there was nothing I could do about it now anyway, so I guessed I'd better accept my situation. I reached for the book I'd brought with me, and shortly thereafter, surprisingly, I was completely immersed in the plot.
A while later – the mysterious murderer in my crime novel had just struck for the third time – I was pulled out of the action. A stewardess (wait, stop, objection: a flight attendant) was handing out drinks and snacks. Tim and I helped ourselves, the friendly lady continued her walk through the rows, then the voice of the conqueror of the skies rang out to inform us that we could now catch a glimpse of Hamburg at night, many kilometers below us. This view – Tim kindly let me look out the window, which I did with a little hesitation at first – made up for a lot. I would never have believed that you could see everything so clearly from that height. Individual cars, a fully lit football stadium – simply magnificent. By now, my entire body was hanging on my brother's seat, and our heads were pressed against the small window. A few minutes later, it was all over, and we sorted ourselves back into our own seats.
"Well, Danny, wasn't that a great sight?"
"Can you say it out loud? Is it always like this?"
"No, I've never had that much luck on any of my previous flights. Either we were flying during the day, or there were too many clouds between us and the ground. Old Peter seems to be on your side."
"Well, I have to have a little luck sometimes. I wonder if we'll see anything like this again these days?"
"If the weather cooperates, yes. Next stop would be Glasgow, and after the big water, then Washington."
"Class!"
"Hey, where did your fear of flying suddenly go?"
"What fear of flying? But not me."
"Haha. If you're so easy to cure, I'll quickly cure your fear of water."
"Ugh. Don't remind me. I'm busy enough right now getting over flying at 10,000 meters without a net or parachute. To top it all off, soon, over one of the world's largest bodies of water."
But Tim was absolutely right. I was actually much more relaxed now and could lean back in my chair relatively easily. Slowly but surely, one thing became clear to me.
"Tell me, Tim, is it always this cold on airplanes?"
"Well, it's not particularly warm, anyway. Look at the outside temperature: minus 55 degrees. Every degree they heat costs extra fuel. So they'd rather hand out blankets. Do you need one?"
"Leave it, not yet. But if I ever get the idea to sleep for a while, I wouldn't mind a blanket."
"How you mean."
At least now I knew why we hadn't slipped into the much more summery Florida clothes at the airport back home, but would wait until we arrived in the Sunshine State.
We spent the time until we flew over Glasgow reading and listening to the in-flight radio. Over the Scottish capital, we were once again very lucky with the weather, and the experience from Hamburg was repeated. Shortly after, food was served, which was... well, let's just say: edible. After clearing the table, the picture on the monitors changed, and the main film of the flight was announced: Armageddon. Well, I hadn't seen that one yet, so I switched my headphones to the appropriate channel and spent the next two hours watching humanity's fight for survival. Not bad, actually, but I couldn't quite understand what the girls at my school thought of Ben Affleck.
After the movie ended, I grabbed one of the aforementioned blankets and slept for a good two hours. This way, I could at least dream of having solid ground beneath my feet. Since such good things never last, I was awakened by a gentle shake on my shoulder.
"Danny, wake up."
I tried to collect my thoughts a little, and after a few confused moments, I actually managed to come up with an answer.
"What, are we there yet?"
"No, but you have to fasten your seatbelt. The captain warned of turbulence."
Great! Just what I needed to be happy. I sat up straight and snapped my seatbelt into place. Sure enough, a very unpleasant shaking began shortly afterward. The plane rocked in every direction, and at times I could actually feel it sinking quite a bit. The mood in the cabin was appropriate; you could practically feel the tension.
Our ordeal lasted about a quarter of an hour, after which the flight attendants had their hands full collecting the famous bags. Surprisingly, I hadn't needed mine – unlike my oh-so-cool little brother. But wait, I was definitely not going to make fun of him, since I had already given up on my own life several times during those 15 long minutes.
Well, fortunately, not only the good moments in life end, but also the less so, and we found ourselves in less disturbed atmospheres. As I said, Tim was quite pale – and now he could probably understand my situation much better. Mom and Reinhardt hadn't been entirely unaffected by the events of the last few minutes either; if I understood correctly, the flight attendant in the row behind us had to take two bags of poop. It then took about half an hour until everyone had calmed down somewhat, and the normal in-flight entertainment, with short films and a small snack, started again.
The rest of the flight flew by. Hey, what kind of stupid saying is that? Well, stupid but accurate. Washington was hiding under a thick blanket of clouds – well, maybe good old George was having a visit from an intern and wanted to avoid being observed from above. Maybe they weren't clouds at all, but rather cigar smoke.
The final stretch led down the coast toward Orlando, where we landed around 10:30 p.m. Just an hour and a half later, we had completed immigration formalities, found our luggage, changed clothes, and were just about to find a taxi to the hotel when the name "Bergner" was suddenly called out. So, as requested, we made our way to the information desk, where a man in the airline's uniform was waiting for us. The airline actually seemed quite grateful to Reinhardt; the employee waiting for us turned out to be our driver, who then transported us to the hotel in a minibus (I use this word deliberately; the fashionable "van" here would be a considerable understatement considering the enormous vehicle).
After a drive along still quite busy streets, we reached our accommodation for the next few days: a "resort" right next to the Magic Kingdom. Reinhardt certainly didn't skimp, as was evident shortly afterwards when we were led to a breathtaking suite. A large living room, two bedrooms, each with two huge beds and a private bathroom with a whirlpool, of course, TVs everywhere (okay, not everywhere; they had inexplicably omitted them from the bathrooms), and fully air-conditioned. In two simple words: pure luxury.
However, given the late hour, we decided against further exploration. We quickly unpacked the essentials and shortly after were in bed. Despite the rather exciting past few hours, sleep came really quickly this time.

---

It was only 8 a.m. and I was already awake. And on vacation, no less. And it only took me about an hour to figure out where I was. No, it wasn't quite that bad, but I was a little startled to wake up in a bed that was so big I could have gotten lost. All of this in a room that was slightly over-decorated. It was all a bit over the top for my taste, but then, I guess that was typical American. Before I could indulge in any further analysis, I was jolted out of my musings.
"Hello sleepyhead. Are you finally awake?"
An unpleasantly cheerful Tim stood in the bathroom doorway, grinning happily and wearing only skin-tight boxer shorts. The sight was pure psychological terror for my lonely heart, and I once again cursed the fact that—contrary to certain prejudices—no one could be seduced into being gay. My little brother would certainly have been worth every effort in that regard. But that wasn't meant to be.
"Why are you awake already? They always say little children need their sleep."
"If I didn't need all my energy for today, I'd show you who's a little kid."
"Don't promise anything you can't keep, Timmy!"
"Argh! Now it's your turn!"
With these words, my little brother covered the few steps between the bathroom door and my bed, only to then abruptly stop just within arm's reach. He stared at me with a pensive expression.
"Wait a minute. What was that, you know karate?"
"You can count on it."
"Okay, apology accepted. You've really been very lucky there. But you shouldn't push your luck too much. If you don't get out of bed quickly, you're guaranteed to get into trouble with our old folks. We have a lot planned for today."
Normally, I would have been annoyed by such pushing and shoving, but since I was only too eager to explore my surroundings, I generously overlooked it this time. I threw off the covers, which, for a change (and unlike wintry Germany), didn't result in a fit of shivering.
