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*-*-*MATTI*-*-*

Motte pulls the striped scarf tighter around her neck and hugs me one last time. I sigh in agony. Why me? The automatic door next to us opens and closes quickly; we must be standing directly under the motion detector.
"Matti-bunny, I really have to go now. It won't be that bad, and if it is, just send me a text, okay? But you know old Backhaus, he'll put you in the class register if you come in a second after the bell rings!" she exclaims.
I nod and blow her a kiss.
“See you later, my heart.”
I grip the strap of my shoulder bag as if my life depended on it and enter the entrance area of the nursing home. It looks like I'm the last of the black sheep who's supposed to do their internship here. It's all my own fault for not finding a place in time.
"Look, Jasmin! Such a cute guy in our crowd, how cool. What kind of guy would willingly get his hands dirty here?" a blonde whispers a little too loudly to her friend.
Yes, reopen my wounds a little further! Thank you.
I can certainly think of a thousand things I'd rather be doing. Including working at a nail salon. Although, if the clients are like the kind of girls here... no, that's not necessary. With all that screaming, you're probably practically deaf after a day at work.
"Hello, I'm Sandy and this is Jasmin. And who are you?"
Do I have to answer this?
I don't want to sound snotty or anything. But those two kids are in the ninth grade. Only a year younger than me, I know. But the way they look at me makes me instantly afraid. Our girls certainly weren't so, uh, pushy back then. They didn't just jump on the first guy they saw, I mean.
I'm not exactly the best choice.
"Checkmate."
Jasmin giggles and whispers with Sandy, and of course, they both keep their eyes on me. A whisper is a lie! I'd be interested in someone else, but apparently we're the only interns. Like I said: Who wants to stay in a retirement home for a long time?
“Isn’t that more of a… Scandinavian name?” Sandy asks, leaning forward a little to give me a good view of her cleavage.
Um... what's going on now? Yes, I'm the only male in this lobby. But that doesn't mean you have to shamelessly hit on me!
“I had to ask my parents,” I answer evasively, staring at my shoes.
Of course, my eyes also fall on my pants, which are white today. Yes, really nice, girly white, and a bit ill-fitting because I borrowed them from my mother. I think I'm loathing myself right now.
And what on earth did I do in my last life to deserve the presence of these lovely ladies?
"Good morning! Are we all here? I'm the home manager here, you can call me Gerda. Okay... let's see where we can put you," a heavyset woman in pale blue greets us.
At least she looks pretty nice, at first glance. And not as dolled up as these two chicks here, which is a true relief for my eyes. We're already on our way to the freight elevator.
"You still have to sign a confidentiality agreement before you leave. But your supervisor will do that with you, don't worry. Please always use the freight elevator; you're practically part of the staff. Only when you leave the building at lunchtime, please use the passenger elevator. We simply need the elevator for food distribution. So let's see..." Gerda flips through her paperwork. "Jasmin will go to ward 2, Matti to ward 3, and Sandy to ward 5."
“Can’t we stay together?” Jasmin asks with her lower lip stuck out.
My eyes widen in shock. No way!
"You won't learn anything there," says Gerda, laughing. "So if you thought, 'I'll go to a retirement home, I won't have to do anything there anyway!' then you were very wrong!"
I grin to myself. Yeah, no spoiled chicks on my heels... at least not until break time. That old man up there seems to like me a little bit after all. Maybe I don't have to do anything on the first day? That would be too good to be true, of course.
First, we part ways with Jasmin, what a relief. She's assigned to the intimidating Sister Birgitta, with whom I don't want to be alone for even two seconds. She might be quite nice, but her aggressive look alone makes me run for it.
The path continues upwards, and luckily, I'll be the next one out of the elevator. Sandy is licking her lips, as she thinks, lasciviously, and keeps glancing at me as if she'd rather have me for breakfast.
“Then come with me, young man!” says Gerda cheerfully and guides me through the long, whitewashed corridor to the nurses’ station.
On the way, she greets some of the older people... well, basically everyone. Do I have to remember all their names? They all seem pretty nice, actually. And as if they're still in their right mind. I can feel Sandy's gaze on me, ugh. And she keeps clapping her tongue in disapproval. Unsympathetic thing.
“Martha, where is Leon?” Gerda asks a nurse hurrying past.
“320, door is open.”
Okay, this woman isn't exactly a novelist. But you can't really call her polite, especially towards the director. Strange, strange. Perhaps people here are always on the move. Anyway, we're now looking for the ominous room. Sandy had the nerve to take my hand.
“Let go,” I tell her briefly, so quietly that Gerda doesn’t notice.
The young lady, of course, looks at me in horror, as if she were some innocent country girl. Honestly, we were completely different at that age. Inner qualities still mattered, and "Aurélie" from "Wir sind Helden" still resonated. It still resonates for our generation today.
Gerda signals us to stop in front of the door and enters number 320. Annoyed and still relatively tired, I rub my eyes and try to ignore Sandy, who just opened another button on her blouse. Honestly, does she want her boobs to fall out?
I certainly don't want to see that.
A short time later, Gerda returns with a guy who, of course, overshadows me. From one second to the next, I'm out of Sandy's attention and terribly relieved. Well, I really can't keep up with him. This is the kind of guy who enters the room and immediately draws everyone's attention. His gait is what you would commonly describe as casual, his hair dyed black and tousled, like he's just gotten out of bed. Naturally, this is complemented by bright dark blue eyes. Sandy's practically starting to drool.
“Gerda, could I come here?” she asks between a lot of blinking eyes.
"No, Leon and Matti should work together. It's bad enough for both of them, being the only men here."
Haha, the blonde chick's expression is just hilarious! The corners of this superhuman's mouth are also twitching suspiciously. It's going to be quite funny with him. Assuming he's not so terribly arrogant. You know the drill.
"And we have to move on now. It's not like we have all the time in the world. Sister Kathrin knows, and I don't want to keep her waiting forever. See you at breakfast break!" With these words, Gerda and Sandy finally disappear from our presence.
The superhuman exhales audibly and turns to me. So, now comes a moral lecture. Or the first instructions? Who knows.
"Well... as you already know, I'm Leon. There's no time for anything else right now; the patients are waiting, everyone has to get out of bed. Would you please come with me?" he says simply and goes back into the room.
What else can I do but follow him?
Oops, the tiny hallway is pretty dark. One wall is completely covered by a monstrous white closet; otherwise, there's nothing in the room. Leon has already moved on and is now squatting by an old lady's bed. He seems to still be asleep. But it's only just after 7:30 a.m., and I'd rather see myself under a fluffy duvet right now.
"Good morning, Ms. List. I brought you something special, too, see?" Leon greets her with a winning grin. "This is Matti, the new intern. You're getting double the attention, so to speak!"
