Page 118 of Absolution

“Mmm, I can think of many things… But I’d be glad if you helped me get the last off the table.”

I grunt and flee out of the kitchen, happy to occupy my hands with anything so I don’t strangle him. I work quickly and as soon as I’ve finished, I sink into one of the chairs in front of the fireplace, nurturing what’s left of my wine. I’ve taken a couple of sips when I hear him behind me.

“I’m gonna have to take that away from you.”

I follow his moves as he settles in the other chair. He’s holding two cups with steaming contents in his hands.

“What’s that?” I ask apprehensively.

“Always so suspicious of my intentions.”

I stare at him for a moment and then I realize he’s right. It’s as if I always suspect he’s trying something. And he never is. He’s been completely honest and straightforward with me since… well, maybe always. Almost. “Oh, God, Christian I’m sorry. I really am! Can I try again?”

“Sure.”

“What’s that?” I blush at how false I sound and he laughs.

“Fuck, Ker, that was awful. Just be yourself. This is Glühwein. It’s kinda like with the cabbage, you take one thing and turn it into something else with the help of some cinnamon, ginger and a few secret spices.”

I sniff the contents. “It smells nice. Like gingerbread.”

He nods. “Many of the spices are the same. It’s sweetened.”

I take a sip and realize everything he gives me is good. “Will I die?” I ask.

He nods, looking dead serious. “Yes, you will. But not from drinking this.”

I can’t help but smile and when he smiles too, I burst out in a laugh. I drink another sip and enjoy the warmth seeping through my chest. My head is buzzing, and I lean back against the chair. This is nice. It was right to come here. Last time was nice too. It’s always nice. He is nice. A version of ‘Hallelujah’ is playing on the radio and the beautifully sad lyrics go straight to my heart.

“This is a very good song.”

“Jeff Buckley,” he says. “It’s one of the best songs he ever produced. He died much too young.”

“I didn’t know he was dead.”

“Drowned, some twenty years ago. He was one of few who had gotten out.”

I lift my head and give him a glance. “What do you mean?”

“Raised himself up out of his shitty childhood. It’s a fuckin’ shame.”

“Oh.” I’m not sure how to respond so I keep quiet. We sit and listen to the words. “They could be about us,” I say after a while.

“That sad?”

“I don’t know.”

Jeff sings about hurting the ones who show weakness, the ones who show they care. I wince at the harsh words. It’s just a song.

“Do you love me, Christian?” I ask with a pounding heart, shocked at the words that flew out of my mouth on their own accord, as if my brain had no say in the matter.

“Yes. I do.”

My heart stutters. “How long—”

“A very long time.”

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