The most beautiful day of my life
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Chapter I
When my father drove the 14 kilometers home, just two kilometers from his job, he would occasionally stop at a house where only Yugoslavians lived—men who had worked in the sawmill factory with us. One day, after twelve hours of hard work, as we were sitting in a room, a boy my age suddenly appeared. He was talkative and very happy to meet someone his own age.
During our first meeting, I learned that he often went to East Berlin with his father because shopping was cheaper there than in West Berlin. It was similar to a Texan crossing the border to shop in Mexico.
During our second meeting, this boy, named Brane, invited me to go to East Berlin the following Sunday along with another boy. This second boy was someone I actually knew from my neighborhood back in my hometown in Yugoslavia. He was almost two years older than me. Brane promised that for just a little money, we could have a great time over in East Berlin. I agreed, and he promised to pick me up on Sunday.
My First Ride on the Subway
Indeed, as promised on Sunday afternoon, Brane arrived. I was surprised to see he came with Harry, who lived in the same part of the city. I knew Harry from my neighborhood back in my hometown in Yugoslavia.
Because we had an exceptionally great neighborhood back home where all the children were well-behaved, Harry had no problems with his excess weight. On the contrary, he was very popular because he always knew how to make us laugh. When I saw him, I immediately felt at ease. Since leaving my hometown on April 17th, it was wonderful to see a familiar face again.
Around noon, we walked down the stairs from our fourth-floor apartment. After about a ten-minute walk down the street, in the direction of the youth center, we turned left off the sidewalk and headed down a set of stairs.
I had often seen those stairs and the “U-Bahn” sign on my way to the youth center, but I never knew what it meant. Since it was right next to a large door for a four-level shopping center, I had always just walked straight through the store doors instead. Therefore, as we walked down the stairs, I had no idea what was waiting down there.
These stairs were the entrance to the subway—something I had never seen in my life. Just past the last step was a small booth where an employee sold tickets. Once we bought ours, we walked left, and then left again, entering a massive, tunnel-like area.
Coming from a small Yugoslavian town of only fifteen thousand people—a town without a single traffic light—standing in this illuminated underground world was a massive adventure for Harry and me. For the first time, I was peering into the dark tunnels. The station itself was brightly lit; I felt like I was on another planet. Pictures and advertisements were plastered across the walls right in front of my eyes.
Before the train arrived, there was a loudspeaker announcement. Brane noticed how curiously I was peering into the darkness, so he warned us to step back a little further from the tracks. I saw the big letters spelling out the station’s name, but I didn’t care. The Marlboro cigarette advertisements featuring the smoking cowboy were much more interesting to me.
When the first yellow train roared out of the darkness and past me, the gust of wind blew my long hair aside. The doors opened, and I followed the two of them onto the train. Having never been inside a train like this before, I stood there looking like the biggest farmer in the world. Up on the white ceiling was the entire subway network map. I was in a state of pure shock and curiosity.
Because of this, I didn’t even catch the name of the station where we got on. The maps didn’t mean anything to me either. As I write this story, an American film comes to mind: Crocodile Dundee in New York. Looking back, I felt exactly like him.
I stared out the window, but the train moved so fast that all I could see was the black tunnel. For the first time, I heard the deafening screech of iron wheels underground, sounding almost like an airplane taking off. There was no air conditioning, so with the windows open, I could smell the warm, metallic scent of the rails.
At the second stop, we had to get off. We climbed the stairs back through the tunnels and stepped out onto the street.
The Money Exchange
Not far from the subway exit, the three of us—Brane, Harry, and I—entered a small room with the word EXCHANGE written on a sign above our heads. Brane, our guide, told us that fifty East German Marks would be enough for everyone in East Berlin.
We handed over six West German Marks and received fifty East German Marks in return. With our money secured, we walked back out onto the street. Not far from the exchange, as we turned the corner, we entered another station. I didn’t know what kind of train it was for, but in German, it was called the S-Bahn.
The Train Journey
After buying our tickets, we walked up the stairs. Unlike the subway, these S-Bahn trains didn’t run in tunnels. During the journey, we traveled high above the streets on bridges, much like the elevated trains in Chicago. From the train’s windows, we had a sweeping view of the houses and parks of West Berlin. After three stops in West Berlin, our next stop was the border station: Friedrichstraße in East Berlin.
The Wall
As soon as the train left the third station, Bellevue, I saw the Wall from the window for the very first time. To me, it looked as if East Berlin was enclosed by it. In reality, our part of West Berlin was the one fenced in by a concrete wall at least three yards high, built to prevent East German citizens from escaping to the West.
When I saw that gray barrier stretching into the distance, I felt a knot of nervous excitement. I stared curiously at the Wall, noticing it had no end, either to the north or to the south. As our train approached the first wall on the West Berlin side, I saw the barbed wire running along the top. Then, a cleared, open space of about fifty yards appeared.
It was a barren strip of land, leveled by machines. Within those fifty yards of cleared dirt lay hidden landmines. Small sentry towers loomed in the distance, rising higher than the Wall itself.
When our train crossed this open space and passed the second wall on the Eastern side, we were officially traveling in East Berlin. The train ran parallel to the Wall for another half mile, with the houses of East Berlin below us to our left. From the windows, we could already see East Berliners walking the streets and driving their tiny, iconic cars—the Trabants.
Chapter II – Border Crossing
When the train stopped, we walked down the stairs, then went straight for at least two minutes. Reaching another set of stairs, we went up, and half a minute later, back down again.
Before August 1961, when Berlin was not divided, the path we took from our train was simply the Friedrichstraße S-Bahn station. Now, it served as a heavily guarded border crossing.
When we reached the last set of stairs, we suddenly found ourselves in a large room. In front of us was a long line of travelers waiting to enter East Berlin. They had all arrived by the U-Bahn or our S-Bahn train.
Brane stood behind the last visitor, Harry behind him, and I was at the very back. Brane turned his head and whispered in our language, “Don’t be afraid, they don’t search us children. If they ask if you have any East German Marks, you simply say NO, and they’ll let you enter.”
First Counter
After a twenty-minute wait, Brane—who had plenty of experience visiting East Berlin—reached the first counter, where a customs officer sat inside a small booth.
Brane was completely relaxed. He looked at the officer, laughed, said “Hi,” and handed over his passport. After a few seconds, he got it back and walked to the next official. Harry was next. Without any long discussion, I watched as Harry also disappeared toward the second customs officer. At that moment, crossing the border to East Berlin looked incredibly easy.
I stepped up to the customs officer sitting behind the glass. At the time, Yugoslavians were the only Western European nationals welcome to enter without a visa. When the officer saw my passport, he glanced at me briefly and handed it back. Thinking how simple this was, I said, “Thank you.” Then I walked four yards further to the next counter.
Clumsy
The second counter and border guard were only a few meters away. Unlike the first, this guard—dressed in a stark gray uniform—wasn’t sitting; he was standing outside in front of his booth. He took my passport.
His first question was: “Did you exchange money at the border?” I confidently said, “NO!”
That was exactly what Brane had instructed Harry and me to say. Just say NO. Unfortunately, the moment I said it, I remembered the fifty East German Marks I had hidden in my hair. I slowly began to panic, terrified that he would search me and find the illegal money.
I felt the color drain from my face. As I grew more and more nervous, my face turned redder and redder, and fear crept through my entire body. I started to tremble inside.
As a result, when he asked his second question: “Do you have any East German money with you?” I gave the worst possible answer and blurted out, “YES!”
Brane, my guide, had told me twice to say no and not to be afraid! The customs officer looked genuinely surprised that I had admitted to carrying illegal currency. He widened his eyes, stared at me, and asked, “How much East German money do you have?”
I stammered, “Fifty Marks!” He demanded, “Show me.”
With shaking hands, I took my wallet out of my pocket, opened it, and showed him my money. He saw a note for fifty West German Marks, which I was legally allowed to carry. Because he didn’t see the illegal East German Marks he expected, he looked at me again.
For two or three agonizing seconds, the officer stared into my eyes. He saw my bright red face and how violently I was trembling. It seemed he concluded I was just nervous and blushing because I didn’t understand German well enough. That must have been the reason he handed my passport back and simply said, “You can go.”
Relieved, I walked a few yards and pushed open the narrow gray exit door. My two friends, Brane and Harry, were standing outside waiting for me. They started laughing immediately.
Brane asked, “Why are you so red in the face? What happened?” I explained how I had gotten confused and actually told the border guard I had East German Marks. Brane shook his head. “I told you twice! When we were on the train, and while we were waiting in line! If they ask if you have East German Marks, you must say NO!” Finally, he sighed and added, “My God, you were lucky. Next time, you’ll know.”
Chapter III – In the Middle of the City: Alexanderplatz
That day, Brane—our guide who often traveled to East Berlin with his dad—showed us all the stores where they usually went shopping. Finally, he wanted to show us the center: Alexanderplatz, located not far from the towering Television Tower.
When a traveler comes down the stairs from the S-Bahn train and approaches the street, the first thing they see is a massive, wide circular area, roughly 150 yards across. As we started walking across Alexanderplatz, we immediately bumped into the World Clock on the west side of the square. It was about three yards high, displaying the Earth and the current times of different capital cities.
Behind the World Clock stretched an empty expanse of about 150 yards, perhaps even longer. On the left side stood a large, three-story department store. Otherwise, the entire area was barren. This massive, empty space was designed specifically for the annual festivals where youth from communist countries would gather. The government likely left so much free space just for these kinds of mass events.
Across from the World Clock, on the other side of this empty expanse, stood the only high-rise building in East Berlin. It was fifteen floors high, maybe a few more, and appeared to be a hotel. Below the building was a restaurant. Brane explained the rules to us: only West Berlin citizens were allowed to go inside. It was a Bulgarian restaurant, and the East German government strictly prohibited its own citizens from entering.
The Restaurant
After walking around the whole day, we got hungry and decided to go into this new, elegant restaurant. We sat at the bar first. Brane explained the setup: because Bulgaria was a communist country in need of foreign currency, and because the waiters were Bulgarian, we could exchange money here on the black market—but only with the Bulgarian waiters, not the Germans.
We got a much better rate here than at the exchange in West Berlin. Instead of the twelve Marks we got at the official exchange, here we received fourteen. After finishing our cocktails, we sat down at a table.
There were flowers in the middle of the table, beautiful glasses, white linens, and cutlery neatly wrapped in white cloths. I had never seen anything like it, not even in a movie. As an almost sixteen-year-old kid sitting in such a luxurious place, I felt entirely out of my element.
But the food was incredible. We ate something roasted, and I had never in my life smelled anything so wonderful. We feasted on delicious meat, potatoes, and salad, accompanied by luxury drinks. When we finally finished and walked out, each of us still had more than half of our money left.
Dusk
I don’t know exactly what time it was, but when we left the restaurant, the streets were empty, and it was almost totally dark. A well-groomed young man was walking alone about thirty yards away. He was wearing a nice black suit with a blue shirt and tie.
After such a good meal, we were in high spirits, laughing and talking loudly. When the young man approached us, he surprised us by asking in Yugoslavian: “Are you Yugoslavians?”
I was shocked that someone we had never met in this massive city was speaking our language. Brane confirmed and said yes. The lonely guy introduced himself: “I’m Misa,” he said, before asking, “What are you doing?”
Brane told him we had just left the restaurant. Misa said he was just about to go in, but since he was alone, he wanted to join us.
Now, there were four of us walking together. Misa was about twenty years old, perhaps a little taller than me. He mentioned that his girlfriend had just taken the train home, which was why he was alone. Because communist countries and their shops operated under strict rules, the streets ahead of us were completely deserted; citizens were expected to be at home.
Suddenly…
About twenty yards ahead of us, two very pretty young girls suddenly appeared from around a corner. As they walked toward us, I noticed their short skirts and the jackets they wore over their shirts. One of them had short blonde hair and was dressed in a light blue skirt with a matching blue jacket on top. Her friend, who had long dark hair, was dressed in darker clothing.
As they got closer, the new guy, Misa, confidently greeted them and asked what they were doing. They replied that they had been out at a bar and were now heading home. Both girls were taller than me.
Even though Misa had just told us his girlfriend was in East Berlin, he immediately invited these two strangers to come with us to a bar where only West Germans were allowed to enter. The girls apologized and stepped a few meters away from us to talk privately.
While the four of us stood there waiting, Brane muttered, “What the hell are they talking about for so long? I don’t think they’ll come with us.”
While they discussed it, I discreetly glanced at them. They were both incredibly attractive. I wouldn’t have said no to either of them, but I was especially captivated by the blonde girl in the blue skirt.
After three or four uncertain minutes, they walked back over to us. The beauty with the short blonde hair, high heels, and light blue outfit apologized, explaining that her friend had to go home, but she had decided to come with us alone.
The two friends said their goodbyes.
Here We Go, We Are Five
After walking several hundred meters down the dimly lit, empty street, Misa finally spoke up. “Let’s go up the stairs.”
He seemed to know his way around. It was a new building. When we walked inside, we found a bar divided into two rooms—one larger, one smaller. We chose the smaller room, which only had a few empty tables and no other guests. Between the two rooms was the main bar.
Chapter IV – At the Table
It was an elongated white table with four chairs: one on the left, one on the right, and two on the long side. Opposite those two chairs was a window. When the waiter saw that there were five of us, he brought another chair and squeezed it into the middle between the two.
While Misa, Brane, and Harry were discussing where everyone would sit, she decided to take off her short blue outer jacket, which she wore to cover her upper body from any curious eyes.
Since I was the first to notice, I had the pleasure of taking her jacket and hanging it on the clothes hook not far from the table. For the first time, I looked directly into her friendly green eyes. She smiled at me and politely thanked me with her tender voice. Our lonely table was in the corner.
