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6:42 a.m.
The alarm clock is ringing. That loud, penetrating noise that gets on your nerves so much that as soon as you turn it off, you sit up without hesitation, stretch out both arms, let out a silent yawn, and greet the day with a broad grin. Okay, I'm not sure you greet a new day that way, but I certainly do. For twelve years, every morning, weekdays and weekends, in wind and rain, ice and snow, and in bright sunshine.
Today, the penultimate day of my old life, the sun is already shining at this early hour with such intensity that I can feel it tickling the skin on my arm through the closed curtains. The golden hairs stand on end as if drawn to it by a magnet. While I blow playfully over my forearm, my other hand traces the invisible curves of her body, my nose inhales her unmistakable scent, which, along with the memory of last night, brings a smile to my lips. Sex is wonderful. Sex with Kate even more so. Amazing, terrific, crazy – oh, Kate!
Unless you pronounce her name wrong, I grin to myself as I get up and head for the bathroom, exactly two seconds before my face twists into a grimace because right where my eyes should meet their counterpart in the mirror is a damn yellow Post-It, with the three words that are going to completely ruin this wonderful morning written on it in lipstick red.
I.
FUCK!
Love.
FUCK!!
You.
FUCK!!!
6:44 a.m.
"Someone doesn't look happy," Dad says as soon as I enter the kitchen. "Did you have a fight?"
“Neh!” I say wittily and cleverly, before throwing him a small yellow ball, which he promptly unfolds and smooths out.
“Oh!” is all he can think of to say.
“I’m breaking up with her later,” I explain grumpily and sit down next to him with a cup of coffee.
"Yes," he nods. "Understandable. Being loved is... terrible."
„Dad!“
"All right. You're right. If there's nothing there, then it's better if you tell her the truth."
"Thanks."
“The third time, huh?”
„Yep.“
Dad spreads butter and raspberry jam on two pieces of bread and pushes the plate over to me.
“One day, Max,” he says, “one day you’ll find someone you can tell too.”
Of course I know he's right. Not to mention that at eighteen, I still have plenty of time to find him or her. Someone like... "Tobi..." I murmur quietly into my coffee mug as his image suddenly appears in my mind's eye. His dark, deep eyes, his smile that always accompanies him everywhere, his voice that always evokes a feeling of security in me...
Triggered it. I told him. I could tell him. Because it was true...
“Yes, Tobias is a great boy, Max.” He heard me murmuring.
“And what’s between us…” I remember, and for a moment I feel as if a huge, protective bubble surrounds me, like when Tobias and I were still a couple.
“...it's over, little one,” Dad bursts the bubble.
"How come?"
"You'll have to ask him yourself, Max," he replies, even though we both know the answer, the reasons... "I have to go now, honey," he says and stands up again, kisses me on the head and puts a white, A6-sized card in front of me before he gets his keys and closes the front door behind him.
6:51 a.m.
As soon as I read the map, on which my best friend Florian, in his scrawling block capitals, has written only the code 20/3/? (which means 20 letters, three spaces, and a question mark), an address and a time, which is incomprehensible to outsiders, I feel better again. I feel the energy flowing through me, strengthening me, preparing me for the next game. Thirty-two minutes to go, and then it's off. Thirty-two minutes to finish breakfast, shower, pack my backpack, and cycle a few blocks further to my first destination.
7:22 a.m.
Time is precious in this game. It's often short, and Florian rarely allows me more than a few minutes' respite between tasks. Accordingly, the speed at which I often race from one destination to the next is high. Both Florian and I had to promise our parents that safety would not be compromised before they gave their okay to our first game more than three years ago. They made us both complete several safety training sessions at the local cycling club and buy a complete set of equipment, including knee and elbow pads and a helmet. Even Florian, although he only participates passively in the game and usually enjoys himself in some café or other crowded place while tracking my progress via the GPS signal on his phone, I wonder where he's hiding in plain sight with his book these days?
I reach the finish line a minute ahead of schedule, lock my bike, and unfasten my bike helmet as I tap on the huge window of our local bookstore, which offers a good view of the poorly lit bookshelves, which are always so crammed that whenever I dare to venture inside alone—which has only ever happened at the beginning of a new school year—I always feel as if the shelves, along with their tons of heavy contents, might collapse on me and bury me forever. The fact that I'm still so familiar with them is entirely thanks to Florian—the guy is an absolute bookworm.
"Ah, right on time," Mr. Braun nods approvingly as he opens the door, then locks it behind me. "Just as your friend predicted. Are you ready?"
I nod wordlessly and look away from him as I see his wife approaching us out of the corner of my eye. Like her husband, she's in her seventies and has incredibly white hair. Unlike him, who sometimes greets his younger customers grumpily, she's always cheerful and kind, just as I imagine the ideal grandmother to be. Since I never met my own grandparents, all of whom died before I was born, I sometimes like to dream of adopting Mrs. Braun. Then we, too, would be a reasonably normal family.
"Good morning, my dear," she greets me warmly, placing her hand on my arm. "It's wonderful that you're here today." "Good morning to you too, Mrs. Braun," I reply. When I meet Mr. Braun's gaze, I quickly add, "Good morning to both of you." "You're probably wondering what awaits you here, aren't you?" she asks.
"I'm pretty excited," I admit. "Curious."
"Well, then we won't keep you in suspense any longer," her husband chimes in with exaggerated friendliness. He leaves us briefly to pull a book from a shelf, which he immediately hands to me. "We know you're not a big book lover, but this book might change your mind."
"None of us can relate to it," says my dream grandmother. "Science fiction. Not our generation, I'm afraid. But you might like it." "Florian picked it out."
“Okay, um, should I read it?”
"Yes. No. Yes. Yes, you should. Not the whole book, of course, there isn't enough time. But as far as you can get."
"And then...?" "Yes, the letter," he remembers. "The card."
“And the condition,” she adds mysteriously.
"Of course, that's the condition." The two of them seem very excited, as if they're enjoying the game as much as I am. Mr. Braun turns back to me. "So, you have 45 minutes to look at the book. You can read it wherever you want: the beginning, the end, the middle. It doesn't matter where. We hope you'll find it interesting..."
"That you'll like it. Then you can take it home. For free, of course, without any money."
“I can pay for it, no problem,” I assure them.
"Sure, we know that. Your father..." "But that's not what we're concerned about, Maximilian. We don't need your money or your father's."
"Not your money," Mr. Braun confirms his wife's words. "We'd like your time."
"My...? My time?" "Look, we'd love it if you could spend a month this summer... Florian said a month, right?" he asks his wife. She nods and smiles at me.
“I should spend a month…?”
“Work with us for a month.”
Didn't the two of them just talk about a condition? That's supposed to be it? What was Florian thinking? The effects of the game were always immediate and short-term, aside from the occasional injuries that sometimes took weeks to heal. Every game so far has been over within a day, with all the trimmings. And now I'm supposed to spend my summer standing here in the store instead of lying on the beach all day long?
"That's the condition?" I can't quite hide the rising panic in my voice. "If I say no, then I can forget the card? The entire game today?"
The cards contain the next goal. If I don't get one, the game is over. For today, that would mean I failed right from the start. And in all these years, I haven't failed a single game.
"Game?" Mrs. Braun asks, visibly offended. "Is this all just a game for you?" "No, no, no!" I try to repair the damage. "Yes. It is. But it's a serious game. With consequences." Sometimes it's a matter of life and death. And right now, at this very moment, I would prefer a situation like jumping off the cliff the other day a thousand times over. "What if I say no?"
“Then you’ll still get the card.”
"Then what's the point of it all? Why should I read the book?"
“Because we want you to choose it. Voluntarily.”
"They could force me. If I don't agree, there'll be no ticket."
Mr. Braun looks questioningly at his wife, but she shakes her head sadly. "We won't do that. You'll get your card anyway. But if you give us a month, you'll get much more. Florian and you will receive something that will change your lives forever. Now make yourself comfortable somewhere and read the book if you like. We won't bother you any further."
I watch Mrs. Braun sit down on a stool next to the cash register and Mr. Braun stand next to her and lovingly press her head to his chest. Embarrassed, I turn away and find a corner where I can't see them, sit down on the floor, and open the book. While I'm still pondering what my friend could have been thinking, making such an agreement with them, which I obviously have to accept; otherwise, I might get the ticket but would never shake the feeling of failure... So, while I'm pondering Florian's reasons, I begin to read the book, which, if I interpret the dates correctly, is quite a bit older than I am, and I realize that the story of this boy, chosen by the military to save the world from alien invaders, is increasingly captivating me.
