Chapter 24

“I was born in this town,” Felix said. “That’s the church where I was baptized.”

They stood together in the parish cemetery, facing a patch of pansies blooming in front of the gray granite headstones and the golden-edged ivy covering the ground. Paths paved with fine orange-brown gravel separated the adjacent graves, leading to the simple, modest Evangelical Lutheran church not far ahead and the chestnut forest surrounding the cemetery. The open area in the southeast corner was a green meadow, stretching to the rolling mountains on the distant horizon. The sun had already risen on the other side of the mountains, casting its warm, slanted light over this side, bathing everything in a gentle glow.

“My mother was a French-German from Alsace. She met my father, Fritz, during a rock climbing trip. They got married after they had me. It was a terrible union. My mother was the best woman in the world, while Fritz… he might have been a great friend or employer, but as a husband and father, he was a complete bastard. All his heart and money went into that climbing gym of his. But as you know, he wasn’t really good at managing it, and the family often struggled to make ends meet.

“When I was fourteen, they finally divorced, and my mother took me back to her family in Strasbourg. A couple of years later, she met my stepfather, Mike Taylor, who’s Canadian. Shortly after they got married, our whole family moved to Quebec. I went to university in Montreal.

“I’m glad I left this place. Everything here suffocated me, except for the forests. I spent all my free time in the woods because I didn’t have many friends at school. They always called me ‘the little Frenchie,’ constantly mocking my appearance, the way I walked, the books I read, and the French songs I liked… anything that was different from them. Back then, my favorite song was Je cours by the band Kyo*. I listened to it every single day. It says, ‘In this world, among you, I can’t breathe.’ I wished I could run, run away from this godforsaken place, all the way to the end of the world.

“Do you remember what happened at that Greek restaurant? That Jonas Beck. The scar on his face is from me. I cut him with a knife during a fight because he knew I was gay. When I came out to my dad, we were yelling so loudly that the neighbors heard. He threatened to expose me at school, and I couldn’t take it… Of course, they all found out in the end. And if I hadn’t been a few months shy of fourteen, they probably would’ve sent me to juvenile court.

“I didn’t expect him to recognize me after so many years. Of course, I also didn’t expect to run into him there—otherwise, I would never have gone there with you.”

“I’m sorry,” Erik said.

“You’ve already apologized. And I said: it’s not your fault. When I decided to take this trip, I had prepared myself mentally. I had imagined this might happen, and I even brought my anxiety medication just in case.” He smiled at him. “Of course, I didn’t end up needing it. Like you said, I cried so much that first night because of the memories, not because of an anxiety attack.”

“At that moment, why did you kiss me?”

“I had an emotional breakdown,” he shrugged. “Of course, it was more complicated than that. Maybe a psychology researcher could write a whole book about it. But I think there was some hatred involved.”

“Towards Fritz?”

“Towards Fritz. Towards myself.—And towards you.”

Erik looked at him in shock. “—Me?”

“Yes. You. It started ten years ago, and I held onto that hatred for years.”

“Why? You’d never even met me, right?”

“Can’t you imagine someone hating you without ever having met you?” he scoffed. “But isn’t that just human nature: people always hate what they don’t understand.

“I hated you because Fritz mentioned you during one of our fights. At the time, he was planning to marry your mother after the divorce. He mentioned she had a son. ‘A sturdy little lad,’ he said, ‘that’s the kind of son I’d want, not some skinny little sissy like you.’ You should’ve seen the look of disgust on his face when he said that, like I was a tick or some other disgusting thing. I hated you so much back then. Thankfully, you weren’t at the same school as me, or I might’ve done something to you—you know, I can be quite extreme sometimes.”

He paused for a moment, then shook his head.

“But maybe it would’ve been different if I’d actually known you. Who knows. Anyway, I never saw you before this trip to Germany. The only photo I’d seen of you was the one on your website. That photo looks nothing like you.”

“That was taken when I was thirteen,” Erik said.

“That photo made me hate you too,” Felix said with a tilted smile. “Because I saw it as my bastard father’s way of flaunting his victory over me. It felt like he was saying through that photo, ‘See, now I finally have the son I wanted, this is the son I always wanted.'”

“I don’t think he meant it that way.”

“Then what do you think he meant?”

“I’m not sure. But, you know, people often do things that are the opposite of what they feel inside,” Erik said. “I don’t think Fritz wanted to hurt your feelings. Maybe he was trying to express… the opposite.”

“Well, he chose a great way to achieve a one-hit kill without even trying,” Felix said. “You know what? He wrote me a letter.”

“When?”