"Tim, have you found out what the thermometer says yet?"
"Around eighteen degrees. And it's supposed to get up to twenty-five."
"Hallellujah! And where did you get this divine news?"
Tim gestured with his right arm toward the television, which—as I only now noticed—was flickering silently, showing the latest weather information. I sent a quick prayer to heaven regarding the reliability of American weather forecasters and then headed for the bathroom.
Fifteen minutes later, I re-entered the room, in roughly the same outfit as Tim when I woke up, the only difference being that I wasn't as keen on such skin-tight clothing. Reinhardt's son had meanwhile completed his wardrobe and was standing in the room wearing a T-shirt and blue jeans cut just below the knee. Since this seemed entirely appropriate for the temperature, I agreed with his choice and joined him shortly afterward in a very similar outfit. Tim turned off the television, then we went into the "living room" of the suite, where Mom and Reinhardt were already waiting for us.
"Well, have the young people finally woken up?"
"Oh, Reinhardt, just leave her alone. Yesterday was really exhausting."
"I didn't mean it like that. Good morning everyone."
The morning actually seemed good. It would be even better if my stomach weren't growling so much.
"How about breakfast?"
"We were just waiting for you. So come on, everyone who's hungry, follow me."
He didn't have to ask for long. The caravan set off, and after a march through long corridors and a ride in an elevator, we found a comfortable table for four in one of the hotel restaurants. Ten minutes later, our breakfast was in front of us, and it was quite different from what we were used to at home. Toast (a rather soggy one) with ham, bacon, and a fried egg, along with tea and coffee (which our parents described as not particularly good). Well, as unusual as the combination of dishes was (my mother and I usually preferred the "sweet alternative" for breakfast, i.e., rolls and jam), the stuff was definitely filling. I would have to get used to the taste, but it wasn't bad.
Now that this extremely important need had been satisfied, we turned to planning the day together. Tim, of course, was the most impatient.
"Dad, what are we doing today?"
"Well, we're staying here for four days, so we can visit a different park each day. Maria and I thought it would be best to visit MGM Studios today; you don't necessarily need a whole day for that. We need to get settled in a bit first anyway."
I briefly rummaged through my memory, which I had already thoroughly crammed with all sorts of data and information about our destination at home. Keywords like Star Tours and Tower of Terror came to mind. Well, today would show just how brave my little brother really was.
As expected, there wasn't much discussion, and after everyone had been fed, we returned to our suite. There, Reinhardt showed us various items he'd found on the room table. These included Disney passes, maps, promotional brochures, as well as papers and keys to a rental car. We got all the video and photo equipment ready, then it was time to finally head off to our final destination, so we headed back downstairs and shortly afterward, we were sitting in a Disney bus that would take us to MGM Studios. The journey took us on six-lane roads in places, and the traffic was busy but not too heavy.
Arriving at the park entrance, we stocked up on informational materials and arranged a meeting point in case we got lost in the hustle and bustle. The crowds were still relatively manageable, but that would probably change as the day progressed. Not for the better, mind you. The equipment was divided up: Reinhardt took the video camera, Mom took our 35mm camera, and I got the digital camera. There was nothing left for Tim, and that didn't seem entirely fair to me.
"Hey, Tim, do you want to take the digital camera? It's yours, after all."
"No, let's not. I'm not that into photography."
"Okay, if you say so."
We decided to work our way around the park clockwise, which first brought us to the "Indiana Jones Epic Stunt Spectacular!" We were really lucky; the show had just opened, and we found a good spot in the middle of the stands. The stands filled up pretty quickly; if we had arrived ten minutes later, we would have had to wait for the next show. Shortly after the hallowed halls were completely full, an "anchorman" appeared, welcomed the guests, and then went on the hunt for a few volunteers to act as "stand-in stuntmen." I briefly considered volunteering, but then decided against it (afterward, I was very glad I did). Five spectators were singled out and "led away" to be prepared for their roles. Then the grand spectacle began, featuring several scenes. Among other things, the giant rock sphere from "Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom" (if I'm remembering that correctly) was used, followed by a wild car and foot chase, complete with fights and shootouts, and even the famous scene with the airplane rolling wildly through the air. All of this was accompanied by music, bangs, and pyrotechnics (all extremely loud!), including some blazing flames. The volunteers also made an appearance, and now I'll stop talking about it further; after all, I don't want to spoil the excitement for future Florida tourists ;-)
The show was truly spectacular, and at its end, we left the arena, stunned by the action and the volume. The next stop was "Star Tours," a ride I highly recommend to all Star Wars fans. A crashed X-Wing fighter lies scattered in front of the entrance, and a giant walker shoots water from its "laser" cannons—accompanied by the typical Star Wars sounds.
Inside, we experienced a fast-paced chase through space, complete with loose asteroids and attacking villains. The sound, light, and motion effects made it all incredibly realistic – something I simply wouldn't have believed possible. Okay, I'd heard how awesome it was supposed to be, but I'd always dismissed it as an exaggeration. It really isn't! Even at that moment, I knew that the four most exciting days of my life awaited me.
Once we'd settled back into our space and time, we decided to split up. Mom and Reinhardt wanted to take it easy, while Tim and I couldn't get to the next attraction fast enough.
"Guys, meet at the Christmas tree at 5:00 PM, okay?"
This decorated fellow, by the way, deserves a special mention. Christmas "tree" probably wasn't quite the right term, because surely no real tree could grow with such geometric precision. Covered to the max with balls, garlands, and other baubles, it was a living (or rather, non-living) example of American excess. Everything has to be a little bigger, more colorful, more unusual than anywhere else in the world. You just have to love the Americans for that. But back to the main event. After my mother had decided on the meeting place, Reinhardt pulled out his wallet and pressed $50 into Tim and me each.
"Here, that doesn't mean you have to spend them in the next few hours."
Hmm, I had seen a few things in the Star Wars shop that I would have liked to buy – but they would have exceeded both my budget and the baggage allowance for the return flight.
"Right, push off, you're almost impossible to stop anyway. Make sure you don't lose sight of each other. And Tim: you stick with Danny, okay? Do what he tells you. Have fun, you two."
I wasn't sure if I really enjoyed this role as big brother. Sure, it was fun to look after the "little one" – but on the other hand, I didn't want him to start seeing me as just an "authority figure." Well, I'd discuss that with him when the opportunity arose.
Mom also wished us lots of fun, and then we were finally able to disperse. Sure, I really liked the two "oldies," but I preferred exploring something like Disney World with someone my own age. Tim seemed to feel the same way, because he couldn't put enough distance between us and the old folks.
"Phew, finally alone! I thought they'd never let us leave in peace."
Yup, Tim felt exactly the same as me!
"Well then, what's our next destination?"
We glanced at the map together, then at the grounds, and soon we were on our way to the Muppet Show—more specifically, to "Jim Henson's Muppet Vision 3-D." As the name suggests, it's a three-dimensional version of the famous puppet show. Appropriate glasses were distributed at the entrance, the wait until the next show was shortened by performances by various Muppets on video monitors, and a few minutes later we were sitting in a real theater. The show that then began was... simply breathtaking! It's a very strange feeling when a car suddenly comes hurtling towards you from the screen. I jumped in my seat and was about to crawl down. Not such a good idea, because Tim next to me was thinking very similar things, and we bumped heads.