I smile at the woman somewhat awkwardly, wishing I were somewhere else. I'm not socially inclined, not at all. And no, I don't like being asked to talk to complete strangers. It has nothing to do with being shy. More like... reserved. Not everyone has to be so pushy and present themselves.
Mrs. List takes her Puck the Housefly glasses and shortly afterwards gazes out at the world with oversized eyes. More precisely, she examines me closely and then giggles girlishly. Did I do something wrong?
"What did I do to deserve the company of two such handsome young men? Just admit it, Leon! You just want my money, and now you've brought in reinforcements!" Mrs. List claims seriously, then bursts into laughter.
Apparently, we're dealing with a very humorous patient here. It shouldn't bother me. Better than people who go to the basement to laugh. Anyway, we'll help her out of bed and give her her car. Well, it's actually her walker; almost everyone here has one. However, the others were always in very simple colors – Ms. List's is baby blue with white balloon tires. Not to mention the colorful fluffy pompoms dangling from the handles. No question, this woman has style.
"Are you making the bed yet, Matti? Gerda says you don't necessarily have to be there while she washes—I think she thinks you're a delicate soul," Leon explains, laughing.
Haha, haven't had this much fun in a long time!
And the guy has to show off his toothpaste-white teeth all the time, well, thank you very much. He doesn't have to impress anyone here, does he? Or does he just want the old lady's money? That sounds insane, even to me. He's definitely not older than twenty and... nope.
“Okay,” I mumble, as if I had a choice.
While Leon takes towels, washcloths, and clothes out of the closet, Mrs. List toddle into her tiny bathroom in her neon-pink slippers. I pull myself together with a quiet sigh and start making the bed. Fluff the pillows, hang the blankets up to air, and all that stuff. Our patient is happily crooning "Brown Girl in the Ring" by Boney M – with background vocals from Mr. Toothpaste. I think I'm going crazy.
No, I didn't end up in a nursing home at all. In fact, school put me exactly where I belong: in a psychiatric ward. But I deserve a solitary cell, I'm absolutely certain of that. I don't want to be in the same room with them; they'll kill you from behind. With a shoelace or something, you know all about it. Not with me!
With a determined expression on my face, I continue with my mission: folding bed covers, cough. Yes, you wouldn't believe how important this is for achieving world domination. It's completely underrated, yeah.
They've now reached "Rivers of Babylon," and it shouldn't bother me. If all the other patients fall out of bed at the off-key twang, then the old folks will finally get some action again. Yes, I know I have a dramatic streak.
I quickly drape the stuffed animals on the freshly made blanket – including a rather worn-looking teddy bear – before heading straight to the bathroom. Mrs. List is dressed by now; a shower was apparently not necessary today. In her baby-blue sweater and white sweatpants, she looks rather like a piece of candy, only her glasses spoil the overall look. As always, she's grinning mischievously.
"The Ice Prince has finally graced us with his appearance," she says, raising a brow. "I hope I haven't upset you with my hideous visage. My lovely makeup artist will be a long time coming today. He'd better hurry!"
Leon immediately appears at the ready with an oversized beauty case and does a rather silly curtsy. Brushes and powder puffs are ready, and for the next few minutes, Ms. List's face is completely obscure for all the dust. The end result, however, is extremely astonishing: I don't want to say I'm particularly knowledgeable about anti-aging, but the lady looks at least ten years younger. With those enhanced eyes and wrinkles gone, get it?
"As always, Leon: Perfect!" praises Mrs. List. "Well then, young Matti! Ready to take care of my hair?"
Hmm... okay, because it is her. I take some mousse and scrunch her chin-length bob into place—God knows why. I think Motte told me at some point that it was totally trendy. But that was a while ago. A little more tweezing here and a little more hairspray... there. That's pretty good for a start. Considering I don't even comb what calls itself my hairstyle. The thin weed doesn't even need it.
"Look, Leon, I'd love it to always be like that! With you, there are always only two looks: either totally shabby, or teased to the point of eye-soreness. Take a leaf out of this future celebrity hairdresser's book!" she reprimands Leon, who seems to find the floor extremely beautiful.
I think that's quite appropriate, and I admire the tiles for a moment. I didn't do a great job... the old lady tends to exaggerate, really. Yes, she's nice. I know.
“Breakfast, Mrs. List?” Leon suddenly asks the group.
Our pseudo-caravan is already moving, heading for the lavishly laid table in the aisle. Incidentally, the aisles are far too narrow for two cars, especially since the drivers aren't the fittest anymore. One small swerve, and you've got an accident. They should have thought of that during construction.
“Help me! Please help me! I can't walk anymore!”
Eh?
"Yes, Mrs. Röhrl, Nurse Sabine is already on her way. She'll take you back to your room, okay?" Leon replies, slightly annoyed.
Huh? She asked for help, so you have to volunteer right away! I would have judged Mr. Toothpaste differently... he's arrogant and selfish after all. The lady's tone alone was pathetic. Maybe I...?
"She always does that. Says she can't walk anymore, but then she goes out of her room just to do it, tze! Five minutes later she's back. Mrs. List is more important right now. Come on!"
So I accept my fate.


+++Two+++
I did it! It's finally half past twelve, and I'm allowed to leave. Of course, not without signing that stupid confidentiality agreement, that's for sure. I'd never spill the beans about these guys anyway, but whatever.
Leon kindly accompanies me. He's actually quite nice, even if he sometimes stares around a bit strangely. Motte would say he's dreaming.
But what she thinks is completely irrelevant, because I should be concentrating on this form and not on... the peculiarities of my "colleague."
“You don’t need to read it so carefully, just sign it and that’s it,” Leon explains, shrugging his shoulders and putting a cigarette in his mouth.
I don't know what to make of this. As a committed non-smoker with a similar circle of friends, peppered with a few occasional smokers, I don't know what to make of it. Well, with all those old people, I can't really tell him anything about being a role model. Besides, he looks pretty casual.
I finally sign and hand the form to the sour-faced receptionist. She seems to like Leon's little hint... not so much. No matter, I just smile at her. At least I'm in a good mood—I'm off work today, and a moth is coming to pick me up. On foot, of course. It's only a few hundred meters to home.
"I'm coming out with you," says Leon, managing to keep the cigarette from falling out of the corner of his mouth. "It's forbidden in here."
I'm very impressed. No, I'm not... oh, I don't know. All the impressions are just too much for one day, which is why I'm having these thoughts. It's just nice.
So we stroll more or less casually out of the cozy, warm retirement home into the drizzle. Great. I can't notice much more anyway, because something immediately chokes me. Define "something": moth.
"Hi," I gasp, out of breath. "Could... could you let me go?"
"Of course, my love," she giggles, exuberantly, and kisses me on the forehead. "How was your day?"
“Um... okay, I think,” I mumble, glancing sideways at Leon.
