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This story is 100% fictional. Any resemblances to actual people (living or dead), organizations or companies, events are entirely coincidental.
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Asterisk (*) will be used to describe past events, dreams or thoughts.
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Chapter 02
My lawyer's instincts used to weird situations tells me that there are some problems ahead. That I'll be involved in a story that can bring me more headache than joy. As always, everything in Tim's life is a big knot to be untied.
I told my partners that I'll be away for a few days. They commit themselves to monitor my files, as I've done with theirs before. If any matter requires my presence, they'll let me know.
It'll be difficult to tell Marco. I think as I leave leave the office and drive to his apartment.
My relationship with Marco began a year ago. I'm not in love. Far from it. But I'm thinking about getting married and probably adopt a child. Who knows. I'm getting old and I think it's time to start a family. We get along well, and I think that's enough.
I won't lie, I'm also proud to be seen beside him, as if he's a trophy. Marco is a model, two years younger than me. Italian descend. Tall, slim. Black hair, grey eyes and olive skin. Beautiful features. He is elegant and refined. In many ways, the ideal partner for a lawyer like me.
I heard many times from my sister not to look for a partner based on their looks or statuses but I honestly don't care. After all, I've never been the type to believe in great love stories.
I'm tired of hearing that marriage cannot be seen as a business. Using your brain and not your heart to choose the ideal partner for you, deep down, isn't a bad idea. If anything, it gives the relationship better chances of working out, since I can check the compatibility between our personalities and their suitability to my habits, among other requirements. I needed someone by my side that didn't ask me for more than what I can give. And Marco is perfect for that role. Also, I must confess, there's a great chemistry between us. Especially between four walls.
Marco's grandma was an Italian fashion designer. She designed the wedding dress for my sister (a wedding gift from me) before she passed away a year ago. And I met Marco during her funeral.
His grandma tried to help him as much as she could. Even setting an international modelling career for him. But it never took off. He even worked for some big brands in Italy, lived in the U.S. for a few years, but never got a contract from a big agency, not for lack of beauty or talent. It was because he had a bad temperament. They found it very difficult to work with him; he had arguments with hairdressers, make-up artists, photographers and stylists. Arguments that turned into gossip, which reach other modeling agencies and fashion designers. None of them wanted to work with him.
I always believed that the story was exaggerated. With me he's calm and kind. A little bit spoiled but with a strong personality. He likes to be in charge. He wants everything his way. But I never saw him lose his temper. Apart from a few snobbish looks he gives to people he considers beneath him, but nothing more than that.
When I met Marco, his career was already declining. As soon as he returned from America, despite the repercussions of his scandals, he was invited to be the cover of some German magazines. Then, for some photo shoots. But, after a few months, he only did one or two catalogues for some small brands and ended up being a social media influencer.
I don't even remember how our relationship started. I would take him to social events sometimes. Whenever I get an invitation to a party he immediately wants to buy clothes, even if he has dozens and dozens of clothes that he has never worn.
To tell you the truth, I'm subsidizing his life. It wasn't a planned situation. With so little work, what he earns posting pictures online or promoting a product on his Instagram, isn't enough to pay the rent for his apartment. So I started giving him money for small expenses. Soon I began to give him a fixed monthly allowance. Then I began to finance his lifestyle. And last month, I got him a credit card.
I never asked about his love life before we started dating. I prefer to live without knowing it, and asking too many questions about my partner's past is not my thing. To me, what matters in a relationship is what happens from the moment we meet. Feeling insecure or jealous of some person your partner met or dated in the past is nonsense.
I think I started dating Marco because he is attractive. After a few months I realized we got along pretty well. I've met guys better than him, I'm not going to lie. Good-looking, pleasant, intelligent, good-humoured guys. But they all wanted something I couldn't give: love.
Sometimes I think that my rational side is too strong. That the daily struggle made me too emotionless that I couldn't even fall in love with anyone. That my heart is closed to any feeling that isn't planned. Marco however fitted perfectly into my life style. He doesn't expect me to shower him with love promises. He knows he won't get them from me, and he accepts that.