"Do not!"
"Same to you!"
Now, of course, some people will say: They knew what was coming. 3D says it all. True! But keep that in mind when you get swept away by the action! We two weren't the only ones who reacted that way, by the way. Luckily, the collision wasn't particularly violent; the shock was greater than the pain, so we were able to continue enjoying the show. We flinched a few times (like everyone else in the theater), but we managed to avoid any further physical collisions.
By the way, knowledge of English is very helpful. While it's not necessary for the rides, the shows are only truly enjoyable if you understand what's being said. Tim and I had no problems with our school English – we understood not only the jokes being played but also the spoken ones.
And one more thing: whether it's speech, music, or special effects – everything is extremely loud. Thomas might be used to this from his squabbling sisters, but it totally freaked me out at first. You get used to it over time, but later on, it can cause lasting damage. (Which can be quite pleasant when you can no longer hear your significant other snoring. That, however, presupposes you have one, which brings us back to the annoying topic of lonely Danny.)
Anyway, after the Muppet Show, Tim and I decided to take a short break to recharge our batteries. Since the Disney people have come to the completely correct conclusion that starving guests aren't good advertising, we didn't have to search long before we came across a hot dog stand. We each treated ourselves to a hot dog and a bottle of Sprite and then found a shady spot to eat our expensively purchased food ($2.50 for a 0.5 liter bottle of Sprite – phew). You can also purchase a very useful accessory for the bottles – a strap that you can use to hang them around your neck. This leaves your hands free, and you always need free hands at Disney.
As I said, we sat down on a strategically located bench and first served the hot dogs to their intended purpose. After our spirits had been thus revived, we leaned back and watched the hustle and bustle for a while. By now, there were huge crowds out and about, and since "people-watching" was one of my favorite pastimes anyway, I really enjoyed it. I mean, the more people there are, the better the chances of seeing some really nice sights ;-)
Tim watched me watching people for a while, then he got bored.
"Well, anyone you're interested in?"
I grinned at him.
"I've seen a few I wouldn't mind."
"Bad finger. And you're supposed to be a role model for me. Tell me, what type of boy do you like best?"
"Hmm, let me think about it. Blonde, slim, athletic—but not a bodybuilder, more like a soccer player or swimmer—intelligent, funny, about my age."
There was a much shorter answer, of course, but I couldn't bring myself to say, "Just look in a mirror." To be honest, I hadn't held out much hope for Tim on this matter. Don't ask me why, it was just a feeling.
"Don't fall for an American here, or are you looking for a holiday fling?"
"No, I want something permanent. I want to share not just my bed but also my life with the guy I fall in love with. That may sound old-fashioned, but that's just the way I am."
"Don't worry, that doesn't sound old-fashioned, more romantic. I couldn't imagine a purely sexual relationship either. Although, at the moment, I can't really imagine a relationship at all. Tell me, why are we whispering? Nobody here can understand us anyway?"
"I wouldn't be so sure if I were you."
The intensity of our subsequent shock was roughly equivalent to the initial shock in a 3D movie theater. Sitting far from home on a bench in Disney World, you're suddenly being spoken to in your native tongue! Japanese wouldn't have surprised me much; we'd already encountered a few people with the right facial features and the inevitable cameras in their faces, but Germans? And on the next bench?
After we had somewhat recovered from our shock, we looked in the direction from which the familiar sounds had come. Sitting on the bench next to us was a couple (a straight couple :-), maybe two or three years older than us. Both of them were grinning at us, both cheerfully and a little guiltily.
"Excuse me, guys, we really didn't mean to scare you. Bernd is a little impulsive sometimes."
"Hey, I just couldn't pass this up. By the way, this is Sandra. You already know my name."
"Ha... Hi. I'm Danny, and the guy next to me is Tim."
How long had they been listening to us?
"Nice to meet you. Are you alone here?"
"Our parents let us off the leash; we were probably a little too demanding for them. Or rather, they were too slow for us."
"I can imagine. We're here with Sandra's parents, and we decided to split up right at the entrance."
"They were afraid that Bernd would drag them into the 'Tower of Terror,' so they gave us some money and then left."
Tim and I grinned at each other.
"Seems familiar."
I took a closer look at our new acquaintances. (I looked at the male part first, of course.) Bernd seemed to be—to put it mildly—a true giant. What I could see while sitting convinced me that he was probably at least as tall as Reinhardt. And even today, surpassing Reinhardt's 1.95 isn't common. He had jet-black, relatively short hair and a goatee. Silver earrings perched in both ears. I couldn't tell what color his eyes were because of his dark sunglasses. His nose was... well, prominent. Not ugly, but it dominated his face. The mouth beneath it (nonsense, where else would it be!) was quite wide, perfect for the distinctive smile Bernd was currently sporting. He was wearing a white T-shirt and black dungarees. (Did I ever mention that I find guys in overalls extremely erotic?) Okay, time to look somewhere else, so that good old Bernd doesn't get any stupid ideas.
Sandra was, surprisingly enough, not much shorter than her boyfriend. I'd guess she was around 1.85 m tall, which would have put her under the bar. Long, reddish-brown hair, brown eyes, a snub nose, and plump, red lips that invited kissing. If you were into such invitations. Red jeans and white
T-shirt completed the picture.
While I was taking all this in, Tim and our counterparts obviously didn't remain idle. Sandra and Bernd were probably scanning us as thoroughly as we were scanning them, and the silence that had arisen during this mutual sizing up was soon broken by the only female in the group (okay, this is a cliché, but females are usually more curious and chatty than males).
"Hey, we overheard a few things earlier, and I hope you don't mind us being too mad, but... are you a couple? I mean, you don't really look like siblings."
Tim looked at me.
"Are we a couple?"
»Well.«
I just managed to refrain from saying “unfortunately.”
"Danny is actually my brother. Stepbrother, to be exact. His mom and my dad met a few months ago, and we're moving in together at the beginning of the year."
"I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to offend you. And just for the record: I wouldn't have a problem if you had been either."
"Okay, then I'm relieved. Tim and I may not be a couple, but I'm still gay. And my little brother seems to want to set me up, or where does this sudden interest in my preferences come from?"
"It's logical, how am I supposed to point out handsome guys to you if I don't even know what you mean by a handsome guy."
"Please hold back a little, okay? It's bad enough that Mom keeps pointing out guys on the street and asking me if this guy or that guy isn't exactly my type."
"Okay, I'll try. But don't complain later if you miss out on the love of your life."
"Would it be possible to find a topic other than my nonexistent love life?"
Now Bernd intervened.
"Where have you been?"
I told him what we had done so far, and it turned out that the two of them had visited exactly the same stations, albeit in a slightly different order.
"How about joining Sandra and me? It'll definitely be more fun with four of us."
Tim and I looked at each other and shrugged. Why not?
"Gladly. Where did you want to go next?"
"Let's take a look at the map. What's the cheapest option?"
We delved into the information sheet and looked for a convenient route to the next attraction. Tim tapped a point on the map.
"How about this? 'Backlot Studio Tour' sounds interesting, doesn't it? On the way there, we'll pass 'Honey, I Shrunk the Kids.'"