He's just arrived at his new school when Mr. Braun shakes my arm and drags me from the future back to the past. Silently, I follow him to the front of the house to his wife, who seems to have gotten over her shock. She gives me a grandmotherly smile and asks me what I think of the book. "I'd like to take it with me and read on to find out what happens to the little one, whether he manages to save the people or breaks down from the humiliation." My answer seems to satisfy them both; her husband's expression brightens at my words. "And as for that one month: I think it's a fantastic opportunity to get an insight into the world of work."
Mrs. Braun can't contain her joy any longer. She claps and makes a strange noise that could be a chuckle or a squeak, comes over to me, and hugs me. "Florian will definitely be happy, then he won't be alone here with us old grumps."
“Florian will be spending the month here too?” Couldn’t they have said that right away?
"Yes, yes, of course, that's why he suggested the whole thing in the first place. Martha, we told him that, didn't we?"
No, you didn't, I want to correct him, because otherwise I would have agreed right away! Instead, I just smile at him blissfully and jump for joy inside because the universe (in this case with Florian as my representative) isn't as cruel as I feared.
"Very nice, my boy," says Mr. Braun, handing me the next card. "You won't regret it."
"No, absolutely not," adds his wife, who has now let go. "And now we wish you lots of fun with your game."
08:27 a.m.
Four minutes after the Brauns say goodbye to me, I reach the next stop, the Fernweh travel agency, which doesn't open for another three minutes. I peek inside through the shop window, but I can't see a soul. What exactly I'm supposed to be doing here is a mystery to me.
Except... No, not again! I've had to do that before: book a trip, only to cancel it right before closing time. Luckily, I didn't have to pull that stunt at that travel agency back then, otherwise they probably wouldn't even let me in today.
Just to be absolutely sure, in case Florian is serious this time, I look in my wallet to see if the credit card my father gave me for the games is in there.
One minute, 60 seconds left. 59… 58…
How do you kill a minute? I could keep reading, but as soon as I've taken the book out, I have to put it back in my pocket. The street is empty, not a single passerby to chat with. The houses, boring, I've known them for as long as I can remember. Nothing new or special to catch my attention. Twenty seconds left. My phone—no new messages, which is no surprise, since Florian never contacts me during the game and Kate has already started work. And as for the others, they're still asleep at this time of night.
Ten seconds. Nine. Eight. Seven.
Having to count down the seconds is truly pathetic. As if I had nothing better to do with my time! Finally, someone comes to catch up. To my surprise, I'm greeted by a fairly young man. He can't be much older than me, probably in his early twenties. He's outrageously good-looking, with his tanned skin and toned body covered in noticeably little fabric, his blue-green eyes and playful look—as if he'd stepped out of a travel agency's commercial or, as an entertainer, would normally be undressed by the gaze of young-at-heart ladies.
"Good morning," he says with a slight accent I can't place. "You're Mr. Jansen, I presume?"
"Yes. Yes, hello, good morning," I stammer. "Max Jansen, Mr...." Unfortunately, I can't read his name because to do so would require tearing my eyes away from his face, and no matter how hard I try, I can't. "Please call me Ruben." "Ruben."
"May I offer you a cup of coffee or tea, Mr. Jansen? Or a refreshment?"
I shake my head vigorously, but at the same time say, “A glass of water would be nice.” Whereupon he disappears, only to return shortly after with a glass of water.
"Please, take a seat," he says, sitting down opposite me at the computer. I obey without taking my eyes off him. "If I call your friend..." "Tell me, Ruben," I blurt out, "are you new here?" The question isn't entirely unreasonable, since I like to think I know pretty much everyone in our metropolis of 3,000 people, and I've never seen him before.
"Not new," he replies kindly, "on a temporary basis. A week's visit, so to speak, because my colleagues..."
“Mrs. May and Mrs. Yildirim,” I interrupt him involuntarily, because I’m too excited to keep my mouth shut.
"Exactly. Mrs. May is sick, and Mrs. Yildirim's shift starts at twelve. But, to get back to your journey..."
“I’m traveling?”
"That's why you're here, right?" he asks uncertainly. "Your friend, Mr...." He looks at his notes, "Mr. Warte has already sorted everything out, but he said you'd like to go over it with me again and possibly change something."
"That's what Mr. Wait said?" So, a trip after all. Too bad, I wouldn't have objected to a date with such a nice person. "And where are we going?"
"To... to Amsterdam." I feel sorry for poor Ruben. This will probably be the first time he's ever seen two people wanting to travel and making such a fuss about it. "For eight days. Next Monday, you'll fly out at 8 a.m. and arrive at Schiphol Airport shortly after 9. A shuttle will take you from there to your hotel. Four stars, double room with a double bed, breakfast included. Mr. Warte said full board would be superfluous."
After rattling off the details, he waits a while and only continues when I nod. "The price includes City Cards for public transport for the duration of your stay, with free entry to many museums, and other discounts. You can find more information here," he says, placing a red flyer on the table. "Plus rental bikes for three hours a day, a rental scooter for a day to explore the surrounding area, and... if you have any additional requests or want to change something..."
"No, no, thank you," I say, and hear a sigh of relief. "How much does this fun cost?"
"Mr. Warte has already paid a large portion of the amount..." He has? Then he's probably serious about the trip this time. "The outstanding amount is 647 euros." A strangely odd amount, and quite high, considering Florian had already made a down payment. Or was that just a symbolic euro? "How much did my friend pay?"
"1,000 euros." He's now maxed out his credit card limit. Has he completely lost his mind?!
"The trip costs 1,647 euros?! For eight days?!" "For two people. Including travel cancellation insurance," he tries to make the price more palatable. "Okay," I give in without a fight and mentally strangle Florian before handing this guy my card, whose looks are considerably less attractive considering he's about to relieve me of so much money. The fact that my father is settling the card bills doesn't make things any better, because while I don't have to pay for the money spent, I'm sure I'll get a good telling off for such a large sum. A pleasure I'll gladly share with Florian! Suddenly, I feel the urge to leave the store and Ruben, Mr. Weiss, as I've since figured out. As soon as I've put the credit card, which now seems to weigh a ton, into my wallet and the wallet into my trouser pocket, I accept my prize, the playing card with the next letter and the next destination, and say goodbye, but not without giving Ruben one last look and a suggestive grin.
9:30 a.m.
My next task awaits me in the empty market square directly in front of the community center, where a table, like the ones you'd recognize from school, has been decorated with a poster promising a kiss on the cheek from me to anyone who gives me five euros. I'm so embarrassed by this that I'd rather skip it, which the rules of the game obviously forbid. So, with a sigh, I sit down on the table and bravely wait for the things, or rather the people, that are to come. I've barely finished this thought when I see a group of five girls walking purposefully toward me—all from my year. The first is a blonde bitch who, if you believe the rumors spread behind her back, only follows the brunette leader of the " We Are God's Gift to Men " clique because she's completely in love with her—and has been since seventh grade!—otherwise, she would have long since founded her own bullying gang, terrorizing the common people.
As soon as she's received her kiss and I've received my money and card, she nods to her successor, who had just been eyeing me skeptically and now looks questioningly at her, the goddess herself. I've never understood what's so beautiful about her. Her curly hair is far too wild for my taste, her eyes are tiny compared to her nose, her...
Oh dear, here she comes...
"We're only doing this because your stupid boyfriend paid us to, is that clear?" she declares, earning "yes!"s and "exactly!"s from her pack friends. "Of course," I reply.
“Shut up, you worthless piece of shit…”
"Think about your blood pressure, Cleo," the blonde admonishes her, whereupon Cleo closes her eyes, stretches her hands out in front of her in a meditative manner, and breathes in slowly, really slowly, deeply. As she exhales, she lowers her hands again, only to raise them again the next moment as she inhales. She does this exercise for about two minutes, then takes the last few steps toward me, blows me a kiss on each cheek, places the bill and the card on the table, and joins her waiting accomplice.
The next two are quickly ticked off, but the last girl approaches me hesitantly, with blushing cheeks, a slightly downcast gaze, and a very faint, shy smile on her lips. She is Cleo's sister, the unwanted twin, the one left after the self-proclaimed queen left the home she shared for nine months and chose the world around her as her new playground. She is kindness personified, the beauty on earth, everything her sister, who is only a few minutes older, is not. And she is cursed, for no one dares approach her—and she dares not leave the devil's side for even a second. Too bad...
