Текст книги "Crystal Garden"

Автор книги: Ewa Bash

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Ewa Bash
Crystal Garden

Prologue

The moonlight barely penetrated the narrow lancet windows of the medieval Bohemian church. Small candles dimly lit old frescoes depicting saints. The church was quiet and deserted, except for an elderly priest who was dosing over a book. The door opened almost silently, letting in an icy wind. A young man lingered in the doorway, as if considering his next move. He stepped in, closed the door behind him and walked up the aisle straight to the altar, the sound of his footsteps echoing from the stone walls. The snowflakes that sparkled in his blond hair melted, leaving footprints on his white coat. He held a long canvas package, and as he knelt before the altar, he placed it down and unfolded it to reveal an ancient sword. Upon the sword were engraved words that glistened in the candlelight. The young man folded his hands, bowed his head to the side, and looked up at the crucified Christ above the altar.

“So, here I am.” He spoke quietly in English with a slight German accent. “You know, this time I did everything I could.” He fell into a thoughtful silence before speaking again. “I ask only one thing of you – take care of them.”

Part I

1

I was born in Western Germany on a cold, rainy day in October 1986. My mother once told me that she had to travel to the hospital all alone in the pouring rain that night, as my father was at work – as usual. He was always working, day and night. His days were spent at the timber works, and at night he worked as a warehouse operative. Of course, on such a schedule, he didn’t have time for his family. As for my mother, she wrote for the local newspaper, giving tips on how to build relationships or grow gladioli. She was a perfect example of how you can give advice without actually being a specialist in anything. In our family, everyone was on their own. We were not even a family in its primary sense, just a collection of people under one roof.

It’s no wonder I became a troubled teen. I wasn’t a brawler or a drug addict, oh no. I studied well and came home on time. My “problem” was that nobody knew how to communicate with me. People around seemed so boring that I stayed silent most of the time, simply not understanding why anyone would bother to discuss such mundane things as weather, football or a film they watched last Sunday. In a way, I was a rebel, as I didn’t give a damn about public opinion. I was living in my own world by my own rules. I did what I wanted, the way I wanted.

The only person who could tolerate me was Sunny. His real name was Robert, but nobody called him that, not even his parents or teachers. I don’t remember how he came to be known as Sunny. Maybe it was because of his red hair and freckles.

Sunny pretended to be a pacifist and always avoided conflict. It was so important to him that everyone adored him. And people did adore him. He was positive, friendly, a ray of sunshine in this grey world. But I knew that this was only pretense, the mask he wore.

Nobody understood his relationship with me. It seemed to outsiders that we had nothing in common, but that wasn’t so. Our imaginations ran wild together, which troubled his parents. They scolded him, put him under house arrest, banned him from hanging out with me, or watching TV. My parents, on the other hand, had little interest in my life. Nothing was said as long as I came home before dinner, or at least before breakfast.

We lived in a small house in the suburbs at the edge of the forest. There, Sunny and I spent our childhood. At dawn, we would ride our bikes into the woods to our homemade hut filled with dishes, blankets and even food. We’d make a fire and cook fish that we’d caught in the Danube. Once, after reading “The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn” we built a raft to journey down the river, but it fell apart after a couple of miles. It was a miracle that we managed to get back to the shore. I remember being afraid of the water for at least a month after that.

Thinking back, we did many crazy things. We dared each other to jump off the roofs, and always seemed to have skinned knees and elbows. We rode our bikes like madmen trying to find out who was the fastest. We hunted birds with catapults. Once, Sunny took his father’s air rifle, and we shot a thrush. It was so small, so defenseless. I still remember that first acquaintance with death very well, and that uncomfortable feeling of pity and frustration. Why? Just like that? For fun? But I didn’t find it funny. It seemed too cruel. We buried the thrush and never hunted animals again – at least not together as children.

Sunny was undoubtedly the leader, but I tried to keep up. Looking back on those days, I realise that he was always walking a tightrope. Always tempting fate. I wonder what were his chances of growing up.

When we were a little older, we started playing football in the school playground with other guys, but I found it boring. To tell you the truth, I wasn’t really interested in kicking a ball. I much preferred sitting on the rocky shore of the hazy Danube early in the morning and dreaming about the future.

“When I grow up,” Sunny told me, “I’m gonna become an archeologist like Indiana Jones.” His eyes glistened as he spoke. “I will search for artifacts and have adventures.”