And even without love, I want to get married. I'll be thirty in a few weeks. So why not get married, and build a family, like my friends? But the decision is never more than a thought. It's never taken. I can never understand the whirlwind of emotions that invade me whenever I think about asking Marco to marry me. It feels as if I'm betraying someone by marrying him.
"I will love you forever."
The words spoken with such passion in my dream comes back to my thoughts more often than I'd like, I must admit. They even irritate me.
My logical reasoning is fighting against this dream that interferes with my real, practical life. I try to convince myself that the ideal thing to do is to marry Marco right away. But the more I think about the definitive proposal, the more intensely the dream returns.
If it isn't for the recurrence of that dream, for the young man I saw dying in the fire almost every night, I would've already made the decision.
Of all the people in my life, the only ones who don't like Marco are my mother, Tim and Julia. My mother really doesn't talk to me, so I'll never understand why she doesn't like him. My sister doesn't understand it either and I stopped asking.
With Tim and Julia is a different story. We tried to go out the four of us together a few times. It was always a disaster. They don't match at all. Marco lives on a diet. If Tim wants to eat pizza, Marco will make a face. When Marco insists on going to a fancy restaurant, both Tim and Julia will make it clear that they aren't comfortable with the idea, because I'll be the one paying the bill.
Marco's reaction to the couple wasn't a suprise, "I don't know how you can be friends with them."
"Tim has been my best friend since uni. And Julia..."
He interrupted me without blinking, "You can't dwell on the past, Nikolas. What good does this friendship bring to you? Nothing! They don't know anyone important, they don't have any social status, they don't circulate in the high society, they don't get invitations for anything... Why do you need them? Just to chitchat? You must understand that your life has changed. You live another life now!"
Whenever he says these things, I just sigh and ignore him.
"It won't be easy to explain my trip to him," I say to myself as I knock his door. This trip will disrupt his plans for the week. He already confirmed our presence in several events. I'm sure he won't be pleased to know that I have to travel, especially because of Tim.
He opens the door. He looks stunning! The black designer suit, tight to his body, accentuates his beauty. "You look good," I kiss him on the lips and smile without enthusiasm. This suit must have put a hole in my credit card.
I honestly don't need to worry too much about my bank balance, but I'm not a billionaire and spending so much money, for nothing, on a single suit or useless luxuries is too much... Once again I regret giving him the card. Of course I did it to make our lives easier. I expected him to spend within limits. The problem is that for each person there is different notion of limit. And his is very different from mine!
I need to talk to him about that. But not now.
He is ready to leave and I need to talk about my trip. "Let's go?" he says.
I search for the right words. I find it very unpleasant to reschedule an appointment like that. I have to prepare myself for his change of mood. It won't be easy. I hesitate and I look at him again, all dressed up. A smile on his lips. But there is also a frown.
"Let's go?" He repeats.
"We're not going out today, Marco," I say as softly as I can.
"But we agreed to go to my friend's dinner party."
"I have to travel early tomorrow morning. On business," I say at once.
"Why didn't you warn me before?" he complains, making that smiley face with his lips that I already know very well.
"I only found out this afternoon. I have to go, it's work." Marco doesn't usually argue when I have to cancel things with him to work. He knows that it's from my job that the money comes from.
Even so this time, he starts an argument to take me to the dinner, "And what are we having for dinner? There's nothing here."
"Let's order something. A pizza, just tonight."
"I'm on a diet."
"You're always on a diet. Can't you make an exception today?" I ask politely, though I start feeling irritated.
"And who's going to hire a fat male model?" I roll my eyes. It's not like he's being hired looking the way he is right now. "Why don't we just stop by my friend's dinner party? We won't take long. I promise." He continues sweetly.
"Marco, you know it's not like that. We arrive, have to talk to one and another person and end up staying for hours. I told you. I have to get up early. I travel in the morning."
"But you didn't have anything planned." he insists, like a spoiled child. "And how long are you planning on staying away? There's that musical opening on Wednesday, remember? I've already confirmed our presence at the cocktail party."