Everyone agreed, so we pulled ourselves upright and set off. "Honey, I shrunk the kids" turned out to be a children's playground, and what a playground it was! Ten-meter-high blades of grass, a slide shaped like a film reel, and even a pony-sized ant. Naturally, the place was populated by crowds of children. It wasn't that interesting for us "big kids," but the little ones were thrilled. We watched the raging chaos for a few minutes, then continued our stroll in the agreed direction.
This time we had to wait a little bit; it took a good half hour until it was our turn to go on the "Disney-MGM Studios Backlot Tour."
Initially, the journey proceeded on foot, culminating in a simulated naval battle with cannon and torpedo fire. A slightly damp affair for the spectators.
ness – but even wetter for the two picked "volunteers" who had been placed on a ship's bridge in the middle of the battlefield!
We were then put on a small train (like the ones you occasionally see on the road here in Germany, only with a lot more trailers), and a tour through various parts of the Disney-MGM Studios began. We saw recording studios, but also prop rooms and tailoring workshops, etc. Outside, there were plenty of vehicles from various films (Armageddon, Star Wars, Mary Poppins, and many more). The last part of the ride was "Catastrophe Canyon," where exploding tankers and rushing water threatened to engulf the tour vehicle. Once again, some participants who had sat in awkward positions got a closer acquaintance with the wet element – but we stayed dry. At around 25 degrees Celsius, such external cooling wasn't absolutely necessary.
After completing this ride, we moved on to the next point on the map: a behind-the-scenes look at "101 Dalmatians." Trainers demonstrated how to work with the cute Dalmatian puppies, followed by a demonstration of some props and a demonstration of Dalmatian puppets that replaced the real puppies in certain scenes.
Slowly but surely we made our way to the park's attraction, the Tower of Terror, or, to give it its full name, "The Twilight Zone Tower of Terror." The tower could be seen and heard from far away. Well, the tower was only visible; what could be heard were the panicked screams of the visitors. The setting is the dilapidated Hollywood Tower Hotel, destroyed by lightning, in which visitors—if they have the courage—move slowly upwards in an elevator, then rapidly downwards. It's a 13-story free fall! From outside, you can see the people in the elevator cars through opening sliding doors, just as the elevator stops briefly, only to plummet into the depths, accompanied by the bloodcurdling screams of the occupants.
By the time our group of four stood in front of the tower, we were no longer so sure whether it would be a good idea to go. In the end, group dynamics won out; no one wanted to back out, so we lined up, and just an hour later we were in the elevator, heading up. During the ride, spooky hallways appeared before us, but none of us could really concentrate on them. All my thoughts were focused on the impending fall, and later, when it was all over, I realized that the tension before the actual fall, the not knowing exactly when it would happen, was probably the worst part of the whole adventure. Tim, who was sitting next to me, grabbed my hand, and we didn't let go until I stood up. At some point, the sliding doors I'd already seen from the outside opened. I caught a brief glimpse of the park, then we headed down, and in seconds we were a pretty shabby bunch. The sensation of the fall is hard to describe. All my insides felt a strong urge to the ceiling of the elevator, and it took a while for them to sort themselves back into their proper places. That's probably what weightlessness felt like. Our ordeal repeated itself once more, and now, at the very latest, I was grateful that I'd only eaten the one hot dog and, despite our growling stomachs, we'd postponed the next meal until after the tower visit.
After our second fall, we left the area somewhat unsteadily, and it was probably clear from our faces that the Tower wasn't nicknamed "of Terror" for nothing. I, for one, decided I didn't need to go through it again. Okay, I'd been through it once, so now I could have my say, but I wasn't keen on a repeat. Apparently, I wasn't alone in that opinion.
"Bernd, never again! Do you understand? My God, when I think about having to get into a hotel elevator again tonight!"
"You can always take the stairs to the twelfth floor."
"Going up isn't an option, but I'll be going down in the future, you can count on that!"
I looked at Tim, and he was pretty pale too. I guess about as pale as I was at that moment. Well, at least we hadn't wet our pants.
We briefly discussed the matter privately and decided that we deserved a little rest. Fittingly, there was a large feeding trough nearby with various stalls and plenty of tables, one of which we immediately took over. Incidentally, we were now on Sunset Boulevard. Yes, the one from Hollywood. A faithful recreated 1940s vibe, with even a few chic vintage cars parked along the side of the road.
Ten minutes later, we had honored various stalls with our dollars and were now sitting at our lavishly laid table. I felt like the experience in the Tower of Terror had made me even hungrier—so I stocked up on two hamburgers. As we all tucked into our food, Sandra's curiosity returned.
"How old are you, actually? And where are you from?"
I was far too busy with my filled wobbly rolls to answer, luckily Tim had already devoured his (very surprising that he hadn't taken two at once).
"Danny is already seventeen, and I'll be in March. We live in Leipzig. And what about you?"
"We're both twenty. I was born and raised in Berlin, Bernd is originally from Hanover but is now studying in Berlin. We met at university."
Oh dear, Prussian alert! I immediately thought of a line from a song by the notorious Leipzig cabaret artist Jürgen Hart: "But when the Saxon comes to Berlin, they can't stand him there, they want to pull a fast one on him, they want to argue with him." On the other hand, we'd been traveling together for a few hours now, and the two of them didn't seem all that bad. Although Bernd was just a "temporary Prussian" anyway.
"And you're here with your parents?"
"Yes. We got engaged two months ago, and this is a kind of engagement present from my parents. They really wanted to come along, though. But that sounds worse than it is; we have our own rental car, and our room is in a different part of the hotel."
"Sounds like pretty cool parents."
"Sandra's parents are really great; they welcomed me into the family right away."
"And what about your own?"
Bernd made a painful face, which of course my curious little brother noticed immediately.
"Oops, sorry, it's a touchy subject. Forget the question."
Sandra's fiancé continued to look distressed.
"Leave it. True, it's a sensitive subject, but maybe it's better if you know about it. Especially Danny."
Nanu?
"My parents no longer exist for me. It's a pretty unpleasant story, the short version is this: I have an older sister. Antje is a lesbian, and when she told our parents, they kicked her out of the house. It was like, 'We don't have a daughter anymore.' Well, I went along with that right away; now they don't have a son either. And as long as they don't reconcile with Antje, I don't want anything to do with them."
Wow. Now that's what I call sibling solidarity. In my eyes, Bernd had just qualified for imminent canonization. Now it was clear to me why the two of them didn't seem to have a problem with my being gay. Okay, I wasn't too worried about Sandra in that regard anyway; girls rarely seem to have problems with gay guys. Things didn't look quite so good with straight guys, unfortunately. So Bernd was... well, not exactly a notable exception, but probably a member of a minority. A quick glance at Tim showed me that he was staring at the person opposite us with eyes just as wide as mine.
I decided that, despite everything, a change to a less emotionally charged topic was advisable.
"How long have you been here? And how long are you staying?"
Sandra happily seized the opportunity.
"We've been here in Orlando for a whole week, and today is our last day. Tomorrow morning we're heading down to Key West. How about you?"
"We'll stay here for four days, then we'll head over to the Kennedy Space Center, and then down the coast, via Fort Lauderdale and Miami, to Key West. Maybe we'll run into each other again there."
