Page 6

6

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Noé

I didn’t want to ruin the day for myself and would have preferred to stay in the rehearsal room for the whole weekend, but unfortunately, that wasn’t possible. My backpack was full of dirty clothes, and I urgently needed some warmer ones. I had no choice but to go back home. Chris was there with his car and offered me a ride. He didn’t live far from me, in a shared apartment with two others.

“Where exactly do you need to go?” he asked as he turned onto Langstrasse.

Only two or three people knew where I lived, and that was just fine by me. Besides, my stomach was growling so loudly now that even Chris could hear it with the engine running, and he didn’t ask any further questions when I asked him to stop in front of the kebab shop.

“Should I pick you up on Tuesday?” he asked as I was getting out and putting on my backpack.

“I’ll let you know, thanks.”

“See you next week then!”

“Bye!” I said and closed the car door.

Serkan knew me well, and as soon as I waved at him, he nodded and began preparing a kebab for me. While I ate, I treated myself to a cola and watched the news on a screen in the corner. I never hurried to get home because I didn’t truly consider it my home. It was just the place where I stored my clothes.

“Well, well, well, look who we have here,” a familiar voice spoke up from behind. “My brother! How are you?”

“Juri-Rock! Hi!”

We fist-bumped, and Juri took the seat next to me. He briefly sniffed my empty plate and glanced at the menu over the counter. “Did you have the kebab?”

“Yeah,” I replied and drank the entire bottle.

Juri crossed his hands behind his head, leaned back, and squinted at me from the side. Dressed all in black, he looked even paler than usual in the white light. His black hair made his face appear rather harsh, and with the scar on his neck, he didn’t seem particularly sympathetic to some. He was only nice to those he knew, but once he started smiling, he had them all wrapped around his finger.

“You look beat, Stoney,” he said, putting his arm around me and pulling me to his shoulder.

“Yeah,” I admitted, holding onto him. My lifestyle was exhausting. “I’m actually on my way home.”

“Oh no.”

Juri knew what I meant. He had grown up one floor below with his father, who also had no desire to be nice. If we hadn’t had each other, we wouldn’t have survived in this house years ago.

“And how’s it going with you, Juri-Rock?” Something wasn’t right. I could see it in his dark green eyes and the way he hugged me, pretending to give me one.

“Same old, same old,” he replied monotonously. The right corner of his mouth, with the thin silver ring on the lower lip, twitched. He squeezed me again, then let go. When his gaze fell on my denim jacket, he rolled his eyes. “Are you still wearing summer clothes?”

I shrugged and smiled. “One of the reasons I need to go home.”

“Do you need money?”

“Thanks, Rock, but you don’t have to give me anything.”

“You know, I share everything with you,” he said, retrieving his wallet from the inside pocket of his black coat. From a bundle of bills, he pulled out a fifty. “Here. Take it.”

“Are you crazy? I’m not taking money from you. I know you’ve earned it the hard way.”

“I know you can use it, so take it. For heaven’s sake, buy yourself a sweater, Stoney. Winter’s coming.”

Reluctantly, I pocketed the money. If I hadn’t, he would have somehow slipped it to me anyway. “Have you found a place to stay yet?”

“Yep,” he replied, taking out a pack of cigarettes. “It’s a bit unconventional, but it’s okay.”

“What do you mean by unconventional?” I asked, laughing.

“At Romero’s. You know.”

“Hmm ...” I grunted in agreement. Yeah, I knew. Fortunately, I hadn’t been desperate enough to knock on Romero’s door yet.

“Come on. Let’s smoke.”

He knew I didn’t smoke, but he also saw that I actually wanted to leave. So, I said goodbye to Serkan and followed Juri out onto the street, where he lit a cigarette.

We were the same age and as close as brothers, but we hadn’t seen each other much lately. “How’s work?” I asked. Even the dark eyeshadow couldn’t distract from his dark circles.

“Which one are you talking about?”

“The new one.”

“Hmm ...” he just said, taking a drag of his cigarette.

I was relieved when he told me about his cooking apprenticeship. At least I didn’t have to worry about him, unlike his other job. But he didn’t want to hear that from me. And before I could start, he hugged me tightly again and held me close.

“Good to see you again,” he said, giving me a kiss on the neck.

“Thanks, Juri-Rock.” It was always hard for me to say goodbye to him.

“It’s okay, Bro. See you around.”

“Yeah. See you.”

Before going home, I bought milk and yogurt from the tiny Greek shop and hoped there were still cornflakes at home. A cool wind picked up as I arrived home at sunset. The weather was about to change, which made me feel a bit uneasy. It was one more reason for me to show up here again. The denim jacket alone wouldn’t be enough to keep me warm in the coming weeks.

I emptied the mailbox and quickly sorted through the mail. Nothing for me—thankfully. Most of the time, it was just bills or reminders that I couldn’t afford to pay. I had no idea how much debt I owed to my health insurance or what the status was. Maybe they had already kicked me out of the system after realizing there was nothing to get from me.

