Thank God the sky is so red it bathes everything in a pink glow. My face is burning. “What are you talking about?”
“There’s no point in denying it. Valérie saw you go in, and when you didn’t come out, I went to check.” Ground? Hole? Now, please.
“We were showering.”
Louis nods knowingly. “I already knew you were the still water type, but your still water is Lake Baikal.”
Chapter 36
Dayyan
“Dayyan, the doorbell rang. Want to grab that?”
“On it, thanks, Mom! You’re the best.” I kiss her on the cheek and jog to the door.
“Hey.” The voice from his phone speaks and Jannis waves. He looks uncertainly back and forth between his shoes and me.
“Hello, sunshine, come in. Dad’s on duty at the hospital, but Mom is so excited to meet you.” As he passes me, I pull him in by his hips and kiss him.
Jannis recoils in shock. His gaze tells me everything I need to know before he whispers, “Are we allowed to do that? Are your parents okay with it?”
“It’s fine. My parents have no problem with us. They’re happy for me.” I steal another kiss from his lips, then pull him into the kitchen.
“Mom?” My mother pretends to be super busy with the coffee machine, and I smile quietly to myself as she turns around, pretending to be surprised.
“Ah, hello! You must be Jannis. Dayyan has told me a lot about you.” She holds out her hand to him.
“Hello, Mrs. Saleh, I’m happy to meet you.” He just presses the voice output button, probably he prepared the sentence at home.
“So polite. Meike is fine. Would you like some coffee? We could have some cake on the terrace before you boys go upstairs.”
With a glance and a nod, Jannis lets me know he agrees. “We’d love to. Can we help you with anything?”
“The cake is in the fridge, maybe you could put it on plates? I hope you likeBienenstichcake, Jannis?”
He nods quickly, but then takes out his phone. “Yes, I’d love some.”
My mother beams at him and I can see him slowly relaxing. His shoulders drop to a normal height, and he increasingly maintains eye contact. I always love my mother, and today a little more for completely ignoring the fact that Jannis doesn’t speak.
“Are you from around here?”
“No. I was born in northern Germany.”
“Oh, did your parents move here for work too?”
“One of my fathers is from here, the other one is from Paris. I was six years old when I came to live with them. I’m adopted.” I reach for Jannis’s hand and squeeze it tightly while my mother searches for an elegant way out of this awkward moment.
She doesn’t have to. Jannis is relaxed, his story isn’t a difficult subject for him, only she doesn’t know that. “May I ask why you were adopted?”
“My mother shot up some kind of junk one time too many. She died of an overdose. I had no relatives who wanted or were able to take me in, so I ended up in a foster family. After four years, they adopted me.”
I know the story, it’s not the first time I’ve heard it, and even this heavily abridged version is hard to swallow.
“That’s a tough story.”
“I’m sure you’ve heard worse in your practice.”
My mother looks at him sternly. “I don’t think we should compare or rank traumatic experiences. That’s not our place as outsiders. It’s always about individual perception.”