"Unfortunately, that won't work. We'll only stay there for two days, then we'll drive up the Gulf Coast in three days, and then we'll have to go back to Germany."
"That's a shame. But tell me, since you've been here so long, what's one of the must-sees?"
Now Bernd had recovered enough to be able to take part in the conversation.
"Well, I liked Epcot the best. Especially the 'World Showcase,' where the crazy Americans recreated eleven different countries by a lake. You'll laugh your head off at Germany; for Americans, Bavaria is synonymous with Germany. Every self-respecting German wears lederhosen, yodels, and holds a beer mug. But the 'Bratwurst with Sauerkraut' tastes pretty good; it's not bad to have something local on your plate for a change."
However, Sandra had one very important addition to make.
"Beware of the brass band! They regularly pick on innocent spectators and force them to dance the Schuhplattler dance with them! My cheeky fiancé was promptly caught, and when he acted more than a little clumsy, they couldn't believe he was German!"
I made a bold, red entry in my memory. I could easily do without such a display.
"So, Sandra, what did you like best?"
"That's easy to answer. Animal Kingdom. For a change, there are live animals to see, not just puppets. And the Tree of Life has a great 3D theater."
At the mention of this cinematic achievement, Tim and I
into loud laughter, which seemed to slightly confuse our two companions.
"Come on, Tim, tell them what we have to contribute to the topic of '3-D cinema'."
My brother was only too happy to comply, with the result that Sandra and Bernd fell into fits of endless laughter. Once they had calmed down somewhat, Bernd showed us his right forearm.
"Look, these little scratches are from Sandra's fingernails. She gave them to me in the exact scene Tim just described."
This finally saved the mood, and the slight dissonance over the topic of "Bernd's parents" was forgotten. After we had finished all our food, we strolled leisurely along Sunset Boulevard through the bustling crowd. A two-man comedy troupe had set up shop at one corner, and they, too, were engaging the audience in their performance. The most important thing to remember: never stand too far forward.
The weather, by the way, was perfect for exploring the park: sunshine with fluffy clouds, not too warm, not too cold. For me, that meant plenty of handsome guys, covered in relatively little fabric. A particularly interesting sight were the white-clad cleaning boys who zoomed through the streets on roller skates, immediately sweeping up every scrap of paper or anything else that could be considered "dirt." Certainly not a particularly pleasant job, but as I said, these tanned, muscular guys were a great sight.
At a leisurely pace, we walked toward the meeting point we'd agreed upon with our parents (Tim's and mine): the large Christmas tree right in front of the "Great Movie Ride," which we then checked in on, as we still had enough time. A ride through American film history, with Casablanca, The Wizard of Oz, Alien, and other films. Quite interesting, and it proves once again that Americans don't walk anywhere, as long as it can be avoided.
After we had finally completed this journey, it was time to say goodbye to our unexpected new friends. It was a real shame that they had to move on the next day, but that's life. While Tim and Bernd took a quick look at a souvenir stand where they sold glow-in-the-dark bracelets and similar items, Sandra took me aside for a moment.
"Well then, have a nice vacation. And good luck with Tim."
I must have looked pretty bewildered because she laughed quietly to herself.
"Don't try to deny it, you have a crush on that boy, I can see it from a mile away."
"Hmm, okay, guilty as charged. But that won't come to anything. He's probably 'straight as an arrow,' as the local natives say. Or did you happen to notice something about him, too?"
"Well, he likes you, a lot. Whether just as a brother or whether there's maybe more to it is really hard to say. In any case, I wouldn't give up all hope if I were you. So, where are the two of them? Oh yes, over there. Come on, we should really say goodbye soon. My parents are waiting for Bernd and me at the exit."
So we wandered over to the aforementioned souvenir stand, where Bernd gave his girlfriend a glowing plastic rose and the two then said goodbye to Tim and me.
My little brother had bought himself a luminous ring, which he now hung around his neck, and shortly afterwards he blessed me with a similar one, only mine glowed blue and his red.
»Danny, wie spät ist es?«
»Viertel vor fünf. Moment mal, wo ist deine Uhr?«
"I must have lost it; the bracelet was already slightly torn this morning. Luckily, it was just a cheap piece of plastic. That's another topic. I'm thirsty, shall we have a quick drink before Dad and Maria show up?"
Good idea. I spotted a drinks cart not twenty meters away. I pressed a five-dollar bill into Tim's hand.
"Here, bring me a Coke, please. I just want to quickly look around the stand."
»Okay.«
Tim left, and I let my eyes wander over the displays. I was looking for something specific that I'd seen several times in the park over the past few hours. Ah yes, there it was! I paid, and at that moment, my gaze caught on another item, and I simply couldn't resist pulling out my wallet again. With the money safely tucked away and my purchases in hand, I looked around for Tim and spotted him on a bench, practically directly under the Christmas tree we'd agreed upon as the meeting point. I strolled over and sat down next to him.
"Did you buy yourself something nice?"
»Well.«
"But you bought something, didn't you?"
"Yes. But not to me, to you. Give me your left hand."
Tim looked at me, puzzled, but did as he was told. The next moment, his jaw dropped when he saw me strap a dark blue watch with subtle Disney motifs around his arm.
"So, so you know what time we live in again. It's not a luxury item, but it will do the job."
"Cool, Danny, thanks. But that wasn't necessary."
"Oh yes. And now the other hand."
Now Tim was completely confused, and I had to help him a little. At first, he wasn't quite sure what I was putting on his other wrist, but then he recognized it, and his eyes grew wider and wider.
"You can't be serious!"
"Oh but!"
"I'm not a little kid anymore!"
"Your father has given me responsibility for you, and that wasn't easy even during the day in the hustle and bustle. Now that it's getting dark, I definitely don't want to lose you. So no arguments!"
Well, what had I done to him? Quite simply: throughout the day, I'd noticed several parents putting their small children on a leash. To be precise, they were brightly colored plastic spirals, similar to telephone cords, which were attached to the child's arm with a wristband and held in place with a loop at the other end. This way, the children couldn't get lost even in the thickest crowd. And I had now put one of these "child leashes" on my little brother, who was staring at me in disbelief.
"I don't want anyone to say I didn't look after you properly. Now, little one, I think we should look around a bit to see if we see the rest of the party standing around somewhere."
I stood up, but Tim was still so stunned that he didn't react. So, for the first time, I used my newfound power and pulled the cord. This caught my brother's attention.
"Hey, don't pull like that, I'm coming."
Hey, was that all? Where was his loud protest? No matter. I let my gaze wander over the crowd, and sure enough, about a hundred meters away, I could make out Reinhardt. It wasn't that difficult with that giant. He, in turn, was doing the same thing as me: scanning the crowd, but apparently hadn't spotted us yet. I pointed this out to Tim.
"Where? Ah, there. Great. Let's sneak up behind you."
And he was gone. Meaning: he wanted to be gone, but now he had a tag-along. He pulled this tag-along—me—with all the strength of his swimming legs to the side of the square opposite Reinhardt's current line of sight. I had no choice but to follow him. The leash wasn't actually intended, but I resigned myself to my fate.