The sound of children laughing came from one of the apartments, while in another, people were arguing intensely. I tried to block the negative energy around me, but some days it was tough. Today was one of those days, and I couldn’t avoid it.

Hopefully, she’s not here.

The apartment door wasn’t locked, which didn’t mean much. Mom never locked it; there was nothing to steal here. I closed the door behind me, turned on the light, and took a deep breath before going down the hallway. As I turned around, I noticed fresh blood splatters on the walls. I paused for a moment, closed my eyes, and tried to center myself.

“Mom?” I stepped into the kitchen and set my mail and backpack on the table. Then I opened the fridge, put the yogurt and milk inside, and threw away the rotten food scraps. Apart from a few eggs and orange juice, there was nothing left.

“Mom, are you there?” A steady breathing came from the living room, so I went to check. She was lying on the couch with a needle in her arm, completely out of it but not entirely gone.

Shaking my head, I approached her. Just seeing her caused me stomach pains. I hated her for it. Even if she managed to get clean, which I no longer believed in, she could never make up for what she had done to me over the years. She was the one who had taken away all hope that my life could ever be different.

And yet, she was my mother.

I removed the syringe from her arm and set it aside. As I sat next to her, I stared at the low table, cluttered with paraphernalia. I rubbed my face in disbelief and pushed the negative emotions back into the dark depths of myself.

“Noé, is that you?” she murmured, touching my arm.

I yanked my arm back and stood up again. I hated it when she touched me as if she were a loving mother. Maybe she once was, but not anymore.

She was twenty-one when she had me. Now she was forty-four and looked like fifty-five. Addiction had eaten her from the inside out. Her teeth had fallen out, and her skin was covered in eczema that wouldn’t heal. In her presence, I felt like a stranger because there was nothing that indicated we were even remotely related.

“I brought yogurt,” I said and disappeared with my backpack into the room that used to be mine.

On the broken wooden floor lay an old, dirty mattress with an even dirtier pillow and a musty blanket. A single light bulb hung from a wire and illuminated the room. I went to the closet and pulled out the bags of dirty laundry. Along with the clothes in my backpack, I left the apartment and headed to the basement, where the laundry room was. Luckily, the washing machine was unoccupied, so I loaded everything into it and returned to my apartment.

“Do you have any money?” my mom asked from the living room.

I rolled my eyes. She could barely sit up, yet she was already asking for money from me, even though she didn’t even know how I earned my money or where I spent most of my time. There were moments when she tried to talk to me, pretending to want to know more about me, but I kept most of it to myself. The more she knew, the more she could take from me.

I lived in two worlds. When I was in one, the other didn’t exist. And I intended to keep it that way. Here, I became a robot who just functioned and deep down harbored the desire to leave, far away, no matter where, but I was trapped, carrying around a rage I suppressed in my other life. Because there, I got ahead with kindness and nice words, even managed to live a life that wasn’t bad by my standards. Although I had fallen through all social networks, I got by on my own. And as long as I could maintain this status quo, I had nothing to complain about.

“Noé? Did you hear me? Do you have any money?”

“No,” I said coldly and returned to my room, where I searched the closet for warm jackets. I found my leather jacket but couldn’t find my winter coat. I kept searching because I knew it had to be here somewhere.

“Mom! Where’s my coat?”

“No idea,” she replied, appearing in the doorway with a cigarette. She exhaled the smoke and stifled a yawn. It surprised me that she was already standing upright again, but when someone like her wanted something, unexpected forces were released.

I was almost a head taller than her, but that had never stopped her from attacking me. Like a monkey, she had once jumped on me, knocked me to the ground, and waved a knife around, so that in the end, I had no choice but to knock her down with a right hook. While bleeding, I had fled the apartment, and only at Juri’s house did I notice the five cuts on my arm. Juri treated my injuries while I sat there apathetic. I couldn’t believe I had hit my mother.

“It was here! My winter coat was hanging in this closet, along with the scarf.”

“Oh yeah? Was it black?”

I rolled my eyes again. “Yes! Tell me you didn’t sell it!”

Her gaze cleared a bit, and she seemed to remember. “I got two hundred francs for it.”

“Two hundred? That was...” I bit back my words and threw my hands up. “How could you? Dammit, Mom!”

“Why do you even have such a fancy coat? You didn’t buy that yourself, did you? Or did you hustle for it?”

I stared at her and wanted to strangle her.

Calm down! It’s just a coat!

But it had been a gift. Not payment. A genuine gift from Pascal, a guy I met last winter after a concert at Hyde. I was in the stairwell and couldn’t bring myself to leave the building, as thick snowflakes were falling outside and an icy wind swept across Zurich. I only had my leather jacket and a scarf. And if there was one thing I feared, it was the cold.