"Come on, Clara!" her sister commands. "We don't have all day."
"Come on," Blondie cries, "it's just a stupid kiss!" But I see in Clara's eyes that it's not just any kiss, it's a special one, probably her first. So I do something I would never normally do: I break the rules – and kiss her not on the cheek, but on the lips. Very light and gentle, just as a first kiss should be – magical… A butterfly flies over and lands on her nose, and her smile grows bigger, more enchanting, infinitely beautiful. She looks me in the eyes, then slips the money and a card into my hand and is gone, following the others. I watch her for a long while and thank Florian for the short time with her, even though it was only a few seconds and I'll never get that close to her again. Only then do I glance at the card in my hand. Another new letter, another no new destination – so my guest list will get longer.
I only know the boy standing in front of me by sight. A ninth-grader, one of several who came out last school and who, every day since, greeted me with a nod whenever we made even the most casual eye contact. He looks so sweet, the way he looks at me, embarrassed yet respectful, the way you look at someone you admire but never hoped to meet in person, let alone kiss. Hesitantly, he presses his lips to my cheek, then puts his arms around me and whispers a thank you in my ear. After that, I'm five euros and a card richer, and he's gone.
The reason for the little one's thanks approaches me with open arms, hugs me, and laughs: "Dude, we did it!"
Paul Wabe, beefy and, despite my six foot three, a bit taller than me, made my life hell even before I came out. A single glance in his direction was enough to drive him crazy; more than once, his fist landed in my stomach or face, until one day during class we had a showdown that ended in the hospital for me and, as soon as the emergency doctor gave him the okay, in the precinct for Paul. When he went back to school a few days later, everyone gave him a wide berth, which he couldn't stand for more than two hours. He left school and walked all the way to the hospital, sat down by my bed, and started crying for at least half an hour. Then he apologized to me, said he was sorry, and that he was in love with me. Since I didn't have an answer, he left me alone, but visited me again the next day, and the days after that, until I was allowed to go home. On my first day of school after the incident, he approached me, which still made me instinctively recoil, and followed me everywhere without a word. From then on, he became my shadow. My bodyguard. And I became an involuntary legend and a hero to all those who hadn't dared to come out. My suspicions subsided over time; I started talking to him, then laughing, and later even meeting up with him after school. He taught me how to defend myself, and we became friends. Not best friends, but friends nonetheless. And we still are.
Once he thinks he's squeezed enough air out of me, he lets me go, does his job (kiss, money, card), and makes me promise to book him a dance at prom tomorrow to make his boyfriend a little jealous.
After Paul comes Sean McArthur, the most brilliant guy ever to call himself a teacher. And the first man, the first person I ever fell in love with. I was fourteen, fresh out of college, and he had all these crazy ideas that not only captured my mind, but also my heart and the hearts of my classmates. But today he's standing alone in front of me, grinning.
“Now that I’m no longer your teacher, Max, how about a nice cup of tea?”
"You Brits and your tea!" I laugh, and he joins in. "Or is that a euphemism?" One of the many words he taught us.
“You can choose.”
“Then tea.”
"Sure? I thought you'd like more."
“Those days are over, Sean.”
"Yeah? You're right, you know?"
“Who is right?”
"Your classmates. They say you're a player, a heartbreaker."
"Not really, Mr. McArthur. I've gotten older, more mature, hopefully..."
"Could be. Then tea, you probably still have my number," he says, putting his hands around my neck, pulling my head down toward him, and kissing... my forehead!
“Sean!” I protest.
He just grins and says, "I wish you much success today. See you tomorrow!"
“See you tomorrow!” I call out to him, but he’s out of sight before I’ve even finished saying the words.
After Sean, nothing happens for a while. Absolutely nothing. Even though I'm standing with my table in front of the community center, and one would assume that countless people would be coming in and out again, not a single person shows up. If it weren't for Sean's card, which clearly tells me that I have to wait here, that my "let me get kissed" task isn't complete yet, I would have disappeared long ago. But instead, I take out the book and start reading, constantly scanning the surroundings out of the corner of my eye.
The boy, who, despite or perhaps because of his high intelligence, is increasingly becoming an outsider at his new school, evokes a big-brother protective instinct in me, something I've never experienced before, since I have neither a sister nor a brother. In the past, when Tobias and I were out on the town and some guys were hitting on us, I would stand in front of him without thinking because I knew he wouldn't fight back, neither with words nor with his fists. And later, when things started going on with Kate and Tobias and I started to avoid each other, I always kept an eye on him from afar and asked my friends to do the same because my feelings for him haven't changed and probably never will. He will always be my friend, whether we talk to each other or not, and I will always try to protect him.
A blow on the back of my neck draws my attention back to the present and the ongoing play. I turn around, but there's no one behind me. Instead, someone is standing in front of me. Someone with a hood and a fake mustache and a mask, the kind you see at masked balls in old costume movies—who wears a mask like that these days? Do these balls even exist anymore? Romeo and Juliet comes to mind, the film with Leo and Claire Danes, great cinema...
"Who are you?" Even though we're the only ones for miles around, I whisper. An answer eludes me. Instead, he, or she—I can't even say this for sure—brings his/her finger to my lips, silencing me. Then he/she caresses my cheek with the thumb of the same hand, a touch so gentle, so tender, like nothing I've ever felt before. In that moment, I decide my counterpart must be female, because no man I know has skin as soft and delicate as this. And I also decide I must get to know her. Invite her. Take her out. Entice her.
Court her and finally ask for her hand in marriage.
How a single touch can turn your whole world upside down! Just a few hours ago, I feared I'd never see anyone like... like... again.
She looks at me, so briefly that I think I've only imagined it, then she looks away again. Smiling. She's flirting with me. Is there a more beautiful game than being chosen by Aphrodite? To be her servant, her lover?
"Tell me your name," I beg her. Once again, she's beaming as brightly as the sun, but she won't reveal her name. I find myself inhaling her scent, hoping to recognize it, but even that doesn't work. With her hand still on my cheek, our faces move closer, I close my eyes, unable to believe my luck when her lips finally meet mine. All around me, inside me, little explosions: a colorful firework display drawing hearts in the sky, heart-shaped balloons, streamers, butterflies... It's as if the universe had decided to merge birthdays and Christmas and New Year's Eve and Valentine's Day into a single day, a single moment, a kiss, that one kiss!
As our lips part, I want nothing more than to kiss her again. Forever. And ever. "Marry me," I whisper before opening my eyes and just catching her disappearing around a corner. "I'll find you! One day!" I shout at the top of my lungs. Then I start laughing because I've never felt so amazing. Love is wonderful!
10:29 a.m.
Still staring after my beautiful girlfriend, I dial Florian's number, desperately hoping he won't ignore me. After all, this could be an emergency. No, this is an emergency! It's ringing... ringing... ringing... for the thousandth time. Answer, Flo! Answer!
He sounds bored when he finally answers, but that doesn't interest me. I get straight to the point: "Who is she? I need to meet you! She's the love of my life, the mother of my unwanted children, beauty personified, the goddess..."
"Calm down, man! Relax! Who are you talking about?"
“From the girl who was just here.”
“The kissing challenge?”
"Yes, the kissing challenge. Who is she? I need to see her again!"
"Them? You'll have to be more specific. Which of the people do you mean?"
"Flo!" I yell at him, but then I realize he can't possibly know who I mean. "The one with the mask."
"Ah!" he giggles. He's giggling?! What does he know that I don't... Okay, he knows a lot about you that I don't, because I don't know anything at all, really. Except that I want you. And I want you to want me too.
„Also?“
"Chillax, Maxi. You'll see her again today and you can ask her yourself."
"Really now?"
"Promised."
A feeling of elation takes hold of me and I'm sure that if he were standing next to me right now, I would kiss him, even though he's not into guys at all, and he would tell me to save it for you.
“What’s your name?”
"Max, be patient! Unless you want to quit the game."
Cancel the game? Absolutely not! I'll see you again later anyway, later, even today...
"I'll keep going. Where do I need to go? Or is someone else coming here?"
"You'll be able to answer these questions yourself; she's laid the next card on the table for you. Good luck, Maxi. And remember, you can stop at any time if it gets too much."
Then the line goes dead; he hangs up without waiting for a reply or confirmation from me. His last sentence echoes in my head, but only when I find my next destination, my next assignment, do I understand why he said it.
