Page 11

11

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Noé

The apartment was pitch black, even though it was still afternoon. Only a faint glow reached the entrance, and the sour stench of sweat, weed, and booze hung in the air. I shrugged off my school backpack and hesitated. Fear crept over me, and I wanted nothing more than to crawl under the covers in my room, but I couldn’t. I had to check on her. So I slowly walked through the hallway toward the living room. Gradually, my eyes adjusted to the dim light. A few candles burned on the coffee table.

“Mom?” I asked anxiously.

No answer. I opened the window, pushed up the wooden shutter, and warm sunlight poured into the filthy apartment.

My heart pounded in my throat the moment I saw her lying motionless on the floor. My hands grew clammy as horror gripped me. With a needle still stuck in her arm, she lay there, more dead than alive, with lips turning blue, a pale face, and filthy clothes.

My body reacted. I pushed aside the coffee table and knelt beside her. I pulled the needle out of her arm and shook her.

“Mom! Wake up! Please!”

Her skin was pale, while her eyes were slightly open and rolled back. Panic seized me, and I screamed at her. I pounded on her chest with my small fists. On the table lay a small mirror, dirty from the white powder. I held it to her mouth. She wasn’t breathing.

“No authorities!” I heard her threat in the back of my mind. “Or I’ll kill you!”

I ran to the kitchen and searched the drawers. Romero had used an adrenaline shot last time and left a few in reserve. And sure enough, I found one. With trembling hands, I ripped open the packaging and returned to Mom.

Just like Romero did last time, I jabbed the needle into her upper arm. The effect was almost immediate; Mom shot up and slapped my face—whether intentional or not didn’t matter. I sought distance because now it was crucial to disappear as quickly as possible. But like a fury, she grabbed me and flung me against the wall. I hit my head and slumped to the floor. Mom spun around, cursing about things I didn’t understand, blaming me for everything, and kicking me in the stomach. She yanked my hair and slammed my head against the wall again.

“This is all your fault!” she screamed.

I startled awake, my eyes wide open, heart racing, and blood roaring in my ears as if I’d just finished a marathon. Breathing heavily, I rubbed my face.

Just a dream.

Calm down.

But the feeling it left behind almost tore me apart. I didn’t want to feel it—the coldness, the loneliness. But they were hollowing me out and dragging me down. I let myself fall back onto the pillow and covered my face with my arm.

Just a dream.

Just a fucking dream.

“Get up, man!” Steffan said, tugging at my upper arm. “I have to work! This isn’t a hotel. Why aren’t you gone yet?”

Despite his harsh tone, I was somehow grateful because his interruption prevented me from spiraling further into misery.

I wondered if I’d actually been asleep since I hadn’t felt this drained in ages. Of course, the past few days had taken their toll. My vocal cords had held out, but as if they knew the recording was over, they started to ache last night. Steffan had been so generous, making me tea before we got down to business.

I was okay with anything to get out of that rehearsal space. And when Steffan messaged me, I had almost no choice. It was overdue for me to pay him a visit if I wanted to keep this place warm for myself. It was just dumb luck that he was up before me, and I was still naked in his bed.

“Get up now! I have to work!” he snapped at me while pulling the curtains open and buttoning his shirt.

“You work from here, so stop complaining.” My throat scratched, and my voice sounded hoarse.

“I have a Zoom meeting in five minutes! So hurry up and get out of here!”

I struggled to get out of bed and gather my clothes. “Is a shower still allowed?”

Steffan grumbled and started making the bed. He fluffed the pillows as if they were punching bags and tossed the blanket around like an old washerwoman. I didn’t even notice that I had paused and watched him. It wasn’t until he threw his hands in the air and shooed me out of the room that I finally snapped out of my trance.

“Fine, whatever! But hurry up! And then go out the back.” He shoved me into the bathroom and handed me my backpack. I didn’t even have to close the door myself.

Shaking my head, I stepped into the shower and made an effort to hurry. But even as I dried myself off and got dressed, I still shook my head in disbelief. Go out the back. What the hell was that about? Steffan’s fancy apartment indeed had two entrances since he merged two apartments into one and now occupied a whole floor. I would have gladly done him the favor, but my jacket and shoes were in the front closet.

For once, I skipped my morning routine. I hastily pulled my hair back into a bun, splashed water on my face, and brushed my teeth with lightning speed. Even though Steffan had his quirks, I wanted to avoid any argument. With my hair loose, I hurried through the hallway, fastening my pants and belt as I went.

“What the ...” I heard Steffan say.

I immediately tried to defuse the situation. “My jacket is still ...”

But as I looked up, I froze in place. On the bottom screen covering half the browser, I caught sight of the video stream with four or five participants. Steffan slammed the laptop shut, and only the blue light from the projector illuminated the screen.

“Damn it! I told you to go out the back!”

I was getting overstimulated, and I felt dizzy. “My jacket,” I said in a scratchy voice, pointing toward the closet.

“Holy shit! Why are you still here?” Steffan said more to himself as he ushered me toward the closet. “At least your hair was down. They probably think you’re a woman now.”

“If you say so,” I replied, slipping on my shoes and putting on the leather jacket.

“See you later!” Steffan said, stressed out as he shut the door behind me.

At least it was a see you later and not goodbye forever. However, I wasn’t so sure if it was wise to keep this guy in my good graces.

Completely drained and powerless, I descended the stairs. Steffan was like a vampire, sucking every last drop of energy from me each time. Only when I was almost at my limit could he finish. Though I had control and fucked him nearly to unconsciousness each time, ultimately, he decided when it was enough. And last night, he was insatiable. I fucked him in every way imaginable, yet the guy never had enough. He must have consumed something, but nothing had ever been openly lying around. Normally, I wouldn’t care, but especially yesterday, I should have known better. I’d put off visiting him for too long. That had backfired now. After those exhausting days, maybe going to him hadn’t been such a good idea after all.

