Girl from Mars

by Tamara Bach

  I look up at the sky. It’s dark blue, riddled with stars. I hear the smoke rattle in Laura’s throat.

  At some point we meet up with the others. The radio is on as we drive back home. Late at night the music is quiet and right. Nobody talks.

  Suddenly Laura leans her head on my shoulder. I take her hand and hold it tight.

  10

  Sundays.

  “No, Ines isn’t in. She left a few minutes ago to go to your place.”

  “Oh, well, I just wanted to ask her if she could bring along this one book. Well, thank you.”

  So Ines is with Flo —

  Sundays are dumb. It has to be said again.

  11

  Have you ever been in love?

  I’m fifteen. I’ve been kissed a few times. But I’ve never been in love. Or have I? I don’t know.

  ***

  The phone rings.

  “Hi, it’s Suse. What are you doing right now? I’m going stir-crazy, and Martin’s busy. Are you free? We could ride around town a bit.”

  “I don’t have time. I have to do this math thing and my mother wants me to help her clear out the cellar or something.”

  “Poor you! Okay. I’ll try Ines, then.”

  “She’s at Flo’s.”

  “Whatever. I’ll call you later or see you tomorrow, okay? Bye!”

  I’m fifteen. I’ve kissed boys before. A few times. I thought I was really in love with Marco and then with Patrick that time during vacation. I thought I wanted to get married and have kids and that that was a real kiss I had with Marco the first time and with Patrick the second time. And I also thought I was sad when whoever it was didn’t call me and things didn’t turn out the way I thought they would.

  ***

  The phone rings again. Dennis runs up the stairs, annoyed this time.

  “It’s for you!”

  “Hi, it’s Ines. Listen, I just wanted to tell you that I’m at Flo’s but I told my mother I was going to your place.”

  “Okay.”

  “Good. What are you up to today?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Well, have fun then.”

  ***

  But then I wasn’t sad anymore. It’s just kind of funny when I run into Marco or Patrick now. And sometimes I wonder why I kissed them. I like kissing. And when I’ve been drinking, then I really like it. Doesn’t matter who I’m with. Maybe I feel something, too, but it has nothing to do with whoever I’m kissing. It’s just the kiss itself.

  ***

  “Mum, can I help with anything?”

  “Why, are you bored?” Usually she always has some stupid job or other for me. Why not today? “Something wrong, honey?”

  “No. Nothing!”

  I find the phone and call Suse. “I’m free now. I’ll come over, okay?”

  I grab my jacket and take off on my bike.

  ***

  Suse lives on the other side of town. Her grandparents built this house for her parents. It has this big iron gate. That’s the kind of a house it is. A house with a gate. A gate that’s hard to unlock if you don’t know how to do it. A gate that you might glue closed with Superglue on Halloween. That’s the kind of house Suse lives in. And she lives on the top floor.

  You can turn your music up here, and that’s good. Suse likes to listen to music written by strong women who sing about men and women and love. Women who scream and wail but sometimes sing softly, too. Sometimes she copies out her favorite lines from the songs on her notebooks, on her pencil case, and on the wall above her bed.

  The music is playing when I walk into her room. Suse is standing at the window smoking, but only because her parents aren’t home. Otherwise she’d have to go for a walk to smoke.

  Suse’s room is big. There are scented candles everywhere, and cushions.

  She flicks her cigarette out the window and closes it.

  “So, your mother let you go out?” she asks and sits down.

  Out? My mother?

  “Um, yeah.”

  “Good, because I was so bored. You are a true friend, Miriam. Martin’s playing football today and afterwards he’s going out for a drink with the guys.”

  Football. Great.

  “You don’t want to go and cheer him on?”

  “Go out to the back of beyond to stand around freezing my ass off? I don’t think so.” She pulls a bottle of nail polish out of a drawer, shakes it.

  “Did you go out yesterday?”

