“Dear Mr. Ackermann, thank you very much for the invitation to attend Heidelberg University during my final year. I would like to accept your offer, and I would also like to confirm my attendance at the orientation events in October.”
She quickly finished the mail, scanned it for errors, and pressed send before she could change her mind. She sat back in her chair and rubbed both her temples. It felt like a momentous occasion, like a proverbial fuck-you to Honi and the tribal elders.
She was going to stand on her own two feet again, without the constant demands and advice from Honi’s mentor. Adi had met John only once at Honi’s bedside in the hospital, but it felt like the man had run her life for the last year. She’d always played along because she hadn’t wanted to hurt her boyfriend, but enough was enough.
And yet her heart hurt like she’d been shot. She wasn’t stupid enough to think that she didn’t still love the young man. Adi rubbed her chest and grimaced. The pain felt real, like a heavy pressure that threatened to pull tears from her every time she let it.
Enough of the pity party. Adi quickly stripped her clothes off and burrowed into her covers. Then she jumped out again and pulled the pillowcase and sheets off her bed. They smelled like Honi, like them together. She couldn’t bear it. Once clean sheets and covers were on the bed, she hugged her pillow, inhaling the fresh linen scent. Then she curled into a ball and pushed all her hurt feelings as far away as possible.
She closed her eyes and imagined what life in Heidelberg would be like. She’d find out soon enough. Tomorrow she would have to make a list of all the things to prepare, documents to apply for, everything she needed to make a break and start afresh somewhere else. It won’t be the same without him. Adi told herself sternly to shut up and go to sleep.
7
Walking into Frankfurt Airport was an experience. It had been more than four years since she’d last visited the country of her birth, and she was shocked at how little had changed.
The young policeman gave her German passport a cursory glance, and she was glad that she’d kept her dual citizenship. The Middle Eastern lady in the line next to her wasn’t so lucky. She was still arguing with a bored policewoman, becoming more and more irate. Long after Adi had exchanged good-bye smiles with the officer who bore an uncanny resemblance to Magneto in the X-Men reboot, she still heard the woman’s raised voice.
Despite the long flight and the tiny portion of rubber lasagna with glue sauce which had thoroughly gummed up her digestive system, she felt excited, exhilarated even. She was back in Germany. The language she’d grown up with was all around her. Harsh sounds barked by casually rude middle-aged people made her flinch a little. Long drawn-out shouts of “Hello” and “Hi” drew her attention to loud teenagers, greeting friends and family happily.
Adi looked around and smiled. The airport was spotless. Two swarthy men wearing fluorescent yellow vests rode a little train attached to a luggage-laden trailer. One of them switched effortlessly from accented German, warning travelers to stay out of his way, to guttural Turkish, laughing loudly with his colleague. Both had the black eyes and big mustaches often seen amongst immigrants from the Bosporus. They were a common sight in Germany, but particularly in Frankfurt, with one of the largest Turkish immigrant communities in the country.
Her happiness was slipping somewhat ten minutes later, when she was still waiting for her luggage. She glared at a tall teenager who nearly body-blocked her out of the way. Grasping the handle of her red nylon monster of a suitcase, she tugged as hard as she could. Swinging the heavy bag off the conveyor belt, she made a point of shoving the blond boy with her shoulder. She countered his indignant “Hey!” with an equally disdainful “Hey, yourself. Pass doch auf!” Satisfied with remembering the German for “Why don’t you watch yourself?” she dragged the suitcase to her waiting baggage cart and loaded it up.
Carried along by the throng of chattering tourists, the walk seemed endless. Up the escalator, down the escalator, until she finally walked through the EU fast lane exit. Another twenty-minute drag, and by now her jet lag was catching up with her. Shoulders slumped with tiredness, she yawned loudly. She was still at least two hours away from her final destination.