Now, all I craved was rest, silence, and recuperation. And it was only seven o’clock! Ahead of me lay a long day because it was Friday, and the gig at Hyde was still on the agenda.

I really need to sleep.

When I saw the countless commuters at the tram station, something inside me resisted. It was simply too cold to stroll through the city for forty-five minutes, so I got on the tram. At least it was quiet, and hardly anyone was talking. Unfortunately, this had a much too calming effect, giving the dream that Steffan’s behavior had successfully suppressed room to resurface. But it was still there, simmering inside me, threatening to drag me into the dark depths of my past.

Yet, I was on my way home. I couldn’t help it. It was the dream itself that made me do it. Every damn time. And even though I already knew I would regret it today, I couldn’t keep myself away from this place. Despite everything, it was still my home—even if I hated everything about it. And regardless of all the terrible things I’d experienced there, she was still my mother.

Relief washed over me as I found an empty apartment. I tidied up a bit, stashed the pills lying around into my backpack, ate a handful of cornflakes, and eventually retreated to my room.

It was the sound of a slamming door followed by loud arguing from the neighbors next door that jolted me awake. I pulled the blanket over my head and tried to go back to sleep, but it was no use. A glance at my phone told me I’d slept through almost the entire day. It was already late afternoon. My stomach growled, and I felt a slight dizziness again. I dragged myself out of bed and shuffled into the kitchen. To my surprise, Mom was sitting at the kitchen table, smoking a joint and sifting through the mail.

“Hey, sleepyhead!” she said, even giving me a smile.

“Hi,” I grumbled, rubbing my eyes and opening the fridge. There were two yogurts left. With a spoon, I sat down at the table with her and opened the first one. That’s when I noticed her staring at me. “What?”

“You’ve gotten so big,” she said with a sad smile.

“Stop it, Mom. You’re acting like it happened overnight.”

“But it feels that way to me. I ... I’ve been thinking. They have a new program. I thought I could sign up.”

“You’re already in a program,” I said monotonously while eating the yogurt. “They give you methadone, and we both know what you do with it.”

“It might not be the right one,” she said, stubbing out the joint. “But the new program could definitely help me. They’ve helped a lot of people.”

I rolled my eyes and opened the second yogurt.

“You don’t take me seriously at all.”

“Why should I? For years, you’ve talked about quitting. Hasn’t worked out yet, has it?”

“Don’t be so passive-aggressive. That’s not fair.”

I gritted my teeth and took a deep breath. The smell of weed wasn’t making it any easier to calm down. “Fine. Are you signing up?”

“Of course. Do you think I want to keep living like this forever? I promised you that one day we’d move into a nice apartment. I want to work again. Maybe I’ll find a job in a hotel.”

The words were like daggers piercing my heart, yet I forced a smile. For her. I wanted to believe and trust her this one time. And even though I knew better, that hopeful feeling still flared up inside me that everything would be okay. After all these years.

In moments like these, it was hard for me to keep myself in check. The feeling of loss, all those lost years, spread like a black hole inside me, and my vision gradually blurred behind rising tears. Mom reached for my hand and squeezed it tightly. I wanted to pull away, but I couldn’t. Her touch seared into my skin, yet it was oddly comforting. I turned my head away, pressed my lips together, and pulled away from her. Such moments were toxic.

I went to my room, sorted out the dirty laundry from my backpack, and replaced it with clean clothes. When the doorbell rang, I perked up. I heard voices. They were moving through the hallway and into the living room. Then there was a knock on my door.

“Noé?”

I paused for a moment, clutching my fingers into the clean clothes, holding my breath. The doorbell had never brought anything good; I’d learned that years ago. I’d always preferred it when the police forced the door open because that meant the worst was over for the moment. But the ringing dragged me back into my childhood, where I was helpless and couldn’t escape.

“Noé?” Mom opened the door and smiled. “What are you doing?”

I just stared at her. Laughter emanated from the living room, and beer cans were being opened.

“Jorg and Lydia are here.”

That told me everything I needed to know. “What about your plans? The program?” My voice was almost a whisper.

Mom frowned in surprise and looked at me as if I were the biggest idiot on Earth. “I never said I was starting it today,” she snapped. “Can you lend me fifty bucks?”

I stood up, looking at her with bated breath. “I don’t have any money.”

“You’re lying. I know you have some.”

Every word she said intensified the anger within me. “But I don’t have any for you!”

“Don’t yell at me!”

It wasn’t getting any better, and I needed to get out of here. When I turned back to her, she rummaged through the pockets of my leather jacket.

“Are you serious?” I snatched it out of her hand and shoved her out of the way.

“Ow!” she screamed, dramatically falling against the door.

As I stepped into the hallway, Jorg was already coming toward me. “What ... Dana! Are you okay? What’s your problem, Noé?”

I slipped into my leather jacket, and he grabbed my arm. Automatically, I pushed him away, pushed him back against the wall, and pressed my forearm against his throat. “Don’t touch me again, you damn junkie! Or I’ll break your nose.”

Mom wedged herself between us, trying to calm me down. “Please, Noé. He meant well.”

I was breathless when I saw her. I could hardly breathe, as if an iron belt was squeezing my chest together. Panic-stricken, I spun around and yanked the front door open.

“You’re so ungrateful!” she yelled after me. “Good for nothing!”

The door slammed shut behind me, and I ran down the stairs. On the landing, I let out an enraged scream and punched the wall with my fist. Pain shot through my entire arm and paralyzed me for a moment. I could have kept on hitting, but the only thing stopping me was the fact that I had to play bass tonight.