Chapter Text
Night was slowly giving way to morning. The sky was getting brighter, and frost was lining the windows. The snow did not want to melt at all; on the contrary, there was more and more of it.
Luca sat on the bed and rubbed his leg nervously. The wrenching pain refused to subside, drilling into his knee and radiating all the way to his ankle. Groaning, he rose from the bed, tightened his fingers on his cane, and walked to the kitchen.
He began rifling through the cupboards in search of coffee, but to his displeasure, he could not find even a pinch. He sighed heavily and looked out of the window. It wasn't the best time to go out, but the nearby shop should be open by now.
He didn't want to wake Tracy, so he threw on his coat, grabbed his phone, and, still wearing his fluffy pyjama trousers, went outside.
The raging frost hit him in the face. It pinched his cheeks and nose. After a quick trip on the tram, he entered the shop. Tracy usually drank coffee in the workshop, so he planned to take only a small jar.
As he scanned the coffee packets with sleepy eyes, a familiar voice came to his ears.
"Would you like me to bring something to you today? Some food."
"Vodka."
"Something else?"
Silence.
"You can buy lasagna."
Luca finally grabbed a packet of coffee and walked over to the checkout.
Andrew was standing behind it, stacking cigarettes.
‘Hi,’ Luca muttered.
Andrew turned around very slowly. He raised his eyebrows for a brief moment, then discarded the waggon of cigarettes and took the coffee from him without a word.
"The app?"
Luca pulled out his phone and handed it to him.
"How's the car?"
"Dead!" Shouted Norton from the other end of the shop. "It's gone for scrap, and I've got to look for a new one."
He walked over to them, panting. He crumpled up a large cardboard box and threw it into the back room.
Luca took his hunted prey, and Andrew immediately turned to his cigarette job. Balsa looked at him closely. He no longer had stitches on his fingers.
"Could you pass me the thin green LMs?" If his doctor had heard that, he would have been shouted down long ago. "And a lighter."
"ID, please." Andrew's voice was tired.
Balsa started patting his pockets. He didn't take his wallet.
"Do I really look that young?" He nervously searched for the app on his damn phone.
Andrew shrugged his shoulders.
"I do what I'm told."
Luca substituted the phone in front of his face with digital ID. After waking up from his coma, he still thought he was just a little knucklehead who had just turned eighteen and passed his high school diploma.
He was already 21.
Andrew slipped him his cigarettes.
Luca didn't even smoke, but he decided that this was what he needed most right now.
"So.." Luca grunted. "Thanks. Later." he turned to Norton. "Volkswagen Golf. They're the cheapest when it comes to repairs."
And he left.
He managed to smoke one cigarette before the tram arrived, and when he entered the flat, Tracy was already awake. She was shuffling around the kitchen.
"I was about to call your mother. Where have you been?"
"The coffee was over." He waved the jar and set the water on.
"I could have jumped for it. No one would have minded if I was late..."
"My leg hurt. I had to stretch it."
He sat down with his cup at the table and started stirring with a spoon. He wasn't hungry at all, and the vision of seeing a therapist today made his stomach turn. His mother thought it was an excellent idea, as he needed to finally come to terms with his trauma and work it out somehow. He would probably never return to full ability.
And that scared him.
"I'm off. I'll see you later."
"Mm, bye." He muttered, not even looking at her.
Meds. Nasty meds. He would forget to take them again.
He grabbed his organiser and poured out the contents for the day.
He hadn't taken his medication for three days now.
*
"Why didn't you do the assignments? I'm not judging you."
Andrew looked at the blank bundle of papers.
"I didn't have time. It wouldn't have done me any good."
Ada nodded her head.
"That's all right. But why do you think so?"
Andrew shrugged his shoulders.
"I've never seen any effect in them."
"In that case, we can do them together. Unless you'd rather talk about something else."
The man thought for a long moment. He never initiated a conversation on his own. It was Ada who mostly pulled him by the tongue.
At that moment, however, he felt the urge to throw out all his problems, his ailments, and his pains. Did he trust Ada? He didn't know. She couldn't tell anyone; half of Wrocław wouldn't know that this foreigner who lives in front of the funeral parlour has such and such a problem.
"A year ago, my mom died," he said before his brain could catch up with his language.
Ada turned a blank page and nodded, encouraging the conversation to continue.