Falling into the soft blue-checkered seat on the high-speed train to Heidelberg, she thanked her lucky stars that she was still able to read German timetables and found the right train straight away. There wasn’t a lot of space, and she had to leave her luggage on the little shelf near the exit doors at the other side of the carriage, but she was reasonably sure that no one would walk away with the monster suitcase.
She yawned again. Try as she might, she couldn’t keep her eyes open. With her last shred of consciousness, she set her alarm for forty-five minutes, made sure that her passport and wallet were stored in the inside pocket of her jacket, and nodded off.
A short taxi ride from Heidelberg Station later, Adi had met her new landlord and accepted the keys to a shared flat right in the center of town. The man had been friendly but busy, quickly walking her to her room, then leaving just as fast.
A strange sense of detachment hit her as she found herself standing in a small, stuffy room at the top of an old building. I’ve made it. This is my home for the foreseeable future. Hesitantly, she dropped her small backpack on the only chair in the room. Her eyes swept over white walls, a single bed with an enormous square pillow covered in cheap white cotton. In the corner behind the door, a tiny white sink with a mirror above added to the student accommodation feel. The room might as well have been back in the US if it weren’t for the view.
Suddenly reenergized, she pulled both sides of the old-fashioned white-framed window open and inhaled deeply. The warm air streaming in was scented, heavy with late summer, carrying with it whiffs of stale oil from the fast-food joint on the first floor. Heat rising from the baked surface of the pedestrian street below, a smell like ozone, like licking sun-heated skin. Adi leaned as far out the window as she dared and looked straight down.
She was four stories up, right opposite the Heiliggeistkirche, a huge, red-bricked church, surrounded by little tourist stalls. The famous castle peeked out from around the corner on the hill, and to the left, Adi could see halfway down the pedestrian zone as far as Universitätsplatz, where she would find the main lecture hall for the humanities.
Straight ahead was the river, and no matter where she looked, there were people. Hundreds and thousands of people. Adi had had no idea that this little town would be so busy at the beginning of fall. From up here, she could make out lots of black-haired heads in large groups, possibly Asian tourists. A man dressed in a medieval town crier’s uniform walked at the front of a triangular formation. Adi had read about these guided tours, not only for tourists, but also for students streaming back into town in time for beginning of classes.
A dull pain drilled through Adi’s eyes, and sticking with one train of thought was difficult. There were things she needed to do, like unpack her suitcase. She sat down heavily. Napping a few hours before the foreign student briefing tonight was so tempting. On the other hand, sleeping now in the early afternoon would only make it harder to get over her jet lag.
A loud growl accompanied by an uncomfortable heavy pressure in her midriff reminded her that she hadn’t eaten since the airplane. From the open window, the buzz of thousands of people talking and laughing beckoned her outside, away from the stuffiness of the room. Her mind made up, she stood up and grabbed her wallet. There was time to get some food and do some sightseeing before the meeting later on.
She made sure she applied sunscreen on her pale skin and trekked down several flights of stairs to ground level, only stumbling on the last step. On the bottom, she turned around and looked up balefully. She’d have to walk all the way back up when she came back. Damn. The view from up there nearly wasn’t worth having to climb to the top of the building every time she left.
With a guidebook downloaded to her phone, she walked straight across the pedestrian zone to
the Old Bridge. Everywhere she looked, young people laughed, teasing each other, walking arm in arm. This was a young population in an old town, and Adi desperately wanted to be part of it.
She’d seen plenty of architectural treasures in Germany when she’d last lived here, but Heidelberg was something else. For a little while, she walked along the river, enjoying the breeze coming off the water, cooling her burning skin. On the far bank, large eighteenth-century villas, painted white, windows outlined with red or green frames, stood like sentinels between the wide Neckar River, glistening in the sun, and deciduous trees rising behind the buildings. It looked idyllic, joyful, postcard-perfect, and Adi promised herself to explore the hills soon, when it cooled down a little. For now, she kept to the shaded side of the street and vowed to buy a straw hat the first chance she got.