Three minutes and a few quick ducking maneuvers later, we found ourselves ten meters behind Mutti and Reinhardt. We crept closer, then Tim squeezed himself between them from behind.
"Are you looking for someone specific?"
The result of this attack was two powerfully flinching parents, as well as some dark promises of gruesome revenge. I had ceremoniously held back during the actual "scare" and was therefore hopeful of avoiding this revenge.
Once everyone had calmed down a bit, we discussed what to do next. Tim's father pulled out his program booklet and leafed through it.
"Here, look. There's a big light and laser show at 6:30. Shall we go and see it?"
That sounded quite promising, so we agreed immediately.
"Well, then we should hurry up and get there so we can get a few good seats."
"Guys, if we get lost in the crowd, meet back here at eight."
"Don't worry, Mom, Tim can't get lost."
"What do you mean?"
I pulled on Tim's leash, lifting his right arm vertically. Mom and Reinhardt noticed for the first time what was attached to my little brother's wrist. Their reaction was appropriate: Reinhardt choked on his own saliva and had to let my mother help him out with some hard slaps on his back. I put on a satisfied face, while Tim, on the other hand, looked around a bit embarrassed. He did, however, have a slight smile on his face.
Nach ein paar Minuten hatten sich unsere Erziehungsberechtigten wieder beruhigt, und ein immer noch leicht keuchender Reinhardt wandte sich an meine Mutter.
"Your son had a really good idea. But now that we're all together again, maybe we should change it up a bit."
Uh oh, what was he up to? That sounded extremely suspicious, and I cast a suspicious eye at the trained Coke spiller. My mother seemed to suspect something too and wanted to know exactly what it was.
"What do you mean, Reinhardt?"
"If we don't buy another leash, then you can guide Tim safely through the crowds, and I'll take care of Danny. It's like a family bond."
No! Reinhardt was actually good at that; I knew him so well by now. And Mom was ready for anything, like using cold water to help me stand up. To my great relief, a quick glance around showed me that the souvenir stand had moved on. Still, a little clarification couldn't hurt.
"No need, Reinhardt, unlike Tim, I'm old enough to take care of myself AND him."
"What do you think, Maria, do we believe him?"
"Well, he hasn't let us down so far, so the benefit of the doubt is for the accused. But I think we should really get going now. Come on, you two, let's go!"
We made our way to the arena, which, by the way, was located directly below the aforementioned Tower of Terror. Tim walked very close to me, presumably so no one could easily see how captivated he was by my appearance. Well, with the onset of darkness, he probably didn't have to worry too much anyway.
We reached the venue around 5:30 a.m., and we found relatively good seats right next to an aisle. Reinhardt took the seat right next to this aisle—something he would later regret. But first, we intercepted one of the many street vendors and treated ourselves to another drink—a day at Disney Parks is pretty exhausting. The arena continued to fill up, and half an hour before the show was due to start, it was packed. We were already preparing ourselves for another 30 minutes of waiting when something suddenly happened behind us.
Two of the street comedians Tim and I had run into earlier in the day came stomping down our aisle, laden with a chair, ladder, and flashlight. Once down at "stage level," so to speak, they began to get the audience fired up. But wait, I just realized I haven't said a single word about this "stage" yet! Please bear with me. So, the amphitheater was built in a semicircle, and at the foot of the rows of seats was a lake! In the center of this lake, in turn, rose a huge rock with a stage carved halfway into it.
Meanwhile, the two entertainers had set up a chair and ladder, climbed onto them (each of them onto one of the pieces), shone flashlights into the audience, and joked around. This went on for about a quarter of an hour, with the crowd (and us too) building up a real sense of anticipation for what was to come. Then the two colorfully dressed Disney employees gathered their things and slowly walked up the stairs in our corridor toward the top of the dam. Slowly because they constantly had to pose for photos and, incidentally, were lugging a fair amount of luggage with them. Not for long, though. When they reached our line, the ladder-bearer cast an appraising glance at Reinhardt, and shortly thereafter, Tim's father was sworn in by him as a pack mule! Well, no wonder, the comedian was rather slight in build, quite unlike my future stepfather. He put on a brave face and resigned himself to his fate, which involved lugging the ladder up the rest of the slope (which was about two-thirds of the way). Well, he did get a standing ovation for that at the end. I think Reinhardt had learned by now that you shouldn't necessarily sit in the most exposed spots at Disney World. The other three of us had a great time, and Tim, in particular, was clearly enjoying the idea.
The "volunteer" had just sat back down next to my mother when the lights slowly but surely went out, giving way to a darkness broken only by the flashes of cameras. Then what I had feared happened: music started playing at a volume that would irritate my eardrums. Okay, I'll keep this short; this isn't supposed to be a travel report. For the next thirty minutes, we marveled, open-mouthed, at a show of light, lasers, fire, dance, and music. All sorts of Disney characters performed, some on the aforementioned rock stage, some on boats that circled the stage. And, as I said, fire and light were everywhere. A tip for anyone who might find themselves in the embarrassing situation of having to jet off to Florida: it's always worth staying in the Disney parks until the evening; the fireworks and other light shows are worth it.
Half an hour later, it was all over, and the crowds began to clear the arena for the second performance of the evening, which began an hour later. I tried to clear my ears, and after a while, I was even able to understand spoken words at a normal volume again.
"Well, guys, that was wonderful, wasn't it?"
"HUH? SORRY, DAD, I CAN'T UNDERSTAND YOU!"
Apparently, I wasn't the only one who suffered from the noise. My mother looked worried.
"Tim, is everything okay? Can you really hear nothing?"
"Everything's okay, Maria. I'm fine. But I don't want to go through this every day; it really ruins the rest of the show."
Well, we would probably have to live with it for at least the next three days, because I feared that the conditions in the other theme parks would not be any better in this regard.
After a quick glance at the information booklet, we let ourselves be carried along by the crowds toward New York Street, a reconstructed street of the metropolis, consisting partly of plastic facades, partly just painted houses. Clotheslines hang across the street, and "real" New York traffic noise plays. Tim and I had already seen this street earlier in the day, but now a lot had changed. 3D glasses were being distributed at various locations, which we naturally couldn't miss. We had already seen the Christmas decorations in daylight, and now they were brightly illuminated, and with the glasses, many elements transformed into moving images, for example, angels fluttering their wings. Christmas music was playing, and it was... snowing! Of course, it was only artificial snow, or rather, foam flakes, but still.
We strolled leisurely down the street, and at the end of it, another attraction awaited us, one that could only be enjoyed in the dark: "Osborn's Wonder of Light." Good old Mr. Osborn was the proud father of a daughter who wanted a festively lit house from him for Christmas. Anyone who has ever seen American Christmas movies will already be familiar with the American urge to decorate the outside of their house with lots of fairy lights – but in Mr. Osborn's case, this got a bit out of hand, even by American standards. The entire house was hung with lights, and when that was no longer enough a few years later, the caring family man also bought the two neighboring houses to expand his world of lights. When this too became too small, the entire scene was promptly relocated to Disney World, where a walkway several hundred meters long is now illuminated by over 4 million lights. Here, too, the special glasses were used again, so that "normally" lit trees—that is, trees hung with 500 or more lightbulbs—appeared as if they were rotating. Everything, absolutely everything, was illuminated, even the garden chairs in front of the houses. A truly magnificent sight, even if it was enough to make you shake your head. Oh, and by the way, the Christmas music playing here was even turned down to a tolerable volume!
