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Are those footsteps? Accompanied by rattling and the quiet squeaking of hinges?
With a groan, I spin around, grab the cell phone from the nightstand and turn it on.Fucking hell! My alarm won’t go ringing for another ten minutes. But why is Celine up already?Although my brain starts working only with a delay, I can already figure out that it must be her who is making noise.
A yawn almost dislocates my lower jaw.
Even though I can no longer think of sleeping, I could still doze off for a bit with my eyes closed. I breathe in, breathe out. In. Out. In.
My brain doesn’t think much of those relaxation exercises. It has taken hold of the thought of Celine.
She’s been living here for a good eight weeks now, and after the uproar of the first few days, a chill routine has developed between us.
The adjustment of having to get out of bed so early in the morning so I can drive her to the office in time to start work has been surprisingly easy. And by now, I’m even a little dreading the moment when Matze has finished fixing her car. I pucker my mouth into a self-deprecating smirk.
Oh my fucking God! Did I end up falling for this innocent, pure-skinned sweetness?
Deep in the far corners of my memory, I dig for the faint echoes this feeling left with me. I must have been sixteen or seventeen the last time I allowed it.But why now?
The alarm tone of my cell phone relieves me of my musings:Time to start the day!
I swing back the covers, turn on the light and jump out of bed. Quietly whistling the theme fromThe Bald Cadaverto myself, I grab a fresh towel from the closet and stroll through the living area to the shower.
There’s a rapping. “Philipp?” comes through the door. “May I come in?”
Celine! Fuck! What’s her problem?“Wait!” I yell, wrapping the terrycloth around my bare hips. If it’s so urgent that she wants to see me this early, there’s no time to get dressed. With a sideways glance at the mirror, I check that the fabric covers everything. “Come in!”
The door swings open, and in float…
…the flickering flames of countless candles.
Damnit! What the hell does that mean?
“Lang zal hij leven[44],” warbles Celine, coming closer. “Lang zal hij leven, lang zal hij leven in de gloria[45]…” Her face, illuminated by the warm candlelight, radiates nothing but kindness and joy.
And… love?Irritated, I jostle the unwanted emotion away. Instead, I put on the most neutral smile possible.
Celine beams at me. She increases the birthday serenade from line to line as she walks over to the table. “…in de glooo-riii-aaa, in de glooo-riii-aaa![46]“
I stare at her, the smile frozen on my face. It’s clear as day that she’s expecting me to say something.But what?
“That was the Dutch version ofHe shall live long and prosper,” she explains to me, which I’ve long since figured out. “Happy birthday, Philipp!”
My mouth goes dry. My heartbeat overshoots. Panic grips my field of vision with black claws. Not wanting to reveal to Celine the agony that has gripped me, I fix my eyes on the birthday cake. Even without counting off, I know there are twenty-nine candles burning.
“Aren’t you going to blow them out, Philipp?”
That voice! How does it get here? To my refuge, my sanctuary?
“…all right, Philipp?” A slender, cool hand touches me on the arm.
I want to shake her off, but then I look up and realize it’s Celine. Nother.
Her expression is worried. “Are you okay, Philipp?”
Definitely not. Which she shouldn’t know, though. I swallow and swallow until the tightness slides down my throat. “All is well,” I lie. “I just don’t usually… celebrate birthdays.”
“You don’t?” Irritation flickers in her eyes. “What, are you a Jehovah’s Witness or something? But…” She purses her lips. “You wished me a happy birthday last year.”
“Jehovah’s Witness?” Celine’s guess is so insane and far-fetched that a laugh coming from my heart releases my trepidation.
