“Ya,” Sonia says, smiling at Otto, making him puff up even more than he usually is. “The guide we were working with to help you get around has taken ill. I know the schedule is, how do you say, complicated. You need someone who knows Berlin very well. I was explaining this to Otto and luckily, he has agreed to be your guide during your entire stay in Berlin. Isn’t thatwunderbar?”
“Oh yeah,” Hayes says, not hiding his sarcasm. “Wonder-bar.”
“But Otto, don’t you have a performance coming up? I’m sure you’re way too busy. We’ve got our translate and map apps and this is our third city. At this point we’ve got it down. I’m sure we can manage.”
“Aisha did not think so,” Sonia says, her severity quickly returning.
Otto takes off his purple tinted sunglasses, pouts and looks at me. “What did I tell you, Sonia? Isn’t he as sweet as he looks? Oh Brady, what a littlelieblingyou are. Do not worry. Sonia and I have worked it out so you can even attend the performance of my theater collective. It will make wonderful content.” Then he looks at Hayes. “Even a ticket for you, Hey-yas. But it is a very sensitive performance. I’m not sure it is something that is, I believe the expression is, up your alley?” Otto feigns innocence but it’s easy to see he’s trolling Hayes, who takes the bait.
“Thanks, but I think I can decide what is and is not up my alley.” A porter comes over to help with the luggage and Hayes politely shoos him away. He takes the strap of one bag over his head, another on his shoulder and uses both arms to handle the remaining pieces. I offer to help but he waves me away too. It must weigh a ton but with brute force he carries all of the luggage into the hotel. I watch his muscles tense through his shirt, and I wonder if this old-fashioned show of masculine bluster is his way of showing me that he cares about me.
But’s he’s been such a jerk since Barcelona. Why can’t he for once tell me how he feels instead of making me guess or trying to signal it through what he thinks is a romantic gesture? Maybe he just wants to get up to the room and pee and this is the fastest way to do it. I have no idea. If he would tell me how he feels, I could deal with it. Why do I have to be in charge of interpreting what everything he does means?
As soon as we enter the reception area I’m overwhelmed by the scent of cocoa, burnt orange and roasting coffee. In London the signature scent was subtle, but here it’s more pronounced. The chocolate factory roots are even more apparent on the ceiling where a labyrinth of copper tubing that must have been used to pipe fresh molten chocolate from one part of the factory to another is on display in the rafters. The wall sconces are made of vintage chocolate molds opened and polished to reflect the light.
We head straight up to our room, which luckily is more subtle on the chocolate theme. Warm ivory tones with accents of dark mocha, and the resort’s signature emerald. Hayes starts to drop the luggage on the bed and I intervene. “No, no, not on the bed. At least by the closet,” I say. He grunts and turns to drop everything on the floor in front of the couch. I hate having all those germs on the place where I sleep. “The porter offered to help. I don’t know why you’re being so stubborn.”
“I told you I got it,” he says, massaging his shoulder with his hand. “What I don’t know is why I just got stuck spending every waking minute in Berlin with a guy who thinks he’s God’s gift to the world.”
“He does not think… okay, well he does think that. I swear I was only planning to meet him for a drink. That’s all. It’s not my fault he’s been assigned to be our babysitter. But he’s helping us out. You need to at least pretend to be grateful. And he really isn’t that bad.”
“He spent his first year after college writing a memoir about his life. The kid isn’t even twenty-five and he wrote a memoir with an artistic manifesto.” Hayes gets a bottle of water from the wet bar and twists off the cap like he’s decapitating it.
“How did you know that?” I’m surprised Hayes has kept up with Otto in any way.
“I saw it in some alumni bulletin. It’s not like I read the book.”
“It was pretty good actually. I mean the manifesto didn’t make any sense to me…”
“You read it?” Hayes’ eyes narrow and he puts water bottle down with more force than is necessary. I can tell there is an emotion behind it but I can’t tell if it is shock or disappointment. Why do I always have to guess?
“He sent me a copy. What could I do? I had to,” I say, giving him the truth.
Hayes walks over to the window and opens the sheer curtain so we can both see the TV tower rising over the former DDR, a needle in the sky piercing a grey soccer ball looming in the distance. “I didn’t know you had been in touch with him.” He doesn’t look back at me.
“A little. Does that bother you?” I ask, and realize the question is too direct. I should have found a more subtle approach.
“No,” he says turning toward me sharply. “It doesn’t bother me at all.” His entire body is rigid armor. He’s protecting himself, but from what? Otto? Please, he knows I am not now nor could I ever be serious about Otto, and why should it matter to him? He’s the one pulling away. Why does he think he can have it both ways? He doesn’t get to keep his feelings locked away from me and also be jealous when someone else shows me attention.
“You sure are acting like it bothers you. Look, we should talk about Barcelona.” That’s really what all this is about.
“There is nothing to talk about,” he says, and turns back toward the window. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Hayes! Stop it. Grow up. We fucked in Barcelona and now you’re jealous that Otto is flirting so hard with me.” How can he say there’s nothing to talk about? It’s infuriating, and it seem like my feelings are invalid.
“I am not jealous. Jealousy is a pointless emotion that serves no one.”
“Oh my God. As usual you believe you can outthink your feelings.” I switch to a robot voice. “Jealousy is not logical ergo tanto I will not have this feeling which humans call jealousy.” I move my hands in a robot dance and as soon as I do, I know I have gone too far. Hayes hates that people think that just because he doesn’t show his emotions, he doesn’t have them. I know this because he shared it during one of those times when he let his guard down and showed me who he really is. I shouldn’t use this information in this way, but what am I supposed to do? I want him to open up.
“I’m sorry,” I say, placing my hand on the chair next to me to steady my breathing and control myself. “You started acting strange the morning after we…” I trail off because I’m not sure how to describe that incredible night in this moment, but I have to ask the question even though I might not like the answer. “Hayes, what is going on?”
Chapter 26
Berlin
Hayes
What am I supposed to say to Brady? “You think you’re impressing your parents but really they set this whole thing up just to get you out of town for the summer.” It would shatter him. Even when I’ve been furious with him, I have never ever wanted to hurt him. I need to stick to my decision to keep my mouth shut.