When we both got back to the table, everyone else had already taken their seats. Since she was supposed to sit in the middle, I pulled her chair out so she could sit down more easily.
To my right sat Brane. On his right was the window, looking out into the dark night. With this beauty on my left side, I felt incredibly comfortable. I think my neighbor Harry from my hometown had the same feeling because she was sitting on his right, right between us. Since there were five of us squeezed at a table meant for four, it was quite tight; our shoulders were almost touching.
Misa, who sat alone on the left, and Brane on the right, both had the best view of her. They took the lead in the conversation. Even though she didn’t understand our language, Harry still cracked jokes in Yugoslavian to make us laugh—typical Harry, just as I knew him from back home. Whenever she wanted to know why we were laughing, one of us would translate for her.
What a Fake Person
Misa, the guy we had just met, had said goodbye to his girlfriend barely half an hour ago, and she was already on her way home. But since Misa was well-dressed and handsome, he thought he had the best chance of winning this beautiful girl over. That was why he chose the seat on the left, directly in her line of sight. Out of all of us, he was the most eager to keep her attention.
After a while, as we finished our first drinks, Misa made a proposal in our language so she wouldn’t understand: “There are four of us men, and she’s alone. Since we can’t all go with her, it’s best if she picks one of us.” How cleverly he thought that up. He knew he looked great, and he was convinced he had the best chance of getting her. We agreed.
Misa turned to her and said in German, “There are four of us, and we can’t all go with you. We decided that you can choose one of us. Is that okay with you?” He conveniently left out that it was his idea. But she had heard him talking the whole time, so I am sure she knew exactly whose idea it was.
I can’t imagine how such a beautiful girl felt after that question. He was practically forcing her to choose one of us! Something like that would never have come out of my mouth. His girlfriend had just gone home, and now he wanted to cheat on her. This beauty was probably much more attractive than his girlfriend; why else would he do this?
At his suggestion, she just laughed and said, “Okay, I’ll need some time.” Shortly after, she excused herself to go to the restroom.
As she walked away, Brane—the one who had persuaded me to come to East Berlin—said, “She definitely won’t choose me. I’m not that attractive. If she chooses someone, it will be either Misa or Adam.”
Harry laughed and chimed in, “She definitely won’t choose me either! Look at me, I am so fat!” As he said this, he slapped his belly and laughed loudly at himself. Whether we meant to or not, all three of us had to grin at his self-deprecating joke. Harry was, in reality, quite overweight.
Afterwards, Harry added, “I also think she’ll choose one of these two.” He looked to his right at me and said, “Adam!” Then he looked to his left and said, “Misa!” Finally, he looked at Brane, laughed, and said, “Brane, you and me, we have absolutely no chance against these two!”
Just like the first, his second comment was so good that we all burst out laughing again. Harry was incredibly funny, which was exactly why all the children in our neighborhood back in Yugoslavia loved him. Harry then turned his head to the left and asked, “And what do you think, Misa?”
It was probably too embarrassing for Misa to openly admit he thought she would pick him, so he played it cool. “I think the same as both of you,” he admitted. “She will choose one of us.”
Then they all looked at me, waiting for me to guess. Because all three of them actually considered me a contender, I was pleasantly surprised. But somehow, at that moment, it felt too silly to comment. I had never had a girlfriend, and I couldn’t fathom that such a beautiful girl would ever choose me.
Honestly, if I were walking alone on the street and saw her coming toward me, I probably would have crossed to the other sidewalk just to avoid looking at someone so stunning. She was simply too pretty. Therefore, I just said, “I don’t want to say anything. We will see. She’ll decide.” But deep inside, I desperately hoped she would choose me.
Minutes Pass
As about ten minutes passed, Misa kept looking to his right toward the restroom, checking to see if she was coming back. Misa was so sure he had won her over that he could hardly wait for her to return to the table.
After a while, his impatience betrayed him. Suddenly he blurted out, “She’s not coming. She probably ran away and went home!”
He was terrified he had lost his chance. When we first entered the bar, I had noticed a public phone near the toilets. I suspected she was just making a call, probably to the friend who had gone home, to tell her about the atmosphere, or maybe to her parents. I kept my thoughts to myself.
Shortly after Misa’s panicked comment, Brane pointed out, “She hasn’t run away. Her jacket is still hanging on the hook.” They all turned to look behind my back at the blue jacket I had hung up earlier.
Several minutes later, she returned. Since there wasn’t much space between Harry and me, and Harry had a hard time getting out of his chair, I stood up and pulled her chair out to make it easier for her to sit down. For a guy my age, I wasn’t doing too badly. She looked at me with her bright green eyes and a beautiful smile, thanking me politely for the second time that evening. That smile sent a jolt of pure pleasure through my body. She said something playful to me and laughed.
Once we were both seated again, it felt incredible to be so close to her. Shortly after she sat down, I barely noticed her leg brushing against my right leg. I assumed it was just an accident, an uncomfortable reality of Harry, her, and me being crammed onto the long side of the table.
Because our glasses were almost empty, the waiter finally came over and asked what we would like to drink. Everyone ordered coffee. I didn’t want to be the exception, so I ordered one too. As the waiter left, I just sat there speechless, laughing along with the guys and their conversation.
Chapter V – Under the Table
Because her right leg and my left leg touched slightly, I tried to make a little space for her by pulling my left leg half an inch to my right. I figured this way she would feel more comfortable. But just a few seconds after I pulled my left leg away, I felt her high heel right next to my boot again. This time, her knee pressed against mine, and her thigh pressed firmly against my thigh.
I felt the pressure increasing on the side of my leg, between my boot and my knee. Her thigh was now pressing against mine harder with every passing second. I sensed exactly what she was doing, but I pretended to merely listen to the conversation, all the while wondering what was happening under the table. I told myself, since she leaned her right leg against mine again, I’ll just leave it at that. Let her do what she wants.
Minutes passed, and she maintained the constant pressure. Our legs, from foot to knee to thigh, were now glued together. Because the pressure had been constant for several minutes, I could feel her warmth seeping through my cowboy jeans. The entire side of my leg was hot against hers. At that moment, I was barely aware that I was experiencing the body heat of a woman for the very first time in my life. No one but her and me knew what she was doing under the table.
Coffee
The waiter brought the coffee, placing a cup on the table for each of us individually.
I remained silent the whole time, not saying a word, just patiently listening to whoever was speaking. Everyone casually took their coffee and started drinking. I wasn’t a coffee drinker, but since I didn’t want to be the odd one out at the table, I hadn’t refused it when they ordered. I already knew caffeine wasn’t good for my body because it always made me tremble. Remembering past bad experiences, I started worrying about what would happen if I picked up the cup now.
Desperate not to embarrass myself and wanting to hide my insecurity from her, I waited for the exact moment she turned to listen to Misa on my left. As soon as she looked away, I grabbed the cup with my nervous, shaky hand. As I lifted it, I could see and feel the cup wobbling. My hand was trembling violently. I shot a quick glance at her, but she hadn’t noticed.
Terrified that I would spill black coffee all over the pristine white tablecloth before I even took a sip, I kept my eyes glued to the rim of the cup as I brought it to my mouth. My hand continued to shake. I constantly darted my eyes between the cup and her, terrified she would turn her head and see me trembling like a leaf.
When the cup finally reached my lips, I still kept her in my peripheral vision. I took one small sip and quickly lowered the cup back to the table. Since nothing spilled, and the cup wouldn’t be as full the next time I reached for it, a wave of relief washed over me. Knowing she hadn’t seen my clumsy handling of the cup finally allowed me to slowly begin to relax.
As I glanced to my left toward the handsome Misa, my eyes automatically took in her entire figure. Her light, tight blue dress shone before my eyes, impossible to miss. The pleasant blue color perfectly complemented her short blonde hair. Until tonight, I had never known the intoxicating feeling of sitting next to such a beauty. I simply abandoned any thought of pulling my leg away from hers ever again. I would let it stay exactly where it was. If she didn’t pull away, I would gladly soak in her warmth and the immense inner pleasure it brought me. I imagined overweight Harry on her other side probably felt the exact same way.
Next to me sat a stunning woman in a short dress who deliberately pressed her foot against mine. Her legs were bare from her high heels all the way up under her skirt. I hadn’t noticed this until we got to the table. When I had helped her take off her jacket to hang it on the hook, and then pulled out her chair so she could sit down, I caught a glimpse as she took her seat—she wasn’t wearing stockings.
I would have to be an absolute fool to pull my leg away from the bare skin of a beautiful woman a second time. I was enjoying it, feeling the warmth of a woman for the very first time in my life. And still, no one but her and me knew the secret, intoxicating atmosphere she had created for me under that table.
Impatience
Less than ten minutes after she came out of the restroom and we received our coffee, Misa grew impatient and eager. He could hardly wait for her to say yes, entirely convinced he was the one she had chosen. So, he pressed her: “So, have you decided?”
Her answer was simple: “Not yet!”
With her sharp intuition, she saw right through me. She probably realized I was completely new to the world of women. Almost the exact second she gave her answer to Misa, she increased the pressure of her thigh and lower leg against my leg under the table. The renewed, intense pressure felt as if she were trying to push me right off my chair. Through this physical contact, she was silently screaming at me: “Adam, wake up! I’ve already made a decision. It is you.”
A minute passed since Misa’s impatient question, and her hard, intense pressure remained constant. With this relentless contact, she was desperately trying to tell me, “Adam, turn around. Look me in the eyes.” But I had grown so accustomed to her closeness that the heavy pressure of her long leg was simply giving me immense pleasure. I was enjoying it too much to react. What sane man would refuse such contact?
About three minutes after Misa’s question, the pressure became so intense that our skin was practically burning, yet I still hadn’t understood her signal. Brane, sitting on my right, was busy entertaining the table. Deep down, she was hoping I would finally turn to face her. She had been inwardly praying for more than five minutes, trying to make me realize she had chosen me so I could share in the happiness. All the while, she laughed and looked at the others, never saying a word.
At least ten minutes passed. I still didn’t turn to her; I was just blindly enjoying her touch under the table. The selfish, impatient Misa desperately wanted to hear that she had finally chosen him. So, he impatiently asked for a second time. “And who is the lucky one?” he asked, trying to charm her with his winning smile.
Realizing I was still completely oblivious to what she was trying to tell me with the pressure on my leg, she changed tactics. I noticed her thigh suddenly separate from mine.
Two seconds later, she slid her right leg directly between my legs, spreading my cowboy boots apart. At that moment, I was incredibly glad I wasn’t actively thinking about how she had looked when she and her friend first walked around the corner toward us.
When they had first approached, the very first thing I noticed from a distance was her short dress, her high heels, and those long, straight legs. To keep my composure back then, I had forced myself to look only at their faces. Now, sitting at the table, with her pushing my boots apart—if I had stopped to actually think about what she was doing with her hot, bare legs, I would have lost my breath entirely. I was just glad to look busy, pretending to listen to the others talk, watching from the side as we all waited for her to answer Misa’s question.
Chapter VI – Finally
The next moment, she lifted her high heel and rested it directly on top of my right cowboy boot. She pressed her bare shin against my calf.
She started pressing the sole of her shoe down onto my toes. While she pressed down on my boot from above, she firmly pressed her bare thigh against my leg from below. The pressure was so intense, it felt as if the sole of her shoe and my cowboy boot were glued together. It was as intimate as holding hands and intertwining our fingers. In my homeland, there’s a saying: if someone presses your foot, they want to be kissed. I wondered if the same was true here in Germany.
At that moment, I finally understood. Now I knew why she had spent the last ten minutes pressing her leg against mine.
I pretended to look out the window. She subtly turned her head as if to look at Brane, who was busy talking. Our bright eyes met for the first time since she had returned from the restroom. Very discreetly, so Brane couldn’t see, she blinked her right eye at me. It was our first secret flirtation. With that single, deliberate wink, her message was loud and clear: “It’s you.”
I could still feel her foot resting heavily on my boot. Shortly after our secret exchange, she pulled her foot away and returned it to its normal position. The light touch against my leg remained, but the intense pressure was gone; she simply wanted to maintain physical contact, sharing her warmth with me.
She and I now had a secret. She wanted me.
Fish on a Hook
More than ten minutes had passed since Misa’s first question, “So, have you decided?” After spending the entire evening trying to charm her, he desperately wanted to hear his own name. He pressed her again: “And who is the lucky one?”
She was intelligent. She knew Misa was fully aware of his own good looks. She knew he had orchestrated this little game of choosing one of us, and she knew he was absolutely certain he would be the winner.
Therefore, after his second question, she hesitated on purpose. She continued to smile sweetly, staring right at him so he would think she was flirting back. They laughed and locked eyes for another five seconds. As he kept pouring on the charm and she smiled sweetly in return, Misa grew inwardly certain that he was the chosen one.
He expected her to finally say, “Yes, it’s you!” He was the only one at the table feeling impatient, and now the suspense was killing him. Seconds ticked by.
Because she had already given me the signal—pressing her sole against my boot and that brief, unnoticed wink—and because our legs were still lightly touching, I simply sat back and relaxed, basking in her warmth.
Knowing she wanted me, I finally dared to openly watch her beautiful face and her short blonde hair. My God, I thought, no man could walk past this dream woman without turning his head. Inwardly, I marveled at how stunning she was.
Will I actually get to kiss that beautiful face tonight? I wondered, watching her maintain friendly, intense eye contact with Misa. Stealing sideways glances, I simply couldn’t get enough of her. Lost in my fantasies, I admired the masterful cat-and-mouse game she was playing. Oh, my God, I thought, you’re good.
Misa was captivated by her beauty, caught like a fish on a hook. Although her mind was made up, she dragged out her answer, laughing and holding his gaze. He was fully convinced the prize was his.
In truth, he had been hooked all evening. With his final question, “And who’s the lucky one?”, she had essentially pulled the fish out of the water, letting him wriggle in mid-air for a few agonizing seconds.