Pascal suddenly stood beside me. His company had rented the whole club that evening and celebrated. We had talked a bit before, but nothing more. He had a slightly mocking way when he tried to make a joke, but he never went below the belt. And he had seen right through me.

“Here, take my coat,” he had said, taking it off. “Otherwise, you’ll freeze to death.”

I declined and shook my head. “I can’t accept that.”

“Yes. You can and you will. It’s new, and I have three others in my closet. You look like you could really use it. I’m already here with the car.”

“I have nothing to give you for it.”

“You already entertained me today. Isn’t that something?”

Pascal came to the club a few more times and listened to us play. But it wasn’t until the fourth meeting that we hooked up.

The coat had been a gift, and my mother had simply sold it.

“I asked you something,” she said, exhaling smoke.

The familiar anger boiled up inside me, and I gritted my teeth. “No! I don’t have any money!”

And then I was stuck here, too, because the damn washing machine still had at least an hour to spin, and the dryer would need another hour afterward. I let out an exasperated sigh, pushed it aside, and went back to the kitchen.

“You smell like food,” she said, following me. “And you filled the fridge. How did you pay for that?”

My anger reached its boiling point. I turned to her, punched the wall with full force, and screamed at her. “Stop it!”

“All right,” she muttered and trudged back into the living room. “There’s no need to shout like that.”

Before I collapsed in pain, I sat down at the kitchen table, rested my elbows on the table, and buried my face in my hands. The pain in my right hand lingered and helped distract me from all this shit here. I ignored the bleeding. My heart was racing, and I wanted to burst out of my skin.

When I peeked through my fingers, my eyes fell on a packet of pills. They were always lying around here. Romero supplied my mother with them when she sobbed to him that she couldn’t sleep. Every packet I came across, I pocketed. It meant fewer pills for her to swallow, although I knew she would eventually call Romero again. In a way, he was my surefire way to earn a little extra on the side. When money got tight, I sold the stuff on the street on weekends.

Irritated, I retreated to my room, sat on the bed with my back against the wall, and put the headphones in my ears. Chris had already sent me a message with the link, so I listened to the songs while sending a few messages. I didn’t plan on sorting anything out tonight; I was already in a bad mood. No, tonight I had to endure here and hope that tomorrow morning I had the apartment to myself for a while. But it didn’t hurt to check the situation for next week already. And as it looked, luck was on my side because I got two positive replies to my date requests right away. That was good because it meant I wouldn’t have to sleep in the rehearsal room every day. There was no shower there. And no matter how often you aired out the room, it always smelled of stale beer and cigarettes.

At some point, I heard laughter and loud music from the living room, so I went to check. Please, no drug party! Unfortunately, that was exactly what seemed to be happening here tonight. Two guys were filling glasses with vodka on the living room table while my mother and two other women were doing a few lines.

“You didn’t even say your son was here, Dana!” Jorg trumpeted, holding out a full glass to me. “Here! Let’s toast!”

My pulse went from zero to a hundred. My body froze, and I didn’t know if I was sweating or if I was cold. With my mouth open, I stared at Jorg, the glass, and then the others. My presence seemed to please them.

“Sit with us!” Lydia sang and waved me over. “There’s enough coke for everyone.”

I felt dizzy and somehow managed to stagger back to my room, pack my things, and disappear from the apartment. I huddled on the landing of the first floor. There was an outlet nearby that I often used to charge my phone when the apartment became too much for me. Agitated, I buried my face between my knees and took deep breaths. I could have slapped myself for even allowing the slightest bit of hope. But of course, she had to throw a drug party tonight of all nights. I felt sick to my stomach, and I hated myself for the self-imposed rules not to carry bad moods from one world to another. But as much as I wanted to break them and even the idea crossed my mind to drop by Alex’s, I wouldn’t. Never would I impose myself on anyone tonight—for my own sake and for the sake of everyone else. With trembling hands, I turned the music back on and tried to focus on the songs.

“Hola, Guapo! Qué tal?”

I lifted my head and pulled out an earbud. “Romero.”

“You came back today?” he called mockingly. “And now you’re sitting out here?”

“If I had known what was going down here tonight, I would’ve stayed away.”

Romero flashed his sleazy sunshine smile, almost blinding me with his tanned skin. The guy was almost fifty and had been dyeing his gray roots black for years. “I’m just dropping by,” he said, holding up a few pizza boxes, trying to make it seem like that was all he brought. “Hungry? Want one?”

I looked at him with a blank expression. “And what do you want for it?”

Romero grabbed his crotch. “Blow me. And if I can fuck you, you’ll get the coke too.”

“I’d rather starve,” I said casually and put the earbud back in.

Romero just shrugged and disappeared up the stairs.

Once the phone was charged, I went down to the basement to throw the wet laundry into the dryer. Ultimately, I stayed there, sitting in a corner, using the leather jacket as a blanket, and trying to get some sleep. At least I had some peace and quiet here.