by Alison Evans
Table of Contents
We Go Forward
Book Details
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
About the Author
We Go Forward
Alison Evans
Christie travels to run, to forget. She has no place to call home, but desperately wishes she did.
Roslyn has never been overseas and fears getting stuck in one place. If she's never left Melbourne, how does she know that's home?
A crossing of paths in Berlin, wine, and wifi leads to the two traveling together, and as they travel the two find some things they were looking for, and maybe something they weren't…
Book Details
We Go Forward
By Alison Evans
Published by Less Than Three Press LLC
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission of the publisher, except for the purpose of reviews.
Edited by Amanda Jean
Cover designed by Kirby Crow
This book is a work of fiction and all names, characters, places, and incidents are fictional or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is coincidental.
First Edition March 2016
Copyright © 2016 by Alison Evans
Printed in the United States of America
Digital ISBN 9781620047255
Print ISBN 9781620047262
For Peggy Sue. Keep that radio turned up, you'll be alright.
Chapter One
Roslyn
The Berlin airport is terrifyingly quiet. So quiet that if I were in a horror movie, I would definitely be about to be killed. I wonder what would happen if my bag just didn't turn up at the carousel and I only had to survive on what was in my backpack. First of all, my phone charger isn't in there, so I would probably just die three hours after my phone battery ran out.
But it comes after only five minutes of wondering what I would do in the three hours, which would be: go to tweet and then realise I can't; cry; eat all the food I can find; repeat cycle until eventual demise; and I wheel it to where the signs say the train station is. When I get there, I find the map of the train lines and there are about three hundred billion stations. Melbourne's city loop only has five stations, but Berlin's has... twenty-seven. Fuck. There are so many and I don't speak more than maybe ten words of German; I don't know what the fuck I was thinking, coming here.
The station I need is Friedrichstrasse. So I just need a ticket, I guess. I find a ticket machine and everything is in German. I mean, it shouldn't be surprising, and yet here I am, surprised that they speak German in Germany. Christ. There's an option for English, which lessens some of the panic, but I've already started sweating.
That's also from wearing literally every jumper I own, because I was scared of the cold.
Lugging my bag down the stairs is a feat that leaves me even sweatier, and now I don't know if this is the right train. As one pulls up, I see that Friedrichstrasse is on the destinations list, so I jump on. Inside, my bag gets caught on an arm rest. This looks too fancy to be the right train; it isn't for plebs like me.
There's a spare seat a little up the train, so I drag my bag sideways through the aisles, somehow managing to hit every fucking person on the way. By the time I reach the seat, it feels like everyone is looking straight at me. I manage to lift my bag up onto the bag racks above and flop down on the seat. I can feel my face burning. Maybe I'll melt into the train seat and never have to deal with anyone ever again. I get out my phone, open Twitter, and start typing.
@roslyn: safe in germany, made a dick outta myself on the train. a+ start!
I press send and the tweet doesn't send. Of course it doesn't, because my phone's still on airplane mode and I don't have 3G reception here. I mean, I could theoretically get coverage, but I will never be rich enough to be able to afford roaming charges from my provider back in Australia.
"Is this your first time in Germany?" the old dude sitting opposite asks me. I jump at his voice. He looks like a kindly old grandpa, sitting in his cardigan with a leather satchel, combed moustache, and wrinkles from laughing.
"Yeah," I say. My hair needs a wash, I need a sleep or a coffee, preferably both, and my clothes reek. "I just got off the plane." He can probably tell.
"Berlin's a beautiful city," the man says slowly. "The Brandenburg Gate, make sure you go."
"I will," though I know I'll forget everything he tells me. He continues telling me places, so I get out my phone to write down everything.
"Are you baptised?" he asks after he's finished his list.
"Um." I swallow. "No." Now would be a very good time for Friedrichstrasse station to appear.
He shakes his head silently for a moment as if I'm the greatest disappointment in his life, then reaches over to me. I don't know what to do; I freeze and look for the exits. He says something in German and makes a cross on my forehead with his thumb.
He smiles at me when it's all done. I stare at him, and I can feel my eyes bulging a little, but I don't make any effort to hide it. We sit in silence and eventually I get out my phone because he won't stop looking at me. I type out a tweet.
@roslyn: i have been baptised by a rando on the train, surprised i didn't burst into flames. sinner! repent!
Before I hit send, I remember that I've still got no 3G access. The dude's still staring at me and then the train voice says "something something Friedrichstrasse something." I guess it's the next one, so I get my bag down and wheel it to the door. I manage to get my bag off the train without breaking my back, which is a nice little added bonus.
Outside the train, the sky is drizzling. I take cover under the nearest shelter and have a seat on the cold metal as the train drives on.
I am on the other side of the world, in a hemisphere I have never been in before. There are signs in a language I don't understand. Bloody hell.
I breathe in the cold air, cold German air, and keep it in my lungs for as long as I can. When I exhale, my breath turns to fog. My nose is freezing cold. When I left home, it was thirty-five degrees and now it must be about five or so. My butt is going to freeze to the bench, and I wish I'd remembered to bring gloves.