In the meantime, he's laughing his ass off, which I think is great. Okay, it wasn't great driving a patient with... an obviously weak bladder to the shower, but I don't want to shout that around the nursing home.
“And who is this cutie here, Matti?” asks Motte, who has finally spotted Leon, with a coquettish glance and a well-posed pose.
I stifle my laughter and clear my throat instead.
I know that look in her eyes all too well. I can assume she's going on a date with him in no time. One hundred percent. This might sound a bit arrogant, but Motte is truly the prettiest girl I know. And she's down to earth, too. Not that I want to get involved with her or anything. We've known each other far too long for that.
“May I introduce Leon, my fellow sufferer on ward three, and here we have Motte, my very best friend since forever.”
So, now I should quietly and secretly withdraw. After all, the two of them are the perfect couple, and their young happiness shouldn't be disturbed or anything else. The best thing I can do is offer them my room so they can have lots of beautiful children. So that later on they'll have a model family with a nice family home, garden, dog, good jobs, and at least two cars. The world needs people like that. I belong on the back burner.
By now, the gentlemen are already having a polite conversation, with a touch of flirting on Motte's part... Time to get out of here. She'll tell me everything later anyway. As always, it never stopped. Which doesn't mean we don't have little secrets.
“I’ll go then... see you guys,” I interject into the lively conversation.
Leon looks at me, quite astonished. As if I shouldn't leave him alone. Did I miss something in all this thinking? Perhaps clouds in paradise? In any case, Motte is still beaming like a Cheshire cat. Things can't be that bad.
“Stay a little longer – I only have a half-hour break anyway,” Leon asks.
And what about being together as a couple? The two of them hit it off right away, and three is always one too many. Apparently no one has told him that yet. I tug at my striped scarf, slightly confused.
“Exactly, stay a little longer, Matti!” trills Motte, putting an arm around each of us.
That's a whole new tone! And I always thought she wanted to be undisturbed when she was picking up someone. You could be wrong, right?
Shrug your shoulders.
“Fine by me.”
Leon smiles contentedly before taking another drag on his cigarette. This may be Motte's potential boyfriend, but... I still find it disgusting. And irresponsible, since it makes us passive smokers. Now he's blowing all that smoke in my direction, I could puke.
“Can you turn around or something?” I ask, a little pissed off.
"Just leave him alone," Motte immediately defends her new treasure and smiles at Leon. "It doesn't bother me, anyway!"
"I'm sorry. I have to go in for lunch anyway, everything's so tight. Should I go a little further away?"
At the look Motte gives me, I quickly shake my head. It's not that bad, after all, and I'm not going to drop dead from one bout of secondhand smoke. I hope so. I shift from one foot to the other. It's terrible weather. Why are we even standing around here?
Suddenly the conversation dies down, which brings me back to reality a bit. Strangely, both gentlemen are looking at me... was I asked a question at the end? I'm lost. I clear my throat again, embarrassed.
“Is something wrong?”
"Basically nothing. Apart from the fact that we just asked you three times if you'd mind if we came by this afternoon," Motte whispers.
Her eyes belie her whispering. She seems annoyed that I'm not slinking around her boyfriend-of-the-month candidate. Maybe I should pay more attention in the next few minutes. I might have to spend more time with him soon... if I want to continue seeing Motte regularly.
"No, no problem. What do you want to do?" I ask, courteously as always, haha.
General shrugging of shoulders, also good.
I don't want to plan or anything. I'm sorry, but I'm not into spontaneity at all. It's just so... spontaneous. I like to plan, and things that aren't prepared for simply cause stress.
“When should we come over?” asks Leon, scratching his chin.
Does he think that looks good? He seems rather unintelligent. And he really doesn't need to run his hands through his hair. Doesn't impress the girls at all, does it?
Motte looks completely enraptured.
Everyone just conspired against me. The ladies didn't like it that way, because they immediately went weak at the knees and let themselves be dragged into bed without any willpower. Strictly speaking, I've never... let's forget about it, that's not relevant here. It's definitely not my fault, period.
"I don't know... when you're done here or something."
Yes, I know that sounded lame. But some people have problems with fixed times. And I also want to sound chilled and not so... pedantic. That's a quick way to make yourself unpopular.
"Then I'll be there around 3:30. I still have to change," Leon announces, tugging pointedly at his pristine white trousers. "And now I have to go inside... see you later. I have the address."
But I missed more than I thought. According to Motte's sweet-hearted eyes, I'm currently dealing with a crush-smitten best friend... no matter, we still have plenty of food in the house. It's better to chew on such topics with a little food. Two euros into the pun fund.
“Bye,” breathes Motte and waves gracefully to Mr. Toothpaste.
After half a minute of staring, I finally got her to move. Okay, the guy has a very nice rear view, but that's why you have to
a) don’t undress with looks and
b) Don't follow like a stalker. Not even with your eyes.
I can't believe I thought that. Of all people, me. The orphanage is probably destroying my brain cells at a rapid pace. Haha, stupid without alcohol!
I should patent that.
Then all those teenagers would make me rich and I would be constantly surrounded by a crowd of willing people who would want to sell themselves to me for fewer brain cells.
But that's not the best thing either.
If they only like you for the money.
Someone like me certainly doesn't stand a chance even then. As shy and uptight as I am. Motte claims the latter because I've never had a girlfriend. Which doesn't mean I can't get anything done... I'm just a bit reserved. And if I want to be with someone, I want to know them for a while. Not for a quarter of an hour.
“You act like you’ve been invited to your own funeral and then you get a cutie like that thrown in front of you, I can’t believe it!” Motte babbles to himself.
I nod absentmindedly.
“Yeah, yeah, it’s quite nice.”
"That's the understatement of the century, Matti-Hasi. Not only does he look delicious, no! He also has an incredibly big heart, I tell you."
“And that’s what you want to sneak into, I assume?” I interject.
Motte frowns and kicks a pebble out of the way, really hard. Did I say something wrong? In any case, I'm not aware of any wrongdoing.
"No, you. It wasn't that long ago, that thing with Franz. I think I'm fed up with you men. Except for you, of course, my dear. But he's nice, and on a platonic basis... you can keep him warm," she explains to me with a wink.
Wow, I wouldn't have thought that.
Well, after Franz... Motte just has a thing for assholes. I've kind of gotten used to that. But her latest guy topped everything that came before: son of a good family, pseudo-rebel, macho behavior, and a penchant for drugs. The whole lot.
And Motte was really happy with him.
At least that's what she said. No one feels good around a guy like that, no way. He treated her like dirt and bullied her. And it didn't click for her until he ended up in the hospital with an overdose.
I could punch him in the face today.
"Fine by me," I mumble into my scarf. "He's quite funny. And the guys are pretty okay, too. A little crazy, but pleasantly crazy."