After a few minutes’ walk, she stood in front of a portal leading to a wide-open area within a castle-like structure. According to her guide, it dated back to the sixteenth century and housed one of several student cafeterias. Large oak trees shaded long benches lined up along a grassy middle. Groups of students were lying on the green area, some on picnic blankets, others using their jackets to sit on. Adi smiled as she passed them by. The sentiment that popped into her mind was “welcoming.” It just seemed so… so normal, to hang out with friends, to laugh and enjoy the sun.
A young man pushed his bicycle with one hand, using his other to hold his boyfriend’s hand. Chatting away, laughing, nobody blinking an eye at them. A group of four, two boys and two girls, deep in discussion about who knew what. Could have been politics, could have been the latest movie. All of them earnestly arguing their point until one of the girls smacked the back of her hand against a guy’s chest, and soon their laughter filled the air as they play-wrestled. Another couple kissing, looking into each other’s eyes, snuggling up.
Adi swallowed hard. She’d had this with Honi, and for a moment she missed him so acutely that it cut through her chest like a knife. Done. Finished. She took a deep breath and pushed through the door into the self-service cafeteria inside the Marstall building.
There was very little air-conditioning in Germany, as she well remembered. Still, the thick, ancient walls kept the temperature low on the inside. Not as low as she was used to in the States, but enough to provide a distinct drop from the outside heat.
Adi didn’t have her official student pass yet, but when she walked into the self-service area, she wasn’t asked for it. Students in their mid- to late twenties weren’t unusual in the German education system. Adi grabbed a giant soft pretzel with butter and a bottle of sparkling mineral water. The sun’s glare hit her right in the eyes through the large windows, and she thought better of sitting outside. Besides, all the seats seemed to be taken anyway, whereas inside, there were lots of free spaces.
She walked up the stairs to a small gallery. Near the landing, a shelf held board games, chessboards, and books. Adi looked around, and several people were reading newspapers and magazines. Cool, this seemed an awesome place to have lunch. Reading while eating was her guilty pleasure, a moment to herself when things got a little crazy in her world.
She sat down happily at a free table and picked up a magazine somebody had left behind. For the next few minutes, she chewed the enjoyable mixture of soft, white dough, covered with a soda glaze to give it its distinctive color and flavor, cold, creamy butter slathered on liberally, and large salt flakes. Absolutely delicious. Adi groaned with pleasure as she took another bite, her eyes skimming over a political commentary she had very little interest in.
“I’ve never heard somebody enjoy their Bretzel as much as you do.”
Adi’s head shot up at the sound of an amused, dark voice. A young man stood near her table, smiling at her. Adi chewed frantically, her mouth too full of goo to answer. She reluctantly returned his smile with wide eyes, hoping he might get the hint and move on. Before she could say anything, he’d grabbed a chair from a nearby table and sat down.
“Hi, my name is Florice. I’m new to town.”
His smile turned a little hesitant, and the display of vulnerability melted Adi’s irritation at the intrusion. He was a stranger here, just like her. It must have taken some courage to come over and talk to her, fearing he might be shot down. Adi finally swallowed the cloying dough lump. She chased it with a sip of water and used the moment to look at the man.
His smile had slipped completely and been replaced with a look of apprehension, as if he expected her to chase him off, now that she could speak again. He lowered his head, a lock of blond hair falling over his green eyes, and leaned forward as if to get up. Just as he began to stand, Adi opened her mouth.
“My name is Adi. I’m new too. Where’re you from?”
And just like that, the conversation began. Florice was German, had lived in the Odenwald, a forested low mountain range north of Heidelberg, for most of his life, and was a first-year English and theology student. He was twenty-one and had no idea what to do with his degree once he was finished.
Adi listened to him talk, first in German, then in English when he realized that she was a native speaker. He was interesting, charming, gorgeous, yet Adi’s eyelids kept drooping, and she had to shuffle in her seat several times to stay awake. Eventually, she couldn’t put it off any longer.
