Joachim came home. In the hallway he brushed off the snow that was stuck to Benny’s fur, and took off his jacket. He didn’t much like that old, threadbare jacket, and would only put it on if he thought it was going to be extremely cold. He sat at the small kitchen table and I poured him some of the coffee I’d made. After that we began to wrap the presents he’d bought. He’d bought a cookbook for his mother and an eau de cologne for his father. He apologized that he hadn’t been able to get anything for me, but that was only to be expected, since I’d only told him I was coming a couple of days ago. The day was now as dark as the depths of night, and the sound of the gusting wind could be heard through the shuddering windows. The falling snow swirled through the air, practically a blizzard. Joachim said we’d best wear scarves and gloves. And hats too, I added. He took a chocolate from the box he’d carried into the room, gave it to Benny, and took another for himself. When he’d finished eating it, chewing slowly like a man deep in thought, he picked out another piece. I asked if he wanted me to make him some bread and honey, but he shook his head and fetched a big tub of Nutella from the cupboard, which he’d bought on sale. He got out a knife and a plate and began to slather the chocolate on the bread I’d given him. Benny watched this process with a look of great interest, wagging his tail all the while. The kitchen only had one small light, fixed directly above the dishwasher. Yellow light from the wall lamp further down the side of the building streamed up and illuminated the whirling snowstorm outside the window. After taking a sip of coffee Joachim opened his mouth wide and bit off a chunk of the chocolate-covered bread. He didn’t give any to Benny, who waited patiently nonetheless. “Did you bring boots?” Joachim asked. “If you didn’t, your feet’ll get soaked. That’s how bad this snow is.” I’d only brought one pair of shoes with me; rain boots, as luck would have it. I took off Joachim’s pajamas, which I’d slept in, and found a pair of jeans to put on. I put a sweater on over my T-shirt, pulled on some thick woolen socks and went into the bathroom to comb my hair. The kitchen door stood open and through it I could see Joachim polishing off the rest of the bread, muttering to himself all the while. When our eyes met he raised his eyebrows as if to say, what’s the hurry?, and carried on slowly chewing the bread, staring up at the ceiling with his body stretched out in the chair. I stood beside the front door and waited quietly until he’d finished getting ready. Benny saw the clothes Joachim was wearing and gave a short, sharp bark, angry at being left behind. But there was nothing to be done. My love. Joachim put his arms around Benny’s neck and soothed him, kissing him again and again. My love, you have to stay here quietly. You wait here and I’ll be back before you know it. Good boy, my love.
When we left the house the blizzard had abated somewhat, but the wind was as strong as ever. It was already completely dark. We began to walk silently along the snow-covered road toward the light at the tram stop. Joachim walked in front, carrying a blue backpack into which he’d stuffed the presents. It was the selfsame backpack I remembered from three years ago, and even back then it had already been pretty old. Now it had holes in the bottom, big enough to be instantly noticeable. I was a little surprised that he was still using it. I could see that the snow had soaked through the tops of his thin sneakers, and his feet were getting wet. His thin, light-colored jeans flapped around his skinny shins as he hurried along. When we arrived at the tram stop we brushed ourselves off and checked the timetable.
“We’ll have to wait twenty minutes or so. What shitty luck,” Joachim grumbled. We were the only people waiting there. On the opposite platform there were two young children and one woman, standing stock-still and bundled up in bulky winter clothes like an Inuit family. In an attempt to ward off the tedium and the cold, I turned my attention to the various notices pinned up on the board and gave them a thorough examination. There was an ad for beer that made my teeth chatter just looking at it. Except for a family play, an exhibition of paintings, an exhibition of ancient relics classified by cultural-anthropological periods, and large business ads, they were all advertising New Year’s fireworks parties. There was also something about writers giving a public reading at the town’s only café. Joachim tapped his finger on the place where it said “free admission.”
“Want to go?”
I said I wasn’t sure. A cup of coffee would set me back at least two euros, and I couldn’t make a single cup last for over two hours, but then if we ordered beer or something that would make it too expensive. Plus, there would be a fee for the brochure. But, more than anything else, I really didn’t feel like going out anywhere, not while the weather was still like this. It was just too cold.
“I think I’d rather just stay home and read a book.”
“Sure, whatever you want,” Joachim said. “When the weather gets better you should go to the library and use my card. That’s free, after all. And maybe we’ll get to go to a party for New Year’s, have some wine. Also, when you said you were coming I booked us tickets for the Philharmonic’s New Year concert. Lucky there were still some seats left.”
“Wasn’t it expensive?”
“A bit. And I wasn’t sure if it’s the kind of thing you like. It’s choral music, you see. Probably Mozart and Beethoven’s masses.”
“I don’t mind.”
“Do you have any dress clothes? If not, you can always call one of your girlfriends and ask to borrow something.”
“Don’t worry about it, I brought something with me.”
All I’d brought was a jacket with a stiff collar and some woolen trousers that were slightly stretched at the knees, but I figured they would be good enough. We stood there shivering in silence until the tram pulled in. The snow, which had somehow found its way in through our hats and scarves, formed droplets of icy water and trickled down to the napes of our necks. It was a Christmas of freezing temperatures and driving snow. Identical rectangular houses lined both sides of the road, impassive as soldiers on a midwinter battlefield. The tram passed along the tracks between them, between those houses where curtains hung in the windows and Christmas decorations glittered on candlelit balconies. Three years ago I often got lost here, as there was no way to tell the buildings apart unless you checked the house numbers. On top of that, the area was completely devoid of any kind of landmark, even so much as a shop with a sign. But I didn’t lose heart even when I realized I was lost, just continued to walk along the same road. Turning to the left, there’s a vacant lot that the locals use as a dump. Large iron bins stand beside flowerbeds. Even in that vacant patch of ground, yellow wildflowers bloom in the spring. Continuing on, the quiet road comes to a sudden end and a very different scene unfolds: a large T-junction appears with trams running along the crisscrossing tracks, each going in different directions. On the corner is a Turkish kebab shop; in the summer, when the weather is good, the shop is given a fresh coat of paint, dazzlingly white, and tables and chairs are set out on the tiny patch of grass that forms the yard, and they sell beer and lamb skewers. I’ve never gone into the shop, even though I’ve walked down this road many times from summer to late autumn, but I always notice