Brane and Harry had long since ruled themselves out, but they were still tense. Would it be the handsome Misa, who had been flirting relentlessly, or me—the kid who hadn’t said a single word to this beautiful girl?
After leaving him in suspense for over five seconds, she finally, wordlessly, nodded her blonde hair toward me. Considering how certain Misa had been, I could only imagine the crushing disappointment he must have felt in that exact moment.
After All
After all, he was the one who had approached the two girls on the street. He was the one who had calculated his odds and suggested the game in our language: “Since there are four of us and not all four can go with her, she should choose one of us.”
Misa was the one perfectly willing to cheat on his girlfriend, who had gone home barely an hour earlier, just to be with this dream woman. I wondered if he even had a girlfriend at all, or if he was just one of those guys who needed to feel important in front of his friends. Tonight, his arrogance earned him a harsh lesson from an incredibly intelligent beauty.
He was the one who panicked when she took too long in the restroom, terrified that his prize had slipped away. When she returned, he was so eager to hear his own name that he immediately pressed her for a decision. Even when she said, “Not yet,” he blindly kept flirting, completely sure of his impending victory.
Impatient to claim her, he desperately wanted to hear his name so we would finally leave them alone. So, he pressed her one last time: “And who’s the lucky one?” Even though she and I had been sharing our secret beneath the table, she made him wait. For five long seconds, they laughed and stared at each other. Then, the penny dropped.
Official
At that moment, it was official. She had made her decision.
For the first time that evening, she turned her head fully toward me and looked directly into my eyes. She didn’t drop her friendly, smiling expression; it still looked as if she were laughing at Misa’s joke. Because of where we were sitting, only Brane could clearly see her face when she winked at me again. It was our second secret flirtation of the evening.
As I gazed into her green eyes, her expression subtly shifted. The feigned, playful look vanished, replaced by something much deeper. Her eyes spoke to me. It was as if she were saying, “We really got him.” Then, she gave a brief, subtle nod, as if to say, “We belong together.”
Her face radiated pure joy. She kept her eyes locked on my innocent, beaming face, clearly feeding off my happiness. Looking at her bright green eyes and the short blonde hair framing her joyful face, I could see how excited she was to be alone with me later.
Because I was completely captivated by her gaze, I didn’t even look down as she extended her hand. Knowing she had chosen me, my mind was already racing, fantasizing about walking out of there with her. But when she unexpectedly reached out and placed her soft hand over my folded hands on the table, I was electrified.
With that single, deliberate touch, our first true physical connection was made. I broke out in goosebumps of pure bliss.
In that moment, I felt like I was no longer alone in the world. My insides churned, and it felt as if my blood were boiling with excitement. It was as if an invisible, electric energy flowed from her skin directly into mine, surging straight into my bloodstream.
I was overwhelmed. I had a girl of my own. Wow. I was in absolute heaven. My heart hammered against my ribs, beating only for her. For a few perfect seconds, we simply looked at each other, holding hands in secret, lost in our own world.
Chapter VII – Farewell
Since Misa had gambled and lost, he wanted to save face so we wouldn’t see his disappointment. He called over to Brane and Harry, “Guys, we said if she chooses one of us, the others leave.”
While Harry and Brane got up, Misa managed to keep his composure, giving us both a friendly look as he said his goodbyes. “Have a good evening,” all three of them called out to us. Brane added, “You two don’t need to pay. I’ll settle the bill for you.” And with that, he was the last to say goodbye.
We sat there and watched as the three of them disappeared.
An Exciting Moment
Now, it was official. The three of us boys had just come to East Berlin to have a good time with a little money, and now, I was left entirely alone at the table with a gorgeous, short-haired beauty.
Earlier at the table, Brane and Misa had taken turns talking to entertain her, and even overweight Harry had taken his chances to make her smile. I, on the other hand, hadn’t said a single funny thing all evening. I had just sat there, laughing along with their jokes, and whenever she spoke, I simply enjoyed listening to her soft, feminine voice. I had been completely speechless, just grinning the entire time.
There’s a saying that “silence is golden,” and I realized then just how true it could be. Perhaps because I had been so quiet, I was a mystery to her. Was that why she wanted me? Who knows?
The Western Look
I had long black hair full of curls, and I sported an American wild west look. I wore cowboy boots, jeans, and a brown leather jacket with long fringes hanging from the sleeves and across the chest. I looked like a scout from the pioneer days, or rather, a young, wild guy straight out of a cowboy movie.
Getting to Know Each Other
With the others gone, we were finally alone. Since she was a lady and I was trying to be a gentleman, I gladly let her take control of the interaction. Because I was such a mystery to her, she led the conversation. It was a simple chat, just getting to know each other better.
After all, she was nineteen, and I wasn’t even sixteen yet. A young woman of nineteen couldn’t have looked more perfect. With her short hair, her friendly green eyes, her tender voice, and her beautiful smile, she made me feel completely comfortable. Our faces betrayed that we were both overjoyed in that moment. I loved looking directly into her eyes. As she looked back at me, I was overwhelmed with pure happiness.
She finally told me why she had come along with us. Out on the street, when Misa had first hit on them and the two girls had stepped aside to talk, she had actually been trying to persuade her friend to stay. Unfortunately, her friend couldn’t. But she had flattered me by telling her friend, “I really want to meet the long-haired cowboy.” That was why she confessed that Misa never stood a chance that evening.
After about twenty minutes of talking, we knew a lot more about each other.
Leaving the Bar
Since my guide, Brane, had already paid the bill, we stood up and walked over to where her jacket was hanging. I felt like I was in a good movie.
As we stood by the wall, I reached for her jacket while she hung her small, blue leather bag on a lower hook at eye level. Just as I had taken her jacket when we arrived, I now had the opportunity to be a gentleman and help her put it back on.
For a fifteen-year-old, I didn’t do too badly. With a charming smile, she looked into my eyes and thanked me again. Because good quality clothing was hard to find in East Berlin, she was dressed quite modernly in her short light-blue dress—she looked like she could easily be a citizen from West Berlin.
Once her jacket was on, she grabbed her small blue bag from the lower hook. Barely having slung it over her shoulder, she stretched out her free hand and grasped my right arm, just above the elbow. At that moment, I got goosebumps for the second time that evening. The first time was when she unexpectedly placed her hand on mine at the table. Now, I felt as if I had been hit with an electric shock. My heart started beating faster, and it felt like the blood was vibrating all the way up to my brain.
We started to leave the bar, walking together as if we were a married couple. With her left hand securely holding my right arm, we walked out of the small room and headed past the main bar. Seeing us approach, I felt incredibly proud. I felt like a prince walking with his princess.
As we said goodbye to the waiters and they smiled back at us, I am absolutely sure they were watching us with deep jealousy. They were probably thinking, What a beautiful woman.
Chapter VIII – A Romantic Night Walk
As we walked out the door, we went downstairs carefully because she was wearing high heels. With her holding onto my right arm, we slowly descended the stairs. I felt like we were leaving some kind of castle behind us. I tried to keep my posture perfectly straight, feeling as if she were my princess and I was her prince.
Since I was new to the city and didn’t know my way around, she took my arm and led me on a walk into the warm summer night. It must have been around ten o’clock, perhaps later. I didn’t have a watch, and I didn’t want to break the magic by asking her.
There weren’t even any cars driving around at that hour. For a metropolis like this to not have a single soul in sight, the atmosphere felt incredibly unusual. I realized for the first time that I was in a communist state, where the rules were vastly different from those in West Berlin. Along the sidewalk, every thirty to forty yards, stood a street lamp that barely gave off much light—whether they were saving electricity or just using old gas lights, the streets remained dim.
I was a fifteen-year-old boy from a small town who, in the past, had only played in meadows, forests, and streams. Since arriving in West Berlin, I had been working six days a week, twelve hours a day at a grueling job. That kind of harsh labor was forbidden for children. I felt like my father’s slave. He received my paychecks weekly, handing me a miserable ten Marks as pocket money and keeping the rest for himself. I had lived like a slave for almost five months.
But tonight, walking through a metropolis with the most beautiful girl I could ever imagine, I finally felt at peace. She was holding onto the right arm of my leather jacket. I loved feeling her fingers resting against my ribs and her hand holding onto my elbow.
At that moment, I felt like I was in heaven. We were simply happy. As we walked and talked, I could hear in her voice how much she liked me and how much she enjoyed being with me. Whenever we looked into each other’s eyes, I could feel the warmth flowing from her gaze into mine. The warmth she transferred to me was pure energy of happiness.
The houses to our right were barely twenty yards high, mostly lower. Since the sidewalk ran close to them, I could see that the building walls were quite old and in desperate need of maintenance.
As we strolled alone down the deserted sidewalks, we would occasionally spot a police officer on a street corner. But before we could get close, they would disappear from view. When we reached the corner where the policeman had been standing, I looked into the dark street, searching for him. He was like a ghost, vanishing into thin air.
There were police officers stationed everywhere just to keep watch. Looking back, that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Because of their heavy presence, there was absolutely no crime on the streets, day or night.
Unter den Linden
After a while, we came to a massive avenue with four lanes in each direction. Still, there were no cars! The large, dark windows betrayed that this wasn’t a residential area. There were no lights on in any of the buildings; it was likely an entirely governmental district.
At the time, I didn’t know she was leading me through one of the most famous areas in East Berlin. I didn’t know we were walking through Museum Island, a unique building complex in the heart of the city that housed five world-famous museums built under Prussian rulers. No wonder the street was completely empty—all the museums had been closed for hours.
What I did notice immediately were the trees planted closely together along the sidewalks on both sides of the street. Even here, there wasn’t a soul in sight. That evening, I didn’t catch the name of the road, but I later found out it was named after those very trees: Unter den Linden (Under the Linden Trees).
The two directions of the four-lane road were separated by a median, also planted heavily with linden trees. Walking under their canopy, the warm night was clear, with stars shining brightly in the sky. It was truly romantic.
What I didn’t know at that moment was that directly ahead of us, looming in the distance, was Berlin’s most famous landmark.
The Brandenburg Gate
As the minutes passed, we drew closer. From a distance of about fifty yards, in the dim light, I saw the Brandenburg Gate for the very first time in my life.
Access to it was completely blocked. Thick, crossed metal rods were set up as a barricade, with barbed wire strung across the top. Behind this barricade stood armed guards. Their sole job was to prevent any citizen of East Berlin from escaping over the Wall into West Berlin. Therefore, they were constantly staring eastward—right in the direction we were coming from. Immediately behind the gate stood the infamous Berlin Wall.
She told me she despised the soldiers and hated the East German government. I understood why; they were the ones who refused to let her cross into West Berlin. I immediately felt deeply sorry for her. Since leaving the bar, we had been surrounded by dead silence, and that silence was heaviest here.
Under the clear sky, the outline of the four-horse chariot—the Quadriga—at the highest point of the gate stood out in the darkness. Suddenly, she turned to me and whispered that she wanted to annoy the soldiers. “What do you want to do?” I asked. “Let’s go closer to the barricades,” she replied. We started walking.
Since the gate was classified as a historical monument, the East German government had left it standing, erecting the Wall directly behind it. Normally, they would have cleared the entire area to plant landmines, pushing the secondary wall much further east.
As we walked toward it, there still wasn’t a single soul on the sidewalk, nor a single car. The dead silence was oppressive. It was just getting late.
As we got closer, I could clearly see four guards with machine guns standing behind the barbed-wire barricade. They held their rifles securely across their chests, ready to fire at a moment’s notice. Because she was nineteen and longed so desperately for West Berlin, I figured she must have been here before; she knew exactly how close we were allowed to go.
When cars approached the barrier from the eastern side, they were forced into a dead-end semicircle, making them turn around and drive back. Between that turnaround point and the metal barricade, a long red-and-white tape was stretched entirely across the street. A sign hanging in front of it read: “Do Not Approach.”
This area was bathed in bright floodlights. When we were about five yards away from the warning tape, she finally stopped. “This is close enough,” she whispered, her hand still gripping my right arm.
Although the street directly in front of the barricade was brightly lit, we stood perfectly hidden in the shadow of a large linden tree. A light wind caressed our faces.
We looked across the threatening barbed wire, right over the heads of the soldiers, gazing up at the gate. The soldiers, with their rifles ready to fire, barely moved. As we looked over them, their eyes were locked directly on us, doing exactly what they were trained to do. The sight of them was incredibly intimidating.
We both felt the thick, heavy tension in the air between them and us. And still, there was that deadly, terrifying silence. Directly in front of us hung the red-and-white ribbon, a final, silent warning: “Do not touch this border.”
Chapter IX – The Breeze of Death
A light wind caressed our faces. She had told me earlier that many people had died at this very Wall, most of them shot. Looking over the soldiers’ heads at their rifles ready to fire, that light wind felt like the breeze of death. In the midst of this tense, threatening atmosphere, she suddenly turned to face me. I looked at her in surprise, and she locked eyes with me.
Without warning, she pushed my casually hanging leather jacket aside, stretched out her arms, and wrapped her hands around my hips, slipping them underneath my jacket.
Our faces were tense from the intimidating atmosphere, but she broke the heavy silence. “I want to kiss you,” she whispered.
I loved what I heard so much that I let out a sudden, breathless laugh, losing all my composure. A massive smile broke across my face. A half-second later, still a little unsure, I reached out and touched the tight blue fabric of her dress just above her hips. It was the first time I had held her that evening. Because she was a little taller than me in her high heels, my hands naturally rested just above the hem of her short skirt. Her words made me incredibly happy, but I immediately saw through her plan!
The soldiers were standing right there, serving the very government that prevented East German citizens like her from escaping to West Berlin. She wanted to annoy them. She wanted to kiss me. With this single act, she accomplished three things: first, she provoked the guards and made them jealous; second, she made me the happiest kid in the world; and third, she allowed herself to just have fun and be happy.
