Page 20

–––––

Luca

It was a pure reflex action, one that I couldn’t undo. I had practiced that move with Dario so many times that it had become second nature to me. And how could I have known that it was Juri who grabbed me by the arm? My confused brain screamed Danger! and I assumed Daniel was following me.

Juri would have landed flat on his back if it weren’t for the stairs. And now I stood there completely dumbfounded, watching him tumble down the steps.

Fuck! I did that!

When I finally came to my senses, I hurried after him. “Juri!”

He was now lying on the landing and barely moving.

“Fuck!” I heard him mutter as I reached him.

“Oh my God! Juri! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to!” I knelt beside him, unsure of what to do with my hands. “Are you hurt?”

“Shit, man! Fuck off!” he groaned, turning his head as if dizzy. When he tried to lean on his wrist, he screamed in pain.

“Let me help you!” I said, reaching for his arm to help him up.

Surprisingly, he allowed it. When he put weight on his left foot, he cried out in agony again and buckled.

I helped him sit on the stairs and wanted to examine his foot more closely when I noticed blood on his hairline.

Everything inside me went haywire. I had sworn never to hurt anyone again, but then this happened. And with Juri of all people.

“Fuck! I’m so sorry. Please! You have to believe me. It wasn’t intentional. Pure reflex.” As I reached out my hand to him, he slapped it away. “Please, Juri! I’m sorry!”

I was close to tears. And as much as I apologized, there were no words that could make it right. Dazed, Juri pushed his hair back, smearing blood into it.

“Fuck! My foot! And my hand!”

I pulled his pant leg up around the ankle and examined his foot closely. When I touched it, Juri screamed. More and more people gathered around us, and when I saw Ron, the security guy, I called him over.

“He fell down the stairs. I-I don’t know …”

I was about to lose it. Everything had been too much earlier, but now that I was responsible for Juri sitting here on the stairs, grimacing in pain, I was overwhelmed. Meanwhile, Ron examined Juri’s ankle, causing him to groan again.

“I’ll call an ambulance,” the security guy said, pulling out his phone.

“What? No!” Juri exclaimed in horror. “That’s way too expensive! Just call a damn Uber if you have to!”

“It needs to be X-rayed.”

“Oh fuck!”

“I’ll call an Uber,” I said, pulling out my phone. “Then we’ll go to the ER.” My hands shook as I opened the app. Ron put his phone away and focused on Juri’s wrist. “I’ll be right back. Just getting my jacket.”

Juri rolled his eyes in annoyance. “Where the hell am I supposed to go? I’m not running off!”

I quickly ran to the back office, grabbed my jacket, and returned. By now, most of the people were gone, but Clé and Sandro were now sitting with Juri on the stairs, and Ron was handing him his coat. The way Juri tucked his hand into the sleeve made his pain evident.

Fuck! Because of me!

“What did you do to him?” Clé demanded.

“Believe me, it was unintentional,” I explained apologetically. “Pure reflex action.”

“He can’t walk anymore!” Clé accused me angrily.

His tone set off all my alarm bells again, and my muscles tensed. “Do you think I wanted that? Fuck! I would undo it in a heartbeat if I could.”

Juri sat there, looking rather pale, while Sandro wiped the blood from his face with a damp napkin. The sight was like a stab in my chest, and I winced in disbelief.

Clé was sensible enough to accept it as an accident and calmed down again. “Are you going to the ER?”

“Yeah. The Uber is coming in three minutes.”

“Okay, then let’s make sure you get to the entrance,” Clé said to Juri, helping him up.

As I took Juri’s arm over my shoulder and supported him around the waist, I became aware of his body heat again. It hadn’t even been twenty minutes since he held me in his arms. He had managed to calm me down for a moment, but unfortunately, it hadn’t been enough. Not today.

With our assistance, Juri painstakingly navigated across the landing and descended the second flight of stairs toward the exit. His grip on my shoulder tightened, and he emitted groans of discomfort. His left foot bore no weight, necessitating almost full support from us as we carried him along.

The driver was already waiting for us and stepped out as he spotted us approaching his car—he was well aware of our destination and connected the dots. With a friendly gesture, he opened the door and assisted Juri in settling into the seat.

“Keep us posted!” Clé said as I walked around the car and sat down next to Juri in the back seat.

Juri nodded, then his friend closed the door, and we drove off.

“I’m sorry. Really. Please, tell me you understand that. I need to hear it,” I pleaded.

Juri just grumbled, almost bringing tears to my eyes. That was all he said, fueling my fear that he might have even suffered a concussion.

When we finally arrived at the emergency room, I requested a wheelchair from the receptionist. Of course, it didn’t surprise me that Juri initially refused to sit in that thing.

But the driver had to leave immediately, and as long as we didn’t know the extent of Juri’s injuries, I didn’t want to carry him on my back, so I pushed him inside to the reception desk.

When the woman there handed us a form, Juri shook his head irritably.

“What?” I asked, alarmed. “Do you need help?”

He held up his injured left hand. “I’m left-handed.”

I took the form and the pen and helped Juri fill it out, then returned it.

“We wouldn’t be sitting here if the ambulance had picked you up,” I said, nervously checking the time again and again.

“No,” he contradicted. “We wouldn’t be sitting here if you hadn’t thrown me down the stairs.”

He had let out a scream of agony, but by now, I wasn’t so sure if he was still suffering. He had blatantly admitted to consuming drugs, which surely affected his pain perception. I didn’t know what to make of it. All it triggered in me was worry, which was a nuisance.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like crap,” he replied bluntly. “But as long as I don’t move, it’s bearable.”

Ultimately, we only waited for thirty minutes, but it felt like an eternity to me. I accompanied Juri into the examination room and explained to the doctor what had happened. She asked more questions and filled out a few forms.