I have three minutes to run two kilometers—for the first time, I'll be late. And for the first time, I'll lose someone in a game.
10:34 a.m.
This is the sixth time I've raised my hand to the doorbell, hesitated, and then pulled it back. Just a few hours ago, it seemed so easy, but now that Florian has made my intention part of the game, my plan to break up with Kate seems reprehensible. Wanting to end a relationship with someone who just confessed their love to you for the third time! is brutal. Isn't it?
Or not?
“Come in,” I suddenly hear Kate’s voice and look up from the floor.
"Were... were you waiting for me? And why are you home anyway?"
"I quit. And as for your first question: yes and no. I'm your 10:33 appointment, so I knew you'd come. But I wasn't standing behind the door the whole time."
“I didn’t ring the bell,” I question her statement.
"No..." she draws out the word, as if dealing with someone who's slow on the uptake. "But banging your head against the door is at least as effective."
"I have... what?" No, that can't be. "I didn't!"
"Mhm," she nods, and I realize we skipped our greeting ritual, the quadruple kiss (lips, left cheek, right cheek, lips). "Come," she says again, pulling me through the hallway into her room. She closes the door behind us and leans against it. She looks at me sadly, closes her eyes, looks away briefly, and then looks back at me. Her eyes push me backward until I reach her reading chair and fall into it.
"We..." I swallow hard. How am I supposed to do it? How...? Why can't she just be a flirt, a one-night stand? I can't look at her, stand up, and force my leaden feet to take me to the window, where I look out at the expansive garden where I spent a good part of my childhood. Back then, everything was so simple, so childishly carefree. The three of us were inseparable, Kate, Tobias, and I. Tobias and I especially. The garden was our kingdom; it seemed endless. We ran around for hours among the trees, played hide-and-seek, screamed with joy—paradise on earth. Full of memories. My first kiss—from Tobias, under the apple tree to the right of Kate's window. My second kiss—from Kate, just seconds later. Moments we had longed for so much, only to wonder, when they were over, if that was it. There were eight of us. Our first real party, for Tobias's fourteenth birthday, took place right outside this window. Then, a good week later on a warm summer night, my first time—our first time—at the other end of the garden, a gift from me to him, and from him to me.
And that's probably where it all started. He wanted me, I wanted a girl...
“The task,” I croak, looking at Kate, who is now standing next to me.
Her eyes flash at me as if I'd said something wrong. "This miserable game... If I asked you to die for me, would you do it?"
“What?” I ask, horrified.
“You understood me perfectly.”
"Why would you want something like that? Do you hate me? So much that you wish... I thought..."
“That I love you?”
“Mhm.” That’s all I can manage.
“No more than you love me.”
I'm not trying to pretend anything to her; I like her too much for that. "So, it's that time. Why the Post-it? Why the three words, three times? Why did you even get involved in this? Did you let me hurt your brother just so you could break up with me now? Or is it some kind of rule in your family that you take turns dumping me?"
She sits down on the windowsill and takes my hand in hers.
"I... like you. That wasn't the case at first, but now I'm starting to fall in love with you. And I can't. I can't if I don't want to end up like Tobi back then."
The way she says it makes it sound like I'm a monster.
"End like... How, like Tobi? What's wrong with him?"
"You have to promise me not to tell him. You must never tell him, or he'll never forgive me."
"What are you talking about, Kate? Besides... Besides, you're breaking up with me and then you want me to swear to you that... What, Kate?"
"I did it for him. I couldn't stand watching it tear him down, eating him up."
"Who's messing him up? Finally tell me what's wrong with Tobi!"
"Nothing's wrong with him, he's feeling better. But four months ago, things looked completely different."
What's she talking about? Tobias was doing great until I fell for his sister and he found out. And if anyone here was picking on her brother, it wasn't just me, but her too. After all, it always takes two to make a relationship.
"We knew we'd hurt him if we continued seeing each other," I remind her, "but we decided to do it anyway. How does this all become a Tobi thing?"
“Because I did it for him.”
"You... hurt him because you wanted to do something nice for him?" And I always thought I was weird!
"You don't understand anything, do you? I got involved with you, tried to help you, to save him. Maybe to save his life. Do you remember how emaciated he looked? How tired he was? Exhausted?"
"He spent his nights studying for his A-levels, we all did. I told him often enough that he couldn't live on coffee and air alone, but he didn't listen."
"He listened to you!" she screams at me before her voice is carried away by the tears welling up. "He was sick, Max. He was sick with worry about you. Every time you left his bed and rushed into the next game, he would lie there shaking, afraid that he might only see you again as a corpse. You and your stupid dares!"
Not today, because Florian seems to have thought up a mind game for me today.
"If you love someone, Max, you don't put yourself in unnecessary danger! Because that hurts them more than yourself, you understand?! Hence my question earlier: Would you die for me?"
“No,” I say firmly.
“For my brother?”
I don’t hesitate at all with this answer either: “If I can save him with it…”
"Then do it." Her voice is quiet, her gaze pleading. "Set him free. Let him go. Please. Die—and save him."
11:13 a.m.
As I close Kate's door behind me, my gaze meets her brother, who's standing across from me, leaning casually against the doorframe. "Why are you grinning so stupidly?" I snap at Tobias, which only makes his stupid grin widen. "You knew, you knew she'd send me packing," it clicks in my mind. Of course he knew! "Was this your idea?"
He shrugs indifferently. "I thought I'd do you both a favor."
"Did you think so, eh?" The moment I say those words, I feel my anger slip away, replaced by something I haven't felt in a long time. Not this... intimate and intense. I can't help but smile at him, because now, with him, I feel at home. Sometimes I wonder if we might be brothers. Twins. That Kate is supposed to be his twin is an accident; she and I were switched, and in reality, Tobias and I belong together. Yes, this is how it must be.
"Do you have the next ticket?" I ask him. "Or do I have to wait here for your parents?"
"My grandma has it." "Your...? She's here? Kate didn't mention she was here."
“She doesn’t tell you a lot of things.”
"I've noticed. Okay, where's your...? Wait, which one is it? The baking grandma or the blah-blah grandma?"
"They..." He laughs. If there's one person to whom God has given his laughter, it's Tobias. "Come with me," he says, beckoning me into his room. "Just wanted to tease you a little."
"I'm not a clockwork toy!" I protest unconvincingly as I follow him into his domain. "So..." I sink onto the bed, prop myself up on my elbows, and look at him questioningly. "What is my job? What should I do to earn the next letter?"
Tobias sits down on the desk chair and rolls over to me. "You're supposed to spend the next hour with me. You're not allowed to leave the room before..." He glances at the wall clock hanging between the two floor-to-ceiling windows, "quarter past twelve."
"Did Flo come up with this or did you? What's the challenge? What's so... special about it?"
"Me, of course!" Tobias feigns outrage. "Considering how we broke up and that we've only seen each other three times since then, although "seen" is a bit of an exaggeration, since we were mostly busy not seeing each other..."
"I see... We could stay silent the whole hour. Ignore each other."
"Yes, we can. Or you can think of something you'd like to do with me."
“Something like going dancing?” I suggest.
"No, here and now. Already forgotten? If you leave the room, the card is gone. And you'll never know what awaits you at the end."
"So think of something. Anything?"
"No matter what. However, I would be very grateful if you didn't hurt me. Especially since then I would have to hurt you, and neither of us wants that." "No matter what?" I ask again, just to be sure.
Tobias nods.
I give him another second, a chance to consider his answer, then I stand up and pull my T-shirt over my head, staying there with my arms outstretched, waiting for my ex-boyfriend to do the same. He hesitates, looks at me slightly uncertainly, mutters " What the heck," and throws his T-shirt to the floor. Not a minute later, we're standing there stark naked, our eyes meeting, holding each other, my subconscious talking to his about things neither of us will probably ever know. He takes a step toward me, I take the next, until my toes touch his. Finally, I look away from him, close my eyes, and lay my head on his shoulder so that with every breath I can take in the scent of his skin and hair. The exotic scent of guava and mango, the scent that drove me crazy back then.
Tobias's tiny stubble scratches barely noticeably across my cheek, his fingers wander through my blond hair, his hand gently strokes my back, each of his touches making my heart beat even faster. For minutes we stand there, caressing each other, feeling each other, breathing each other, without our lips coming closer, without any physical reaction. Full of lightness and carefreeness, as if we were floating on a cloud, as if we were clouds ourselves. Without saying a word, Tobias takes my hand and leads me to his bed, throws back the covers, and follows me in. Our eyes meet again, only briefly this time while Tobias rummages for something in one of his bedside table drawers. He smiles as he pushes me down onto the pillow, closes my eyes, and begins to read.