Clever, I thought. I would have preferred it if we were alone somewhere in a dark corner under a tree. But no real man would ever refuse such a lovely suggestion from such a beautiful girl. Since she was looking for a challenge, I decided I would do anything she wanted for a kiss, even if it meant risking my life. I was just thrilled to be with her. She didn’t have to ask me twice!
When she said she wanted to kiss me, it caught me so off guard that I laughed. Seeing the pure joy in my eyes, her tense expression melted away, and she couldn’t help but laugh as well. Under the shadow of the last linden tree, just steps away from the steel barricades, we stood there for a few seconds, simply smiling happily at each other.
When she had placed her hand over mine at the bar an hour earlier, I was electrified. It had been our first real, deliberate physical contact. I had felt the warmth of her hand coursing through my veins straight to my brain. The excitement had made my blood boil and bubble throughout my entire body. Later, when she slung her bag over her shoulder and unexpectedly grabbed my arm tightly above the elbow, she had initiated another deep connection. When her fingers brushed against my ribs, I had felt a massive surge of pride.
For the first time in my life, I felt like I was someone. I had proudly straightened my posture, taking my first real step into the adult world. We had left that small room with my head held high, walking past the envious glances of the waiters. From that moment on, she was my pride and joy.
And now, for the first time, standing just yards away from threatening soldiers, she had wrapped both her arms around me. If this wasn’t an escalation to the highest stage of the night, what was?
As we held each other, smiling and locking eyes, I could feel the tightness of her short dress beneath my hands. The material was so smooth it felt as if I were touching her bare skin directly. Gazing into her bright green eyes and knowing I was holding such a beauty, I felt the warmth of her body beneath my fingers. A wave of great joy and bliss washed over me. I literally had a dream woman in my hands. She was surrendering to me, willingly asking for my kiss.
Beneath her short blonde hair, I watched the happy laughter slowly fade from her beautiful face. It was replaced by a deeply amorous, serious look. A half-second later, as if her face were a mirror, I felt my own expression transform into the exact same loving gaze.
For a second, our eyes penetrated one another, betraying our deepest thoughts. We were thinking exactly the same thing. We gazed at each other, completely lost in love, for the next few seconds.
Because I had never been in this situation before—facing a woman who actively wanted to kiss me—I just looked at her beautiful face, utterly speechless. I simply couldn’t believe what was happening. My hands rested just above her hips, feeling the incredible warmth of her perfectly built body beneath my fingers.
Our glances betrayed the truth: we were falling in love. It was a hot summer night.
The next moment, she pulled my hips even closer to hers and, in slow motion, leaned her head toward mine. With her high heels, she was a few centimeters taller, but that didn’t bother either of us. She had the advantage of leaning over me, and I had the advantage of being able to pull her head down toward mine.
Our eyes and lips slowly drew closer. As a nineteen-year-old, she had the experience. When our faces were close enough, she took the final step and pressed her lips to mine. Without even realizing it, in that beautiful, unconscious moment, I crossed the threshold into a completely unknown world.
CHAPTER X – WORLD OF LOVE
This is the world of love. She is the first to close her eyes, and I follow. Right here, in this moment, she shows me how an experienced young woman kisses. For the first time, I experience and feel her transferring her passion to me. Her tongue moves in my mouth as if she were slowly licking a scoop of ice cream with relish. It feels as if she is slowly sucking my wet tongue dry, like a hummingbird gently drinking nectar.
I am a good student and slowly begin to enjoy it, beginning to transfer my own young passion to her. Kissing doesn’t seem to be that complicated. We are both filled with the passion of love.
She knows she is pretty and knows exactly how to pose. We stand so that the soldier guards can see both of us; the moment we hug, they can see us pulling each other close and our lips touching.
They can see her long, attractive legs in high heels from the side, accentuated by her short, light blue skirt. Because we are about eight to ten yards away from the first soldier standing on our corner, and since they cannot buy good quality clothes in East Berlin like we have in West Berlin, the soldiers can immediately tell from my attire that I am from the West. They must be jealous of my clothes, too.
With closed eyes, we feel the stares on our backs and the machine guns aimed at us. Even though there are dangerous spectators, after a while, since nothing happens to us, the fear of the guns slowly subsides. I start to relax and enjoy her closeness and warmth. From my perspective, her desire to annoy the soldiers makes me happy.
SWEET REVENGE
She doesn’t like soldiers or their government.
I enjoy her “sweet revenge,” and I love the sweetness she leaves in my mouth. I suppose she enjoys it too. It is my first kiss ever.
They say revenge is sweet. In our case, it is true. My girl is sweet—and she tastes sweet. We both fall in love.
If I had been alone and seen her walking down the street in her short skirt, her long legs in high heels, her beautiful face—I would have lowered my head, afraid to even breathe. I would never have dared to approach her. Why?
At fifteen, I am simply too young for such beauty. I would never have believed a girl like her could be interested in me. I would expect rejection—maybe even laughter.
But my long hair probably makes me look older, and at this moment she seems unconcerned about my age. How wrong one can be.
Now she gives me the chance to hold her. She kisses me and willingly lets me embrace her. An indescribable feeling—I am in heaven.
Even on this warm summer night, wearing my light brown leather jacket open, I feel her hands slowly moving up my back. She pulls me closer, pressing me against her body.
Under my jacket, I wear a light blue T-shirt with small white stars. She wears a tight dress. As she hugs me tightly, I feel the warmth of her body.
This moment overwhelms me—my actions become instinctive. Whether I want to or not, my hands glide over her back, feeling the smooth fabric of her dress. She feels like a dream. This is unreal—I am in heaven.
While she surrenders completely to her passion, I begin to forget the soldiers. I feel her desire more and more.
She knows what she’s doing. What about me? Do I know what I’m doing?
Yes. I want her.
Unconsciously, willingly, I let myself be seduced. Her hands gently move over my back.
SHE TEACHES ME
I’m not doing badly.
With her experience, she is teaching me how to kiss—how to love. I imitate her movements, placing my hands on her back just as she does on mine. All the while, I am excited.
At one moment, as she passionately covers my face with kisses, she gently pushes my long hair aside with her nose. As she kisses me alternately on the cheek, she whispers beautiful, flattering words into my ear—words I love.
Hearing her whisper, and knowing how beautiful she is, I instinctively open my eyes to admire her more closely. When I see her delicate, gentle face, I feel an even stronger desire to touch and kiss her. The mere sight of her awakens a deep longing within me. I begin to caress her soft face with my lips.
Completely captivated by her beauty from the very first moment, and aware that this is the first time in my life I am kissing a girl—while four machine guns are aimed at us—I realize that I am not doing badly at all.
After about ten to fifteen minutes under the shadow of the linden tree, presenting her “Sweet Revenge,” she wants us to move to the other side of the wide street. We must cross the semicircle where cars cannot stop—they must turn and drive back to the East. If we had known then that the other side would not bring us happiness, we would never have crossed.
Unfortunately, we do not know what is about to happen.
Holding my right arm at the elbow, she walks between me and the guard. In the middle of the brightly illuminated street, the four soldiers have a perfect view. Here, they can clearly see how beautiful she is.
That is exactly what she wants—to annoy them and make them jealous.
To our left is the central island where the linden trees are planted. In the deadly silence, with nothing interesting to see in the East, we feel the guards’ eyes on us with every step.
When we reach the other side, we stand on the sidewalk on the southern side of the street, under the shadow of another linden tree.
From here, the view changes. Shortly after crossing, I notice a small guardhouse, higher than the wall itself. A guard sits on top, watching the street behind the wall toward West Berlin. Tonight, however, he has something more interesting to watch than the empty Street of June 17th—he is watching us.
At almost the same moment, we turn toward each other, completely in love. This time, she does not have to wait long for this young, almost sixteen-year-old boy.
From my perspective, I enjoy her “Sweet Revenge.” And this time, for the first time in my life, I know exactly what my next move will be.
Since nothing happened to us on the northern side of Lindenstraße, now standing on the southern side, it feels as if we are finally alone. As we gaze at each other for a second or two, lovingly, it is as if our thoughts mirror each other. Slowly, our heads move toward one another at the same time.
Holding her feels like a beautiful dream. Being held and kissed by her is even more than that.
When our lips meet, the “Sweet Revenge” begins again.
As we kiss, I feel as if I am in seventh heaven once more. I do not know how she feels—whether she is driven only by revenge or whether she, too, wants to float in that same heaven with me. But it feels as though she has surrendered to me with the same passion as before, on the northern side of Unter den Linden.
If she had chosen the handsome, pushy Misa at the bar, I would still have gone home happy. I had already had my unforgettable experience sitting next to her, only an inch away, breathing the same air.
If she had chosen Misa, at least I would have had the honor, as a gentleman, of taking her jacket and hanging it up.
I had the honor of pulling out her chair twice so she could sit more comfortably between Harry and me. While Misa was speaking to her and she looked in his direction, I had the quiet privilege of admiring her face from up close.
I had the chance to listen to her voice from less than thirty centimeters away.
I had the beautiful experience of her looking at me twice with affection—and smiling at me.
On the way home in the subway, with Brane and Harry, we would have talked and dreamed about this beautiful girl. I would have gone to bed thinking about her until sleep finally overcame me.
The next day at work, even after twelve exhausting hours, with sweat running down my body, my thoughts would still be with her. These memories alone would have made me happy.
Her beauty would remain in my mind every night as I fell asleep. I would always see her before me—like a beautiful angel. My Angel of Love.
She was meant to be my most beautiful childhood memory. I cannot say how many days passed before I finally stopped thinking about her.
And even as an adult, the memory of my beloved angel has remained—and will remain forever.
CHAPTER XI – DURING THE SWEET REVENGE BREAK
CLUMSY
Looking toward West Berlin, I suddenly remembered that Brane, my guide, had brought me to East Berlin today. When Brane told me the day before that he was picking me up, I didn’t have to tell him the street. He knew where I lived because his mother lived on the same street as we did. Since he knew the street, he just told me the time he would pick me up. Since arriving on April 17th, I had never once looked at the name of the street where we lived.
My father drove us to work every day by car, and he drove us home. I only knew of a shop across the street where I occasionally bought little things for my parents. Whenever I walked down the street on Sundays or during the week, I was afraid of getting lost. I always walked a short distance but never paid attention to the street names. That’s how I discovered the nearby area, like the youth center. Feeling her arms wrapped around me, it suddenly occurred to me.
I said loudly, “Oh my God.” Inside, I thought, What now? I looked at her. She saw the fear in my face and how I panicked.
She asked, “What’s wrong?”
I answered, “I must go home.”
She did not believe what she had just heard. She stared at me and asked, “What?”
I repeated, “I must go home!” I could see in her questioning eyes that she didn’t like it at all.
Wanting me to stay, she spoke again, “I chose you, and now you want to go home?” She was right; she had chosen me. Since we had been left alone in the bar, it had been so nice to feel her warmth, to feel her left hand on my right arm, and to listen to her tender voice. It was wonderful to hug her, to kiss her, to feel her passion toward me… and now?
I was so scared that I didn’t even realize it was a huge mistake to leave such a beautiful girl. How stupid of me.
What happened to me? Why was I suddenly so scared, and why did I want to go home? Why did I want to leave this beautiful girl?
After she asked, “I chose you, and now you want to go home?” I told her, “I’m new to West Berlin, and I don’t know the name of the street where I live. I don’t know how to get home. I do not know how to take the train in West Berlin.” I added, “If we go back to the border now, maybe I’ll be lucky and catch up with my guide, Brane, who sat on my right! I don’t even know how to get to the border.”
Even though it was highly embarrassing, I didn’t even notice. She recognized the fear in my face and said reluctantly, “I will take you to the border.”
We stopped hugging and kissing, turned around, and started walking. Dead silence. Nobody was talking, neither she nor I. Deep down, I was terrified that I wouldn’t find my home in West Berlin. I was panicking; therefore, I didn’t speak.
The entire route we walked resembled a ghost town. We didn’t see anyone on the way to the Brandenburg Gate, except for one or two police officers. Whenever they saw us approaching from afar, they vanished like ghosts. While we were both silent, I didn’t think to ask myself what was going on in her head.
After five minutes, she said, “Wait a minute.” She released my elbow, reached to her other side, grabbed the small black bag hanging from her shoulder, and opened it. She took something out, lifted her hand to her face, and briefly pressed it to her eye. As she moved her hand away, I saw something white. At that moment, I recognized it was a handkerchief. She made the same movement again, touching her eye as if dabbing away a tear.
I asked her, “What’s wrong?”
She said, “Everything is fine.”
Once she let me know everything was alright and put the handkerchief back in her little bag, she placed her left hand on my right elbow again. To make it easier for her, I kept my right arm bent at a ninety-degree angle across my stomach.
We had left the soldiers behind us a while ago. In front of us, there was still not a soul in sight. Without another thought about her, we continued walking, still in silence.
I was still in a panic, thinking, If I do not catch Brane, my guide, at the border, I will never find my home in Berlin.
She was silent, too. After not even two minutes, she interrupted the silence for a second time. “Just a moment.” She let go of my right arm, opened her small black bag, and raised her hand to her face once again.
CHAPTER XII – NOW I AM EVEN MORE SCARED AND AT A LOSS
This time, her hand with the handkerchief makes me suspicious. My eyes tense up; I walk in front of her and stand in her way. I stare at her with questioning, tense eyes. In that fraction of a second, even in the dark under the linden trees, I recognize that her beautiful face is incredibly sad.
She is just about to wipe tears from her eyes for the second time in two minutes. In that same fraction of a second, goosebumps overwhelm my entire body. I am touched and shocked. “Oh my God, you’re crying,” comes out of my mouth. At the same moment, I put both hands on her hips. Beneath my fingers, I feel compassion, and through the tight, smooth fabric of her short skirt, I feel her beautiful, womanly body. She looks sadly and desperately into my eyes, feeling the energy of worry and sadness flowing from my gaze and my hands all over her body.