“Two months ago. It must’ve been around the time he was planning to kill himself.” He glanced at the flowers and the dark gray marble headstone at his feet. “He didn’t know I was in France, so he sent the letter to Canada. It took a long time for me to receive it.”

“What did it say?”

“What do you think he wrote?” he said mockingly. “Do you think someone like him would apologize properly, ask for reconciliation, or say that he actually loved me as a father and was proud of me?”

“No… I don’t think he would write that.”

“The letter was short, with only one point: he asked me to give up my legal inheritance so that his precious son, you, could continue running the climbing gym.

“When I read it, I was so angry I almost laughed—I actually did laugh out loud. After all the fights we had, after completely breaking off contact for ten years, the first time I heard from him, the first letter he ever wrote to me, was just for his son—the son he truly recognized, even though there was no blood relation—for his climbing gym, that place I wanted to burn to the ground, and for some money—as if I fucking cared about his money!”

He lost the calm composure he had been holding onto, his face flushed, his chest heaving. Erik stepped forward, wanting to touch his shoulder, but Felix impatiently shook him off. He turned to look at the distant hills and forests. The dazzling, patchwork foliage under the morning sun was painted in a mix of gold and orange.

After a while, he regained some composure and said:

“He mentioned one more thing in the letter. He said you have a disability—but he didn’t specify what it was.”

“I think he meant my dyslexia,” Erik said. “Fritz always thought that because I went to a special education center with some visually impaired children, I must be disabled. But my condition doesn’t really count as a disability; it just makes things a bit inconvenient in daily life, and I’ve mostly overcome it.”

“Well, he clearly thought you still needed help.—In fact, he wrote that I should take care of you.”

Erik didn’t know what to say for a moment. He felt a bit awkward, but more than that, he felt gratitude and an indescribable sadness.

“After I calmed down, I thought about it for a long time,” Felix said. “I didn’t want Fritz’s money, but I didn’t want to give it to you either—because I hated you. I even thought about making good on my old threat: burning that damn gym to the ground, or smashing it to pieces. But if you were really as pitiful as he made you out to be, that would make me a complete asshole.

“So I decided to come see for myself. After all, I’m not a thirteen-year-old kid anymore. I know that hating someone you’ve never met or understood is more about imagination and emotional venting than the person actually being that hateful. I planned to meet you, figure out what kind of person you were, and then decide whether to give you my share of the inheritance.”

He looked up at Erik.

“So, can you imagine how shocked I was when—after you showed me your ID—it took me several minutes to realize you were the Erik Bergmann I’d been hating all this time?” He squinted slightly, a faintly amused expression on his face. “I came all this way, prepared to take care of what I imagined to be a pitiful, disabled kid, only to find a nearly six-and-a-half-foot-tall, muscular, broad-shouldered man with maple-syrup-colored eyes, adorable curls, and a body so sexy it could kill.”

Erik blushed slightly. He recalled that day. “I think you hid it pretty well,” he said softly.

“Not really,” Felix said. “I was a bit panicked. I realized you didn’t know who I was: I had used my mother’s maiden name, and she had changed it after remarrying. I suddenly found I didn’t have the courage to admit my identity and purpose to you, so I hastily made up a story. Normally, I wouldn’t have told someone I just met about my background so quickly, but I did it because it was all fabricated.—I wanted to dispel your suspicions so you wouldn’t connect me to the Taylor family in Canada.”

“Is that why you wanted to stay at my place?”

“Yes, and it was more complicated than that,” Felix said. “I didn’t know… I didn’t have time to think it through at that moment, so I just went with my instincts. And I almost gave myself away: remember when I saw the climbing gym? I was completely stunned. I almost turned around and ran away, as far as possible, never to see it again.—But you pulled me back.”

“Me?”

“Yes. You were so… reassuring,” Felix said. “You always gave me that feeling. Like no matter what happened, it would be okay if I was with you. You were so kind, so gentle.—I’ve never met anyone like you.

“I think that’s why I broke down sobbing in your arms that first night. I lost control a bit. I didn’t expect that after so many years, everything here could still trigger my memories and… emotions. In that room, it felt like the past came crashing down like an avalanche… I felt buried under the snow, freezing cold, and I couldn’t get out: I was too tired to move. So when you reached out to pull me in, I couldn’t stop myself from leaning into your arms. It was so warm… and I thought it didn’t matter, since you didn’t know anything, nothing bad would happen with you.

“Of course, I regretted it the next day when I came to my senses. I felt like I had completely taken advantage of you.” He stopped Erik’s attempt to protest, speaking quickly. “Honestly, that house had a huge impact on my mental state. There were too many emotions all at once… it made me feel very confused. I didn’t even know if I kissed you out of some subconscious desire for revenge: because Fritz was so homophobic, and you were his chosen son.”