Marco insists on going to all the cocktails, parties and premieres we're invited to. His excuse is to make contacts. For what, I don't know, because professionally they aren't worth anything. Maybe they only work so he can get on the guest list for other parties and continue his social life. "I really have to travel for work. I don't know how long I'll be gone, Marco."
"Something's wrong, Nikolas. What's this job that just suddenly appeared and you don't know how long it will take to be done?"
"Tim received an inheritance. I'll do the paperwork for him." I spill out.
"Tim!" He says, almost shouting. "Am I going to miss a dinner party and the opening night of a musical because of Tim?"
"It's an inheritance that he received" I repeat as calmly as I can, trying not to argue. "He needs me to check all the documentation and get the paperwork going."
"Tim won't pay for your services." he complains. "If it was an important job, fine, I would understand it. But leaving me here alone because of Tim, is too much!"
"Not everything in life is about money. My friendship with Tim goes back a long way and..."
"Please, Nikolas. I'm tired of hearing that when you were in university, you ate at his house once in a while, and blah, blah, blah."
"If you are tired of hearing it, it's time to understand that I'm very grateful to Tim's family. To him especially, who supported me when I had almost nothing. You always stand against our friendship."
"I don't like Tim's energy. It pulls you down. Being around poor people, makes you poor. You're a lawyer who makes a fortune, why waste your time with this nonsense?"
"Tim received an inheritance, Marco, and I want to help him" I insist. "This could be a chance to fix his life. It's a farm. If it's a good one, Tim will be able to get organized."
He laughs, a bit ironically. "All right! If you want to help, help. Send one of the lawyers from the office. Why do you, a partner, have to waste time with the paperwork of a small farm?"
From an objective point of view, Marco is right. But in life you also have to consider many other things. My friendship with Tim came first. I worry about the man who wants to contest the will. I have a feeling that I need go in person. "I'd rather go myself."
"Are you going to ruin our week and leave me here alone? I even bought a new suit for the premiere."
Another one, I groan internally, Another hole in the card. "If everything works out, I'll be back in time for the opening night of the musical."
"Promise?"
"I don't promise, but I'll try."
At great expense, I'm able to end the argument. We end up ordering food, but the atmosphere is heavy. We eat in silence, each one with their own thoughts. As soon as we finish dinner, I say goodbye and go home. In a bad mood.
I take shower and brush my teeth. I postpone the moment to turn off the light and put my head on the pillow. I'm afraid to sleep. I fear the inevitable dream, I don't want to face once again the scene of the young man burning in the fire, to suffer so intensely for that stranger. But I need to rest. I lay down. Surprisingly, I fall sleep almost immediately afterwards. Even more surprisingly, I have no dreams that night.
... ... ...
On the next day I wake up early and leave home early as well, as I planned. It takes me much longer to get to Wolkenberg than the two hours Tim talked about. In fact it takes in total almost five hours. The town is surrounded by a forest, hidden from the world.
I drive slowly as I leave the asphalted road and enter a narrow gravel road that winds through a thick pine forest. The place is in the middle of nowhere. Does Tim really intend to live here? It takes almost half an hour for me to get to Wolkenberg entrance gates.
When I pass through it and get to the town, I get overwhelmed with pure enchantment. The town is simply beautiful. A pleasant sensation washes me. I continue driving slowly, appreciating the beauty of the place. I feel as if I've traveled back in time. Cobbled streets and climbing vines that decorated the walls of the fachwerk houses. Window boxes covered with different types of flowes and plants.
Wolkenberg exudes tranquility. And beauty. Why I never heard of such a place? I've been to many villages and small towns in Germany, but this one is probably the most beautiful of them all. The location is probably the reason why I couldn't find anything about it on the internet.
Due to the old architecture, the place seems to be stopped in time and space. Looking around I'm taken by weird feeling. A strong one. As if I've been here before. My heart soars. "I'm creating fantasies. The place is charming, that's all," I try to convince myself.
Not too far from the entrance, I find a an inn. I get out of the car carrying the suitcase I packed as soon as I woke up. The inn is cosy. No luxuries, no over the top decorations. If anything if feels like a normal house. It's on a corner of the main street. Three floors. The second tallest building in town. The church, being the first.
