Page 61 of White Room Virgin

“Why do you ask?”

“I pray, but it’s no use,” I said dejectedly. “I tried so hard, but nothing positive came out of it. Maybe it would be better if I came back home and worked on the farm. Obviously, I failed here in Zurich.”

Martin furrowed his brows again, as if he hadn’t understood what I’d said. Then he burst out laughing. “Do you really think praying will solve your problems? Honestly? By the time you go home for Christmas at the weekend, you’ll realize that the world doesn’t give you anything anymore. All rules and commandments, all taboos and renunciations. They don’t makeyou a better person. They are man-made obstacles that merely block your path.”

“You lived there yourself!” I reminded him. “So don’t pretend it was all bad.”

“I’m not saying it was bad.” Martin continued to laugh, which annoyed me. “It wasn't until I arrived in Zurich that I realized I had been navigating the world with blinders on. But at least you’ve realized something: Praying doesn’t change anything. Open your eyes and observe your surroundings. You’ll then discover what you truly desire. Find the answers within yourself. And believe me, kiddo, no matter what comes out of it, it’s okay.”

Nothing is okay! If only you knew …

As if that was the end of the conversation, Martin took a magazine from the pile and flipped it open.

I stared at the shredded page. “I feel like you're shutting me out.”

“Nonsense! You’re just imagining it,” he replied while calmly turning the pages. “It’s a difficult time right now.”

“I’m not imagining it! Otherwise, you would have let me in on it,” I replied forcefully. “What was that anniversary?”

“Why do you want to know?” Martin asked, glancing up in surprise.

“It … seems important,” I mumbled.

He pushed the magazine aside and held his cup with both hands. After looking out the window for some time, his voice took on a serious tone. “Two years ago, Marco celebrated his birthday in a cabin in the woods. It was completely crazy. Everyone was totally drunk. We were dancing on the tables. And when the alcohol ran out, Lu agreed to get some more.”

“He was there by car?” I asked, surprised.

“No, his friend Phil owned a car—an old Subaru. Phil didn’t drink alcohol at all, and since a gas station was still open two miles away, they set off.” Martin turned the cup thoughtfullybetween his hands, took a sip, and put it down again. “Well…” he continued hesitantly. “When they still hadn’t returned after two hours, I tried to reach Phil on his cell phone. I was surprised to hear the voice of a nurse I knew from the emergency room. He told me to get here as soon as possible. Something had happened, so I called a cab and set off.

I found Lu in the emergency waiting room. He sat alone in a corner, staring at his bloody, shaking hands. I joined him and asked what happened, but he was so shocked that he didn't even acknowledge my presence. I felt surprised and angered by the fact that they had left him alone in such a condition. I fetched a wet cloth and cleaned his hands. After a while, he began to regain consciousness.

‘A truck,’ he said in a quivering voice. ‘It came out of nowhere.’

‘Where’s Phil?’ I asked.

Lu clenched his hands into fists, suppressing his tears. ‘With my father on the operating table. When we got here, he was on break but immediately took care of Phil.’

He seemed unharmed, only his sleeves were covered in blood. And from the look of his hands, he had tried to stop any bleeding on the spot.

‘You did everything you could,’ I told him. I wasn’t even sure if he heard me, but I stayed with him.

When Lu’s father came out of the operating room, daylight was already breaking outside. Lu jumped up full of hope, but his father narrowed his eyes. ‘He didn’t make it,’ he said. ‘If you hadn’t put off your studies for so long and wasted your time in Asia, you would have known what to do and could have saved him. Then he just left Lu and went to Phil’s parents, who just arrived at the door.” Martin turned his head and looked bitterly out of the window.

A snowstorm swept over Zurich, painting the sky in a silvery gray hue. I could scarcely believe what I had just heard. His father’s words seared into my memory, leaving me unable to fathom what they must have done to Lu.

“Lu was destroyed,” Martin continued, “you can imagine. He hid in his room for days. He stopped going to lectures and didn’t do anything else for university. He skipped his exams and announced to the whole family at Christmas that he was quitting his medical studies and going into art.

“When I returned to the apartment after New Year, Lu had been drinking for almost a week. Empty bottles littered the space, and the apartment reeked like a smoker’s den. I only learned the full extent of what had happened two weeks later when Lu had somewhat recovered. His father had ejected him on Christmas Eve, declaring he wanted nothing more to do with him. I tried to reassure Lu, saying that it was probably just something he’d said and that his father wouldn’t be angry forever. But I was wrong. The next month, Lu’s money was cut off. He was fortunate to have some savings tucked away, which sustained him for the next three months. However, as time went on, finances became tight. We discussed potential avenues for securing funds, and his ideas were … let’s just say, alarming. So I was delighted when he arrived and told me that he had sold two paintings.”

Martin shook his head in disbelief and cleared his throat. “To this day, he blames himself for Phil’s death and can’t even pronounce his name. The accident has profoundly altered Lu. Last year, on the anniversary, he was completely distraught. We hoped he would fare better this year, but evidently, we were mistaken. I apologize, Jonah. I should have informed you sooner. Perhaps then you would have comprehended him more and wouldn’t be considering moving out now. I understand Lu can be draining, but he’s truly a wonderful person.”

“Maybe,” I replied and hung my head. My chest painfully tightened as I thought about how mean I’d been to Lucien. I had no idea how I was going to make it up to him. An apology would hardly be enough.

29

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Lucien

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