"When my father came back from the wake, he threw me out of the house. I had a week to get out. I packed loose in the car because there wasn't a single cardboard box or commercial box in the house. My father hated accruement."
He stopped talking. He didn't know if he could talk about the rest. How would Ada react? Maybe she would send him to conversion therapy...
"I lived with Norton for a while. But my bereavement and malaise finished him off. He was studying for exams and needed peace and quiet. He bit his lip hard until he felt a metallic taste on his tongue. - We broke up. And I had to look for another flat."
Ada tapped the pad with a pen.
"Did you break up? So you were a couple?"
Kreiss felt himself going white.
"Yes."
The therapist nodded.
"Go on."
"I think that's it."
"All right. What was the cause of your mother's death?"
"Cancer. Metastatic."
"As if on cue, she coughed."
"Tell me a bit about how you felt at the time of her death."
"I didn't even get a chance to say goodbye to her. I was at work when they called from the hospital. By the time I got there, it was already over. A moment's pause. "It didn't get to me at first. It wasn't until the funeral, when I saw the coffin, that I burst into tears. Until I ran out of tissues."
"I understand that you had a very good relationship with her."
"Yes. Better than with my father. She was... loving. We were a very religious family; my father dragged me to church by force, even when we lived in Germany. My mother stood up for me at the time, thinking it would discourage me from my faith sooner. I don't know if I believe. Maybe. I haven't entered a church since the day of the funeral."
"And Norton? What was your relationship like?"
"We met at work. But we didn't fit together as a... couple. It only occurred to me recently." There was bitterness in the tone of his voice. "He wanted the best for me. But my suicide attempt tipped the scales of bitterness."
"Suicide attempt?"
"I wanted to jump off the balcony."
A moment of silence. Ada took a deep breath.
'"Andrew, at this point I should notify the hospital. And you should be in the ward."
"But that was a year ago."
"It doesn't matter, Andrew. I'm afraid your life is further in danger." She tapped her pen on the pad again. "But I can't do this without your permission."
"I don't want to be there."
"I'm not forcing you to do anything. I'm just informing you of the procedures. Do you still have suicidal thoughts?"
Kreiss stared dully at the edge of the table.
"Yes."
"And have you had any more attempts?"
"No." He looked somewhere between her eyes. Then he gives the impression of making eye contact with her. "Seriously.:
"I believe you, Andrew." She grunted. "How do you plan to spend today?"
"I'm going to buy a new candle and go to my mother's grave. I've neglected it a bit, and my father doesn't go to it at all. And then Norton is supposed to come over. And I'm going to get drunk to the point of unconsciousness."
"You'll get drunk."
"Yeah. I've been escaping into alcohol for a while."
"How often do you drink?"
"It depends. A couple of cans of beer in the evening if I have a shift the next day. If not, then vodka until my head starts to spin."
Ada looked at the clock.
"And why do you do it?"
"When I drink, I don't really get what's going on around me. I just feel... light. And I go to sleep, and that's it. I feel good, mentally. Physically, the next day it's a bit worse."
The woman shook her head.
"No, Andrew. This... pleasure, bliss. It won't last long. The more you drink, the faster you'll fall into this spiral. You won't feel good. You'll fall into even worse alcoholism; you'll feel worse and worse. You will start to feel aggression and anger."
"Then what else can I do? What else can I do to feel better?"
Ada straightened up in her chair.
"Do you have any hobbies, or did you have one but discontinued it?"
Kreiss turned his head away. Out of shame.
"My mother taught me how to crochet. And gardening."
"If you focus on one activity, it can bring you comfort. Your thoughts will be focused on what you are doing. And not on what has happened. Of course, thoughts can't be stopped. They will come and go. But look at it this way. You won't hurt yourself with a yarn or by looking at a flower."
A moment's pause.
"We have to go now, but I still have a task for you. Buy yourself a little plant. Did your mom have any favourite flowers? Or do you have a favourite of your own?"
"Irises."
"Buy yourself an iris. Preferably a seed and set up a notebook for it. Write down everything you do and your emotions. Are you okay with that?"
Andrew merely nodded his head.
After leaving the office, he met up with Luca. He was sitting in a plastic chair and stared dully at a single point. However, as soon as the door creaked open, he looked at the man.
"Oh. Here we are again."
Andrew threw his jacket over himself.
"Do you perhaps need a lift after the session?"
"Excuse me?"