My dream was that in a couple of years I would find a job and move away from my parents, start making money, buy my first car and someday marry a beautiful girl. Life would be as it should be, ordinary and simple. Such naivety! Sunny’s head was always in the clouds, but I remained firmly on the ground. I was convinced that miracles would never happen to those who were waiting for them. I could only rely on myself and was almost ready to live a long and boring life like my parents did and their parents before them, and their grandparents, and so on to Adam, or whoever we descended from.

Time passed by, and when we were fourteen, we fell in love with the same girl. Her name was Anna and she came from Berlin. She was fostered by her grandfather after her parents died in a car crash. Anna’s life was tough, but she didn’t give up. She was always smiling. I still remember the cloudy winter morning when she first walked into our class. She seemed to come from another world. Her cheeks were rosy from the cold, her big blue eyes were shining and her sandy-coloured curls were covered with snowflakes. And her smile. I would have given anything in the world for her to smile at me.

Sunny was the first to befriend her. One day at break, he sat down at her desk, and they started laughing about something. It upset me so much that after class I caught him in the school playground and nailed him to the wall, ready for a fight.

“Leave Annie alone. Find some other girl.”

“But I like her,” he replied. He pushed me slightly, but I continued to hold him by his jacket collar.

“I like her too.”

“You will never be good enough for her!” Sunny said as he pushed harder so that I almost lost my balance. “You will never amount to anything.” He pushed again. “You’d prefer to suffer alone than ever say a word to her!”

And then, for the first time in my life, I hit him. With my fist. On his face. He was taken aback and looked surprised. But I was still furious and struck him again. Only then did he hit back. His first blow reached my jaw, the second caught me somewhere near the eyebrow. We both fell, fighting each other with varying success until we were both exhausted. Sunny was the first to give up. He sat against a wall, breathing heavily. His jacket was torn and missing one button, the blood dried on his split lip. I guess I looked no better. My jaw was starting to hurt – I guessed he broke it.

“Gosh, you surprised me,” Sunny said. “I never imagined you’d do something like that. Because of a girl.” He smiled.”

“I said I like her,” I muttered as I sat down beside him. My anger soon passed, and it even started to feel like some kind of moral victory. I guess I really needed to blow off steam. “I’ll ask her for a dance on Valentine’s Day.”

“Deal,” said Sunny and held out his hand. “Peace?”

“Peace,” I replied as I shook his hand. “I’m sorry.”

Suddenly, I felt ashamed. He was my best friend who was always beside me, and I’d treated him so badly. Who knows if that fight had never happened, and he’d spent more time with Anna, then things could have ended very differently…

“It’s OK. It was actually cool to fight you,” he smiled. “That’s what friends are for, right?” and we laughed.

I prepared thoroughly for Valentine’s Day. It’s no wonder, really, as there was nothing more important at that time in my life than asking a girl for the first dance. I put on my best jeans and even ironed my shirt. The bruises on my face were almost gone, and I was handsome again. At least that’s what I thought. Sunny, although he claimed to have given up on Anna, dressed up like a bridegroom and even wore some perfume.

However, when the time came, to our utter dismay, the first dance with Anna was won by Martin the fat guy. She could have had anybody, why Martin! We thought he was the nerdiest boy at school, mainly because he was always poking his nose where it wasn’t wanted and was eager to give his opinion on everything. The adults on the other hand adored him. “Such a clever boy!” Well, he clearly impressed Anna, and we watched on as he danced all night with our girl. Sunny found this extremely funny.

“Let’s go and beat him!” he chuckled, nudging me with his elbow. “Let’s go, huh?” I knew he wasn’t saying it to tease me, and I was no longer angry with him. But I was angry with the rest of the world and its unspeakable injustice. If only I knew then what real injustice was. I admit that I didn’t approach Anna at the party, in fact, not until the following May. But we’ll come back to that later.

2

That year, Sunny’s parents sent him to a summer camp somewhere near Berlin, and I stayed at home. I spent three weeks loitering around with no idea what to do. I was bored. Computers and TV shows didn’t interest me, and I didn’t read books. It was then that I hit upon the idea to draw comic characters. I don’t remember why or how, but I started to depict beautiful Amazons, who lived in a magical world and fought with an army of demons with their magical powers. I bought a dozen different comics and at first tried to imitate them, but then started to draw myself. That’s how all of a sudden I discovered I was a talented artist.