Her eyes look straight at me; they mourn and accuse me. Her gaze betrays her feelings and says to me, “You hurt me.” They questioningly ask, “Why are you doing this?” But I do not know what is going on. Therefore, I ask, “Did I do something wrong?”
While she hesitates with her answer, she looks straight at me, sad and desperate, with her mourning and accusing eyes. At that moment, she must be thinking: You’re going home, and with that, you’ve broken my heart. As we look into each other’s eyes, I see the tears multiplying as if a fountain has just erupted.
Her sad, tear-filled, half-open eyes stare directly at me without blinking, squinting slightly upward as if to say, Yes, you did. You are causing me grief! But still, she doesn’t say anything. Her gaze pleads with me sadly: I don’t want you to leave.
But she still doesn’t say a word. Her sad, wet, green, desperate eyes look at me as if they are saying, I want you to stay with me. With every passing second, she stares at me without blinking, her eyes continuing to plead wordlessly and silently: Please do not hurt me! Her eyes are begging me: Please don’t leave.
Her desperate eyes look at me as if they are saying, I’ve fallen in love with you. They look at me as if they say, I love you! Please stay with me! She blinks several times, trying to squeeze out the tears that have accumulated in seconds, and swallows at the same time. The tears flow down her cheeks. She presses her eyelids together for a second time and tries to stop the flowing tears with her handkerchief. I wait for her to tell me what is going on.
With her wet, half-open, sad eyes and the handkerchief in her hand, she stares into my wide-open, questioning eyes. As she looks, her lower eyelids are tense, pulled upward, and half-closed. She has been grieving for me since we started walking back. She is grieving because she has already written me off for the evening. She is so disappointed in this moment and unconsciously hesitates with her answer because she doesn’t have the strength to speak.
The longer she looks at me and the longer she grieves for me, the more her tears and stress gather. I grow impatient and want to know, so I ask for a second time, “Did I do something wrong?”
To calm herself and stop crying, she breathes deeply and heavily. I hear and see her breath trembling loudly as she inhales and exhales. For the first time in my life, I see the sad, tear-filled eyes of a woman. After my second question, while she looks at me and grieves, large pools of tears form in her eyes again.
MY SOUL ACHES
I am touched; my soul aches! After my second question, she looks at me as if her sad eyes want to say, “Yes, you did!” She mourns desperately in silence, and while she is distraught and trying to calm herself down to answer me, her breath trembles loudly. As she inhales, it sounds as if her breath is whispering. As she exhales, she trembles in the same way, trying to calm down and find the strength to answer.
As the seconds pass, she thinks about what I have done to her, and more and more tears form and glisten on her lower eyelids again.
She blinks several times, trying to squeeze out the flow of tears that have accumulated in seconds; at the same time, she presses her lips together and swallows hard to fight the stress. When the pool of tears on her lower eyelids becomes too large, it overflows, and the tears flow like a great wave down her cheeks. Her face is completely wet.
The thought that I am leaving for home hurts her so much. She wipes both eyes with her tissue. As soon as she pulls the tissue away, I clearly see the tears in both eyes multiplying again, as if a fountain has erupted. She simply does not have the power to tell me what is going on. The tears flow again down her completely wet face. She is desperate because she cannot stop me from leaving.
Because her nose is blocked from crying, she is breathing heavily and shakily with her mouth half open. As she inhales, I hear her tremulous, rustling breath. As she exhales, her mouth is still slightly open, and I continue to hear her tremulous, rustling breath. This way of breathing calms her down and allows her to finally give me an answer.
“Yeeees!” It is a long, drawn-out cry. After she speaks, she swallows again and closes her eyelids. When she opens her eyes, she sobs twice, then takes two deep, trembling breaths so she can continue. Because I am holding her by the hips with both hands and am standing so close to her, I can faintly hear her sniffing as she inhales deeply.
Before she can continue, she swallows again and closes her eyes. When she opens them, she looks at me with her sad, mourning, and questioning eyes. It looks to me as if her eyes are asking, Why are you hurting me so much? Her cheeks are taut and drawn up toward her eyes. After answering “Yes!”, she breathes heavily, her breath shaking. She is trying to find the strength to tell me the truth.
As she looks directly into my eyes, she thinks about me going home; this hurts her, stresses her out more and more, and makes her sad, leading to even more tears. The moment she cried “Yes!”, I got goosebumps and was completely shocked. In that fraction of a second, I thought: Oh my God!
Knowing I am leaving—ever since she told me, “I will bring you to the border”—makes her suffer inside! Her sad gaze betrays her grief. The longer she grieves and suffers, the more tears gather in her green eyes.
After letting out that long cry of “Yeeees!”, she frees her sorrowful soul from its suffering. In that same fraction of a second, after she swallows and opens her eyes, the tears flow over her lower eyelids and stream down her face as if a fountain of tears has burst.
At that moment, she sobs twice. Her sobs sound like whispers. She looks straight into my wide-open eyes and continues, “It iiiiis…” She is unable to pronounce the rest of the sentence. For a fraction of a second, she pauses. She swallows, presses her lips together, looks at me, takes a deep breath, and finally continues with her gentle, womanly voice: “…because of yooou!”
CHAPTER XIII – FINALLY, SHE HAS FREED HER SOUL
Finally, with her last ounce of strength, she managed to tell me what was troubling her and why she was crying. It was because of me! So much grief had built up in her soul in the last ten minutes. To release the inner tension, it was as if an explosion had occurred within her sorrowful soul.
After this explosion, a fountain of tears erupted. All the pent-up sadness poured out of her, tears streaming down both cheeks. She began to sob violently and repeatedly, and then she cried out loud. I was scared and shocked, and I broke out in even more goosebumps.
No sooner had she uttered the word “you” than she sobbed loudly several times. She squeezed the tears from her eyes, swallowed hard, and began to cry uncontrollably. No sooner had she said, “Because of you,” than I pulled her body toward me in a flash. She threw her head onto my shoulder and began to weep. Because this beauty and her sorrowful soul had grown so dear to me, this sad sight struck me deep in my soul, and I felt a physical pain in my heart.
She cried, letting out loud, heartbreaking wails. Because our faces were pressed together, as she inhaled deeply just two inches from my ear, I could hear her trembling and sniffling breaths even more clearly. With each exhalation, she cried out loudly.
Terrified, still covered in goosebumps and in shock, I held her tight, not knowing what to do. As she rested her crying face on my shoulder and our cheeks pressed together, it took a long time before I realized and felt how her delicate, wet, warm skin and the flow of her tears clung to my face.
While I stroked her, because her jacket was so short, my hands kept slipping under it onto the smooth fabric of her tight-fitting dress. I kept my hands under the jacket and continued stroking her back. I tried to calm her down. Several times, I repeated in a sad voice, “Please don’t cry, I’m here. Please don’t cry, I didn’t mean to make you cry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to happen.”
As I stroked her back and pressed her against me, I became unconsciously aware of how close we had become—how much I meant to her, and she to me. For the first time that evening, I realized and felt how close we both were physically. We were drawn together like magnets. For the first time, I realized that our upper bodies were completely pressed together. For the first time, I felt her curves against my chest. As we both cried, I felt as if we were truly in love with each other.
After a while, her loud crying turned into softer sobs. Her nose was runny from crying, and as she took deep breaths, she sniffled and trembled over and over. As she exhaled, she sobbed loudly, shivering and swallowing hard.
She kept taking deep breaths, sniffling, and sobbing. Just when I thought she had finally stopped crying, I wanted to look at her sad, wet face and apologize. But as she looked at me, her grief reached its peak. That very moment made her cry even more. It sounded like a grief bomb had exploded.
She had such a beautiful, tender, feminine voice. Hearing her cry… in that moment when her sorrow flared up, it delivered a death blow to my heart! I was so sad that tears welled up in my own eyes, too. Then came another deep breath, followed by a louder, long wail of sorrow. Once again, as she took a deep breath, she sniffled and trembled. As she exhaled, she sobbed loudly, shivering and swallowing hard.
I apologized again, “I’m sorry, it wasn’t intentional. I’m sorry, please don’t cry.”
I could feel her tears streaming down her beautiful cheeks onto my face, as if it were pouring rain. Now, she was truly weeping. I held and pressed her tightly in my arms for a while, but I still did not know why she was so sad. What did I do?
After a minute or two, or maybe even more, I looked at her sad, wet face full of tears. I tried to interrupt her because I wanted to know, “What did I do?”
It was hard for her to say what I had done in this painful situation. She looked at me, hesitated again with her answer, and continued to sob, sniffle, and tremble. With wide-open, questioning eyes, I asked a second time, “What did I do?”
While she looked at me, she tried to muffle her loud cries. This time she was ready to answer, but she breathed only briefly and quickly, trembling and sobbing. She inhaled and exhaled with her mouth half-open, sniffling through her nose as if she were whispering to me. When she had calmed down somewhat, she was still trembling but looked at me sadly; she could see the tears in my eyes.
I saw deep pain in her beautiful, sad eyes. A veritable torrent of tears ran down her eyelids onto her damp cheeks. She nodded twice, sniffled twice, shed more tears, and admitted it.
“I chose you!” Her indescribably beautiful, weeping voice touched my soul once again.
She inhaled sharply, unable to continue. She stared at me, and as she exhaled, she sobbed and trembled twice, her voice dropping to a whisper.
Then she admitted, “And you want to go home!” She uttered the last word again, drawing it out sorrowfully as she cried.
After she said that last word, the grief that had built up during her hesitation returned to her soul, and the pain intensified. Her confirmation that I wanted to go home broke her heart and reignited her sorrow. No sooner had she spoken the word home than tears streamed over her eyelids once again. At the same moment, she continued to cry out.
She sobbed rapidly, and her cries reached an even higher pitch. We still looked at each other. I saw another wave of tears flow from her eyes—a real tsunami.
I had really been scared earlier that I wouldn’t be able to get home. But once I found out that she was crying because I wanted to leave, I thought, Oh my God. She has fallen in love with me. I had fallen incredibly in love with this beautiful girl too, because I was crying just as much.
Inside, I thought, What did I do?! Now I’m twice as scared and even more panicked.
The next moment, I wrapped my arms around her again and hugged her even more tightly. She rested her head on my shoulder once more. As her crying grew louder against my ear, my soul ached, and both our hearts were broken. I felt so incredibly guilty.
While we hugged each other, I felt so sorry for her in that moment that my tears flowed even more, just like hers. We held each other in our arms and cried for at least five more minutes.
I had often seen how my dad treated my mom, and how often she had cried, feeling powerless. Because of that, I had sworn to myself that I would never hurt a woman in my life or make her cry. In the deadly silence under the linden tree, we were both alone, and we cried our hearts out. As we held each other and wept, thoughts raced through my mind.
CHAPTER XIV
If only she hadn’t brought me to the border, to the Brandenburg Gate. This unfortunate situation I brought upon us would never have happened. When we were alone and getting to know each other better in the bar, she had learned that it was my first time in East Berlin. That was why she brought me here. She only wanted to do something nice and show me the Brandenburg Gate.
It is a true symbol of Berlin. If only we had gone somewhere else, I wouldn’t have had the chance to think about West Berlin. My thoughts would have been everywhere except on my home in the West. Since I had looked west over the gate, it had occurred to me that I didn’t know the name of the street where I lived. That was what brought about this catastrophic situation.
I just couldn’t believe how I could hurt such a beautiful girl. How could I have said so insensitively that I had to go home? I tried to comfort her. It took a while to calm her down, at least a little bit.
I would never have thought that such a beautiful girl would be interested in me. I never would have dreamed that such a beautiful girl would cry for me, or that I would grow so close to her heart in such a short time. At the bar, I had just been glad she was sitting next to me. As a fifteen-year-old boy, that pleasant time beside her would have been completely enough for me for one long day. The next day in West Berlin, I would have thought about her all day long. I would have been happy; during work, I would have thought about her every minute.
I tried to comfort her and told her, “When I get off work tomorrow, I’ll come right back to you. You can wait for me.” Somehow, I managed to persuade her. I took a tissue and wiped the last tears from her beautiful face. “All the tears are gone. See, this is nice!” came out of my mouth.
Then we held each other for a while and hugged without crying. I could hear her whisper in my ear, “I fell in love with you!” which was exactly what I wanted to hear, and I answered her the same way. “I love you too.” She admitted, “I just want to be with you!” I hugged her as hard as I could. Subconsciously, I felt her feminine curves against my chest.
After the unexpected disaster and the trauma we both experienced, we comforted each other with loving words and agreed that we would see each other the next day.
Then, she took my right arm close to the elbow, and we started walking again. Inside, I was sad and felt guilty because I had hurt her.
Now, I wasn’t thinking about West Berlin at all. I was thinking about her. I never would have dreamed that I could grow so close to her heart in such a short time. As we walked, all these thoughts went through my head.
Deadly silence. I didn’t know what time it was. It was like a ghost town; just like on the way to the Brandenburg Gate, the police officers only appeared briefly, then disappeared into the dark as if they were ghosts.
There were no cars on the street, either. After we reached the S-Bahn station, she got our tickets. We walked up the stairs. She explained to me that the trains run less frequently after 10 PM—every thirty or forty-five minutes. Now we had to wait a long time.
We stood alone at the station, hugging each other. I felt it deep in my soul: we were both incredibly sad.
Since we were about to say goodbye, we could see the sorrow in each other’s eyes. I felt so sorry for her. Even right then at the railroad station, knowing we had to part ways made me miss her terribly already. She would be going home alone on the empty train. I suspected she had imagined the night ending differently. That thought made my heart ache.