We're standing under the porch of our house. It's an age-old half-timbered house (which I absolutely adore) in a farmhouse style – simply cozy. Today we're having dinner at our house: home-cooked food powered by a 5-minute terrine.
Mom is never home at lunchtime because her job completely supports her... and who else can cook for us? I only cook the simplest of things, and Motte regularly panics that even her water is burning. Not to mention my stepdad. He's already set the toaster on fire, muhahaha.
I don't think it's worth mentioning that we immediately threw our bags into the corners. And Mom took pity on us; there's kale on the stove to warm up. Perfect, given the terrible weather outside.
“So, now tell me how your day was – you kept quiet earlier,” commands Motte, who, much to my dismay, has thrown herself against the stove.
I sigh in resignation. It had to come.
"I already told you, it was okay. Besides, I'm not allowed to tell you anything because I had to sign a confidentiality form—ha!"
Motte rolls her eyes and drums her fingers. On the ceramic hob.
It had to happen this way.
"Do not!"
I heroically sprint over to her, nudge her not-so-gentlemanly toward the sink, and turn on the cold water. Instead of thanks, I get a whine, of course, but I'm kind of used to that. She... burns herself often. Actually, whenever she's cooking and doing the smallest thing at the same time.
“Do you want to be plastered?” I ask in my capacity as host.
Motte may be practically part of the family, but politeness shouldn't be completely forgotten. Accidents like this, for example, always earn you a few brownie points.
"Nah... we already know all that. It's probably better if you keep watch on the kale now."
Possibly.
You don't have to do much anyway, just stir it every now and then. I'm definitely not going to be a home cook; it's way too stressful. Standing in the kitchen forever and—ugh, sweating.
“Done!” I declare proudly and open something for both of us.
“Kiss the cook!” Motte screams hysterically and gives me a kiss on the cheek.
Oh yes, the usual madness. Nothing surprises you anymore, honestly. We're like an old married couple, and a little strange at that. But now it's time to eat.
"What do you intend to serve for dessert?" I ask Motte haughtily. "Your servants have surely come up with another exquisite creation, Lady Seraphina!"
My best friend wrinkles her nose and lightly slaps my fingers.
“Sir Matti von und zu Lürsen, I have offered you the “Gräfin Motte” so many times, do you want to offend me?”
Haha, that's their absolute weak point.
Mama Meltzer is a staunch Catholic, so she chose a particularly wonderful name for her only daughter: Seraphina, derived from that strange angelic type. As an atheist, I don't know much about it. You're not exactly up to date with all the saints, blessed ones, good people, and who knows what else is supposed to be hopping around up there. In and of itself, I think her name is absolutely beautiful, but I wouldn't tell her... since she dislikes it so much. She prefers Motte.
"Not at all, Your Grace. Well, what were you thinking?"
“Ice cream. With three spoonfuls of cocoa on top, at least!” she answers immediately.
Yeah, teeth stuck together!
When Leon comes to visit us, we'll have an extra-wide grin on our faces... because our jaws will be clenched together.
It's going to be a great afternoon, for sure.


+++Three+++
Leon has been with us for about half an hour now and is still warming up. It was a bit cold walking. The poor guy didn't put on a jacket, which would have been uncool. Instead, he set off in this dreadful weather in a hand-knitted striped sweater that I'd love to rip off his body.
Because the top in question looks so cozy, of course.
Just so we understand each other: I'm not gay, not one bit.
Even if the guys in my class always say that. They're just jealous that the girls just talk to me and I don't have to make a fool of myself. There are people who just want to talk normally without being hit on. Then you need someone like me, yes. Platonic and straight, I guess.
"Anyone else want some gummy bears? No? Then I'll take care of them," Leon rattles off, grabbing a half-empty bag of cherry cherries.
Which he then devours at record speed. I haven't known him long, but he seems to love to eat. If I do say so myself. Moth is already gurgling to himself again. There must have been something in his tea... but then I should have that too.
But I'm completely normal and, at the moment, fascinated by the fact that Leon's sweater isn't right. It's hanging at about half past seven, and I can see his collarbone and... I think that's great. Because it makes him look totally vulnerable, and then my savior complex kicks in. My need for cuddles is also increasing, but that's not what's relevant right now.
And there was something in the tea.
"You tell me you don't exercise," Motte exclaims, mock-indignant. "Then please tell me how you maintain that figure, hm?"
Leon shrugs, embarrassed, and pops at least three more cherries into his mouth. Ah... I always do that when I don't want to answer. I'm tempted to giggle.
“He’ll just do other sports, my dear!” I reply with a deliberately suggestive undertone.
Haha!
Leon turns about as red as the cherries he's stuffing into his mouth. Really embarrassed and all. And I didn't even mean it seriously... hit the nail on the head in the end? If so, I wouldn't have expected it from him.
Then he would have definitely already snuck up on one of my fellow interns and slept with her in the visitors' restroom – or somewhere else. But he didn't, because I would have noticed. So he's blushing because he... because he's a little shy when it comes to the topic? No, not him.
"While you're at it, Matti—what's the situation with you guys? Are you together? Any other relationships? Wild, uninhibited sex on the principal's desk?"
Motte and I look at each other and have a fit of laughter that's truly hilarious. Complete with hysterical giggling, gasping for air, wild flailing, and other outbursts. Yes, we're not quite right in the head. No, that's nothing new.
"Neither," Motte gasps, out of breath. "Both very active members of the single-and-proud-of-it club. And with that director, I really don't want to... yuck. Not if anything of his has ever touched the table."
I completely agree with you. The gentleman seems to find it very annoying to wash his hair. Not to mention his fingernails, which could easily be used as digging tools. He also doesn't comply with the smoking ban, and somehow we're all just waiting for some part of his body to rot off. His hands already look suspiciously dead, brrr. And anyway: We go to a grammar school, right? Anyone who says there's no difference in behavior is seriously mistaken. There are still plenty of people waiting for their dream prince or fairytale princess... I know what I'm talking about.
Meanwhile, Leon also laughs his ass off.
With squeals, dimples... and sparkling eyes, of course. How can someone come across as so stunning while doing something so ordinary?
So if I were, say, a 13-year-old girl, I'd leave Tokio Hotel alone and go all out with Leon, honestly. Who wants Bill the Squirrel Monkey when they can have the hottie Leon?
That's right, no one.
"Well, THAT'S an argument. Can a mere mortal actually join the club?"
Oh my God, he wants to be friends with us! At least, that's what it sounds like. Single and Proud of It actually only consists of Motte, me, and a few select people. But he has my OK.
“I think so,” I answer into my scarf and glance at Motte.
“Even if you’re not really that proud of it?”
"Naturally."
„Cool.“
“Hmhm,” comes Motte and me in unison.
Then we're silent for a bit, and all you can hear is Leon smacking his lips. He's not a greedy person. I want to be able to stuff that much into myself, too! Evil nature. Motte grabs my duvet and makes himself even more comfortable, and I... hmm.