  She unscrews the bottle. “We were here at the club. I was totally drunk by the end, and then Martin’s ex-girlfriend showed up and went berserk. Told me to get my filthy fingers off her boyfriend, like she’s one to talk.” She slowly paints her first nail, the one on her index finger. “Martin says his ex is the last of the great sluts, doesn’t have a brain in her head and has no idea how to behave. She has to be home by eleven and after that has to go straight to beddy-bye — alone. But she thinks she’s so cool.”

  She paints the second nail, quiet for a moment, then keeps talking. “No wonder Martin dumped her. I mean, how can you have a decent relationship if you have to live by all these baby rules?”

  Suse looks up and I nod at her vaguely.

  “Was she really bad to you?” I ask.

  “Nope, Martin talked to her. Apparently she made a scene but she must be slowly getting the message that it’s all over between them.” Suse shakes her head. “It’s pretty pathetic, actually. I feel kind of sorry for her. But I’m grateful to her, too, because otherwise I wouldn’t have my sweetie!” With a few strokes she finishes her left hand, examines her paint job and waves her hand to dry her nails.

  “I don’t really know Martin,” I say. I look around her room to see whether anything has changed.

  “Martin is the best. And he’s a great kisser! I can’t imagine doing it any more with babies like Sven or Kai. They have no idea. Women mature earlier than men anyway, in general. We’re two or three years ahead of them, right?”

  The CD has come to an end. Suse looks up and says, “Can you stick in a new CD?” She waves her half-finished right hand at me.

  I stand in front of Suse’s CDs, which I’ve heard so often before. I even know which are her favorite songs on which CDs. And which songs remind her of what.

  I test her. Anastacia. “I’m Outa Love.”

  “Oh, please, not that one. That’s the song that was on when I kissed Kai for the first time.” She groans.

  “How was it, then?”

  Suse looks up at the ceiling, as if she has to think hard to remember. Even though it was only six months ago.

  “It was at a party at Anne’s place. This song came on and I was so hot for him and we were dancing and then he kissed me.”

  “And how was it?” I ask again.

  “It was just a kiss. When I look back it wasn’t so great, but at the time I thought I was in love.” Now she’s painting her last fingernail. “But I wasn’t.”

  “Are you in love now?”

  Suse looks at me really seriously before she says yes.

  “How do you know?”

  “I just know. I feel it.”

  “And you didn’t feel it with Kai?”

  “No. Well, maybe, but not really, and anyway, I don’t know, that’s over and now I’m in love with Martin and there’s no one else.” She stares at me and blows on her nails.

  I don’t want to be here.

  “Listen, I can’t stay. I just wanted to see whether you were okay. That’s the only reason my mother let me come over.”

  “What do you mean, whether I was okay?”

  “You sounded weird on the phone. But, hey, you’re good, so that’s great. I have to go.” I grab my jacket and bag and leave really quickly.

  Outside it’s clear and fresh and bright. It’s a Sunday winter afternoon, and the sun will go down soon.

  I pedal as fast as I can. There’s not much going on. It’s the weekend, the town’s taking a time out.

  Sometimes I think I’m the o
nly one here. The only one who’s not sleeping. The only one who’s wide awake.

  12

  “What did you do on the weekend?” Suse says.

  “We went to the Austerhaus,” I say. I’m rolling a cigarette with Laura’s tobacco.

  “And what did you do?” asks Laura.

  “I went out with Martin.”

  “Yeah? Where did you go?” I ask, even though I already know the answer. I concentrate on my cigarette, as if it holds the answer.

  Rolling cigarettes is pretty difficult. Laura showed me how to do it.

  “You went to the Austerhaus?” Ines asks.

  “Yes,” says Laura.

  “How was it?”

  Suse is quiet.

  “Good. Wasn’t it?” Laura gives me a nudge.

  “Mmhhmmmh.” Which can mean anything.

  “What was the music like?”

  “House? Trance?” Suse says suddenly.

