Claude hung up his coffee-brown trench coat, and Juliette hung up her lavish fox fur coat that she proudly purchased with her extravagant income. I watched and waited for a response to my apology.
"We love you, Charlie, but what you did is unforgivable," Juliette said, walking past me toward the bedroom she shared with Claude.
Claude dropped his hands into the pockets of his trousers and leaned back against the wall. "We thought you were dead, brother. You have to understand that an apology is not going to fix that right away. She loves you like I do. You already knew that, though."
I couldn't look Claude in the eyes anymore. I knew they both cared about me, as I did them, but something was standing in the way of my emotions. I was drowning in my sorrow.
"I love you both too," I muttered.
"Lean on me, brother. I am here to help you. And, you're right; I went through something similar, and it was terrible, but I survived, so let me help you now."
I didn't want help.
"I will be all right, Claude. I will not take any more pills."
"Good," he said. I could tell he didn't believe me, but I had nothing else to offer as a statement. "I need to get to work, and Juliette has a show in a few hours. I hate the thought of leaving you alone."
I glanced down at my watch, trying to appear like I cared about the time. "I should run by the bakery and apologize for missing the last few days of work."
"Ja. That's probably a good idea. If you don't want to be alone tonight, come by the pub."
"Will do," I told him.
"I was ill, sir. I apologize for not letting you know sooner. In fact, I was so ill, I had to be hospitalized," I lied to the owner of the bakery.
I was not sure if he believed the words I was feeding him, but he nodded his shiny bald head, pressed his lips together firmly allowing his mustache to fold over his bottom lip, and said, "I'm glad you're well now. Will you be returning to work tomorrow?" Mr. Rao was not the type of man to show his anger. He was quite laid back and had very few rules to abide by. However, after not showing up at work, I might have deserved more than just a cold response. I figured he was taking his silent anger for me out on the dough he was beating. I was lucky he didn't fire me on the spot.
"Yes, sir, I will be here tomorrow."
"Very well. I suggest you take care of yourself tonight and get a good night's sleep. I'll see you bright and early in the morning, Charlie."
I exited the bakery almost as quickly as I arrived. I was not supposed to have to reclaim my job because I was supposed to be dead.
The air outside was frigid, and I pulled my overcoat tightly over my chest, wishing I had worn a scarf. The temperatures were due to drop below freezing, and my mood was beginning to match the weather pattern. I stood still on the curb outside of the bakery as people brushed by in a hurry to wherever they were going. It was as if I was lost and unseen. No one noticed me. No one wanted to know me. I was nothing.
Claude's idea of sitting in a pub for the evening didn't seem all that bad, but I didn't have the desire to be at the receiving end of his sympathetic glances, so I planted myself on a barstool of another nearby pub.
It was best no one knew me at that moment as I slugged several glasses of cognac. With each drink, the weight of the world slowly lifted its hands from my shoulders. Relief set in.
When I had enough to make me wish for sleep, I paid the tab and stumbled through the streets, circling a few blocks until I found my building.
Two men were outside on the front steps. I recognized them. They lived somewhere in the building and spent a lot of time out front smoking cigars. "It looks like you had a fine time tonight," one of them said as I tripped up the first step.
"It is a necessary part of life sometimes, ja?"
"You're not from around here, are you?" the man asked.
"Nein. I have been living here just a year now. It's a lovely city." The two men laughed, and I knew they were not laughing with me since I was not finding humor in anything at the moment. It was immediately apparent that I was purely the center of their entertainment.
"Nein?" the man questioned. "That's German, right?"
"Ja," I responded. I wanted to respond in the English way, but my lips and tongue were moving on their own accord, it seemed.
"What was it like over there?"
"It was awful," I said honestly.
"I'm sure it was. Did you ever meet Hitler?" I couldn't understand why that was a question anyone would ask. Of course, the people of Germany bowed down to Hitler for a long time, but that was before many of us knew the truth behind his plans.