I'm watching Leon.
But I stop that pretty quickly when he notices. Matti, this is your friend-to-be. You don't have to keep a close eye on him, because he won't just kill you from behind and then bury you in the garden. At least, I hope so...
“Does anyone else want a piece of blanket?” Motte asks generously.
I point to my wool socks, knitted by my mommy herself and often described as utterly embarrassing, and shake my head. Getting cold feet in them is practically impossible. But Leon must be freezing, with his sweater constantly coming off and his pants so low-cut—what the hell am I looking at?
"If you can spare a tiny piece, yes. It's more comfortable," Leon murmurs.
If only I hadn't mentioned my socks! Now the two of them are sprawled on the floor, cuddled up together, and I feel completely excluded. No, I'm not going to sulk. That's beneath me, just so we can be clear. Only girls do that.
"Would you like something to drink or something?" I ask instead, trying to play host. "Or maybe something to snack on? Frozen pizza or soup, maybe pasta or—"
"We're fine, Matti. If we eat even the tiniest bit now, we'll burst. And when I say so, that's a rarity. May you relax and join us in bed!" Leon replies pompously.
Yeah! Not that I was waiting for that. Anyway, I don't hesitate for long and squeeze myself under my 5'4" blanket. They've put it sideways, which means my feet would freeze like icicles... if it weren't for those embarrassing socks.
“And now?” I ask, after I’ve demoted Motte’s absolutely gigantic, gorgeous, fluffy hair to my pillow.
There's a rustling sound as Leon shrugs. I slide a little further under the covers and flinch when I touch his hand. What's gotten into me, huh?
“Group cuddle,” Mrs. Motte decides on her own initiative.
And whatever Seraphina decides, she naturally puts it into action. So we spend the next few days in each other's arms, cuddling each other endlessly. Even if you don't think it's possible, you feel worlds better afterward.
However, I'm not sure how to handle Leon. Boys don't really hug each other. At most, they give a macho pat on the back as a greeting. And if you flinch even a little under the force of the blow, you're immediately out of the running. Especially with those in baggy pants.
Hmm... he doesn't seem to mind a little hugging, at least he doesn't let it show. Maybe it's the same with his friends, I don't know. So we're pretending everything's perfect and we're a happy family... although I'd have to be the child in that case.
I'm not the tallest, with my 1.68m, which is listed on my ID card. And malicious tongues, like my mother, claim that's a lie. Phew! It's what's inside that counts, and quality is better than quantity.
“If someone comes in now, they’ll think we’re having group sex!” Motte says.
Leon shakes his head vigorously, while I prefer to blush. Just imagine if we... no, I don't even want to think about that. Go away, stupid fantasy!
"First of all, we wouldn't use a blanket if we were doing it on the floor. Second, we probably wouldn't leave our socks on—unless we were being very... rude. And third, the person in question might notice that we're lying in the wrong place for it."
Arg!
Do I really have to subject my ears to such statements? Okay, it serves to refute Motte's group sex verdict. I still don't want to imagine what the whole thing would look like otherwise, and if someone were to get in... a hole would quickly open up in the ground.
Am I right or am I right?


+++Four+++
*-*-*LEON*-*-*

Matti's showing up in ten minutes, and I'm already close to having a heart attack. Okay, I rushed to push the patient out of bed today so we didn't have to do it together, and that's exhausting, but... it's his fault, I know it.
I'm so nervous and shaking so much that I just dropped my pack of cigarettes for the third time. Besides, I've only been here an hour and I'm already smoking on the small balcony in front of the nurses' station. Anyway, I'm totally losing it.
Why do I have to put someone like that in front of me?
Of course, that wouldn't have happened in the past. It would have been obvious right away: He's refusing military service, he doesn't have a girlfriend—he's gay. But these days, anyone with a bit of courage does it. I didn't refuse to join the army because I'm gay.
Martha is looking so angry again.
She didn't like me from the start. Just because I smoke and, of course, because I'm the only man here. But she didn't see through me either. She still thinks I'm just waiting for the opportunity to jump into bed with one of the nurses. Apparently, I'm pretty good at hiding after all.
“There you are!” it tears me out of my thoughts.
Matti is standing in the middle of the nurses' station, a little out of breath and stunning as always. I quickly put out my cigarette and throw it over the railing. I stare after her for a while.
"Hmmm."
“Tell me, don’t people have to get out of bed today?” Matti asks after a while.
Yes, they have to. So that there's one free for the two of us.
Just stop thinking, Leon. Nothing sensible comes of it anyway, as you can see. No, that doesn't mean you should just sleep with him right away, for heaven's sake. You only have your head to keep the rain out, huh?
I quickly clear my throat. I must look pretty stupid.
"No, I already did that. The mayor is coming today, so it's time to set the table."
I trudge back to the nurses' station and close the door behind me. I don't want it to get freezing cold in here. And it also brings me closer to Matti.
It's pretty stupid how someone can become so fixated after such a short time. Honestly, I'm not used to that. There's always a first time, so what?
“Why is that?” Matti asks with wide eyes and fiddles with his shirt.
"One of our patients is celebrating her eighty-fifth birthday today, so that's the way it is. She never stays long anyway, an hour at most. And the entire staff is working their butt off for that, I tell you."
I try to maintain the most casual demeanor possible, combined with a slightly bored tone. That goes down well, doesn't it?
“But we don’t need to move or anything like that, right?” Matti asks uncertainly.
Oh, he looks so helpless that I just want to mother him. Me! What on earth has gotten into me?
First of all, he's way too young for me; he's still in school. At sixteen, you're in a completely different mood. You still feel great about throwing up at a party.
Secondly, he's kind of my colleague at the moment. I'm the one who always found such stories totally cliché, unbelievable, exaggerated, and who knows what else. I can't get caught up in such things.
And thirdly, I don't even know if he's gay. I mean... he says he's not in a relationship right now, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything. He's been friends with Motte for ages, and they claim it's purely platonic. But they still give each other stupid nicknames. That's a lot to figure out.
I don't want to burn my fingers.
"For that little bit of time? No. Besides, we're supposed to look like real nursing staff, that's very important. And the relatives can't be outdone by the outfit, they'll react very irritably. Even though most of them have already sent the birthday children to a home," I answer, a little late but all the more detailed.
Maybe it will pass as a moment of reflection, with a lot of good will.
"What did you guys do yesterday?" I ask casually, grabbing the stack of tablecloths Martha had already laid out. "After the gangbang?"
Matti, of course, immediately blushes, which is incredibly cute. I think he's a little embarrassed. And yet, you always think that sixteen-year-olds are very... talkative. Nonsense!
He's almost uptight, hehe.
"We cooked two liters of alphabet soup and watched the Sesame Street DVD," Matti murmurs into his imaginary beard. "And afterward, of course, I had to take Motte home."