The platform is super long, and by the time I reach the shops inside, I'm pretty sure my nose has fallen off. There's a Starbucks—while I've never gone to one at home, here its green-and-white logo is familiar and the ads in the windows are in English. And I know I didn't come all the way to Germany to only experience things I already know, but right now I'm alone and need something familiar. A soon as I step through the doors, it's warm. I order a drink with a shit-tonne of caramel in it and find a table in the corner. Almost everyone here has luggage with them and I can hear a few different languages. A girl sitting opposite me is reading something with a French title and the group of people beside me are all speaking in German.
I sip my drink and connect to the WiFi. I resist the urge to open Twitter, and instead look up my hostel's address. Usually, I have everything planned and organised, but for this trip, I want to try something different. As soon as I have the address, a panic I didn't know I was keeping low in my chest dissipates. Whenever I think about the fact that I'm only in Berlin for ten days and I don't know where I'm going afterwards, I feel a more urgent sen
se of panic, but it's fine; it'll be fine.
But I make it and check in to the hostel. They give me a little swipe card and I go up the stairs to my room. It's got two bunk beds in it and no other people. After switching on the heater, I sit down on the edge of the bed and sigh, letting my limbs relax. I stretch out and feel my spine get a little more into place. This, of course, is an awful idea, because it's only five p.m. and I realise all at once how tired I am. Fuck. My phone says it's about three a.m. back home. I'm usually awake at this time, but I also don't usually take twenty-hour flights before bedtime. My eyes feel like they're going to melt out of my skull.
If I go to sleep now, I know I'll wake up at two a.m. and hate myself, so I stand up, want to cry, and start to make the bed. The pillow is huge and square and I can't wait to sleep on it.
So I take a deep breath, stand up, and put all my things in the locker. My backpack has my wallet, passport, and phone in it, and these are really the only things I can't lose. My life reduced to three things.
Outside, it's freezing. I wander for a bit and find a shop called a Backerei, which I guess is the German for bakery, because it's filled with delicious things that I want to eat.
@roslyn: Deutsch 0, Roslyn 1, aw yiss.
Still no fucking 3G, Roslyn, try and remember, I think. German SIM after Backerei.
"Hallo," I start, and almost forget all the minimal German I learnt. Eins, zwei, drei, one, two, three. "Eins…" I peer at the little sign next to the pretzels. "Brezel, thanks—er, danke."
"One euro," the woman behind the counter says after she sighs. My pronunciation must be terrible.
I sort through the coins I have in my wallet and fish out the euro. Back out on the street, the cold isn't as bad with the distraction of food. It's only half a minute until I find the river again. On the bridge, there are hundreds of locks that couples have placed there, the key thrown away after their names are written. I think it's gross, but Laini would've loved to do that, if she hadn't... Ugh.
I find myself back at the train station and get a SIM at the supermarket. There's a poster for an art show on the wall. At least, I think it's an art show. The poster shows a pair of hands painted with broad, messy strokes. Around the hands are blue and white swirls, almost like the hands are emerging from behind a waterfall, or manipulating the water around their flesh. The show starts tomorrow, and there's an address down the bottom. I take a photo of the poster; I'll look it up when I get back to the hostel WiFi.
It's windier when I get back outside. Exploring can wait until tomorrow when I can buy some gloves, fucking hell. As I cross back over the river, it gets even colder; this is probably the coldest I've ever been. Why did I come here in winter? The reason was mostly because things were a little cheaper than they would be in summertime, and I need all the financial help I can get.
The hostel lobby is warm and I pause for a moment, relishing in the feeling returning to my fingers. Definitely going to need to get gloves tomorrow, as I really do enjoy having my fingers attached to my hands. It's only five-thirty p.m. when I get back. I am so tempted to just burrow in under the doona and read my book until I can't keep my eyes open anymore, but I know as soon as I get in the bed I'll fall asleep. So I get my tablet and head downstairs to the hostel lounge. Sweet internet connection. It's slow and keeps dropping out, but I eventually update my Facebook.
Roslyn Walker: arrived safe! hope you're all not missing me too much ;)
After dinner, I try and resist the urge to sleep. It's eight-thirty, still way too early. I grab a coffee from the hostel bar. It's free, and pretty cold, and not that good, but it's still coffee. It doesn't really work, but I manage to struggle my way through blogging until ten–thirty, when I go upstairs and finally collapse onto my mattress. It's literally the most comfy thing I have ever felt. I fall asleep in the empty room, barely noticing the quiet.
*~*~*
Today is warmer, a balmy nine degrees, and it'll only take forty minutes to walk to Kreuzberg from here. Still, though, I need gloves, so I don't freeze. There's a place down the road that sells cheap gloves and ear muffs, so I buy a pair of each. I'm sure I look like an idiot and touristy as hell, but I'm warm.
I grab a coffee and an apfeltasche, which is just apples in a pastry and is freaking delicious, and start down the street. Hell yes, I think to myself. I can be an adult. Across the world with delicious food and shitty coffee, and I'm warm and not dead and going to see an art show in fucking Berlin, man.