Of course, I drew comics about her. My great and good warrior of light fighting for justice. What an irony! I dreamed of her and only of her, although I was sure I would never be good enough for her. So much of my time was wasted on doubt and uncertainty. I was afraid of failure. What if she won’t talk to me? What if she laughs at me? I thought I wouldn’t be able to bear it. Well, now I know I am capable of surviving something much worse.

That was the summer it all went wrong. Sunny came back from the camp and was constantly talking about his new friends. He told me how they ran away from the camp each night and had fun in Berlin, and how they met some university guys who helped them to get into one of the coolest clubs in the city. I was jealous and envious, I couldn’t even begin to imagine such adventures.

Gradually we began to drift apart. Sunny was always hanging out with his new friends who I didn’t like, and I was busy with my comic book. If only I knew then how little time we had, I would have done anything to spend more time with him. But I didn’t know, and at the time I felt betrayed by him, when in actual fact it was probably me who betrayed him. I was so occupied with my personal drama over Anna that I didn’t notice his sudden and strange metamorphoses. Sunny became unsociable, and his mood seemed to change twenty times an hour. One minute he was happy and smiling, the next he was depressed or even aggressive. Everyone thought he was just growing up and going through a normal teenage phase – but by the time it came to raise the alarm, it was too late.

That day, Sunny and I decided to skip classes. It was the end of November, and it was snowing for the first time that year. Big, fluffy snowflakes fell as we walked through the park. There was a large old orchard next to the school back then, with tree-lined paths, wooden benches, a pond with ducks and a humpback bridge. It was a crowded place in the summer. Picnickers, sweethearts, artists, and those who liked to read outdoors could be seen under every apple tree. But that day there was nobody at all. The snow had been falling all morning, and the trees bowed under the white caps. Sunny was as happy as a child. He was running on the fresh snow, picking it up and tossing it into the air. I looked at him and laughed, then all of a sudden, he fell to his knees. His shoulders were shaking. I couldn’t see his face at first, so I thought he was laughing too. After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably less than a minute, I rushed to him. He was scooping snow with his hands and looking in front of him. Tears were rolling down his face. It was the first time I’d noticed how blue his eyes were, like the sky in January. His teardrops were huge.

“Hey, what’s up?” I asked, sitting beside him. No reaction. He kept staring at something, and he didn’t even seem to blink.

“Sunny,” I slightly patted him on the shoulder. “Hey, what happened? Tell me.”

He closed his eyes, but didn’t make a sound. The falling snow was melting on his cheeks, diluting his tears. I was embarrassed. I’d never seen him cry. We sat like that for a long time, my jeans got wet from the snow. His hands seemed to be freezing, and he put them into his pockets, but he didn’t change his position. I was feeling cold too and was about to suggest we go home, when Sunny spoke.

“We were at a club, seven of us. Alex and I were the only 14, but the others were older. They studied at uni. We had two girls with us, real beauties. They bought us some beer and allowed us to dance with them. We thought it was so cool, and we were so grown up. But then they suggested we try something interesting to have more fun…”

He paused, and I patiently waited. Assumptions, each worse than the last, were lining up in my head, but I didn’t dare ask him to continue. To be honest, I don’t think I wanted to know the truth.

“They offered us some pills.” Sunny rose to his feet after quite an effort. His knees were wet with snow, and he didn’t even shake it off. “I couldn’t say no,” he said quietly and turned to walk away.

I sat and considered his words for a while, then I rose and went after him. “Sunny, you …” I started to say, but couldn’t finish.

He stopped and slowly turned around. I can still see his face with the look of despair, hopelessness and fear.

“I’m an addict, Walter.” His voice broke, then he turned and ran.

I ran after him, but soon fell behind. I didn’t really want to catch up with him. I wanted to wake up. I wanted this conversation to have never happened. I wanted last summer to have never happened too. I thought my world had collapsed. How wrong I was! My world would collapse a bit later.