Too sweet, really. I can just imagine the two of them sitting in front of the TV, spooning alphabet soup and watching Big Bad Wolf and the rest of the family. Okay, it's a bit silly to bring Motte home... when she lives right next door. It could be considered a romantic gesture.
No, better not.
I don't want him to have anything to do with Motte.
"Great," I reply somewhat flatly, as I clear the patients' glasses from the tables. "Could you please pack the other stuff with it? Always this stress in the early morning, honestly."
I really hate it. Having to get up when it's still pitch black outside and your warm bed is practically begging you to lie down again. The only thing worse is people who are in a good mood in the morning. I could wring their necks, every single one of them.
Matti obediently does what I tell him. Is it always like this? Then I could tell him...
No, pull yourself together. Believe me, Leon, it will only be embarrassing for you. And it will hurt, terribly. Better not do it right now.
"No, no, that's mine!" an old lady screams angrily as I pick up a glasses case from the table. "Help, robbery!"
Matti rolls his eyes, and I can't help but grin broadly... Such a shame. I really shouldn't let my emotions get the better of me. One look is enough for me to act like an idiot, which is just embarrassing.
The plastic tablecloths that usually lie on tables stick like boat shit. Seriously, why buy washable ones if you're just going to let them rot?
But I don't think we have a rag for such things up here. At most, we have one in the kitchenette next to the nurses' station, but of course, that can't be used for other purposes. Hygiene suddenly matters again there. I can't possibly put the fresh cloth tablecloths over the others... they'll probably love each other very much and never want to be separated again.
"And now?" Matti asks, somewhat lost, scratching his head. "Shower off?"
Not such a bad idea, that could work. Then we'll just have "Naked Table" meets "Cotton" today, which would get much better ratings anyway. At least if it's broadcast on a private channel under that title.
So let’s nod in agreement.
And then it's time to get down to business: peeling off the sticky monsters. This turns out to be really difficult, because your fingers get sticky after a very short time anyway, and you get stuck everywhere. For example, on Matti's shirt... but that was definitely an accident. It's not my fault that he's suddenly so close to me.
"And how does that always work?" Matti asks as we lay down the fresh blankets. "The one with the mayor?"
Is he still panicking about it? No, no, no. It's always the same: he just wants to make himself important. And look good in the eyes of his voters, of course. Just like the nursing home is, for once, really putting on a show.
They seriously told us to put out glasses again today, so it would look like people were drinking a lot.
I'm sorry, but this is just sad.
“The guy comes, congratulates, hands out flowers, babbles a bit, drinks a coffee and then quickly takes off again!” I grumble, a little annoyed.
Matti just bites his lower lip and looks at me wide-eyed.
“Sorry,” he stammers tearfully, fiddling with his shirt again.
Good heavens, that's not what I meant!
No matter... I'll comfort him first, then pounce on him and make him forget that I was the one who made him sad. Yeah, I know that's not possible. I'm not that out of touch with reality. I could even blame it on a messed-up childhood, which is what everyone wants these days.
Anyway, I pat his hand instead, not out of selfishness, of course. I have to help him get over the dramatic loss of a perspective. Because I may have caused his worldview to collapse. You need a little consolation, right?
Faced with the suspicious looks of our patients, I finally regain my composure, allowing us to complete our creative work. With white tablecloths, autumnal red napkins, and—who would have thought?—water glasses.
“Phew!” mutters Matti and plops down on an empty chair.
The old man next to him looks at him with a hint of annoyance, but refrains from commenting. Most people here don't like to talk anymore, let alone much. However, my fellow sufferer does look a bit worn out; who knows what's going on.
“Is everything okay?” I ask cautiously.
Now he's burying his face in his hands, which doesn't just look like exhaustion.
"Yeah, yeah. I just have a little headache, it'll go away soon."
"Would you like to lie down? The mayor won't be here for another half hour anyway, so there's nothing to do until then."
No, he doesn't seem to want that. The gentleman has gotten back to his feet and appears to be as lively as ever, albeit a little pale around the nose. He's also brimming with energy, which scares me.
"The plastic blankets still need to be washed," he chatters away. "They're so disgusting, the way they look. Imagine having to eat like that all the time. You wouldn't even be hungry anymore! It's not that much effort, why don't you do it more often?"
After that, I quickly cover his mouth. I can't imagine what would happen if one of the nurses heard this!
Cutting him off by a head would be harmless.
"Not. Here. Talk about it. Especially not out loud," I whisper, pulling him and the blankets into the washroom. "They react very inhumanely to suggestions for improvement and criticism."
Matti nods meekly.
First, I'll go and see if we have anything similar to dish soap that might help... Nothing. How are we supposed to get rid of that disgusting stuff, huh?
Okay, the carrier cleaner should work, too. I turn away from the shelf again and get the shock of my life:
Matti is lying on the floor in an unhealthy position and isn't moving at all.


+++Five+++
Phew, this day has really been a tough one. His ass just fell out of my lap! I could have said how poorly he was feeling. Instead, he just flopped down on his pretty butt and didn't make a sound. I was overwhelmed, right?
An hour later, he was feeling pretty good again, but they sent him home anyway. He has to keep quiet, so no visitors or anything. Really, really stupid. Today was actually my turn to play host, and I even cleaned up. Last night at 10:30, mind you.
“Leon, phone for you!” my sister shouts across the room.
The apartment isn't so big that you have to scream your head off, honestly. But she's probably half deaf from all the pop music she constantly listens to. With sugar in her ears.
While trying to get up from my bed, I, stupid as I am, get tangled up in the blanket and fall flat on my face. I didn't have my hands ready in time for the fall, incompetent bastard that I am. In any case, my face is now enjoying a new variety of colors, if I can trust my gut feeling.
So the weary warrior drags himself into the hallway with his last bit of strength, and in a dying stupor, he reaches for the telephone receiver that will deliver the fatal blow... and unexpectedly dies of a heart attack. Because Matti is on the line, and my head feels even more broken.
"I just wanted to get back to you because today must have been really shitty," he begins. "So rude and all."
Jesus, why does that asshole have to have a fucking phone sex voice? I know I'm getting really abusive right now, and swearing is absolutely nasty and bad, yes. But my sister is standing next to me, and knowing me, I'm blushing red right now, right now, in addition to the bruises that are forming.
“Come on... you fainted, there’s no point in being polite!” I quickly evade.
Unfortunately, we have a corded phone because cordless ones are so harmful. And my dear sister makes no attempt to leave. How can we possibly talk openly in this situation?
"Anyway, I'm feeling better... even if Motte doesn't want to let me out of the house. Imagine, she locked my room! And now I'm so sorry, because I can't really visit you like this. But... if you want, you can come over."
Shit, shit, shit! What's he whispering into the phone, huh?