I get a room on third floor. As I go up the stairs, I start feeling my suitcase and briefcase heavy. On the second floor, I frown. It becomes difficult to carry them. On the third, I think of nothing else. I just drag myself up to my room, breathing heavily. What was that? I'm in great shape and I don't get tired that easily.
I quickly open the briefcase and then my suitcase case. Both are small and I'm not carrying anything heavy enough to make me lose my breath that fast.
I dismiss the odd events and decide to call Tim. But first I want to see the town. I'm fully aware that in a few hours I'll have to devote myself entirely to the problem with inheritance, with no chance of getting to know anything else. It'll be a shame to pass through such a charming place without getting to know it a little.
I catch my breath and I face the stairs again. Going down was much easier. I go to the reception and I ask if they have the town's map. The receptionist gives me a smile from behind the counter. "Not here," she explains "but you can find one in the museum. It's a few blocks away from here. Just follow the main street. You'll see the museum sign at the end."
I thank her, and leave the inn. I take advantage of the walk to admire the houses with huge gardens. Big trees, lots of flowers. Only a few with garages or cars parked outside.
I think of Marco*. We can spend a weekend here.* I shake my head. He will hate it. Marco's a city person. Hates the countryside. He always say how much he can't stand monotonous life. No, he won't be good company for a bucolic trip.
The streets are almost empty. Just ahead, I see the sign indicating the museum. I go in and look around. The place looks almost abandoned. Dark and with a thin layer of dust covering everything. At the reception desk, a young brunette woman with long hair in a ponytail, almost jumps when she sees me. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." I apologize.
"Oh, it's okay. I was just distracted." She says with a smile.
There are no other visitors besides me. She turns on the lights, and I notice how small the museum is. Not much is on display, besides a few paintings and wooden pieces.
"We don't get many visitors in here." The girl smiles apologetically. "How can I help you?"
I smile back and ask for the town's map. She takes one under the counter. It's small, and it looks hand drawn. But I don't mind. With it, I see the size the town and where everything is. Once again, it looks all too familiar.
"Are you from Berlin?" She asks interrupting my thoughts.
"Yes, I am. I came to settle a deal."
"Oh... Flowers or cheese?"
I look at her confused, "Excuse me?"
"We produce flowers and cheese and sell them to the businesspeople."
Only then I understand. "I'm not a businessman, I'm a lawyer."
"Oh I see." She says looking at me up and down, "In case you want to know more about Wolkenberg..." she shows me some books about the city.
I politely refuse, thank her and leave the museum. With the map in my hands, I walk a few metres away from the museum and decide that maybe I should call Tim. I take my phone out of my pocket, sure there'll be missed calls from him. Indeed, he called me more than five times. Just as I'm about to call him back, someone bumps into me. My phone catapults out of my hands, falling onto the ground. I hear the sound of expensive metal breaking.
"I'm so sorry. I didn't see you there." A man's voice says.
I pick up my phone. The screen is cracked, but overall it looks like it's still working. I turn around, ready to curse whoever bumped into me. Slowly I first notice his black vans old skool, then the khaki pants and dark blue hoodie. When my eyes lay on his face, my heart skips a beat.
It's him. The young man who appears in my dreams. He stares at me. The last time I looked at those eyes, they were disappearing behind the red flames that consumed his life. But now they are there, staring at me.
He looks as surprised as I am. He looks different. His skin colour is now medium brown. His curly hair was replaced by a short fade haircut. But his facial features are the same, especially the dark-brown eyes.
It doesn't matter how many people have these same eyes, I would be able to distinguish his from everyone else's, don't as me how. I just know it.
There is something strange about the way he's staring at me. A steady look. Intense. It's an expression of... Of what? At first I can't define it. Then the muscles of his face tense. He steps back instinctively as if he's facing a dangerous beast... Only then I understand the look in his eyes. Fear.
"It's you..." I barely whisper.
His eyes widen. He takes two steps back and runs away.