Memories of someone else
Hier ist das Kapitel in Englisch.^^ Es ist keine eins-zu-eins Übersetzung. Das geht ja auch gar nicht.
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Memories of someone else
I look at her.
I look at this woman with the blond hair and grey eyes. She’s sitting on a bench, here in this big shopping centre. A man with black hair stands in front of her and is talking to her. She answers with a smile and a nod. The boy on her lap laughs from joy. Her face is soft and you can tell just by looking at her that everything is perfect.
I look up. I see all the different shops around me and try to find out where I am. Where is my mother? How did I end up here? I don’t know these stores. I’ve never been in this part of the shopping centre before. I’ve been always to the tanning salon.
Where am I?
I haven’t the slightest idea.
It doesn’t matter, I think. I don’t want to go back to that woman. She isn’t my mother and yet…she is. I don’t know. Why do I think something like this? I’m confused. This isn’t as it is supposed to be. But how is it supposed to be?
I look at her again. The man and the boy are gone. She is alone, waiting for them to come back.
Without being aware of it my legs move, bringing me closer to her. They move till I am right in front of her, till she recognizes me. Her eyes are grey like storm clouds but not as scary as them.
She is beautiful.
And she seems familiar. It is as if I would know her my whole life. But I don’t. I am only six years old. I’ve never met her before but somehow… I know her.
Who is she?
Who am I?
I’m sick of not knowing the answers to those questions. It would be nice if I would stop feeling all these things. Sometimes I think I experienced all that before. That’s impossible, isn’t it?
What do I want from her?
“Hey, small one.”, she says. “Did you get lost?”
I don’t know how but I manage to shake my head. Somehow I am where I belong, where I wanted to be all this year.
Did I mention that I’m only six? This is insane! I have no idea why I feel all this. Answer would be appreciated.
“Are you happy?”, I ask her suddenly. She looks stunned at me. I can understand her. I don’t get it myself. I mean, if a totally strange boy would come to you and ask you if your happy you wouldn’t be so happy about it yourself.
Another word is forming in the back of my mind. It’s a name, I think. It feels like one. I close my eyes, trying to grab it. It becomes clearer. The form gets sharper, it becomes visible and I can read it. Then the words are on my tongue before I can think them: “Are you happy, Annabeth?”, I hear myself saying.
“Where do you know my name?”, she asks me and I can hear from hear voice that she is a little bit shocked.
I don’t know, I would like to say but nothing comes out of my mouth. I would be happy if I know where all these strange things come from. I only look – no – I stare at her, hoping that all the answers I seek would jump out right from this woman's face.
When she realizes I won’t answer, she smiles again. “I’ve seen too many strange things to wonder about that. You don’t seem like… one of them.” Strange thing? What strange things? Like the creatures I see sometimes? The monsters, here in the middle of New York and nobody else notices them? The same strange things?
My thoughts disappear, when she says: “You remind me of someone.” I see the smile fade from her face and her eyes become sad.
My heart beats faster and again I don’t know why. Because she talked about strange things, I’m telling myself. Instead I ask her: “Whom?”
“A friend of mine.”, she answers. “He had the same blond hair and the same blue eyes, like you have. He died twelve years ago.”
Suddenly a pain shoots through my body, starting from a spot under my left arm, washing through my whole innards and setting it on fire. Horrified I breath out and as fast as the pain came it disappears. But I can still feel it. Like my whole left side is burning.
“W-What was his na-name?”, I stumble over my own words. My heart is taking a triathlon now. It feels like it will stop doing its job any minute. My throat is dry like a dessert on a hot-like-hell summer day.
Annabeths smile appears again and I feel that she remembers something good. I wish she did. The imagination of that is enough to make me happy in a strange – crazy – way.
That’s it! I’m going crazy. I knew it. This conversation is the best proof.
“Luke.”, she finally answer.
My heart loses its triathlon and stops beating. At the same time a chill goes through my mind and touches something on the surface. That’s my name. I mean… I know it is, at least a part of it. That name and another are written on my birth certificate. Till now it didn’t have another meaning than that to me. But at once… it’s different.
“But to answer your question…”, she starts again, “Yes, I am happy, very happy to be more specific. I have a loving husband and a wonderful child. And on the top of that I love my job. So, yeah… I am happy. I can’t complain.”
I saw here husband and son before and I know that they have a strong bond between them. But my stupid curiosity still isn’t satisfied. “What do you do?”, I ask her further.
“I am an architect.” Her face glows from happiness and pride and I kind of know that this is what she ever wanted.
“Congratulation.”, I manage to say while the feeling of regret grabs my heart.
“Thank you. Won’t you ask me what I have designed?”
I know she wants to tell me. She wants to talk about it because she just loves it so much.
“I am not allowed to see it.”, I say and again I don’t know what these words mean.
“What do you mean?”
“Mommy!”, a child shouts. She looks up, to her little boy, who comes back with his daddy. The boy has a new set of plastic swords in his hand.
I know it’s stupid but I’m jealous. Does he really know how to handle it?
I have good talking. As if I would know! But honestly… plastic swords? It’s not like the monsters teeth are made of plastic, too! They could give him a least one made of wooden, if they don’t want him to have a real one. That wouldn’t be so light and would give him a better feeling for the use of it.
Oh, just shut up!
And stop thinking!, I tell myself.
Before she looks at me again I start running. It’s as if I have been awoken and remembered that I shouldn’t be here, not with her or with them. I have not the right to do so.
I find my way back to my mother. Surprisingly she stands in front of the tanning salon, my half-brother Marc on her hand. I can hardly believe that she was waiting for me.
“Where have you been!?”, she shouts angry at me. I only can look down, unable to come up with a reasonable answer. She will never believe me and I don’t want it to explain. I simply can’t. But she doesn’t want an explanation anyway.
“Look at your brother, Marc! He was waiting for me the whole time while I was in the cabin, without running away. You are his brother! You should have looked after him! But no, the young Mister is strolling around! I wish you would be more like Marc, but I guess with your father, that’s impossible.”, she complains about me, while all people, who pass by glance at us. I am not bothered by it. I know this story about my father – whom I have never met, not even saw his face from a photograph – and my perfect brother, too well. Sometimes I’ve got the feeling that she has once eaten a broken record, which plays the same song over and over again. All I know about my father is that he is an idiot and that I am like him.
Translation: I am an idiot too. She doesn’t stop telling me that whenever she can.
Marc has a different father, my stepfather. Needless to say that this alone is enough to make him perfect – what I don’t quite understand but I am only a child. I have hopes that I will, when I am old enough. That is what they usually tell you, when you don’t understand something as a kid, right? Just wait till you are old enough, then you will understand everything. Meanwhile… I have one thought: Maybe I just have no luck with family.
And why did I think that? Don’t know… and I give up trying to figure it out.
My mother grabs my arm and we walk home. I am wondering if I will ever find out, what happened today.