"I can give you a lift. It's slippery. Do you live far from here?"
"A bit."
"I'll be smoking outside."
*
Never get in a stranger's car, his mom repeated when he finally got permission to go to the shop by himself and play outside.
Never take a stranger in the car, she repeated, when he finally passed his driving license and got a car.
This stranger just climbed into his front passenger seat and closed the door without a word.
Andrew started the vehicle and, with a loud roar of the engine, drove out of the facility's grounds.
"Why?"
"Hm?" He didn't raise his eyes at him from his phone and Google Maps.
"Why do you want to give me a lift?"
"It's dark, cold, and slippery."
Luca looked at his shoes.
"I can take care of myself."
"Do you live in Brochow* too?"
"No. In Móchobór Wielki*. All you have to do is drop me off at the nearest Lidl."
"Look at that. Fate doesn't seem to want us to part."
"What?"
"I need to pop down to Lidl for some shopping too."
The shopping turned out to be just a worryingly large assortment of alcohol. Glass bottles of cherry vodka rang loudly against each other as they left the shop. Andrew held a candle and refills in his other hand.
Luca grunted.
"They've got a smoking area at the Literatka** We could go out for a drink. Or for a beer."
"I'll be on hungover tomorrow. But I have the afternoon off on Friday. Are you sure you don't want me to drive you all the way home?"
"No, I want to walk."
They exchanged numbers, and Andrew got in the car again and drove to the cemetery.
The orange flames of candles illuminated the whole place. The loud gate creaked as he stepped inside. Despite so many bodies lying here, dark monuments, and sad inscriptions, he could walk to his mother's grave blindfolded.
He lit a cigarette, grabbed the stiff cloth he always kept behind the grave, and wiped the thick layer of snow off the slab.
His father had never come here since her death.
Feeling anger rising within him, he threw the rag to the same spot and sat down on the wet bench.
He did the same. He had not visited for some time. He couldn't get himself together and come here.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry. But I'm already here."
His bones were suddenly numb and sluggish, but he picked himself up and lit a candle and then put up a new, large candle.
"She'd rip your head off for that."
He turned around. Norton stood with his own candle, gasping.
"For that cigarette."
Kreiss handed him the lighter and sat down again. He extinguished the cigarette against the snow and dropped it into the spent cartridge. Impassively, he began to stare at the dancing flames.
"That flew awfully fast," he said quietly.
Norton put his hand on his shoulder.
"I think she wouldn't want you to cry for her."
Andrew raised his voice.
"She's my own mother..."
"I know, I know, Andrew. You never get out of grief. But you've got to get over it. It's been too long. He tried to lift him up. 'Come on, let's go to your place."
Back at the flat, as Norton began preparing the promised lasagna, Kreiss pulled out the first bottle of vodka.
"Don't pour it for me."
Andrew raised his eyebrows.
"You're not drinking?"
"I don't feel like it."
Andrew shrugged his shoulders and made a drink for himself. He was already starting his second when Norton sat down next to him and handed him a plate.
"Can I sleep at your place?"
He nodded.
"Right." Norton reached into his bag and pulled out a smaller paper one. "Here. Maybe this will lift your spirits at least a little."
Andrew hesitantly took the package and looked inside. Inside was a small white box. He opened it.
"What is it?" He took in his hands a black, oblong device.
"A tobacco heater. Apparently better than cigarettes. Here's two more packets of refills. I don't know what the flavours are; I think these are mint..."
Andrew started the warmer, inserted a refill, and took a deep drag.
A tentative smile crept across his face.
"Thanks."
*
Andrew looked at his reflection on the glass table.
"Mom used to bake good cakes. His voice was slurred from the alcohol."
He took a drag on his cigarette.
Norton was lightly dozing on the sofa.
"I just can't understand why. Why her!"
He hurled the cigarette butt into his drink glass and hid his face in his hands.
He even noticed when his body was shaken by a loud, strong sob.
Mostly he didn't cry. He tried not to. He tried to hide it and never allowed himself even a hint of weakness.
He couldn't shake the feeling that things had started to pile up. It's getting worse and worse. The sessions with Ada were meaningless conversations that were never going to help him.
Now he felt angry at Norton; he was furious that he had prevented him from this one attempt, this one opportunity to jump out, to end it all.
Campbell carefully put his arms around him.
Andrew hid his face in his shoulder and burst into tears.