“I’ll take you to get an X-ray now, Mr. Vinzens,” the doctor said, then turned to me. “Please wait outside.”

I left him alone reluctantly and pondered my limited options. Returning to the waiting area, I sought solace in a cup of coffee from the vending machine. The day seemed determined to end as poorly as it had begun—utterly shitty.

At the meeting with my mentor, Verena mercilessly dismantled my concept, staunchly refusing to sign off on it. In her eyes, the potential it harbored far surpassed what I had originally presented to her.

“You’re trying to kill two birds with one stone here,” were her words, dripping with so much sympathy that I felt almost sick.

“What I have here is a piece of work that you couldn’t possibly fit into fifteen minutes.

As I said before. It’s not about winning the Oscar here, but merely about a final film project.

As I can see, you’ve rewritten the treatment.

It takes a completely different direction.

It would be better if we take the time to look at the new direction you’ve taken. ”

She hadn’t rejected it because it was bad, but still, that feeling lingered in me after that conversation. Despite my efforts during training, it was killing me that I still hadn’t gotten her signature.

I should not have gone to work at the bar.

It would have saved me a lot of trouble.

I was already feeling tense. The loud music, crowds, and flickering lights only made it worse, causing me to weigh every word from Daniel’s mouth.

The anger had been unstoppable. My head throbbed, and I still felt overstimulated.

Even in the waiting room, everything was too much.

The LED lights above me flickered. The old man in the chair in the corner kept sniffing.

And when a woman with a crying girl came in through the door, I fled into the corridor.

While waiting there, Juri and a nurse were headed toward my direction.

Juri was still in the wheelchair, pale and looking pretty beat up.

“We were just about to get you,” the nurse said. “The results are in now.”

Shortly afterward, we were back in the examination room, and the doctor scribbled something in the file.

“I can reassure you, nothing is broken. You have a classic torn ligament in your foot. Your hand is sprained. We will splint the joints and I recommend at least two weeks of absolute rest. In addition to the bruises, you may have a headache for a few days, but you'll be fine. I’ll prescribe painkillers for you.”

“Two weeks?” he asked incredulously. “No, that’s not possible. I have to work.”

“I’ll write you off work,” the doctor said, making a note.

“Take advantage of the holidays to rest. Recover from this fall.” She turned to her computer and clicked a few times on the mouse.

“With New Year’s in between, I suggest we meet again on January 4th.

I’m sure by then, you can switch to a walking boot. That way, you’ll be more mobile again.”

Juri lived on the fourth floor of a building that didn’t even have an elevator. Was that Noé still with him? Even if he was, he had been a disaster. How was he supposed to take care of Juri?

“Do you live alone? Or in a shared apartment?” the doctor asked.

“Alone,” Juri replied.

“Due to your injured hand, you won’t be able to use crutches, so I advise you to stay with someone. With your family or something.”

Juri’s face froze, and I could tell something wasn’t right.

I had already noticed that the topic of family wasn’t his thing during our first beer.

It had been enough to ask him where he had grown up.

The speed and grace with which he diverted the question to me made it clear that there was no family to help him in this situation. So that left his friends.

“What about Clé?” I asked cautiously.

He shook his head almost imperceptibly. “Not possible. He’s going to Zermatt for Christmas … and he also doesn’t have a lift.”

“And Noé?”

“Moved in with the photographer.”

“And the other two … This Sandro guy?”

“Forget it,” he muttered, massaging his temples. “I’ll manage. Romero is still around.”

I hesitated. That slimy landlord? Even if he paid him, he would never really take care of him. But who was I to judge? I was the one who had gotten Juri into this situation in the first place.

Fuck! Why does this situation feel so familiar?

And yet so different.

It was like being back on the roof and looking down. But this time at Juri. And unlike back then, now I had the opportunity to do something. To help. I reached for my phone and got up from the chair.

“I’ll be right back,” I said and stepped out the door. I called Hector, my landlord. The man was a night owl, so I had no doubt he was still awake. And indeed, he answered after just two rings.

“Luca?” he asked, sounding like he’d just woken up.

“Yeah, hi, uh … sorry to call so late.”

“Is something wrong?”

“Yeah, kind of. I … wanted to ask if it would be okay for me to accommodate a friend of mine for two weeks. He needs help, and … Sara is at her parents’ house in Davos until mid-February, and you …”

“I’m here, but only sporadically. How much does he need your help?”

“A lot.”

“Alright, bring the stray to your place.”

“Stray?”

Hector laughed out loud. “Oh, come on, Luca. You’ve been living with me for two years now and have never brought anyone home. Not even that Matteo guy. And then something like this? It must be a stray cat you’ve picked up.”

“The cat is injured. Because of me. I have to help him somehow.”

“I wish you luck with your stray.” The innuendo was hard to miss.

“It’s not like that!” I protested, but it was futile. Hector was having a blast.

“Ciao, Luca, see you. And maybe I’ll get to meet your stray someday.”

“Yeah, see you. Thanks.”

When I returned to the examination room, the doctor was just applying a support bandage to Juri’s foot. He already had a splint on his left hand.

“You’re coming to my place,” I said, stepping up beside him at the examination table. “My roommate is away for the holidays, and my landlord is okay with it.”

Juri didn’t seem particularly happy about it, and I could sense him closing off from me.

“Let me make it up to you,” I pleaded. “There’s an elevator in my place, and I’ll make sure you get something to eat. Please. I have to do this. Let me be your host.”

In doing so, I sensed a strange feeling in my chest. When Juri twitched the corner of his mouth and gave a short nod of agreement, it was enough to relieve some of that inner tension.

Oh man … Where is this going to lead?