He must know that I'm not sane and that he has to stay away from me, because otherwise I'll do stupid things like kiss him or something. I don't want to think about that right now, no way. In the end, something along those lines will slip out, and then we'll be in trouble.
"Motte will definitely let you into the house. It's so lonely here and everything. She's dyeing her hair and is unresponsive... I'm totally pissed off. Please, please come over!"
I spontaneously want to crawl through the line and hug him to the ground. How dare he say such wonderful things? It wouldn't even occur to me. Because my feelings belong only to me, that's how it is. And he probably doesn't mean it like that and just says it without thinking about it.
Whatever... I'm blown away.
I'm proud of myself for not dancing around the room like a madman, hugging my sister, and all that crap. She's also looking at me curiously, by the way. I have to get out of here.
"Yeah, sure, I'll do it. Give me a quarter of an hour, okay?"
“Okay, see you then.”
Shit, I have a date with Matti! That alone makes my heart ache, right? But I, the idiot I am, had to give myself a whopping fifteen minutes to get my bedraggled self back in shape and get my ass over to him. Am I totally retarded?
In any case, I have to barricade myself in the bathroom as quickly as possible, with everything that goes with it. No, no makeup, that might be a bit misunderstood.
Anyone who is more beautiful than me is wearing makeup.
That's the motto, so we've cleared that up. A little flaunting is part of good style, though, I hope. And you do want to shine a little when you have to compete with such a super-creature as Motte.
I know that doesn't have to be the case. But if I had to choose between the good Seraphina and myself—hey, that wouldn't even be worth choosing. Sure, orientation does play a certain role, but that's pretty clear in Matti's case.
After ten minutes in the bath and the horrific torture of plucking my eyebrows—yes, it just had to be done—I'm already feeling a little more presentable. At least my hair is doing what I want it to. It's a small consolation, but it's something nonetheless—I'm so easy to please, haha!
"Julia, can I take the car?" I gasp, completely exhausted. "It's not for long!"
My lovely sister is blowing an XXL bubble gum bubble in dusty pink and winks at me with her blue cow eyes. You wouldn't believe it, but... that's her poker face.
“Why should I do that?”
Didn't I say so?
This girl is completely unfair, contemptuous, and calculating. She'd only give up her last shirt if it meant she could get a Gucci dress.
“Because you have a really big heart and I’m your favorite brother!” I start to snivele.
“You’re my only one too.”
"You see, we have to stick together. There aren't any more of us."
Smart-assing with Julia and Leon, Part 1096. The veracity of the facts used here is beyond doubt. Amen.
“But I have to go somewhere later.”
"There's always the possibility that you could just drop me off there," I gave a dachshund look. "Because I absolutely have to get to Matti right now."
Julia rolls her eyes and beats me half to death with her blonde mane. Why not?
"Honestly! Your boyfriend snaps his fingers and you're immediately on the edge of your seat, just embarrassing. You have to make them wait, you know!"
I nod obediently and put on my jacket.
"Of course you have to keep her waiting, Julia. But only after you've got her on the hook!"
And then I give her a bribe kiss on the cheek. Haha, now she won't resist anyway. Win!
We just know how to do it.
If it's not about Matti.
It's enough to make me pull up in front of his house a short time later, tires squealing, and melodramatically slam the door of our baby-blue Corsa. That makes me feel better right away. It would be even better, of course, if my beloved had seen me do it.
My goodness, I'm so showy. This can all go away, of course I want to come across. Okay, that's kind of awesome.
The path to the house is completely slippery from the fallen leaves and the rain of the last few days. It's almost icy, in any case, and I almost fall flat on my face more than once. It could be due to my lack of talent, but I'll keep quiet about that. My lurching has also brought something positive: The door is already open when I arrive.
“Hello!” trills Motte and throws himself around my neck.
Good. Now I know why Matti was so dejected after the hug – he was simply cuddled to death. Or maybe he was smothered by boobs, but that must have made him happy.
"Hello there," I murmur, freeing myself from her grasp. "The lady looks lovely again today!"
That's... partly true. Motte is wearing an absolutely gorgeous, very Lolita-esque dress, striped socks all the way up, and shoes with little wings. Truly very pretty, no question – if it weren't for the aluminum foil on her head. Anyway, I'm not making fun of it.
"The gentleman is once again exaggerating, much to the lady's delight. If he enters?" She curtsies and clears the way into the hallway. "Mr. Matti usually rests."
Oh, I love that old-fashioned language. People might look at you like you're completely crazy, but it's worth the fun. Not that I like to bask in attention, but a little can't hurt. In reality, no one is what we commonly call "normal" anyway.
"The brave prince has come to save the lovely princess!" Matti croaks from afar. "Me!"
Oh. My. God. He didn't seriously make a veil out of his bedspread, did he? Yes, he did. And now he's strutting daintily toward us, accompanied by a very unladylike giggle. Not to mention, he's throwing himself into my arms.
I'm a little paralyzed—but not so much that I can't catch him. Maybe I should have dropped him, because then I would have missed that disgustingly delicious bed smell with a hint of chocolate. Besides, it's just awful when someone you like cuddles up to you. Because you can't hug them forever and then immediately start kissing them to death, no. It's purely platonic and all.
“Hey! Not so boisterous, lovely maiden!” I protest half-heartedly, giving him a little hug.
“My savior!” mumbles Matti and buries himself, blanket and all, around my neck.
Argh! Doesn't he notice I'm half-freaked out? It's completely out of character for an average guy to cuddle so much—especially not with another male. I gently push him away a bit.
"Would you gentlemen like a little something to eat?" Motte asks excitedly, already skipping toward the kitchen. "Or a drink? Matti has to drink a lot, he knows that!"
My princess nods dejectedly and throws off the covers. The next heart attack is coming, and today they're really kind to me. I'm surprised I haven't passed away yet. He's standing there in boxer shorts and a sheer T-shirt!
Take a deep breath.
"Put some clothes on immediately, my dear! You'll collapse and hours later you'll want to hop around the periphery half-naked? Mermaids!" commands Motte.
Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Without this girl's wise words, I wouldn't have made it through the day, no. Because a half-naked Matti would have been jumping around in front of me and bouncing through my thoughts. Not that the latter isn't the case. But... that really doesn't belong here.
At the end, I'm still standing in front of Motte with a hard-on. Matti comes around the corner and beats me to a pulp because I'm using his beloved—er... as a masturbation aid?—and I'm never allowed to see him again because they'll accuse me or something. Absolutely not.
“Do you want something to drink now?” asks Motte, fingering her aluminum foil.
Very sexy, I must say. If you're into space style or Coanheads.
“No, you,” I answer quickly, underlining the whole thing with an energetic shake of my head.
"Then go check on Matti, I have to wash out the paint now. See you later!"
Okay. Then I'll do what I'm told. I'm a good boy... most of the time.