  “No, nothing so mainstream.” Oops. Have to start again. The hardest part is the actual rolling. After that you just have to lick it and smooth it closed, but the rolling is hard. If you want to do it properly.

  “Hey,” says Suse, “why don’t you just take one of mine before you wear out your fingers?”

  “It’s okay.” I’m getting it.

  “How did you get in?”

  “We just paid and went in.”

  “So they’re not so strict about checking ID and stuff?” Ines can be very, very nosy at times.

  “Nope.”

  “They couldn’t be that strict if they let Miriam in,” says Suse. Run your index finger slowly along the paper. Use your thumb to help.

  “Maybe we can all go together some time,” says Ines.

  “Girls night out?” asks Laura.

  “No, with Martin and Flo, too.” Ines again.

  “Martin just likes House and Trance.”

  It’s rolled. Only the sticking down to do. Lick the paper, press it down. Finished.

  Laura’s looking over my shoulder. I can smell her skin and see her freckles. She smells like milk. It’s weird. Like sweet milk. And a bit like wood.

  She takes the cigarette, examines it.

  “God, Mi, this one’s perfect.” Then she kisses me on the cheek.

  Suse lights up a cigarette. And takes a deep drag.

  13

  History.

  “Louis the fourteenth. Remember him? L’état, c’est moi?”

  I couldn’t care less. What is it about Laura? Every time I look at her, it’s different. Sometimes it’s as if she’s always been here. (Of couse she’s always been here. She has been in this class for a few months just like the rest of us.) And sometimes it’s like she’s here for the first time. For me. Like she’s just landed on my planet.

  And then again...

  Then I look at her and she looks at me, and it’s different again. Not bad different, but weird, like when you hear a new song that sounds strange but not in a bad way. And at some point you find yourself humming along, and you remember the words as you lie in bed, thinking of Laura and smiling into the dark, because the song is good, better than the others, and because it makes your heart beat faster, and it reminds you of yourself.

  That’s what it’s like with Laura. It’s weird.

  My fingernails are all splitting. I pick at them, and bits of nail fall onto my history book. Outside the leaves are still falling. Behind the birches is my bike, and it’s freezing.

  I imagine what it would be like to just stand up, maybe grab my coat. Walk past the other desks, chairs, idiots who I’ve never exchanged so much as two words with. Walk past the teacher’s desk, and it’s all over now, baby blue. Stand up and use my legs. Look, outside there’s a world that exists between 8 a.m. and noon. Outside there’s life to taste and smell, and in winter it’s cold. Then I just keep going. Leave this small town and go out through the fields and through one small village after another, even farther than I’ve gone on my bike. And maybe then I’ll get on a train and keep going even farther. And maybe I’ll get to some place that looks nice and I’ll get off. And then maybe I’ll stay there.

  “Go on, read!” hisses Ines.

  German. I’m reading out loud. Stumbling over the words. Then Ines reads. Then Patrick. And then the text is finished.

  “What is the author talking about here?” Once again no one puts up their hand. Except maybe Gesine, who probably once swore to herself that she would always put up her hand and would always know the answer.

  I can’t even remember what we’ve just been reading. I look out the window again.

  “I think...I don’t know, but it sounds damned sad,” I hear Laura say. I look up at the front.

  “And why is that?” asks Lämmert.

  “Because nothing’s happening and he can’t stand it,” says Laura. “Because he’s sleeping and he can’t wake up, even though he wants to.”

  If I ever did stand up and leave, I’d take Laura with me, and later I’d ask her where she wanted to get off.

  14

  That evening I go up to my room. Turn on my music.

  Think for a bit, I don’t know about what.

  Outside something’s moving on the balcony. I open the door and there’s Dennis.

  “Well?” he says.

  Well? What does that mean? Does it mean how are you, or what are you up to, or God you scared me, sit down and tell me how your day’s been?

  “Well?” I say back.