If I’d had the brain I have now, I would have stayed with her that evening. Even if the East German police had arrested me. I wish today that she had not taken me to the Brandenburg Gate, or anywhere close to the wall. If we had not been at the wall, I know even today that I would never have thought to look over it, because my mind would have been somewhere else. But she had wanted to show me the gate because she had just learned I was new to West Berlin, too.
It took a while until the empty train came. After one stop, we got off at Friedrichstraße.
We sadly descended the stairs. As we left the interior of the platform, she led the way. We crossed the street and walked about a hundred yards down an empty sidewalk to the north, and then we stopped. She turned to the left and pointed across the street to the exit where I would emerge the next day.
Even though it was a border crossing, there were no cars driving on the street. I saw only one empty tram sitting on the rails. About forty yards away, across the street, a lonely police officer stood in the dark between the entrance and the exit to East Berlin.
She showed me the border exit across the street, and she pointed out the door I should walk through. At this moment, I hoped to see my friends at the border. But it looked completely empty.
CHAPTER XV
There were no people around. As the police officer stood there, she knew that the police didn’t like it when their citizens mingled with foreigners. She said, “Let’s go behind the tree so he doesn’t see us.” I didn’t know that here on Friedrichstraße, at the border, more than three hundred officers were employed daily, working down in the catacombs across three floors. Hundreds of cameras were scattered everywhere. The customs officers were connected to the state security service. I was just a clueless child.
Standing in the dark before we said our goodbyes, I took out my half of the fifty marks that I hadn’t spent. I told her, “If the customs officers find this money on me, I’ll be in trouble. Please do me a favor and take it. You can give it back to me tomorrow.”
To save me any trouble at the border, she put the money away and said, “You’ll get it tomorrow.” Saying goodbye was incredibly difficult for us; the farewell was hard. We didn’t want to let go, but we had to.
As we hugged, it felt so nice holding her warm body. I had already perfectly mastered the kiss she had taught me. Now, for the first time without an audience, I felt free and kissed her passionately, just as she had done to me from the very first moment.
When the nectar of love had been drunk to the last drop and we were satiated, it was finally time to say goodbye. We held each other sadly.
On her face, I could still see the traces of sadness, and I watched as fresh tears began to form in her eyes again. At the same time, I was so sad that I felt my own eyes getting wet. Our tears were proof that we were in love and that we would miss each other.
I promised her we would see each other the next day. She showed me the exact spot where she would wait for me tomorrow. I looked at her, and I heard her say, “I love you!” It was the first time in my life that I had ever heard those words spoken to me. We hugged and held each other tightly for the last time that evening. I said, “Goodbye, I love you!” As I crossed the street, just before the entrance to the hall, I turned around one last time. We both waved to each other. The next moment, she turned her sad face away and walked the hundred yards back to the train station.
Nineteen years later, the Wall fell. The building I was entering back then is known today as the Palace of Tears—which is exactly how I felt in that moment. The same thing was happening to me and my eyes, even though I was walking alone. I thought of her, and my eyes grew wetter and wetter. I had to climb some stairs to get inside. As I pushed the entrance door open in front of me, I could feel the tears in my eyes.
When I entered the hall, Brane and Harry were sitting there waiting. They had been checked by the border guards for a while. Misa was missing; he was not there. Brane asked me, “You look so sad! Did she stand you up?”
I said, “No, I left her standing there.”
They asked me why.
I said, “I don’t know the name of the street where I live. I know the building number, but I don’t know the street! My father always parks his car right in front of the entrance. I don’t know the subway station. I’d never find my way home alone. I was hoping I’d catch you guys here at the border.”
Harry and Brane just shook their heads. Harry said, “You’ve been living in Berlin for five months and you don’t know the name of the street where you live?!” They both laughed and shook their heads again. They could not believe what they were hearing.
“You’re so stupid! You can’t just leave such a beautiful girl standing there,” one of them said.
I asked where Misa was.
Brane replied, “The customs officers took him to a back room where they are probably interrogating him! He’s been inside for at least ten minutes; we don’t know what they’ve been doing in there for so long!”
I told them that she and I were going to see each other the next day after work. The next moment, Misa emerged from the customs area, having been in a special room for examination—a search for prohibited items like money or contraband. As Misa walked out and looked at us, he was surprised to see me, his eyes wide with a questioning look. The first thing he said was, “She left you alone and went home?”
Brane replied, “No, he stood her up!”
Misa’s eyes widened even further. “What?! You stood her up? Why?”
Harry said, “He’s been living in Berlin for five months and doesn’t even know the name of the street where he lives!”
Misa couldn’t believe it. “WHAT?”
Brane added, “His father drives him to work every day and brings him home by car.”
Misa groaned, “My God, how can anyone be so stupid to stand up such a beautiful girl!”
The three of them laughed at me and shook their heads. Misa asked, “How long have you been here?”
I said, “A few minutes.”
Misa quickly pointed out, “Brane, you know his street!”
Brane nodded, “Yes, my mother lives not far from his home. It’s on the same street!”
Harry chimed in, “Write the address down for him. Maybe he can still catch her at the station.”
Misa agreed, “Yes, the trains don’t run as often at this time of night. On certain routes, you have to wait up to forty-five minutes for a commuter train.”
I said to Brane, “Can you write down the address for me? I’m going back; maybe I can still catch her at the station.”
Brane didn’t have a pen, but Harry did. We still needed paper, but no one had anything for Brane to write on. I looked around for a place to get some paper. There was a shelf nearby on the way out of East Berlin, selling their propaganda newspapers. I went over to the stall, grabbed a small notebook, and hurried back to Brane.
While he was writing, Misa and Harry couldn’t stop teasing me. “How stupid could you be! Something like that would never happen to us.” Harry admitted, “I would give my life for her, even if I never found my way back home!” Misa and Harry laughed as Brane wrote.
After Brane wrote down the address for me, I also needed to know the subway station where I should get off in West Berlin. As soon as he wrote that down and explained the route to me, I said to Misa, “She and I are meeting tomorrow!”
All three of them still couldn’t believe what I had done—leaving such a beautiful girl alone. I took the small notebook and the pen from Brane. As I started to run back out, Harry yelled after me, “Keep the pen! You can give it back the next time I see you!”
Suddenly, the door to the customs room where Misa had just come from opened. A customs officer looked out at me as I ran, but he said nothing.
CHAPTER XVI
I quickly went back through the door I had just entered. I heard someone call, “Good luck!” behind me. One of them muttered, “Unbelievable! He’s leaving such a beauty standing there!” I ignored the lone policeman outside to my right, whose job was to ensure no one headed back toward the border.
He had seen me enter, so he had a clear view of me running back down the street. I could feel his gaze on my back, but only she was on my mind. I thought to myself, You have to catch her! That was why I sprinted down the street toward the S-Bahn station where she had disappeared five minutes earlier.
Since I had given her all my money, I couldn’t buy a ticket when I reached the station platform; I needed just twenty pfennigs. I just jumped over the turnstile that I would normally push through with a ticket. Brane had told Harry and me earlier that when entering an S-Bahn station, you didn’t even have to put money in to get a ticket. You could just pull on the first ticket, and the roll would start spinning.
You could pull out two or three meters of tickets without paying a dime. I saw the roll of tickets; I could have just torn one off. But in my rush, I didn’t think of it. I jumped over the metal gate, ran up the stairs, and reached the platform. A bad sign.
The platform was empty, which meant the train must have just left. I looked in the direction it would have traveled, but I saw nothing. Damn it, the train is gone. Having run up the stairs, I was completely out of breath. I was panting as if I had just crossed the finish line of a race—but I had celebrated too soon. I had run out of time, and I had lost the race.
My expression fell, and dejection washed over me. My face dropped, and my whole world collapsed inward. I was desperate and felt completely lost.
I felt the first tears prick my eyes, imagining how wonderful it would have been if I had reached her in time. Now she was sitting alone on a long, empty train, grieving just as I was. Mindless and absent, my thoughts completely with her, I walked alone on that empty platform, taking slow, heavy steps, staring blankly at the ground in front of my boots.
I was suffering deeply inside, just as she had when she cried aloud earlier. Seconds passed, and I felt even more tears welling up. Because the platform was so long, I began running frantically along the station. Tears streamed down my face. Looking at the tracks, I wished with all my heart that I had never left her alone to go home. I had held such a beautiful girl in my arms; she had fallen in love with me, and now I was crying for her in loneliness.
We had mentally prepared ourselves for the difficult goodbye when we got off the train. We had been so preoccupied with each other that we hadn’t noticed if there were other passengers on the platform or not. At that moment, I wasn’t thinking about anyone else. Minutes passed. I was suffering and missing her so much, feeling a physical ache in my heart for her. I pictured the beautiful, sad face I had seen when we kissed for the last time that evening.
I walked past a small building on my left, accessible only to station employees, and peered into the dark window. No one was sitting in that small room so late at night. It was deathly quiet. All I could see was my own sad face reflected in the glass.
Even if there had been someone to ask when the train had left, it wouldn’t have helped me. The thought faded. My brain had been beating the drum of grief for too long. Tears hung on my eyelashes, and I had no handkerchief to dry them.
When we said goodbye, neither of us had thought logically. If I had known I would see Brane at the border and get my address, she could have just waited for me on this platform. But it was no wonder we didn’t think of it. We had both been so traumatized by the situation that neither of us could think clearly anymore. As these thoughts swirled in my mind, I reached the end of the employee building.
As I turned the corner, in a fraction of a second, my hair stood on end, and goosebumps covered my skin. A universal magnetic current surged through my entire body. My heart lost control and exploded. My whole body began to bubble with excitement and joy, and my blood pressure skyrocketed instantly. She was sitting on a bench about five meters away, staring desperately into the void straight ahead at the tracks.
She was sadly holding a handkerchief, wiping the tears from her eyes. She stared at the opposite side, above the furthest tracks, at a white architectural wall. She knew something I didn’t: behind that wall was the train I would eventually take home. She was surely thinking of me and missing me. Even when I was up on the platform, she hadn’t seen me, though she knew I would be there eventually. All she could see were the dark silhouettes of people walking along the platform, unable to recognize if one was me. That uncertainty hurt her, which was why she stared blankly at that wall, looking even sadder.
The fact that both our eyes were full of tears meant we were already missing each other. We had both fallen head over heels in love.
I called her name.
Hearing my voice, she turned around, lifted her head, and looked in my direction. Her eyes met mine for a fraction of a second. She froze, as if she were seeing a ghost. It was an incredulous stare; she could hardly believe it. In that instant, my facial expression changed. Instead of mourning, I felt my cheeks lift, and I smiled happily at her.
Seeing my happy smile, she recovered from her shock in a fraction of a second. Her mouth fell half-open, and her eyes widened simultaneously. In the deathly silence of the station, I heard a soft, trembling cry of joy escape her lungs. She could barely breathe for the excitement, letting out a joyful shout as she stood up. We both ran the last few meters toward each other and threw ourselves into each other’s arms.
In the embrace, I heard her begin to cry again—but this time, they were tears of joy. Feeling her head on my shoulder and hearing her happy, weeping voice, I realized just how much my return meant to her. Seeing the immense joy she showed brought fresh tears to my own eyes. In that moment, I felt guilty all over again about what had happened earlier. I thought about how much I had hurt her and how many tears had flowed from her eyes when I told her I had to go home.
I had known no love in my childhood. I only knew beatings from my father or my teachers. Even when I came to Germany, instead of going to the school I was promised, I wasn’t treated like a child. Instead of my dad sending me to school like all the other kids my age, I was enslaved. I was working six days a week, twelve hours a day, doing hard labor that was forbidden for children.
All that was missing were the chains on my legs. Now, for the first time in my life, I felt that someone loved me. I meant something to her. I couldn’t cry as loudly as she did, and my tears were mixed: partly from the sheer happiness of being with her again, and partly from the lingering guilt of having hurt her. She sobbed over my shoulder, right in my ear. I heard her trembling breaths and loud cries. I tried my best to calm her.
“It’s all right, I’m back,” I murmured. I wasn’t even aware in that moment of how naturally I was acting as I held her tightly in my arms, gently stroking her.
Just a few hours ago, I never would have thought I’d have a chance with someone so beautiful. Now, every action felt entirely natural and human. It felt as if we had known each other for an incredibly long time.
CHAPTER XVII – LONELY AT THE STATION
As our faces touch and press together, I feel her wet face and tears on my cheeks again. For several more minutes we embrace, so tightly and fiercely that we never want to let go. I am overwhelmed by her joy. It touches me deeply once more to see how much my return means to her and how strongly she feels for me. As she openly displays her feelings, unable to hide them in the quiet, my tears flow in the silence from my cheeks onto her shoulder.
I pull my head away from her shoulder, take both hands from her back, and for the first time, lift my hands to grasp her blond hair. She still looks at me, sobbing loudly and trembling. The next moment, I pull her face toward mine and kiss her tear-slicked cheeks.
I pull back slightly, though a tsunami of happiness still flows from her eyes. We look at each other, both with tears in our eyes. I feel a deep happiness inside. “I love your tears!” just comes out of my mouth. “Do you know why? Your tears tell me that you really like me!” At this, she sobs loudly, then apologizes. “I’m sorry!” I say, “It’s fine! I must apologize to you. It was my fault!” We stare into each other’s eyes for a few seconds.
I still feel her blond hair in my hands. “Even with tears in your eyes, you look so beautiful!” In a fraction of a second, her face lights up with joy and begins to glow. I hug her tightly again and whisper in her ear, “I’m so glad to be here!” She pulls back slightly, looks into my eyes again, and says, “I fell in love with you at first sight.” For the first time in my life, I hear myself say, “I love you too! That’s why I came back. Let me hug you.” We hold each other tightly again for a while. “It is so nice to have you in my arms!” I admit.
