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She sighs. “That it might help you get some kind of closure?”
“If I go to her funeral?”Are you fucking kidding me?
Celine turns her head away, plucking at her lower lip. “This is probably going to be a complete surprise to you right now,” she says, peering over at me warily. “But my mom died, too.”
“I know.”
“What do you mean, you know?” Celine stares at me. “What do you know?”
Shit. That shouldn’t have slipped out of my mouth…Faced with the lurking stare she fixes me with, I decide to take flight forward. “I know that not only your mother but your whole family was killed in a car accident when you were a kid.”
“That…” She gasps. “How do you know that?”
“Mareike… Your aunt told me.” Before she can pester me further, I reveal the rest as well. “At the housewarming party.”
“Uh-huh. Because of the grand piano, right?” Celine presses her lips together as I nod. Then she looks at me. “So, it’s settled: We’ll go to Cologne on Friday.” Not a question, a statement.
Or rather a threat?
28. To Be asProtectedas Plunch
Celine
“Here we are.” Philipp lets the pickup roll out under the winter-bare trees on the edge of the small suburban cemetery in Cologne. Then he stops the engine and takes a deep breath.
I check the time. It’s just before half past nine. We got through faster than the route planner had calculated. “What do we do now?” The funeral doesn’t start until eleven thirty.
Philipp drums his fingers on the steering wheel. “I don’t know. Sitting around here seems ridiculous”
After a good three and a half hours of driving, I feel like moving, too. “We can get our bearings,” I suggest, and he nods.
Silently, we follow the signs to the mortuary chapel.
Gravel crunches under the soles of our shoes. A gust of wind blows my hair into my face.
As I brush the strands behind my ear, I take the opportunity to scan Philipp out of the corner of my eye.
He has turned up the collar of his black short coat. The wide-brimmed hat I remember from his appearance at theTurquoise Piano Loungehalf an eternity ago he pulled deep down low on his head.
Was it really a good idea to drag him here?
Some forty meters in front of us, a funeral procession crosses the wide main path on which we walk out—a hearse in front at walking pace, behind it a brass band, then the mourners wrapped in dark cloth. They support each other, not only physically. They also visibly provide each other with spiritual comfort.
Oh my God! What have I done?Once again, I look over at Philipp.
His face frozen into an emotionless mask, and his hands clenched into fists and buried in his coat pockets, he tramps along beside me.
Have I projected onto him my unfulfilled wish to be able to say goodbye to my parents and my baby brother?
“Philipp…” I reach out and touch him on the sleeve.
“Yes?”
“Shall we turn back?” I try to smile, feeling myself fail.
“Nope.” He shakes his head. “No, it’s… you were right. I have to face it.”
All right, if he says so?