"Once upon a time," I hear the voice of an angel say, "there were two boys who had been friends since childhood, sometimes more, sometimes less. They played and romped together, they laughed and wrestled and argued, but after a while they always found a reason to join forces again and seal their friendship anew with a handshake, a hug, or a laugh. So the years passed and the boys grew older, but their friendship and its ups and downs remained unchanged, not even when one boy discovered his interest in girls and, around the same time, his friend realized that he didn't share this interest. But one day, long after the initial fuzz on their faces had been replaced by stubble, the first boy realized that he suddenly felt more for his friend than before, and so they became a couple, as happy and inseparable as one could imagine..." He's not going to stop now, is he? Our story is just beginning! The best time of our lives, he can't just let it go! I open my eyes and am about to start an argument when I notice the tears on his face.
"I'm sorry," he says. "That shouldn't have happened. I didn't mean to start crying."
Automatically, my arms wrap around him and pull him toward me. "Shhh... Why did you let Florian talk you into this? You were always against it when it came to the games."
He sniffs and wipes the tears from his eyes with his wrist. "Because I wanted to be alone with you..."
“A dance at the prom tomorrow would have done the trick, right?”
He shakes his head vigorously. "No, too late. I wanted to say a proper goodbye to you. Today."
“Tobi, it’s not a trip around the world to get to Berlin!”
He pushes me away a little so he can look me straight in the eyes. "From Australia, yes."
"From Australia? Great! Why didn't you say I would have come with you. Vacation in Australia! When are you flying?"
"Tomorrow morning." His voice is no more than a whisper. "As an au pair. For a year."
As if I'd been stung by a scorpion, I jump out of bed and bang my head against the closet door. "Damn!" I curse, rubbing the spot on the back of my head. "A whole year? Are you crazy? What's up with this? Why...? Why?! What happened to Hamburg?"
"That was..." He takes a deep breath. "That was... before..."
“You’re leaving because of me?”
"You're flattering yourself." His laugh sounds fake, inauthentic. "I didn't think you'd mind. We haven't had much to do with each other since... lately."
“Because you broke up with me.”
“You fell in love with my sister!”
"Yes but ..."
"But what, Max? A ménage à trois? Brother, sister, and Maximilian, who can't choose between the twins? I had to make this decision! The only possible one, or should I have forbidden you from seeing my sister again?"
"I loved you! And I loved her."
"So much so, that you never told her once. She said the magic words three times, without a reaction from you. Because you knew it would be a lie. That you don't love either of us enough to stop. You can't stop, for anyone. That's why she broke up with you, too. Why we're leaving. There's nothing holding us here anymore, Max. Not even you."
There's too much truth in his words for me to contradict him. It's as if he's robbed me of my strength; I feel weak, drained, tired.
“Kate’s coming too?”
“Yes, to China.”
"China?" I ask, wondering at the same time how I could have been so blind. Memories of afternoons, evenings, and nights flood back to me, times she spent at her desk, with high stacks of books on Chinese language and culture beside her, typing characters with such dedication that I could sit beside her for hours and watch her. "China... As far away from me—here," I correct myself, "as possible. And your parents?"
"They raised us this way, passing on their love of foreign cultures to us. They think it's great."
"Australia... China... Why didn't you just leave? Just like that, without telling me? Why didn't you just take off?!" I look around the room, searching for something I can smash, but that satisfaction eludes me, so I do the next best thing and hammer on the desk with all my might. To no avail, because the anger inside me doesn't even consider diminishing.
“Because I love you despite everything.”
The worst part is that I believe him. Even though at the same moment I hear my father's words, his pathetic attempt to comfort me when Tobias left me: Love means many things, Maxi: respecting one another, making compromises, being there for one another, but never giving up on yourself, throwing away your dreams, always putting your wishes aside.
And yet I believe Tobias. Because I know it's true. Because I love him too. But it's also true that that's not enough, because there's something I love even more: the excitement of playing this game, the thrill of experiencing something new. Like being abandoned by someone who means something to you. Means a lot. Means a lot.
Kate's pleas force their way back into my mind, and I give him the warmest smile I'm capable of, as painful as it is. "Australia, China... I hope you both have fun and a great time. Let me know, okay?" A glance at the clock tells me that my time is up in two minutes. I hug him one last time and breathe in his scent, never wanting to forget him, not the scent, not Tobias. Then I get dressed, take the card he holds out to me, and open the door. "I'll miss you, Tobi," I call out to him, laughing as I leave his room and finally the House of Memories without looking back.
Just beyond the next intersection stands a ruin, a house that never got beyond the shell. I slip through the doorway, close the nonexistent door behind me, lean my back against the cold gray stone, close my eyelids, sink to the ground, and let my tears flow freely.
12:17 p.m.
What's wrong with me? Why do I put up with all this crap? What can I do to stop being so... dependent on it? Addicted, like a junkie. Not like a junkie, I am one.
I look at my watch, then at the map. Three minutes left until the next task. Until the next meeting point.
Tobias.
Who's waiting for me there? Where is that, anyway?
I could run back, ask him for help, beg him to give me another chance.
This is the right street. The number? The house, the ruin, doesn't have a number. I walk to the next house. Number 24.
He loves me. Despite everything, he said. He would definitely help me. Absolutely.
Destination: Blumenweg, between numbers 24 and 26. That's the ruin. Nineteen past. Did someone just scurry in? Back again. I'm on time, but they're already expecting me. My heart leaps when, in the semidarkness, I recognize the light Bermuda shorts and orange T-shirt, the clothes Tobias took off earlier. He turns around, comes closer, his face becoming more and more clear...
"Hello Maximilian," says a female voice, which simultaneously causes disappointment and growing interest in me. "My name is Adame, I'm your crystal ball."
"Crystal ball? Are you part of the game?"
She nods, then sits down on the cold, bare floor and gestures for me to make myself uncomfortable in front of her.
"My crystal ball?" I repeat the question. "What exactly does that mean? That you can predict my future?"
“The future,” she nods, “the past, the present...”
"Thanks, but I remember the last two well enough, after all, I personally put myself in that situation."
"What situation?" "I thought, as an oracle..."
“Crystal ball,” she corrects me.
"As a crystal ball, I imagine you should answer questions, not raise more."
"Sure, that's my job if you have questions. But sometimes a question is the answer. Or at least a step in the right direction."
“Something like the journey is the destination ?”
"Something like that. But you're right, let's start by me answering a few questions. Go ahead!" she urges me.
I don't do that right away, but take my time to look at her more closely. When you think of a fortune teller, you picture an older woman with long, bouncy hair and lots of colorful clothes, who smells of herbs and has something of a witch about her. My crystal ball, however, is young, at least comparatively speaking – I estimate her to be in her mid-thirties. She has a short, fashionable hairstyle, some would call it boyish, which goes perfectly with her clothes, which I'm still convinced belong to Tobias. Her eyes are... blue, vibrant, her face of such simple beauty that she could easily disappear into a crowd, but the smile she's giving me right now would stand out radiantly from even the most dense crowd. Could she perhaps be the woman in the mask?
“I’m not,” she seems to have read my thoughts, “but thank you for the compliment.”
I stare at her in disbelief for a while, then finally catch myself and ask her, "Why? Why should I talk to you? To a stranger?" "Because I can help you."
I like that she doesn't say I have to do it because the game requires it.
“Can I trust you?”
“You mean, will I tell you the truth?” she asks.
"Hmm." "You do realize that no one can answer a question like that satisfactorily? If I say yes and lie, will you believe me or doubt my every word? And if I'm honest and say no, what will you do?"
“Despair?” I answer with a crooked smile.
"Exactly. So some questions are better left unanswered. Think and ask the right questions, and you'll get the answers you're looking for." "Okay. You said you could help me?"
"That's why I'm here. Florian has thought of some particularly difficult tasks for today, tasks that will impact not only your own life, but also that of your friends, family, and in many ways, the entire community here in your small town."
“Don’t all tasks affect other people? Every decision you make?”
She smiles, as if I'd solved an important mystery with my question. "That's what's bothering you, isn't it? That you hurt others with it. Without knowing it, without realizing it, you hurt Tobias, even though you only wanted to protect him. And then it turns out that you yourself caused him more pain than anyone else."