Then I look at her and say, “Give me your tissue! I’ll dry your face!” At that moment, she notices that I also have tears in my eyes. “Wait a moment,” comes out of her mouth. She takes another tissue and dabs at my tears, drying my face. My face isn’t as wet as hers. Even so, these tears on my face show her that going to the border hadn’t been easy for me. If I hadn’t run into the three of them at the border…
Because I did not know the address where I had lived for almost five months, who knows how the evening would have turned out for me. “You look great again!” She gives me a smile and thanks me.
We stand in our embrace for a while, lonely at this station. For a fifteen-year-old boy like me, it is awesome to feel her luxurious body under her tight, short dress again. We look at each other, smile, and agree that everything is back to normal.
I tell her that I had caught up with my three friends and that now we can stay together all night. I mention that Brane had written the address down on an East German advertising newspaper. So I wouldn’t lose it, she puts it in her small black bag. Since she doesn’t like her government or the Russians, and my Russian is better than my German, we had agreed beforehand in the bar that we would only speak German with each other. I had just started to learn the German language at the Gymnasium.
My German isn’t particularly good. I had been curious about how many words my first-grade textbook contained in total, so I had counted each word individually from A to Z. With those 723 words, I feel I am in good hands with her. If I don’t understand something, she explains it to me in a way that allows me to grasp what she means. “What do we do now?” I ask.
She tells me again, as she had before, that the trains run quite infrequently at this hour. We will have to wait another half hour for the train.
Therefore, she suggests, “We should walk to Alexanderplatz.”
She tells me that Alexanderplatz is the only place open at this late hour. The name Alexanderplatz is familiar to me. It seems to be the area where I had eaten with my two companions, Harry and Brane, earlier that day. There was a bar or restaurant under the only high-rise building there. She says, “From here, the next station is Alexanderplatz. It would be better if we walk rather than wait for the train.”
Just like before, she takes my right arm close to the elbow. I feel like I’m in heaven again. For the first time in my life, I have my girl. For the first time in my life, I am walking, and I am proud of her, and I am proud of myself. I am proud of her because she is so beautiful. I am proud of myself because my dad cannot take my pride away from me. My whole life, I have been forced to do whatever my dad wanted. Now, he is not here in East Berlin, and I am not thinking for a single second about my bad days from before. This is the moment and the evening that my life changes forever.
We walk along the long platform of the Friedrichstraße S-Bahn station, the same path she had walked sadly and alone with tears in her eyes. It is the same path I had run up, uncertain and excited. Now, we are both happy and walk down the stairs together. Since she lives here, she leads me through the dark, empty streets.
The city is almost deserted, as if we are entirely alone in this world. The night is warm; the stars are shining in the sky. It takes us a while, an estimated fifteen to twenty minutes, to get back to the wide street, Unter den Linden. On our right is the Brandenburg Gate, with those dangerous guards far away. About a mile, perhaps?
This time, we walk to the left, in the opposite direction of the Brandenburg Gate. The street is multi-lane and quite wide. As we make our way toward Alexanderplatz, about halfway there, we see the TV Tower in the distance to our right. We have to walk past it. Even here, cars rarely drive on the streets. Everything is dark to our left and right.
The buildings look quite old, as if they were built in the 17th or 18th century. On both sides of the wide street, the architecture makes the buildings look more like museums. After crossing a small bridge over a small lake or canal, we pass a small church on our right.
CHAPTER XVIII – OUR FIRST DINNER
After passing the TV tower on our right, we walked for about ten more minutes until we went under a bridge. The Alexanderplatz S-Bahn station was on our right after we walked under the railway bridge. Here, we entered Alexanderplatz. It looked as if the sidewalks had been rolled up here, too. In front of us was the large, empty square that I had walked through earlier with Harry and Brane. In the distance, I could see the large World Clock on our right. As we approached the high-rise building where the restaurant was located, there was a three-story shopping mall on our left.
I was hungry again, so I suggested going into the same restaurant where the lights were still on. I said out loud, “If we go into the same restaurant where I was earlier today with Brane and Harry, we can’t go wrong.” She agreed.
When we rang the doorbell and the door opened, I had to show my passport like before. Only then were we allowed in. It wasn’t a government order; these employees were protecting themselves to ensure that no agent from this communist country came in. They wanted to be absolutely sure that no East German citizens were entering the restaurant alone.
They did it this way so that the other guests—even if they were West Berliners—wouldn’t notice them illegally exchanging East Marks for West Marks. While I had exchanged money at the Zoo station in West Berlin at the official rate, Brane had told me he received fourteen East German marks for just one West Mark here in this restaurant.
The Bulgarians took this money back to Bulgaria and used it for further business. When we got inside the restaurant, only three or four tables were occupied. Earlier, I had heard Brane speaking my native language with the waiters when we ordered our food. Because they lived close to the border of my homeland, they spoke my native language perfectly. I immediately greeted the waiter in my native language, which he understood.
He smiled at me and said, “You were here with your friends earlier.” After I confirmed, he smiled again, clearly pleased for me because of my beautiful female companion. He added, “I recognized you by your western leather jacket and your jeans.”
Yes, Bulgaria was in almost the same situation as East Germany, so these employees didn’t come from the luckiest nation in Europe either. Like the people here, these waiters were just working and taking the opportunity to exchange money on the black market inside the restaurant. This time, after we entered, it wasn’t necessary to show my passport again because he had already seen it when I was at dinner with Harry and Brane. I had a special request for where we could sit alone.
When he led us to the table and I thanked him, I took her jacket in my hands for the third time that evening, just as a young gentleman should. This time, she wanted to keep her jacket behind her on the back of the chair she had chosen. I pulled her chair out so she could sit comfortably. After she sat down, I hung her jacket on the back of her chair.
Then I took my chair and sat beside her, where we could sit undisturbed. I had never been to a restaurant before in my life until today, when I finally went to one for the first time with Brane and Harry. Now, I had the honor of sitting alone at a corner table with an extraordinary beauty, admiring her. The tables were covered with white tablecloths and adorned with flowers. We did not sit opposite each other; she sat right beside me on my right. We held hands and grinned at each other, happy and overjoyed.
Shortly after, the waiter brought us the menu. First, he wanted to know if we already knew what we wanted to drink. We told him we wanted to look at the food menu first and see what drinks were available. It was a lovely feeling to sit next to a stunning beauty and watch her as she perused the menu. We took our time.
Since I wanted to order the same food I’d had a few hours earlier, I put my menu aside quickly. When she noticed, she wondered what I had decided on. I explained to her as best as I could with the 723 German words I had learned in high school: grilled ćevapčići from my hometown. She smiled at me and said she’d join me and order the same. I nodded to the waiter so he would come over. Out of respect for her, the waiter and I spoke only German while ordering. When we finished ordering, she asked the waiter whether there was a phone in the restaurant. He showed her the way.
After he brought the drinks, she apologized to me, saying she needed to let her family know she would be a little late, and headed in the direction of the phone. When the waiter came to the table with the cutlery, he asked where Harry and Brane were. I told him that I had said goodbye to them half an hour ago at the border. He was curious and wanted to know how I had met my companion. While she was still on the phone, I had enough time to tell him the whole story. He grinned and simply said to me, “Lucky you.”
Because there were two of us and I wanted to pay for everything myself, I figured the money I had wouldn’t be enough, especially with extra drinks. I remembered what Brane had told me about exchanging money, so I brought it up.
“Of course, it’s no problem!” he said, and asked how much I needed. I asked if he could break larger bills. After he confirmed, I told him I had a fifty-mark note and would like to exchange ten marks of it. A few minutes later, he returned with a white napkin and laid it on the table. He said everything was inside. I unfolded it and saw one hundred and forty East German marks and two twenty-mark West German bills. Since we were sitting in the corner and he was blocking the view with his body, I took the exchanged money out of the napkin and placed my fifty-mark note inside it. He folded it up and went back to the bar. Once he was gone, I discreetly put the money into my wallet.
Shortly after, I saw her walking in my direction. I got up just in time and pulled out her chair so she could sit comfortably. I was already in love with her beautiful, loving smile and her happy, bright green eyes. The way she looked at me… I loved hearing her pleasant, feminine voice when she thanked me. Being a gentleman had quickly become second nature to me.
Her presence made me proud. While we talked, holding hands, she told me she had spoken on the phone with her grandmother, whom she lived with. As we held hands on the table, enjoying each other’s company, the waiter arrived with the food. The beautifully roasted, grilled meat rolls smelled delicious from afar. When he placed the plates on the table, the food was still steaming from the grill. After wishing us a good meal with a cheerful, smiling face, the waiter turned around and left us to eat.
We both looked at the food, then at each other. Sitting side by side, our legs touched under the table. We were looking forward to our first meal together, sharing a quick kiss on the lips before eating. “Let’s enjoy this,” I heard her say. “Yes, enjoy your meal,” I heard myself reply. Inside, the restaurant was quiet and the lighting was romantic. We enjoyed the meal in perfect peace.
Earlier, when I sat in the bar with my three companions, I had been so nervous that I could barely bring my cup of coffee to my mouth. But now, since we had already been so intimate—holding hands, hugging, kissing, and crying together—it wasn’t difficult for me to handle my knife and fork without feeling nervous or trembling. My hands were completely steady. I felt so relaxed and wasn’t afraid of doing something wrong while eating; I simply enjoyed being close to her.
I could hardly believe that a drink could give me so much manly self-confidence. After we finished our glasses of whiskey and cola, we stood up. I helped her put on her short jacket again; she took my hand, and we prepared to leave. The waiter who had exchanged the money for me grinned and wished us a good evening.
CHAPTER XIX – WE ARE BOTH HAPPY
As we left, she was curious. “I thought you gave me your last bit of money to keep safe! Where did you get the money?”
I grinned at her and said, “I told you we were already in here today!”
“Yes!” she said.
I explained, “My friend Brane, who was sitting on our right, told me, ‘Adam, if you want to exchange money and get a better rate, you should do it here in this restaurant!’ And it worked out. Remember when you were on the phone for a while?”
She laughed and replied, “Why not? I would have done the same!”
We both praised the food and were in good spirits. Even with my leather jacket on, I still loved the feeling of her hand on my right arm and her fingers against my ribs. As we walked across the empty Alexanderplatz, there wasn’t a soul in sight.
Maybe because tomorrow is Monday? At this moment with her, I really do not care what day tomorrow is. Even though I am supposed to be at home, I don’t give another second’s thought to West Berlin or my family. All I can think about is how nice it is to feel her hand on my ribs, and how nice it is to be with someone who loves you. As we walked toward the S-Bahn station and entered, she bought two tickets again, just as one should.
Personally, at my age, I probably would have just pulled the tickets from the roll for fun without putting any money in, simply to prove to myself that it was exactly as my acquaintance Brane had explained. It wasn’t necessary, and nobody checked whether someone put money in or not.
When we reached the top of the stairs, a couple of men were standing about twenty yards away from us. To be alone and far enough from the others, we stopped short and held onto each other. She didn’t tell me where we were going next. We stood holding hands for a long time, looking at each other, completely engrossed in one another. A few more passengers entered the station. Because we had barely seen anyone all evening—except for a police officer and the guards at the Brandenburg Gate—I wondered where they had all come from.
After a while, a large train with countless carriages arrived. Since we were far from the other passengers when the train stopped, only a few people boarded, and the almost empty train departed. In the unusual nighttime atmosphere, we found ourselves alone in our carriage. While the train was moving, we heard the wheels clacking on the tracks; when it stopped, we heard the brakes and the squealing of the wheels. Before the train departed again, even though no one else was boarding, we heard the standard loudspeaker announcement: “Please stand back, do not board anymore.”
As the train moved and continued to make its stops, her head rested on my shoulder the entire time. She held my arm during the long ride just as if we were still walking down the street. I tried not to move, wanting to make her as comfortable as possible. After so many tears this evening, she deserved to be spoiled. I felt calm, and proud to have such a stunningly beautiful girl by my side.
I could hardly believe it, and I tried not to look down at her bare legs and high heels. Instead, I just looked out the windows into the darkness of the hot summer night. Sometimes there were lights and houses nearby, and then the train would move away from the residential areas, which I could tell by the fading lights. When it got too dark, I assumed we were passing a park or a forest next to the tracks.
The train stopped repeatedly at empty station platforms. Since I didn’t have a watch with me and hadn’t paid attention to the clocks on the platforms, I estimated the journey took about fifteen to twenty minutes.
“Here we are,” she said, lifting her head from my shoulder.
CHAPTER XX – HOT SUMMER NIGHT
She took my right hand, and we left the empty train. As we left the platform and walked down to the street, there was no one to be seen, not even a police officer. They probably patrolled more heavily in the middle of the city. Despite being a big city, this part of East Berlin seemed deserted compared to West Berlin. It made me feel a little uneasy, but she wasn’t afraid because she was from here; this was normal to her.
The street where I live with my parents in West Berlin is like a second Kurfürstendamm, the most famous street in Berlin. That street has at least six large shoe stores with multiple floors, all selling original Italian goods. Besides Hertie, Woolworth, Bueldecke, and several other large shops, there are also several restaurants and cafes. At night, the street is brightly lit as if it were New Year’s Eve every night. All that’s missing are the fireworks. Here, the streets were barely lit.
She led me through some dimly lit, dark streets she knew, heading toward where she lived. There were hardly any shops to be seen; if there were any, they were either dimly lit or completely dark. We walked past bakeries that hadn’t yet started baking bread. Even here, in the darkness, all the facades looked like they needed repair. The streets were bleak and not in good condition like they were in West Berlin. The parked cars were small and all the same color.
When we reached a row of houses, I felt like I had entered another world. It was the same city, only divided by the Wall. Despite the sometimes scary quiet of this metropolis with its dim lighting, I loved having her by my side, loved feeling her hand on my ribs, and I was happy. No matter where she took me, it was just the two of us together, holding on tight.