“I’m sorry,” she interrupted Florice. “I’m really jet-lagged. If I keep sitting here, I’ll fall asleep.”
Florice jumped up as if he’d only waited for the opportunity.
“Of course! Can I maybe invite you for dinner?” he asked eagerly.
Adi looked at him. He was the exact opposite of Honi, light where he was dark, slender where Honi was muscular, friendly like a puppy where Honi could be moody at times. It was too soon. She needed to settle into her new life before even thinking of allowing somebody new into it.
“Maybe another time,” she replied regretfully. There would more than likely not be another time. Heidelberg wasn’t huge, but it was big enough, with a student population of over forty thousand. It was unlikely she’d run into him again.
Adi rose, but as she pushed off the table, she caught the empty glass with her fingertips and swept it to the floor. She barely managed to stretch out her leg, letting the glass hit the top of her foot. It bounced but didn’t break. Her tiredness was making her more clumsy than usual, she thought, quickly picking up the glass and putting it back on the table. She nodded at Florice, giving him an embarrassed smile, and walked away.
“I’ll hold you to it,” he called after her, and the tone in his voice made her look back. His eyes were gentle, smiling, but Adi thought his voice had sounded harsher, more demanding than was reflected in his pretty face. The jet lag was making her hear things, she decided, and walked down the stairs after raising her hand for a final wave.
8
Adi bent over, groaning, trying to get some air back into her lungs after walking up four flights of stairs. This jet lag is kicking my ass. Must—puff—sit—wheeze—down.
When her lungs didn’t feel like collapsing anymore, she straightened up and pushed the silver key into the lock. The apartment door opened, and a heavenly whiff of garlic and olive oil hit her nostrils. Hmmm. She hadn’t eaten a proper meal in quite a while.
The kitchen was at the end of a dark, creaky corridor lined with ancient linoleum tiles. Adi was glad the single lightbulb was blown. That way she didn’t have to see the accumulation of filth along the edges, where generations of students had perfunctorily run a mop down the middle and ignored the sides of the floor.
She was way too tired to meet her new flatmates, but the mouthwatering smell tantalized her, dragging her towards the bright room at the end of the tunnel. Getting closer, she heard voices talking quietly, and the outlines of two large figures were visible through the square of patterned glass in the top half of the door. Adi braced herself, taking a deep breath, closing her eyes, and painting a bright smile on her face. Then she grabbed the old-fashioned handle and push
ed the door open with gusto. It connected with something solid.
“Verdammt!” A guy on hands and knees looked up at her from the floor with eyebrows drawn together. His nostrils flared in outrage, and an equally startled blond man stopped stirring the contents of a pot on the stove, and gaped at her. Adi cringed. Oh no, great way to make an impression. While her tired brain still tried to get online, the blond, muscly guy walked over, stooped down and began picking up the carrot pieces strewn all around the grungy kitchen floor.
“I’m so sorry,” Adi finally managed to say. “I didn’t see you…” She trailed off in embarrassment. The two men looked at her coolly, before the blond guy stuck out his hand.
“Hey. You must be the new student from America?” he said in accented but fluent English. “My name is Lukas.” He pointed at his friend, who was still on his knees, chasing a piece that had rolled underneath the ancient fridge in the corner. “This guy is Gerald.” He pronounced it the German way, Gherald, with a long a.
Gerald had gotten to his feet, taken the pieces of carrot, and instead of dumping them into the trash like Adi would have done, carried them to the sink and rinsed them. Adi made a mental note not to eat anything in this kitchen that hadn’t been cooked really well. Gerald turned his head towards her and nodded politely. Then he added the vegetables to the pot, giving it another stir.
“Hey, have you eaten? Wanna join us for some pasta and salad?” Lukas was definitely the friendlier of the two. Given that Adi had just landed Gerald on his ass, she didn’t blame him for being a little standoffish. Ugh, she hadn’t even introduced herself. Man, her brain was working as if it were packed in cotton. She shook herself.
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