I feel tears welling up in my eyes, try to blink them away, and lose the fight...
“Where from…?” I sniff and wipe the tears from my face.
“Crystal ball,” she says simply, looking at me pityingly.
"What should I do? I've lost him forever."
"Nonsense!" she says sharply. "It's only for a year. A year that will be good for both of you. Some distance will help your friendship." "Friendship? And ours... Can two people who mean a lot to each other... find each other again, even if one has really hurt the other?"
“By starting something with his sister, for example?”
“How do you know all this?” I repeat my question, but Adame doesn’t even think about answering it.
"Why did you get involved with Kate? And why did he break up with you? What does that say about your and Tobias' relationship?"
“It’s obvious why he sent me into the desert, anyone would have done that!” I defend my friend.
“You still think of him as your boyfriend,” she replies, but this time my surprise is nipped in the bud by rising anger.
"What else? My ex- boyfriend? My ex-best friend? My friend ?"
“Where did you get that expression from?” she laughs, and I can’t help but join in.
"I don't know, picked it up somewhere. We've always been friends and we always will be. No matter how far apart we get, we always find our way back together."
"That's right. As friends."
"Yes," I sigh. "As friends."
"Look, Max. You and Tobias have a wonderful friendship—strong, reliable, exciting. But very few friendships develop into a lasting and stable relationship because a relationship is a constant struggle. And neither of you even thought about fighting for the other when it mattered. Did you?"
“And… why don’t we have that?”
"Perhaps you knew, emotionally, that it had to be this way. There are so many different kinds of love, friendship being just one of them. We often confuse the two, but eventually we realize we want one or the other."
"Both …"
"As much as we'd like it to," she says, "it won't work, not in the long run. At some point, even the most solid relationship will experience a crisis, and at that point, at the very latest, you need someone you can talk to, someone you can confide in about everything your partner doesn't understand—a best friend, in other words." "That all sounds plausible," I admit, "great, but it doesn't explain why we gave up on our relationship and grew so distant that even our friendship temporarily became a cold storage unit."
"You already know the answer. The answer is you. And Tobias. And me. This house, Florian, your father, everyone you know who accepts what Tobias can't handle."
I nod. "The game."
"The game. At least since you met Florian. But even before that, you had a penchant for trying crazy things. Putting yourself in danger. Ever thought about why?"
"Isn't it obvious? Some people collect Star Wars cards or books or DVDs, I collect adventure points. Life is too short not to live it."
"Who says? You could live to be a hundred..."
"Or die at thirty-one because I'm in the wrong place at the wrong time," I finish her sentence sharply. "Our conversation is over," I say coolly, looking at her challengingly.
"Yes," she nods sympathetically, then stands up and hands me the next task. "You can stop at any time," she adds quietly before leaving me alone with my pain.
A few minutes later.
The tears run unhindered down my face, the world around me disappears in the streams that flow from my eyes. Everything is blurry: my vision, my thoughts, my memories. Unclear, indistinct, indistinguishable; fantasy and reality blend together. I stand on a pedestal, surrounded by people who represent all of humanity, and I look each of them in the eye while cursing them. I curse Flo for today's tasks. Kate, because she can't stand my games but has no qualms about playing her own games. Tobias, my dearest Tobias, because he doesn't love me enough to accept me as I am. I curse my father for not saving her. The bank robber for killing her. My mother for missing her so much.
I curse myself on the way back to Tobias's house, where in my haste I left my bike behind. I curse myself when I see him through the kitchen window because I'm simply not enough for him. I continue to curse myself as I walk the three kilometers to the cemetery, wandering among all the stones and photos and flowers and candles until I reach my destination. I wipe the tears from my eyes, touch her face with my damp fingers, I can feel her, all around me, her presence, everywhere. She is with me, here, in this moment.
I miss you. I love you.
I'm tired of all the crying, so I lie down in the sea of flowers and close my eyes.
I love you. Good night.
Much later.
I wake up to a touch as tender as one I experienced just a few hours ago. She's here again, my goddess, I dare hope, as I open my eyes and look up at the clear sky above, afraid that the feeling on my cheek might turn out to be a deceptive remnant of my dream. But the touch is real, she is real, I can feel her next to me, feel her breathing, hear your heartbeat, and when I finally turn on my side, I can see her too. Her face is still hidden behind the mask, but her smile is unmistakable. And it's for me.
My hand finds its way to her cheek, caressing the soft, delicate skin, and as we lie there, looking at each other, our faces draw closer. Is she my salvation?, a thought flashes through my mind. Will she be able to ease my pain? Will she like me for who I am? Will she love me despite my flaws, unconditionally, and in return endure my eternal love?
Her lips say yes, her fingers say yes, her eyes say yes, before she closes them and our lips meet again. But the kiss doesn't last forever; we part far too quickly, and Aphrodite falls onto her back, looking away from me, up into the infinity of the sky. I take her hand in mine and let my gaze follow yours, discovering up there the most beautiful blue I've ever seen, a blue that conquers the world around us, ourselves too, until everything shines in this happiness-inducing blue that is simply magical, divine, and beautiful. Almost as beautiful as my goddess.
"Who are you?" I hear my voice at some point, and I'm surprised when she sits up and looks at me. The joy in her eyes has given way to deep sadness, perhaps even fear.
"I'm sorry," I respond as quickly as I can, "I didn't mean to offend you. It's just that I've never felt as comfortable with anyone as I do with you right now. And I think it would be great if we could meet more often. Maybe go out for a real night. Without a mask?"
She nods hesitantly, lets go of my hand, and guides yours to the mask, hesitating again. She closes her eyes, her brow furrowing as if removing the mask is causing her great pain. With a yank, she pulls it over her head, her eyes still closed, while I open mine in disbelief.
"You!" I exclaim angrily, jumping up, throwing myself at him with all my strength, because she isn't a she, but a he. A he who... "My best friend?" I scream at him as my fist connects with his stomach. "You want to be my best friend?" The second fist hits its target, the third strike hits his chin, and at the same moment all the air is knocked out of my lungs. I stumble back, gasping for breath and for Florian, losing my balance and landing roughly on my bottom. A moment later, my entire body is thrown to the ground; he sits on my stomach and presses my hands into the soft earth.
"Calm down!" he says quietly. "Stop fidgeting, then I can explain everything to you."
Although I still resist him internally, I feel my strength dwindling, as if I were an inflatable doll with air escaping from countless holes.
"I understand now why Tobi can't be with me," I whisper with my last bit of strength, "even why Kate played with me, but you did? What did I do to you that you made me fall in love with you, even though a relationship between us had no chance? Did you enjoy leading me on? Is this your way of getting your kicks? In all the years I've been playing your games, I haven't knowingly hurt anyone, and yet you want revenge on me for something. What is the reason for this?"
Florian lets go of me, shaking his head, and falls down next to me.
"Nothing, Maxi, nothing. I don't want revenge." He takes a deep breath, then continues: "The whole of today has been so...wrong. So much has gone wrong. You should make peace with Tobi, not run out feigning joy, only to start crying like a baby at the next opportunity. You've been wanting to break up with Kate for weeks anyway, but I couldn't have guessed that she only got involved with you because of Tobi. I...don't control every aspect of the game, especially not when other people are involved, like today. If today's game had been titled, it would have been love. Instead, it's pain. I'm sorry, you can't imagine how much. I wanted today to be the happiest day of your life, for you to finish the game, figure out the question, and answer yes." He turns his head and looks at me. "I wanted you to be happy, nothing more."
For a while we lie next to each other without saying a word and I wish my mother would make herself known and tell me what to do, what to feel, what to say, what to scream, how to react.
“Then explain to me what you think the tasks should achieve according to your plan,” I finally ask him.
He clears his throat, then answers, "You know what that was about with Tobi and Kate." I nod and gesture for him to continue. "The bookstore and the book, both are about love. No one loves books more than the Brauns. And they love each other. The book, well, the boy saves the world, but he doesn't do it because he wants to be a hero; he does it out of love, out of love for his sister."
“So he saves humanity?” I ask.
"Yes, but that was pretty obvious, right? His path to getting there is what makes the story, so you can read on. Okay, let's move on to the travel agency. You didn't go on a date with the guy, which surprised me a bit, but at the same time, it strengthened my hope that your days of petty flirtations are gradually over. As for Amsterdam, I hope we have a great week together there."
"You really want to go there? For 1600 euros?"