For a while, everything was as before. Once again, we played “shooters” and “strategies” on the internet, we hung around and played football in the backyard. We barely spoke about his addiction. From time to time, Sunny would say he wanted to quit, but didn’t know where to start. He didn’t know whom to speak to or how to ask for help. He was afraid that if people at school found out, there would be a huge scandal. At best, he would be kicked out and sent to rehab, and this would be a disgrace to his whole family and to our school as well. His parents, as ill-luck would have it, were too busy with their own problems. Out of the blue, they decided that after 15 years of marriage, they were getting a divorce. In their minds, their son was now more or less grown up, and they wanted a second youth. So, Sunny felt almost alone in his fight, and I could not give him the support he needed. After all, I was only 15. I had no idea what to do. We just kept on pretending that nothing was wrong.

3

One day after school, Sunny came up to me. His cheeks were red, his eyes glistened, and his pupils were wildly dilated.

“Come with me,” he whispered. His voice was hoarse.

“Where to?” For some reason, I also spoke in a whisper.

“A dude is having a party.” He moved very close to me. “I want you to meet my friends.”

“Friends?” I said as I tried to step back from him. I didn’t like my personal space violated, even by him.

“You don’t know them,” he replied as he moved closer, “but they are awesome.”

I took another step back and felt the wall behind me. There was no escape. Sunny was waiting for an answer. His breath was heavy and hot, almost like he had a fever. I didn’t want to go with him, but I reluctantly agreed.

He took me to the other side of the town. He knew the area well and had no trouble finding his way along the streets lined with dozens of identical apartment buildings. We went into one of them and took the lift to the fifth floor. The corridors were bright and clean, with potted flowers on windowsills. This was not how I’d pictured a drug dealer’s hang-out to look. Sunny knocked on one of the doors. A moment later we heard hurried footsteps, and as the lock clicked, a guy appeared in the doorway. He was wearing jeans with a half-buttoned shirt, and his hair was a mess. In short, he looked like a completely ordinary teenager.

“Hey, duuude,” drawled the guy, smiling from ear to ear and patting Sunny on the shoulder.

“This is Walter,” Sunny said to introduce me.

The guy nodded and closed the door. Meanwhile, Sunny took off his jacket and walked into the living room. I hesitated a bit in the hallway. I looked at my reflection in the huge mirror that hung on the wall. I was regretting my decision to come here, and it was written on my face. My pupils we almost like Sunny’s, except I was not stoned.

The apartment clearly belonged to rich people. In the beautiful, expensively furnished living room were several teenagers. Two more guys and three girls. They were about my age and well-dressed. These were the sort of teens that would usually be referred to as “gilded youth”; children of rich parents who have everything but have no idea how to entertain themselves. Oh, Sunny, how did you get here? We did not belong in this circle. We weren’t bought expensive cars and apartments in the city for our birthdays.

They were happy to see Sunny. The girls immediately fell around his neck. I felt a twinge of jealousy. After Sunny finished his welcome hugs and kisses, he remembered that I was still standing beside him. He began to introduce me, but I didn’t even try to remember their names. I already hated them. I envied them. I could barely save enough money to buy a motorbike, and they had everything. Of course, Sunny wouldn’t turn down the opportunity to be part of this society. Was it good for him? No. On the other hand, I wasn’t much of a friend either, if he preferred this company to mine.

They were drinking cocktails, smoking, laughing, discussing recent parties, and planning holidays amongst other stuff. I just sat there and watched. I had nothing to say to them, even if I wanted to. I saw them getting drunk and I felt disgusted. I leaned back in the chair and closed my eyes. I was dizzy from the cigarette smoke.

I must have dozed off, as I was brought back to consciousness by a scream. The scream came from one of the girls. She was writhing in hysterics and one of the guys was holding her and trying to shut her mouth. She was pointing at the other girl who was slowly slipping off the couch until she was standing with one knee on the floor and was holding on to the coffee table. She was incredibly pale and seemed to be suffocating. Sunny was gently supporting her. He slowly and carefully laid the girl on the floor. She was shivering, but I wasn’t certain if she was still conscious. She stared in front of her, but seemed to see nothing. Another guy felt her pulse. I rushed to them, but the third guy pushed me aside. He had some kind of syringe in his hand. Sunny rose to his feet, gave way to the guy and grabbed me by the elbow. He was pulling me to the door.

“Come, we should leave,” he said. “They know what to do. Come. Nobody should see us here.”

Sunny slipped my jacket over my shoulders and practically pushed me out of the door. I was trying to resist and couldn’t take my eyes off what was happening in the living room. Everyone was crowded around the girl, and as I glanced back, I saw a pale hand on the green carpet. It appeared to be completely lifeless.