And Kai yells: “Damn right! Goddamn fucking hell!” from our roof down into the canyons of the buildings below. And Hannover is lit up from a thousand wounds in the darkness.
And from somewhere down below someone bellows, “Settle down! Can’t a man drink a beer in peace anymore?!”
“Stupid idea, Heiko, just a fucking stupid idea,” I say and examine myself in the rearview mirror of my car. The impression of the headrest can be seen clearly on my cheek. I don’t even know why I do it to myself and keep coming back again and again. But I’m also not able to prevent myself.
A glance at the clock: it’s just after 3 a.m. I’ve been hanging here for a good two hours. Should at least have grabbed something to drink at the gas station. I lean my seat back as far as it goes. It clicks, and I try stretching my tingling legs to find a more comfortable position. I look up at Yvonne’s bedroom window. It’s the only room on the street with the light still on. Here and there you can see the blue flicker from a television screen on the visible ceilings and walls. I shift the driver’s seat lower so I don’t have to move my head to have a direct view of Yvonne’s window. I turn the spare key to her apartment over in my fingers, running my thumb over the teeth. Just like I did when I swiped it from the basket in the hallway. When we were still together, I was never allowed to have it. Of course, I always asked why, but the question soon became pointless. Maybe she already had the locks changed long ago.
“Fuck it,” I groan and deposit the key in the glove compartment again. Then I lean back, room in view. No shadow or any indication in the part of the bedroom visible to me. Just white, blank ceiling.
While my eyes continue to watch, I stray mentally. Mie came into the kitchen as I was working with the pigeons and cleaning the feces from the boards. I only saw the rough silhouette of her head. Can’t even say whether she saw me at all. Come on, of course. She has to have looked out into the fucking garden at least once while she was in the kitchen. Even if it was by accident. I nodded to her. Briefly. Not too friendly. Didn’t want to give her the feeling she should come out now and we’d chat while I scrubbed the shit off the wooden roosts. I hadn’t treated her very well when my father showed up with her and she moved in with us. I mean, I didn’t do anything bad. I just acted like she was invisible, which isn’t hard to do with her, because she already acts pretty much like a ghost. But I don’t know, maybe that was unfair. Maybe not, either, but that’s how it was.
My eyelids are gradually becoming heavy. The light’s still on. I don’t want to, but I wonder what she’s doing right now. If she’s doing anything at all. Who knows if she didn’t already fall asleep hours ago. She always was so tired after shooting up. At least the couple of times I was along for it. When I didn’t go, not wanting to leave her alone for a week till she came around by herself.
I’m tired. Exhausted. Axel and I mostly avoided crossing paths in the gym. I know he won’t do it, but somehow I expect him to bring up the thing at Timpen. Explain himself and what he was thinking. He won’t do it. I still don’t have the right words. Can’t do it without preparation, otherwise I’ll go down without a whimper. I couldn’t care less. But I do. I want for it to work. I want what he held out for me, even promised formally.
I nod off in the driver’s seat.
Match against Karlruher SC. They were actually still in the Bundesliga then, like Hannover. You almost can’t imagine that today. But they do sort of belong there somehow. Unlike Cottbus, especially, who were also in the top league then. 96 may have been meandering through the season, but we all agreed that regardless of where they ended up, the main thing was that Cottbus was below them. Even if that meant the Reds got relegated to the next league, coming in second to last. Fucking irrelevant if Cottbus came in last.
It’s one of those things about seats in the stadium and affiliation. Generally. Sure, everyone has a seat number that’s indicated on their ticket. Even in the North Curve, where the ultras own the stands. The oldest ultra groups are in the upper tiers. The younger groups are down below. Which is also probably some hierarchy thing. So the established groups can look down on the young mob. But we wouldn’t have given a rat’s ass anyway. Contrary to the so-called journalism produced by the media that always wants to lump us together with the ultras. What do they know?
It was the same with our allotted spots. Also because of hierarchy. So we were standing behind the fans in the North Curve stands, in the corridor behind the upper tiers. Axel, Tomek, and the other full members stood in the middle behind them. As young guns, we were a little farther back. Basically in the middle of the corridor with people on their way to the toilet, or the stands for food or beer, or returning. We don’t go to the stadium very often. It’s just not a place for our type. We move in other circles, but once in a while you just have to show up. Show that we’re still here. In other words, for the ones that recognize us, which is just a fraction of the usual stadium-goers.
“But this is bullshit, man,” Jojo complained. “Can’t see anything from here. Karlsruhe nailed the penalty kick, right?”
“Jojo, would you get off my back? Right here is just our place.”
“Yeah, they made it from the mark,” said Ulf. At almost six foot six, he’s always able to see more.
Kai pokes me and leans his head over and says: “Here they come again.”
Plainclothes cops. Walking by for the second or third time. Axel and the old boys pointedly turned their backs to the cops walking by.
Kai stepped out from our group, started to curtsy, and grinned, saying: “G’day, dear sirs.”
The cops move on, looking offended. No clue who they thought they were fooling with the show. Hastily pulling jerseys over their ironed shirts, still sticking out a little. Throwing scarves around their necks, like lipstick on pigs. And then clutching the alibi beer, which they can’t even touch because they’re on duty. Touch with their mouths, I mean. The piss they serve in the stadium couldn’t get much flatter.
I told him, “You’d better be glad Axel didn’t see that. You know what he thinks about making a scene.”
Kai raised his hands in defense, pursed his lips, and said, “Oh, dangerous, super dangerous.”
“Oh, cut the crap.” I took a go at him but couldn’t hold back a grin.
Then a group of ultras came up from the stands, probably just wanted to piss, and looked like they’d just come from the black bloc of disrepute. They walked past us and scanned us from head to toe.
I heard one of them say something like, “What kind of jokers are these?” Then the little fucker giggled.
Kai’s mood flipped immediately. “Did you hear what that little shit just said?”
“Well?” I asked casually and tried to get a glimpse of the game, but people were constantly getting in the way.
“Didn’t even know who we were. They don’t have hair on their nads yet, those dickheads.”
Jojo, who was still grumbling to himself in irritation and had ignored the ultras, said, “For real, Heiko, I laid out twenty bucks for the ticket and can’t see a thing. It’s fucking pointless. We could just as well have watched the game in the comfort of Timpen. Besides, the draft back here is murder. Could you ask your uncle if we can join them up front?”
I exhaled my annoyance and said, “You know how it works. This is our spot.”
I pointed to the floor between us and looked at the group, which wasn’t just the four of us but also a couple other young guns from back when. They’ve all left us by now.