“Felix, I don’t think Fritz was homophobic,” Erik said. “He just wasn’t prepared. He was from a different generation, his frame of reference was different, so he panicked and overreacted.—I think he must have regretted the terrible things he said to you afterward, but he couldn’t bring himself to admit it.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I told him about my feelings for Peter,” Erik said, looking down at the headstone. “After Hanna broke up with me, I was very sad, very depressed for a while… Fritz stayed by my side. One day, I told him everything about the three of us, the whole story.”

Felix looked at him in disbelief. “He knew you had feelings for a man?”

“Yes. He accepted it calmly, without making a fuss. And he didn’t say anything inappropriate.”

“…I can’t believe it,” Felix said. “He didn’t have a heart attack and die on the spot.”

“Actually, he suggested I talk to Peter,” Erik said. “He said we should have the courage to do some things, even if we knew they might not work out, so we wouldn’t regret not trying later.”

“That sounds like the most ideal parental response ever. Did you do it?”

“Yes. I went to Berlin and met Peter. Of course, I didn’t confess to him—that would’ve been inappropriate. I just tried to explain some things and apologized properly. He was my best friend, so kind and helpful, he’d done so much for me. He didn’t deserve to be hurt like that, and if I had been smarter, more mature back then…”

“Erik, I think you’re too hard on yourself,” Felix said. “You were only sixteen or seventeen. At that age, almost everyone is a jerk or does something jerkish.”

Erik smiled. “Peter said the same thing. But I think it’s because he’s always been forgiving, and he’s very happy now, so it’s easy for him to forgive me. He got married two years ago and is now the father of a very cute pair of twins.—We send each other Christmas cards.”

He paused, then said, “So I’m very grateful to Fritz for that advice. Without it, I probably wouldn’t have had the courage.”

“I think you’re making me feel the need to hate you again,” Felix said in his light, mocking tone. “You’re making me feel like that bastard father of mine gave all his jerk behavior to me and all his deep, tender, healthy fatherly love to you.”

“I don’t think that’s the case,” Erik said. “I think he treated me that way because of you—he must have read up on some things after your fight and changed his views, otherwise he wouldn’t have acted that way later. And… you know what? He never mentioned you to me.”

“Because he’d already forgotten me. Or wanted to forget me.” His voice cracked slightly.

“No, I don’t think he forgot. He just couldn’t talk about it. Some people can’t bring up the things that involve their deepest emotions. Fritz was like that…. He gave me advice, gave me the courage to fix my past mistakes, but he couldn’t do it himself. Because his mistakes were much bigger, much harder to fix.”

He paused for a moment, then asked:

“Felix, do you still have that letter?”

Felix rummaged through the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. “Do you want to see it?”

“Can you read it to me?”

“Of course.”

He unfolded the letter.

—

Felix,

I wish I had written to you. I tried. But it was too difficult. I never managed it. And I don’t know if words can make up for the damage words have done.

I’m writing this letter to say goodbye. I won’t be here much longer. I don’t have time to do anything else. I don’t think I could do it well anyway.

I want to ask you for a favor. The lawyer tells me you’re my legal heir, so my estate will be split between Erik and you. But we don’t have enough cash to pay you, and I still owe your mother a lot of money.

I hope you can give up your share, so Erik can keep running the climbing gym. He’s a very good kid, and he loves the gym with all his heart. He has a disability, but he’s been taking care of me, and maybe in the future… you could take care of him too. Though I don’t know if you’ll ever come back to Germany.

I hope you’ve moved on from the past. I’ve seen you online. You look well. I think you’ll have a good life, become a happy person. I truly hope so.

Fritz

—

Felix put the letter down. His hands were trembling.

“…It’s strange,” he murmured. “I’ve read it so many times. But after talking to you, it feels completely different.”

He silently read it again. Then he read it once more.

“Alright. Maybe he really did regret it,” he said, trying to keep a smile on his lips. “But that doesn’t mean I forgive him.”

“He knew you wouldn’t. That’s why he didn’t ask for your forgiveness,” Erik said. “He couldn’t change anything anymore. As a parent, he knew he had completely messed up, and there was no opportunity left to make amends, so in the end, he only signed his name, not ‘Father.’—He didn’t beg for your forgiveness. He just wholeheartedly wished for you to be happy. Like a parent who truly loves their child. Nothing is more important than that: a happy life.”

Felix’s eyes welled up. His lips trembled, and he turned his head away. Erik stepped closer and embraced him, letting him bury his face in his chest. The cotton shirt absorbed the tears that fell.