  Dennis leans against the balcony railing and looks out at the fields that start at the end of our garden. Then he looks at me, pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and holds it out to me.

  I hesitate.

  “You smoke, don’t you?”

  I look back into the house.

  “It’s okay. Mum and Dad are watching television.”

  So I take a cigarette and light it with the lighter that I keep behind the eavestrough.

  Then we stand there smoking and looking out at the fields.

  “What are you listening to in there?” Dennis asks, nodding in the direction of the balcony door.

  “Do you want me to turn it off?”

  “No. What is it?”

  “It’s a tape. Laura made it for me.” She gave it to me this morning. A cassette that she made for me. For me. For Mi.

  “Laura, eh?” he says, looking at me briefly. “Turn it up. You can hardly hear it.” And then he goes back to looking at the fields.

  I go inside, prop the door open with a flower pot and turn the music up a bit. Go back outside.

  I finish smoking the cigarette and listen to the songs Laura put on the tape for me. Dennis has another smoke. And we don’t say anything.

  When he’s finished, he crushes his butt and flicks it in the direction of the fields.

  “Do you know what you need out here?” he asks as he turns around.

  “No, what?”

  “A bench. So you don’t have to stand out here like an idiot. You need a bench.”

  And then he leaves.

  15

  Later the doorbell rings. When I open the door, Laura is standing there.

  “Are you free?” she asks.

  I nod. “What’s the matter?”

  “Things are shit. I want to do something. Can you come with me?”

  I look back in the direction of the living room and call out, “I’m going out.”

  No answer, then Dad says absently, “Okay, bye.” I take my jacket off the hook. We go out to the street and the door swings shut behind us.

  “What do you want to do?” I say. “Get something to drink? A pizza?”

  She shakes her head. “No. I don’t want to see any people.” She looks up. “Just you. Let’s just go somewhere where we can sit and look around. I don’t care where.”

  So I take her hand and pull her down the street as fast as I can. I pull Laura behind me until I start to gasp for breath, and she’s panting and laughing. We keep running until the streets don’t have any
names any more, the town is behind us, there are hardly any houses, and then nothing more.

  This is the highest spot around. A little hill in the middle of nowhere, with a bench. From here you can see the lights of town. The cars on the highway throw their lights like glowworms in the night.

  We sit on the bench. Laura’s breathing slows down. I can’t see her face.

  And then she says, “It’s exactly the way I imagined it.”

  I’m still holding her hand and am a bit horrified when I realize it. I let go and look out at the houses in the distance.

  Laura doesn’t say anything else. She fishes around in her bag and then hands me a lighter.

  “Can you give me a bit of light?”

  I hold the lighter and the flame flickers a bit. Laura pulls her tobacco pouch out of her bag, stacks three papers together, rips a piece of cardboard from the package and rolls it to make a filter. Then she pulls a little bag out of her tobacco pouch and sprinkles grass over the tobacco on the papers.

  I’ve seen all this before at parties — a small group huddled in a corner of the garden somewhere, sitting in a circle while one of them rolls and the others watch in silence, like they’re witnessing the blood and body of Christ being turned into wine and bread. Maybe it’s so funny because nobody talks, just like Laura right now. She’s concentrating.

  I start to say something, because it’s too weird and quiet.

  “This is one of my favorite spots. I got my first kiss here. Ever since then I’ve come up here by myself. It’s probably a bit cold today, but it’s really nice in the summer.”

  Laura holds the tip between two fingers, presses back the edges, examines her handiwork, clicks her tongue and says, “Pretty good.”

  I don’t think she heard a word I said.

  “I’m pretty proud of this, I have to say. Given that the light here is absolute shit.” Then she takes my hand and puts it on her shoulder. “So, Mi, now you have to pat me on the back and congratulate me on this excellent rolling job.”

  I pat her shoulder a bit and pull my hand away. Sometimes it’s so easy to touch someone and sometimes it’s...