By the time we'd left this behind, it was already 8:00 a.m., and we decided to slowly make our way back to the hotel. At the park exit, I freed Tim from his leash, and shortly after, we were on the bus. Once we arrived at the hotel, we decided to have a late dinner at the steak restaurant. While we waited for the food, we told each other how we'd spent the day. The scene in which we made the surprising acquaintance of other German tourists, as expected, provoked great laughter from Reinhardt and Mutti.
"Well, you should have expected that. Half the world meets here. I hope it wasn't too embarrassing."
"We survived. I'm used to similar situations with you, Mom."
"How do you mean it now?"
"Well, Tim was just trying to grill me about which of the guys running around in front of us was most to my taste. And that's exactly what Sandra and Bernd heard. It reminded me of certain scenes in ice cream parlors, and don't tell me you don't know what I'm getting at."
Reinhardt and Mom burst out laughing again, but Tim looked at me a little guiltily.
"Danny, I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you. Are you really mad at me?"
"Oh come on, Tim, where did you get that from? I'm not mad at you at all, it's not like it's top secret. If I had problems with people's reactions, I should never have told anyone. So calm down. It was pretty funny anyway. And I'm pretty glad you were the one who said that nobody here understands us anyway. That was embarrassing!"
I grinned at my little brother, and the corners of his mouth also turned up again. It looked much better, too.
Shortly after, our food arrived, and my T-bone steak turned out to be a plate-filling monstrosity. But don't worry, I wasn't going to let a piece of meat get me down! Especially after such a strenuous day, I had no problem finishing my plate completely – Tim felt the same way, by the way.
After dinner, we went to our suite, and both Tim and I decided to just take a quick shower and then disappear into bed. I shooed my brother into the bathroom first, and while Tim disappeared, I stripped down to my underwear and flipped through the endless variety of TV channels. Fifteen minutes later, Tim left the bathroom in his pajamas, and I went to rinse off the day's dust. The whirlpool actually looked tempting, especially considering my somewhat sore bones, but I really didn't have the strength for it right now, so I settled for a quick shower.
When I left the bathroom, the TV was on without sound, and a quick glance at the other bed showed me that Tim was already slumbering peacefully in Morpheus's arms. It seemed to have completely knocked the little one out. Well, no wonder; I probably wouldn't have any trouble falling asleep either. I turned off the TV and Tim's bedside lamp, then lay down in my bed (which could easily accommodate two or three other people). A quick turn on my lamp, and the room was plunged into darkness. While trying to replay the day's events in my mind, I must have fallen asleep pretty quickly.

---

What a restful night. I hadn't slept so well in a long time. Perhaps a little too well, because I wasn't woken by a friendly "Good morning," but by something extremely cold and extremely wet in my face. If we were proud dog owners, I would have considered a tongue bath, but that wasn't an option. I wanted to free myself from this unpleasant thing, but quickly realized that both my arms were being held mercilessly. So I tried a verbal escape.
"Damn it, what's going on! Whoever this is, leave me alone!"
"Tim, did you understand anything?"
Aha! My future stepfather's voice came from my left, so it must have been him holding my arm there like a vice.
"Nope, Dad. Sounded kind of Arabic. But it could have been Chinese."
Tim from the right. And I realized that whatever was on my face hadn't made my words come through quite as clearly as they had come out of my mouth.
At that moment, another participant in the drama entered the stage.
"Well, did you finally wake up the late riser? If I were you, I wouldn't just use the washcloth, but also a large amount of cold water. Otherwise, Danny would sleep through even the strongest earthquake."
Aha! I should have known. My caring mother was the originator of this unfair attack.
"I think he's awake now, Maria. He's definitely been making some inarticulate noises. Should we let him go?"
"Okay. But you should be quick and be careful he doesn't catch you. My son is quite vindictive when it comes to rude awakening methods."
"Thanks for the warning. Tim, on three."
Just wait. I'm already tensing my muscles so I can pounce on the count of "three."
"One two …"
It never got to three, because my blindness caused by the something on my face was shamelessly exploited, and at the count of "two," my two grippers jumped away before I could even react. But perhaps that was even better, because I should really be directing my desire for revenge at the instigator, namely my mother. With a quick grab, I wiped what I could now identify as one of my washcloths from my face, flung the covers off me, and jumped out of bed, covering the ten steps to my mother with blazing eyes full of murderous intent.
"Just wait! Don't think you'll get off that easy!"
Halfway to her, I suddenly heard Tim scream in shock.
"Danny, watch out! Stop!"
Before this had fully registered, however, it was already too late. My feet tangled, and in a rather inelegant aerial maneuver, I landed sprawled on the soft carpet. Luckily, I had the presence of mind to break my fall with both hands, but it still knocked the air out of my lungs, and it took me a moment to regain my bearings. Damn it, who or what had pulled my legs out from under me? I hadn't seen any obstacle or tripping hazard, had I? While I was catching my breath and pondering these thoughts, my mother came running to me.
"Danny, are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?"
Had I hurt myself? Apparently not, at least not much.
"Everything's okay, I've had worse crashes."
I got up on my hands and knees and looked at my mother, who had squatted down in front of me. Relief first spread across her face, then the corners of her mouth began to twitch suspiciously, and shortly afterward, she burst into raucous laughter, which Tim and Reinhardt joined in at the same moment. I really hadn't expected so much sympathy.
"What's so funny about that?"
The result was that everyone just laughed even louder. Then Tim managed to get a few clear words out.
"Well, Danny, your butt isn't so nice that you have to show it to us all the time. The one time you were sick was actually enough."
Huh? What was he trying to tell me? I started to stand up, looking down at myself, and a few things became clear to me.
»O Schei…benkleister!«
My short pajama pants had come undone on their own; the elastic had probably broken, and were lying at my feet. This was most likely what caused my fall. I, for one, was standing completely out in the open—and I really could have done without it. True, everyone involved had seen me like this before: Reinhardt and Tim during my illness, and Mom of course. But this had happened in an emergency, so to speak, and even then, it had been quite embarrassing. I bent down and grabbed the irresponsible piece of fabric to pull it back into its rightful place, but I hadn't noticed that I was standing with one foot on my pants. They took my exerted all my strength very badly, and with an unpleasant sound, I had half of the pants in my right hand, the other half still lying on the ground beneath my foot.
"Damn it!"
"Danny, watch your tongue!"
Mom was a bit sensitive about the swearing, but at the moment I didn't really care.
"Should I burst into cheers?"
"You should quickly find something else to wear. Here in America, they lock people up for acting like that. I think they call it indecent exposure."
"Thanks for the tip. You just don't have to look."
"Good, good. Come on, guys, I think we should leave Danny alone for a bit. And hurry up a bit, we're leaving for breakfast in twenty minutes."
After these words left my mother’s mouth, she
– Tim and Reinhardt in tow – out of the room.
Wonderful. Once again, I'd contributed to the general amusement. The only question that remained was, when would someone finally amuse me? Before I could ponder this further, my glance caught the clock and showed me that I'd better hurry if I was interested in breakfast. And I certainly was. So I quickly went through the bathroom, got dressed, and then joined the other three. Breakfast was similar to the previous day, and the same applied to the departure for the park, except that this time the destination wasn't MGM Studios, but Epcot Center.