“If you come along… consider it a gift.”
“For what?” I ask. “My birthday is still a long way off.”
"We'll get to that later. Let's go back to the market square first."
“The kissing task,” I nod.
"The kissing challenge," Florian confirms. "Yes, I wanted you to fall in love with me, otherwise I could have forgotten the whole drama. If you only knew how hard it was to get my hands so supple, it's torture, I tell you." He laughs—and I have to admit, despite this somewhat tense situation, it's nice to see him laugh.
"What's the point of all this, Flo? You and me, it can't possibly work. Or have you suddenly switched sides? Does your girlfriend know about this?"
"I broke up with Juli last night."
"What?" I must have misheard! "What about after college, we'll get married and start our own baby soccer team?"
“Over, Max.”
“She was your great love!” I reply, looking at him in confusion.
"I thought so, right. Until our last argument."
"You had an argument? When?"
"No, not with Juli. You and me," he says, pointing at me and then at himself.
The argument was about me not wanting to go to the prom because Kate didn't want to go. I now know the reason. Florian, on the other hand, was desperate for me to go and even threatened to end our friendship if I didn't change my mind. So I asked my cousin Alex to accompany me because the girls in our year had already found partners weeks ago.
“What does this argument have to do with today’s game?”
"Everything, Maxi. I've been lying awake all night, racking my brains over why it's so important for me that you come to the ball tomorrow. When I figured it out, it was so crystal clear that I wondered why I hadn't noticed it sooner." He pauses briefly, takes a few breaths, then continues: "Anyway, I started preparing the assignments right away—and now everything's ruined. If only Adame hadn't brought your mother into the equation!"
"Nonsense, Flo! You told her yourself, and then you expect her not to play all her cards to... What, exactly? What was the point of meeting her?"
“She…” he begins, “should build you up after you broke up with Kate…”
"I didn't," I interrupt. "She did."
“Yes, Adame told me.”
"Still, why did you tell her all those things about me, things that were none of her business?"
"I didn't tell her anything," Florian replies, raising even more questions. "All she got from me was the task of getting you to keep going. Which she totally messed up."
“And what she knew came from her crystal ball, right?”
"She believes in it, and somehow she knows things, I don't know where from. Not from me, anyway," he counters, and I can see in his eyes that he's speaking the truth.
“There’s no such thing, Flo,” I question his sanity.
"Sure? There are people who believe in God, in miracles, so why shouldn't she be able to predict the future?"
“You really didn’t tell her anything?”
“No,” he says firmly.
A nervous laugh escapes me. "What kind of mess is this, huh? What was the point of all this today? What's the question I can't figure out on my own anymore? What was your goal, Flo?"
"Now isn't the right time for this. Too late. Too chaotic. Everything is... over," he shakes his head sadly and stands up, offers me his hand, and pulls me up to him.
"You can't do this, not after everything that's happened! Please!" I beg him.
“You’ll think I’m crazy.”
"I've been doing that ever since I met you," I grin, and he grins back. "Just as crazy as me, only different."
“Yes,” he laughs, and then says, “Your mother’s grave looks terrible, we urgently need to clean up here.”
"We?"
"Sure. We swore to always stick together, right?"
"Thanks, man. But don't distract me."
"It was worth a try. But you have to promise me first that you won't freak out and beat me up again."
"You defended yourself quite well, so it can't have been that bad," I reply.
„Max!“
“It’s okay, I promise!”
"Okay. The question," he takes a deep breath. "The question... is... Will you marry me?"
“Haha, totally funny,” I say with feigned cheerfulness, but his serious look tells me he’s not joking.
"I told you you'd think I was crazy, but I mean it. I realize how many things are against that: our age, the trivial fact that we haven't been on a single date yet... Although, when you look at it in perspective, we've been on a few dates. We've been to the movies together, just the two of us, gone out to dinner, talked for hours about everything under the sun, and today we even kissed. And you said I'm the love of your life and the mother of your unwanted children, which might turn out to be a small, okay, pretty big problem, but..."
He doesn't get any further, because some cosmic force I don't believe in compels me to take his face in my hands and press my lips to his. Kissing him feels, in that moment, like the only right thing, the only true thing. Heaven on earth.
“Is that a yes?” he asks as soon as he catches his breath.
“You’re not gay, Flo.”
“Neither do you.”
“I’m bi,” I remind him.
“And I’m Max.”
"Huh?"
“I’m maxsexual,” he doesn’t tell me.
“What the hell is…”
"I may be into women, Maxi. But I'm even more into you. I don't know why, but I need you. And you need me. And to me, that's the perfect definition of love."
“What about the not entirely unimportant… physical component?” I ask, because I’m slowly running out of arguments and I feel that I’m becoming less and less averse to a relationship with him.
In response, he takes my hand and places it right between his legs.
“That…that’s your reaction to the kiss?”
He nods. "Listen, Max, just give us a chance."
“I thought you wanted to marry me.”
"Yes," he says, his voice trembling with excitement. "I want to fall asleep by your side and wake up next to you, make sure your hunger for adventure is always satisfied and that you survive them unscathed. I want to make you happy, or is that too cheesy, too pulpy for you? Let's try. If it doesn't work, then so be it. And if it does, then yes, I want to marry you one day, if that's what you want, too."
"Let's clean up," I say, needing time to digest everything he's confessed to me in the last hour or so, and ignoring the restless anticipation lurking behind his gaze.
4:47 PM.
For me, love has something to do with magic. It's something inexplicable, strange, crazy. Admittedly, I've done some crazy things in my life, but none of them were as normal and yet as surprising to me as my feelings for Tobias, this connection, like an elastic band, that sometimes brought us closer together, sometimes pushed us apart. With his sister, the bond of attraction was purely physical; she's good-looking, and I was curious, eager for a new experience, a new body. And that was okay, because it was what we both wanted: a sexual relationship, without any disturbing feelings.
Florian, on the other hand, and I've always had a deep friendship ever since we met. When I think about it now, it seems a bit one-sided. I can't shake the feeling that he was always there for me, when Tobias broke up with me, or when my mother died and my father collapsed like a house of cards, unreachable for months by anyone, not even me. Or at every game, whether because he thought them up and organized them or because he was basically always there, even if only from afar.
And what have I given him so far?
"Why are you my friend?" I ask Florian, as I pull the fallen flowers, roots and all, out of the loosened soil so he can plant the new ones we picked up from the nearest hardware store, which are now scattered around the grave. He looks at me with his big, deep blue eyes. "Pardon?"
"I mean, why am I your friend?"
"I can only repeat myself," he says. "What's going on in your head right now?"
"I'm trying to understand what's happening... is happening. What's happening right now. I don't know... I know why you're my best friend. Because you listen to me, even when others shut down because they think I'm just talking crap. Because you read books and tell me absurd stories and sometimes manage to make me laugh and cry at the same time. Because you understand..."
“Are you trying to figure out how I could have fallen in love with you?” he interrupts me mid-sentence.
“I guess so.”
"Hmmm... Just because. I don't know. Or maybe I do. Because I understand you. I understand why it hurts you to think about your mother, yet you keep thinking about her. I understand why you need the games, why you seek danger, why you seek adventure. I understand why you're so afraid of death that you can't get enough of life. And before you ask how I know all this..."
This time I interrupt him. "Because you're listening to me." He grins, then places his hand, dirty from digging, on my cheek and kisses me. No butterflies, no fireworks, just a pleasant warmth, almost a heat, but still extremely pleasant, welcoming, loving, and tender. Am I falling in love with him now? With this crazy guy who makes my dreams, and sometimes my nightmares, come true? Who has made it his mission to turn these dreams into an irresistible construct, a sport created especially for me, one that I simply can't escape, and don't want to escape?
Or am I still in the game? A new game – with completely new rules.
“The prom,” I ask him, “who are you going with?”
"Hopefully with you," he answers without hesitation, but I still look at him somewhat skeptically, which doesn't go unnoticed. "Today's game is over, Max! You know, I wouldn't be here otherwise. I would never hurt you, never lie to you, never do anything so horrible to you. This is real." He places his hand on mine, a gesture that underscores his words. "Our friendship has always been far more than the game; it didn't start with that. And right here, now, I'd like to take it to a new level. Stop doubting, give me the chance to prove it to you."
What more proof do I need? He's here with me, digging in the dirt with his bare hands, even though he hates nothing more than gardening. Isn't that proof enough?