After about fifteen minutes, she said to me, “This is where I live!” and took out her key.
As we reached the first floor, I saw two doors to the left and right. I was in a strange city with a captivatingly beautiful woman, and I was bubbling with excitement. She walked to the left. As she put the key in the lock and prepared to open the door, whether I wanted to or not, I looked at her from behind. The sight was indescribable, from her head down to her shoes. I was sure she suspected I was looking at her.
She knew she was beautiful. She suspected—and knew—that I was admiring her from head to toe as she unlocked the door. She knew I liked what I saw: her athletic legs extending down to her high heels. She knew I was excited, and it felt good for her to show off for a boy like me, the one she had set her sights on and for whom she had shed so many tears this evening. Even though we had been together for several hours now, I was still so proud of her and her looks. I simply had the honor of having her near me. All evening, I hadn’t disagreed with her once. I had let her do whatever she wanted with me all evening.
Even now, I let her lead me into her apartment as if I were hypnotized. Beside her, I let myself be led into this hot summer night.
Once we were inside, the light was on, and there was a long hallway about eight yards long in front of us. On the left side, between two doors, was a clothes rack with coat hooks attached to the wall. Before we took off our shoes, I took her jacket off her back again. I loved seeing her grateful, friendly smile, and I loved hearing her delicate, beautiful, feminine voice when she said thank you. She told me that the first door on the left was the bathroom, and the next one was her room.
We left our shoes under the jacket I had hung on the rack. On the right side, there were two closed doors as well. “The light’s still on,” I heard her say. I looked in the direction she was looking. At the end, in the second room, I saw a light on inside. “I’ll check if Grandma’s awake! If she is, I’ll tell her I’m here!” Without her high heels, I saw her for the first time just in her short skirt, walking toward the end of the hallway.
I stood in front of her room and could not resist watching her. After walking about four or five meters, she knocked on the door at the far end on the right. Then, she opened it. Less than half a minute later, she stepped back out of Grandma’s room. Even though she saw me looking at her, she called my name and motioned with her hand. “Adam, come here!” I heard her lovely, womanly voice call. When I hesitantly approached her, she took my hand as if I were a kid. “Grandma, I want to introduce you to my boyfriend! This is Adam. I told you about him on the phone.”
I was very surprised that I was allowed into her grandma’s room at that hour. It was past midnight. She was sitting on the sofa, watching the end of a TV program that was still on. A newspaper lay wide open on the table.
I just blurted out, “Good evening, Grandma.” She smiled at me and greeted me back warmly. We exchanged a few more sentences. Since my German wasn’t the best, I missed a few words and didn’t catch everything she was talking about. Finally, my girlfriend said, “Grandma, we’re going to my room.” We both said, “Good night, Grandma.”
Why did she introduce me to her grandma so soon, especially so late in the evening? I couldn’t say. Perhaps she was happy and proud to have met a nice, sweet young boy, and simply wanted to introduce me. As she closed Grandma’s door behind us, on our way back to her room, she put one arm around my hip to hug me. I was almost robotic, mimicking her movement. Just before reaching her room, she unexpectedly turned around and wrapped her other arm around me, too.
My hands automatically wrapped around her. For just a few seconds we smiled, looking at each other with loving eyes. “Now we’re undisturbed!” I heard her whisper in my ear. Since she had hugged me and smiled like this earlier, I already knew her next move. She began showering my face with kisses. Eventually, after quenching her thirst for love, she let go with one hand, turned the doorknob, and whispered, “Let’s go inside.” While still keeping one arm around me, she pulled me into her room, turned on the light, and closed the door behind us. Much like in the hallway after we left her grandma’s room, she held me by the hip with just one hand.
CHAPTER XXI – “THIS IS MY ROOM!”
LIKE AN ANGEL, JUST AS GOD CREATED HER
Her room was longer than it was wide. In the middle of the room, on the left under the window, was a desk where she had spread out her school things. Since she was nineteen, I immediately assumed she was a university student. Straight ahead, at the far end of the room, was her wardrobe. On the right was a huge couch, unfolded and ready for sleeping, with only one pillow on it.
Above the side of the couch, about a yard and a half high, two rows of books spanning the length of the bed were lined up side by side on a wall shelf. Below the books, two rows of unidentified items hung on the wall. Behind the couch, where the head rested, stood another shelf about a yard wide and almost two yards high, also completely full of books.
While we were still half-embracing, each with a hand on the other’s hip, she led me to the couch, where a few books had been casually tossed. I noticed the objects hanging on the wall beneath the bookshelf again, but they didn’t mean anything to me. When we were close enough to the couch, the first thing she said was, “Those are my medals from swimming competitions.”
After she told me that, I took a closer look at the two rows of medals hanging above her couch. She was clearly proud of her victories. I curiously examined the years and locations engraved on them. Although the sight overwhelmed me, instead of appropriately marveling at the sheer number of her awards, I probably looked the most foolish I had all evening.
I don’t think she was offended; after all, those medals were her victories, and that evening, she had won me over with her love and beauty, too. She had no reason to doubt herself, and she didn’t.
Realizing in that moment that I was in the home of one of the best swimmers in East Germany, what had happened earlier in the bar suddenly made perfect sense. When she wanted to give me a sign that she had chosen me at the bar, she had pushed my cowboy boots aside with her long, strong, trained leg and placed the sole of her foot directly on top of my shoe. Because of her swimming, her foot and leg muscles were so well-trained that the downward pressure on my shoe was intense and constant. It lasted for so long that I could almost feel the pain through the thick leather.
Staring in surprise at the wall above where she slept, I felt like I had stepped into a jungle and was observing exotic plants I was seeing for the very first time in my short life. Until now, I had never seen a real medal. Where I played as a kid, there was never anything to win. The only thing I had ever “won” back in my homeland was a beating from my teachers or my father.
As I visually sorted through the collection, curious about the years, I could hardly believe I had landed in the apartment of one of East Berlin and East Germany’s best swimmers of the last four or five years.
While I was distracted, she moved away from me unnoticed.
CHAPTER XXII – LIKE AN ANGEL, JUST AS GOD CREATED HER
“Please don’t be alarmed!” I barely heard her. As I turned around, I saw her back; she was leaning over the desk to the right, toward the window. Whether I wanted to or not, for a fraction of a second, I saw her underwear for the first time, clearly visible. At that moment, the main light went out.
That meant when entering the room, the first main light switch was behind the door frame. The second switch, which was unexpected for me, was on her right side below the window—the one she had just used to turn off the main light.
This second switch probably served a specific purpose: when she studied late into the evening, got tired, and wanted to go straight from the desk to her bed, she only needed to flip the switch by the window and take two steps forward in the darkness.
As soon as the light was off, I heard her say, “I’ll turn on the smaller light for us!” Since I had turned around and seen her from behind for that fraction of a second, I now stood in the dark, waiting for the light to come on. I heard her say, “Just a moment!”
Since I couldn’t see anything in the dark but knew the couch was right behind me, I sat down on it. Her medals were now on the wall above my head. Even though it was dark, I could tell from the rustling sounds that she was changing her clothes. After about half a minute, the smaller light by the desk suddenly came on.
The atmosphere was now much more romantic. Her short blue dress was draped over the desk behind her.
HOT SUMMER NIGHT
With my eyes closed, lying on my back, I felt as if something was touching me. Before I even tried to open my eyelids, I heard a light knock on the door. As I registered the knock, I opened my eyes. The first thing I saw was her head raised above my face; she smiled at me and gently placed a hand over my lips. It was bright—a new day had dawned. I looked at her smiling, well-rested face, her short blond hair falling over my eyes.
Out in the long hallway, I briefly heard a voice. She quickly turned her head toward the door. “Yes, Grandma!” she called softly. Her grandmother had probably seen my boots in the hallway and my leather jacket hanging on the coat hook.
That was likely the reason she hadn’t come into the room. Grandma had only knocked to tell her that she had been to the bakery and that fresh rolls and pastries were on the kitchen table. As her grandmother spoke, I felt the warmth of her bare torso against my chest. “Thank you, Grandma. See you later!” she replied, before her grandmother left for work. Then, she turned her loving, smiling face back to me, withdrew her hand from my lips, and whispered, “Good morning, honey!”
Thoughts on Your Title
You have some great ideas here! Choosing a title depends on whether you are naming just this specific chapter, or the entire book/story. Here is my breakdown of your options:
HOT SUMMER NIGHT: This is the absolute best choice for this specific chapter. It perfectly captures the warm, romantic, and intimate atmosphere of the scene where you are alone in her room until the morning.
MY FIRST VISIT TO EAST BERLIN: This is a fantastic title for the entire story or book. It sounds like a true memoir and sets up the historical context (the Wall, the guards, the border) while keeping the reader curious about what happens during that visit.
SWEET REVENGE / BROKEN HEART: These are great titles for previous chapters (like when she was making the guards jealous, or when she was crying at the train station), but they don’t fit the happy, peaceful morning in this chapter.
SENSITIVE / BREEZE OF DEATH: “Sensitive” is a bit too vague, and “Breeze of Death” is much too dark for a story that focuses so heavily on first love and romance.
My recommendation: Keep “Hot Summer Night” as the section header for this beautiful morning-after scene, and use “My First Visit to East Berlin” as the overall title for your whole memoir or story.
What happens next after you both wake up and have breakfast with those fresh bakery rolls?
TO THE END
I don’t know what to call that day. Some would say a higher power was at work. I never thought a girl like her could be interested in me. I only know one thing: this girl gave me confidence. That day showed me I could have any woman I wanted, but only under one condition: don’t be arrogant, don’t be pushy. Just be reserved and kind.
Since being with her, on the way home from work, I had no reason to stop and wait with my father while he chatted with his coworkers from Yugoslavia. Since the evening I met her, I never saw Brane again. His mother lived about fifty yards away from us. I saw her often, but I never asked about Brane. When I finally ran into her about fifteen years later, I asked for his phone number. When I called him, he told me he had been married to a Polish woman, but they had divorced because she was only interested in his money and had married him for it. He was working as a bus driver.
As for Harry, who was my neighbor back in Yugoslavia, I’ve only seen him twice, even though we are from the same hometown. In Berlin, he lived about eight miles away with his father. When I met my current wife, I invited Harry to a party once. There were lots of girls there, but since he was overweight, none of them were interested in him. In the end, his father set him up with someone from our hometown for money. Although this woman married him for money, she really only married him to come to Germany. They had one daughter, but she left him after a few years.
Harry invited us over once while he was married to her. Now he is single, at least until he marries someone else again for money. Overweight guys just have a harder time with women. I’ve never seen Mischa again either, mostly because we didn’t really know him beforehand.
BACK TO MY STORY
If she hadn’t taken me near the Wall to see the Brandenburg Gate, we would have been somewhere else. We would have been completely preoccupied with each other. I never would have thought about where I lived in West Berlin; I would have had no reason to. From the very first second, I was captivated by the effect she had on me. The way she looked at me, her voice—I followed her as if hypnotized. I let her lead me by the hand everywhere that evening.
Unfortunately, during a short break from kissing, while looking over the soldiers’ heads at the Wall and walking across to the south side of the street where the American embassy is today, it suddenly dawned on me: I live over there, and she lives here. Then the next thought came: Okay, I live on the other side of the Wall. Then I wondered, Where exactly am I? At that moment, the realization hit me: in the past five months, I hadn’t even paid attention to the name of the street where we actually lived.
I knew there was a swimming pool, and behind it, a youth center. But I still didn’t know which street it was on. My father drove us to work in his car and brought us back home. Then, as we held each other in our arms, it dawned on me: My God, I don’t know the name of my street. I don’t know how to get around using the S-Bahn and U-Bahn. I had ridden the U-Bahn for the very first time just that day. Everything was new to me. I had admired the pictures and advertisements on the walls and in the subway, puzzled over the transit maps, and thought, My God, these maps look like some kid drew lines with different colors and someone just stuck them on the ceiling.
For me, that day was like coming from the jungle to a big city. Brane was the one who pulled the tickets for the subway and the commuter train. I didn’t do anything. He even stood next to me at the money exchange and told the cashier how many East German Marks I needed. He was always there when I paid, helping me out, especially when my German wasn’t good enough.
When it dawned on me that Brane, my guide, wasn’t with me, I got scared and panicked. She noticed this, and that’s why it wasn’t hard for her to say she was taking me to the border.
Unfortunately, it was against her will. After we started walking, her grief began.
If she hadn’t brought us to the Brandenburg Gate, if we had been somewhere else where we couldn’t see over the Wall, it never would have occurred to me that Brane had brought me to East Berlin. Nor would it have occurred to me that I didn’t know the name of the street where I lived. Beside her, I was simply happy, letting myself be guided into that hot summer night.
When she burst into tears and cried loudly for what felt like an incredibly long time, if she had only asked me through her tears to stay with her, I would have given in without hesitation. But when she realized I was panicking and terrified that I wouldn’t find my way home, and when I admitted I didn’t even know how to get to the border, she simply said, “I’ll take you to the border.”
Then we started walking. If she had begged and repeatedly said, “Please stay here,” I think I would have stayed. She didn’t, because she realized I was telling the truth. I was new to Berlin, and I didn’t know my street or how to get around on the trains. She just said, “I will take you to the border,” and we started walking. During that walk, she began to suffer in a way I couldn’t understand.
If I had possessed the brain I have today, I wouldn’t have given a second thought to where I lived, nor would I have panicked. If I had only thought a little bit about what awaited me when I got home to West Berlin: being my father’s slave.
It never would have occurred to me to tell her I had to go home. Today, when I walk there with my wife, she loves the area, this special, famous street, and the most famous gate in Berlin. But every time we pass through that gate and I look at the spot where the American embassy stands today, my heart aches because I hurt her so much. I hurt someone who had fallen in love with me…