I'll hold back a bit with the descriptions this time; apart from the attractions, nothing happened that was worth mentioning. Except that not only was Tim put on the leash he'd bought the day before—no, Reinhardt made good on his threat and got me one too! And Mom, who just the day before had been of the opinion that such a safety line wasn't necessary for me, politely held back. Typical again.
Fortunately, we were both released after a few minutes – but not without some stern warnings about our behavior and the warning that if we behaved badly, we would be put back on the leash very quickly.
Back to the park itself. First, we stepped onto the shiny silver golf ball, Epcot's symbol, called "Spaceship Earth." Inside, we took a slow ride through the history of communication, from the Stone Age to the future. In several adjacent exhibition halls, we were able to see and try out state-of-the-art computers and—most importantly *g*—the latest computer games.
The next stop was "The Living Seas," which is all about the ocean and underwater world. Manatees, sharks, rays, and a dolphin show were the highlights. Surprisingly, I couldn't persuade water freak Tim to take a dip in the shark tank.
One of the highlights of Epcot is definitely the 3D show "Honey, I Shrunk the Audience," based on the movie "Honey, I Shrunk the Kids." Only here, the audience is shrunk. The effects, already seen in the 3D shows at MGM Studios, caused plenty of screams from the audience.
Our path then led us to the "World Showcase" – which the two Berliners had already told us about. This time, Reinhardt was also smart enough to stay as far away from all Disney employees as possible – with the result that he was able to watch other, less cautious spectators dancing Schuhplattler with a broad grin on his face.
So the day passed, once again quite exhausting but eventful. Of course, I can't forget one tip: When it gets dark, you should definitely take a ride on the monorail – the brightly lit parks are a magnificent sight!
We left Epcot around 6 p.m. – even though a fireworks display was scheduled for 9 p.m., we couldn't bring ourselves to wait another three hours. This time we settled for a fast-food dinner.
At the hotel, we discussed what to do with the rest of the evening, and I actually let Tim persuade me to go to the hotel pool. We got dressed in our swimsuits in our room, and while I put on my usual baggy swim shorts, Tim decided to tease me a little by putting on just about the tightest, most snug swim trunks I'd ever seen. Did he even know what he was doing to me?
"Hey, Tim, no swimsuit today?"
"Why? Do I need it? Should I have a swim race with you?"
"Even that miracle thing wouldn't do you any good. But aren't you afraid those prudish Americans might arrest you in that outfit?"
"Why? I'm dressed appropriately for the occasion, aren't I?"
Well, I decided to refrain from any further explanation and instead grabbed the other things we'd need. After a quick goodbye, we headed to the hotel pool. A large pool with blue water, surrounded by loungers under palm trees, and a bar right next door. Tim was impressed.
"Man, just wonderful!"
Well, if I had any love for water, I'd probably agree with his assessment. As it was, I mumbled to myself, only half-convinced, and looked for a comfortable spot—a few meters from the edge, of course. Tim had no such inhibitions; he simply threw his clothes onto a lounger next to mine, and the next moment he dove into the water with a graceful dive. My hope that he'd lose his swim trunks on this occasion was unfortunately not fulfilled.
I decided to let my water-crazy brother burn off some energy on his own and get myself something nice from the bar instead. My choice fell on a rather exotic-looking drink, which I carried back to my lounge chair. I sat down and let my eyes wander over the scene. To be honest, there were a few other people besides Tim who got my blood pumping. Remember: in situations like this, baggy swim trunks with lots and lots of fabric are extremely soothing. At least for the cautious, modest mind.
Unfortunately, I wasn't allowed to indulge in these thoughts undisturbed for much longer, as I soon encountered some very unwelcome company. Unwelcome, mainly because she was female. A tall, lanky blonde, who looked suspiciously like she had silicone inserts, plopped down in the seat next to me and couldn't resist chatting me up. In English, by the way, but I'll be damned if I'm retelling this in the original language!
"Hi! What are you doing here all alone?"
I almost answered, "Enjoy the perfect peace and quiet that existed until just now," but somehow I couldn't manage it. It must have been because I was far too well-bred for such situations.
"Recover after a long day."
"Interesting. By the way, my name is Heidi."
Now I had to pull myself together to keep from bursting out laughing. Heidi! That really seemed very fitting. She looked exactly like a Heidi. However, I would have preferred fellow Heidi Peter. Much better.
»Danny.«
Unfortunately, my hope of discouraging her with such a curt answer was not fulfilled.
"You're not from around here, are you? You have a weird accent."
Na vielen Dank auch. Vielleicht sollten wir die Unterhaltung auf Deutsch fortsetzen.
»Ich bin aus Deutschland.«
"Incredible! I've never spoken to a German before."
Let alone done more, I think. And good old Heidi wouldn't have any luck with me either.
"Can I see you in your lederhosen?"
Phew! Great, the Disney propaganda had already completely hit her! Besides, the way she was staring at me and batting her eyelashes, it seemed like she didn't want to see me in my (nonexistent) lederhosen so much as she wanted to help me out of them. Help!
"Sorry, but I don't own anything like that."
Even this slightly harsh answer did not seem to dissuade her from her rather clear intentions.
"Too bad. So, what are you doing here? Do you want to do something together?"
Now I was almost ready to jump up and into the pool, despite my fear of water. Luckily, I caught Tim's eye, grinning in my direction. Hopefully, he could lip-read, because I now silently called out to him, "Save me!"
"I'm sorry, I have to look after my little brother."
Luckily, Tim didn't notice, otherwise he might have deliberately kept me waiting. With relief, I saw him strolling toward us at a leisurely pace, soaking wet, a sight that interested me considerably more than that of the blond poison next to me.
"Hey, Danny, who's that? You're not cheating on Olga, are you?"
Olga? Who the hell was Olga?
"This is Heidi. Heidi – my brother Tim."
The two looked at each other appraisingly. Although Tim's look seemed less appraising than contemptuous.
"Honey, you'd better leave my brother alone. He's not available anymore, and his girlfriend is the daughter of a Russian mafia boss. It would be a stupid idea to mess with her. At least if you want to continue enjoying your reflection."
Ah! That Olga meant my clever little brother! Heidi looked back and forth between Tim and me.
"But she doesn't need to know that, does she?"
"I wouldn't be so sure about that. Who knows, maybe she assigned someone to keep an eye on her lover?"
You could see what was going on in her head. That is, if there was anything capable of working. Maybe a bale of straw had just tipped over in there.
"Oh God, I just remembered I should meet my mom! I'm sorry, but I have to go!"
The next moment, she shot off like a rocket, taking the opportunity to slip on the wet floor at the edge of the pool. A muscular blonde man just managed to catch her – and thus became the next victim of her advances. The fake maternal meeting was, of course, immediately forgotten. We watched them leave the pool area together.
"Too bad, Danny, maybe the blond chick would have been more to your taste. Now she's got him."
"No, I'm not into bodybuilders. Who knows, there's probably more chemistry circulating in his body than in our chemistry lab at school."
Tim laughed out loud.
"You could be right."