I take a deep breath and carry on. Every few minutes my eyes wander to him and each time the corners of my mouth involuntarily turn up, because each time I see him more and more as a potential lover, partner, maybe even husband. And I like what I see. And what I recognize behind his gaze is nothing other than... I know it from Tobias' eyes and my mother's eyes, sometimes I find it in my father's too - it is love. And something else is hidden in Florian's eyes - the fear that I might reject him, that I might not return his feelings. How easy it would be to give in to that voice in my head and make his fears become reality. "I'm sorry," I begin, but he doesn't let me finish and misinterprets my words.
"Oh, okay. That's... um... not what I expected," he stammers, surprised.
"No, no! You're completely misunderstanding this!" I reply, before he reads into it even further and gets himself into something I'd have a hard time pulling him out of. "I mean, I'm sorry for treating you like we're just getting to know each other, like I can't trust you. So... I'd love to accompany you to your prom tomorrow. And I'd love to be with you. And spend a month standing in the Braun bookstore selling books. What were you thinking?"
I laugh and he joins in, relief spreading across his face.
“They are financing my studies and then want me to take over the shop so they can retire,” he explains.
"You never told me that." "I hereby do, it was all part of the game today."
“Anything else I should have found out?” I ask.
"No, but... Can you imagine that? Moving back here after graduation, I mean. Me working in the store and you working in the city. It's only a half-hour drive, you could commute." The enthusiasm in his voice, in his eyes, is contagious.
“If someone were to listen to us, they might think we were an old married couple.” We both have to laugh at the idea.
Finally finished plucking it out, I stand up and hold out my hand, pulling him up to me as soon as he takes it. Then I put my arm around his waist and look deep into his eyes. "Until today, I never allowed myself to really look at you because I thought anything more than friendship was utopian, but now, now I realize that not only are you the best friend on earth, but you also look amazing." His cheeks glow a bright red. "I want to be with you, Flo. I want us to do everything imaginable to make it work between us. Not just today or tomorrow or next week or next month. I want us to give new meaning to " And they lived happily ever after ," to turn it into a real fairy tale."
Florian starts laughing, and for a moment I start to fear again that the whole thing is just a joke he's made up, but then he brushes aside my doubts: "And I was worried that my words might sound like something out of a pulp novel. But, to get back to your almost-marriage proposal, I want that too."
7:12 p.m.
"That was a long game today," Dad greets us as soon as we've closed the front door behind us and taken off our shoes in the hallway. Strangely, he's not looking at me, his son, but at my friend. "Florian, you're covered in... Is that dirt?" he asks, surprised.
“I’m full of dirt too!” I say, finally getting his attention.
"You're like that after every game, Max. But not Florian. I can't remember ever seeing you so dirty. What happened?" "We were at Mom's," I answer curtly. "Can we please undress and take a shower now, then we'll tell you everything."
"Of course. Come into the kitchen when you're ready, I'll start preparing dinner."
After stuffing our clothes into the laundry basket, we run up the stairs, wearing only shorts, past the bathroom, and into my room. I push the door shut behind us, lock it, and lean against it.
"We're finally alone," Florian says with a seductive undertone. "And almost naked."
The fabric hanging loosely over my left thigh lifts, revealing a first glimpse of what it's meant to conceal. Intuitively, I place my hands over it, but Florian takes them away again as he approaches me and his lips find mine. This kiss is more intense, more urgent, full of desire. Our hard-ons rub against each other, our bodies dance to the rapid beat of an inaudible melody. It doesn't take long before we both explode, breathing heavily, and collapse to the floor in exhaustion.
"We need to shower," I say tonelessly. My hand is still on his back, and I don't want to take it away because the touch is a sensation, as if his skin were the most precious thing I've ever touched.
“Oh yes,” Florian gasps, looking at me with bright red cheeks.
“One after the other,” I add.
„Was?!“
“Flo, I’m scared,” I admit.
"You? Afraid? Of what?"
"From hurting you. I mean, you've never been with a..."
“…man had sex?” he completes my question and answers it immediately with a shake of his head.
“Let’s take it slow,” I ask him, “we have all the time in the world.”
"We did," he gives in. "But please stop worrying, it'll only make you hotter and make me want you even more." "I promise," I grin and send him off to the shower with a kiss.
As I'm digging out fresh clothes for both of us from my closet, I hear his cheerful whistling from the bathroom. It's only with difficulty that I resist the temptation to run after him and pick up where we left off.
There's no way we'd make it to dinner in time, I laugh to myself at the thought.
Even though Dad called up to us five minutes ago that dinner was ready, we take our time, walking leisurely down the stairs. After every step we stop and look at each other, grinning like two teenagers who are in love for the first time. Which isn't so far-fetched, because even though we're past the teenage years in terms of numbers, this is only the third time I've truly fallen in love, and for Florian... the same goes for him. Besides, Mom told me back when it first hit me that it would always feel like the first time, no matter how many relationships you'd been through. And Mom had a habit of being right with what she said.
We stop again on the fourth-to-last step, but this time it's more than just grinning and staring. I gently push Florian against the wall, take his hand in mine, and place my head on his shoulder so that my mouth is just a few centimeters from his ear.
“Has anyone ever told you,” I whisper so quietly that only he can hear me, “that you have incredibly beautiful eyes?”
He shakes his head gently. "I've been described with a few adjectives, but beautiful hasn't been one of them yet."
"From now on," I reply, putting my arms around him. He hugs me back, and it feels incredibly good.
"You know," he says, "if you're waiting for a compliment from me, then... it's going to take a while." The way he says it and the serious face he can only maintain with obvious effort make me burst out laughing. Florian doesn't mind, though. "But I have something better than a compliment."
“And that would be?”
His answer is wordless, but all the more exciting.
"There you are... Oh!" Dad's voice breaks our time together. Our lips part when we realize he's standing in front of us, looking at us with a raised eyebrow. "That... must have been an interesting game today, I'm excited," he says amusedly, pointing toward the kitchen with his outstretched hand. "When the gentlemen are ready..."
9:58 PM.
We lie in bed, holding hands, caressing and kissing. And we look at each other the whole time. I just can't get enough of him, which is crazy because... It's not that I didn't look at him before; he was and still is my best friend, but before, it didn't have any deeper meaning. Here, now, in this moment, it's as if I'm discovering a whole new world in his face, in his eyes. A world not unlike the one I shared with Tobias for a while, only newer, more mysterious, more exciting—different... My father's voice bores its way into my thoughts; his words won't leave my head.
“Am I a monster?” I blurt out.
Florian's hand remains on my buttock, and for a while he doesn't say a word. "It's because of Kate," he concludes, "because of what she said." "Tobi too. Not as directly as his sister, but... And my father said earlier that I shouldn't break your heart."
“I hope so too,” he laughs, but immediately becomes serious again.
“What if I’m not even capable of loving you?” I continue to think.
“Then it wasn’t meant to be between us.”
"No, that's not what I mean. What if I can't love at all?
Florian sits up, takes my hand, and kisses it. "You're kidding me, aren't you? Okay, apparently not. Then listen to me carefully: 1. This self-doubt doesn't suit you, but I can understand that you might have such crazy thoughts when you feel like the whole world is conspiring against you. And 2. The fact that this bothers you so much shows me that you're perfectly capable of love."
“You’re not just saying that?” I ask, because even if it sounds childish, at this moment I need to hear it – from him.
"Have I ever lied to you?" he replies with a counter-question, which I can answer with absolute certainty in the negative. That has always been the best thing about our friendship—that I could rely on him 100 percent in every situation, that he never lied to me or kept anything from me or distorted the truth.
"You know what," I say with a smile, "you're right. All that matters is that we both get along and are happy together. So, we're ringing in the hottest night of our lives so far."
“The first of many,” Florian adds with a wink and lies on top of me so that our fingers are intertwined, his toes wrestle with mine, he can feel my heart beating and I can feel his, and our lips find each other in perfect symmetry.
6:40 a.m.
I wake up again and again, convinced it was all just a dream, but then I hear him snoring softly next to me, recognize his incredibly beautiful face illuminated by the first rays of sunlight, feel his chest rise and fall under my fingers, smell the last remnants of his faded aftershave, kiss his red lips that I just can't get enough of.
For the first time, I turn off the alarm so it doesn't ring in two minutes and wake him up. With my head on his chest, I hear the beating of his heart, which, with its regularity, makes me tired again. My eyes close, I open them again, look at Florian, grin, close my eyelids, am un...end...ly... happy...