Look away, look away!
Damned.
Matti is currently changing his clothes, with remarkable slowness, of course. And I'm guessing he's stretching like that on purpose. No one puts on such a show when they think they're alone.
You're completely calm, everything's okay, you didn't see anything, and if you did, you'll quickly forget about it. Everything's fine, Leon.
"Does the handsome prince have to sneak up on us like that?" Matti squeals, hopping around in a slightly hysterical manner. "A lady's chambers are absolutely taboo!"
At least he's got his sweater all the way on now. It's unthinkable if he did that to me, too.
"I humbly beg your forgiveness, fair maiden. She is free to choose her own punishment," I reply theatrically, bowing my head so he can't see my grin.
However, he should have realized I wasn't serious... but apparently he didn't. A split second later, I had to deal with the most nasty tickle attack of my life.
And as small as Matti is, it's not easy to assert yourself against him when he pushes you onto the bed completely unexpectedly and holds you tight.
No, don't think about it any further.
That would be absolutely fatal, but I'm dealing with dying today.


+++Six+++
My God, that was pretty embarrassing. While Matti and I were busy tickling each other, Motte came in. By now, her hair was perfectly styled and sporting a radiant, nuclear-powered smile – which disappeared after a split second.
"I didn't know that... Matti, let go of Leon immediately, you have to take it easy!" she stammers. "You can still play your bed games tomorrow!"
You can't even imagine how red I turned. And how quickly Matti crawled off me. I'll probably never forget his shocked look.
There we have it: He's not gay. His reaction is exactly the same one today's youth always has when it comes to gay people. As if the whole thing were contagious or something.
In any case, the fact that it's moving away says it all.
It's enough to plunge me into a deep depression. This involves wearing XXL lumberjack shirts and baggy pants—truly shabby clothes. And, of course, tons of sweets, although I swear by chocolate hearts. No, I don't have a mental breakdown... just because I always have to break them halfway through.
“Everything okay?” asks Julia, joining me with a bowl of chips.
Oh dear, oh dear. She'll probably have to put in another extra shift at her favorite gym tomorrow. She's meticulously focused on her figure, healthy eating, and all that. Chips are a kind of sin for her, you know.
So something went wrong with her today too.
I shake my head wordlessly and stuff half a heart into my mouth.
"Then I'm not alone," she murmurs, putting her arm around my shoulder. "Shall I start?"
Yes, she should. I don't know if I want to talk about the disaster. It's a bit embarrassing, the whole thing. Maybe I'm overreacting and everything isn't as bad as it seems, and then she comes along with a really big problem.
Nod.
"I screwed up, really screwed up," she murmurs, snuggling deeper into the sofa. "Ben dumped me today. He was really dramatic, like, 'I never want to see you here again, you bitch!' and all that. And he threw my clothes at me, guess what!"
First, I give her a big hug and tell her what a jerk Ben is. That I knew from the start he wasn't right for her. I go one step further and claim that he could probably never be faithful to her.
Which causes Julia to burst into tears.
Great. What did I do wrong now? I certainly don't feel guilty. That's the common phrase when someone is dumped.
"That... that's just it! I wasn't faithful to HIM, you understand?" my sister sobs.
My goodness!
My Julia went to bed with another guy, and Ben found out. What can I say? I'm actually more on the side of the faithful partner. But I can't kick my sister in the ass in a situation like that.
So I pat her shoulder and hope she calms down a bit. So she can tell me the whole horror story and we can wallow in our misery together. Right now, she's happily scattering chips on the floor with her trembling. Hmm.
I quickly push a chocolate heart between her trembling lips and pick a few crumbs from the aging parquet floor. So... basic order restored!
“Tell me,” I ask her as gently as possible.
I feel like I was never a good comforter.
At least Julia's pulling herself together a bit, and the flood of tears has stopped. For now, emotions are bound to surface. Maybe I should grab a pack of tissues. Shit, I could be more compassionate!
After all, she's my sister. My only sister and probably the best in the world.
"It was only that one time. And it's not like I planned it, you know? It just happened, like that. I didn't even know Sam well. I don't know what made me do it. But Ben was so far away, and he said he wasn't here again. That was enough!"
Oh man. Maybe you should know that Ben has a really great job. As far as the money goes, that is. Otherwise, things aren't so rosy, he's working overtime like crazy. He's happy when he gets home by eight and has some peace and quiet. And he's actually a really calm, nice person. But after such a long day at work, everyone's irritable, understandably.
There were often arguments when my sister was already waiting for him. Because he hadn't come home for ages or because he was in such a bad mood, she immediately jumped on him.
“And how did you know this Sam?” I ask as calmly as possible.
“From the... from the gym,” Julia mumbles into a tempo.
My God, how cliché is that? The guy's probably around six foot three, has a back like a rock, and muscles powered by anabolic steroids. Maybe he's her "personal fitness trainer"—which would kind of sum up the whole thing. Shit, pull yourself together a bit and show her some sympathy!
“And what is he doing there?” I struggle to ask myself and stuff a chocolate heart into my mouth.
"He's training there, what do I know? And he was always hitting on me. You feel flattered, you know? And somehow it's like with a nuclear power plant: It's not a question of if it'll blow up—but when. I was that... the nuclear power plant."
And now we're back to the classic crying fit, wonderful. Congratulations, Leon. You really manage to put your foot in it every time. Instead of cheering them up, you energizingly cut off their heads a few more times. Why don't you be ashamed of yourself, hmm?
Maybe because my head is too confused for that right now. This whole Matti thing... I'm completely out of it. Any mental institution in the world would confirm that and keep me there. Honestly.
I hug her tightly and stroke her head. It's meant to be comforting, so she doesn't realize I'm really annoyed with myself. A little with her too, but not much. It's a completely different thing when you have no one else. We didn't get along particularly well before, no. If things weren't so crappy, we could actually be happy about the improvement in our relationship. Haha.
“You’ve already used contraception, haven’t you?” I ask somewhat helplessly.
Hmm, perfect timing. If she messed it up, now's the perfect moment to point it out. If I'm going to have a nervous breakdown, I'm going to have a real meltdown. I'm so stupid!
Luckily, Julia is nodding somewhere near my neck. Hmm... I can't help it: I'm reassured. Not that I'm anti-child. But it would be damn difficult right now with a little worm. No matter how much our parents' wealth is—although I don't even know exactly. And then Julia might also give up on her studies.
"I'm not that stupid!" she sniffs indignantly into my top. "Even though it might seem that way right now."
This attitude to life must run in the family; there's no other explanation. Cultivated pessimism or something. Cultivated depression among lovers, whatever. In any case, the cheerfulness today is almost unbearable. Muhahaha.
“Do you want him back?” I ask tonelessly, tugging at her blonde strands.
"I don't know. Oh shit, I don't know anything. Nothing, Leon."