I laugh out loud because I'm a huge fucking dork. Two men stare at me as I pass them, and I give them a wave.
Melbourne is literally a grid and Berlin is definitely not. I'm lost about ten minutes after I set out. I'm going in the vaguely correct direction—I think—but I don't know how I keep missing the right roads. They keep changing names and there are so many of them. The hostel had paper maps in the lobby so I grabbed one, and this was probably a mistake, as I've never been good at following maps.
Google Maps is a different story because the blue dot shows you exactly where you are, so I get out my phone and open the app. But of course, I don't have any reception. I remember the new SIM card is in my wallet, so I stop and put it in. After my phone boots up, I have reception again. Hell yeah. Adult.
I open the maps app. It doesn't load. I open up the browser and type Berlin into the search bar, but again, nothing loads. There must be a certain way to activate the data because in the booklet, it says 3G everywhere, but it's all in German so I've got no clue what to do. I could look it up, but for that I need WiFi. Less adult. Still might be able to accomplish other tasks, though.
Goddamnit.
I pass a house strangled in ivy, and the explosion of green in the city surprises me. I'd like to live there. There's nothing really to stop me, I realise as I keep walking through the streets. I don't really have any ties to Melbourne, except people. No uni, no property, no amazing job. I could definitely move here. Without any money, though, that's always the thing. I'd need a visa, a job... I could get those, easy. I take a photo of the house; I'll tweet it later.
The wind isn't so bad away from the river. I'm pretty sure I'm mostly going the right way. I can see the TV tower sticking up over the city, and it's not getting closer, which is probably a good sign.
The wall next to me is covered in graffiti. There's a paste-up of a girl dancing and there's actual confetti stuck over her. There's a painted "6" over a poster for a band that's touring. A couple of metres down, there's another six. And again, and they keep appearing. I make a mental note to Google it later because I still don't have any goddamn internet.
I check the map—I think I'm in Kreuzberg. I can totally adult. Oh, god. I am so far away from anything familiar. I keep walking and come to a crossing. The pedestrian light turns green, but there's no sound to go with it. I cross the road, but without the noise, it's weird and I feel like I'm about to be hit by a car. I don't remember which way I'm supposed to look because they drive on the opposite side of the road. And I know I just need to look the opposite way from home, but I can't remember which one that is. I take a few deep breaths in and resist the urge to run across the road. Once I get onto the other side, I don't know what to do. I sit down on the edge of a fountain and get out my phone that won't connect to the fucking internet, fucking shit dicks Christ. I just want to talk to someone I know. Anyone. What if I get hurt and no one knows who to contact? Like, I have no idea where a hospital is. What's the emergency number?
The tears come. My butt's cold from the concrete, and my crying is just so loud, and god, I don't know. I want a hug but everyone is so far. I've never been in another country before—why did I think this was a good idea?
No one comes up to me. I'm too loud and it's too awkward. No one knows what to do with a crying girl in public.
Because I'm not moving, I'm getting colder. I start to shiver, despite the jacket. I wrap my arms around myself to try and be a little warmer, to keep my guts from falling out.
"Bist
du in Ordnung?" a cute, fat blonde girl asks me, who has just appeared out of nowhere. She looks startled, but I sort of half-screamed at her when she spoke because she scared me, so fair enough.
I look at her. I can feel my eyes are all puffy and I don't know how long I've been sitting here. My throat hurts.
"Er, nein sprechen the Ger—Deutsch?" I say, sniffing.
Whenever someone starts speaking to me in German, my eyes go wide and I panic. She seems to recognise this face though, because she says in English:
"Sorry, are you okay? I can't really speak German, anyway."
Her eyes are warm brown and her teeth are a little too big for her mouth. She brushes some of her hair behind her ear as the wind starts to pick up a little. The jacket she's wearing is turquoise, the brightest thing I've seen anyone wearing today.
"No..." I tell her automatically. "I mean, like. I'm fine." Why did I say no? Fuck, it's not like there's anything she can do. "It's fine. Thanks." I smile at her and stand. My cheeks start to warm up. I need to go hide in a café or something for a while.
"You're from Australia?" She sounds unsure as she asks, but then I'm not sure if she's Australian. She sounds like it, but it's hard to pick out our accent sometimes.
I nod. Right now, anyone from home is a comfort.
"It's my second day here," I say. "It's kind of terrifying."
"You're all by yourself?" she asks as she nods.
"Yeah. I was just trying to set up my SIM card, and I don't know how to get the internet working, and it just hit me: I have no one to ask here." I cough. "I know it's stupid."
"I totally get it," she says, nodding again. "I've been here for over a year now and still sometimes... You almost get used to it."
"You live here?" Bloody hell, she's so brave.
"For now."
"That's so neat." I'm still sniffing. "Christ. I don't think I could ever do that."
She shrugs, like it's the easiest thing in the world. "It's not that... Fuck. What's the time?" She looks at her watch. "I have to go, I'm late for work. But don't worry. You're gonna have the best fun. Good luck!"