Journey || Erik Durm

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CHARLOTTE:

         IT felt strange having the diner all to ourselves, but for the next few weeks, Erik and Carolyn failed to show, leaving Cora and I to wallow around in our confusion. Despite their absence, the stocks swarmed with aromatic pastries and the pantries remained fulfilled; so, we kept the diner open, serving the waterfalls of locals that streamed in and out on a daily basis. There came a day when people began to note Carolyn's disappearance, but we had no answers.

"I heard Erik has been hospitalized," Cora told me one morning as I unlocked the front door.

A chilly breeze moshed into the diner as I hemmed the door in a corner, an uneasy feeling tugging my heartstrings. "Hospitalized?

"Got in an accident, apparently. Him and Mario were on their way to Dortmund and bam—a truck attacks their bus from the side."

"That doesn't make any sense, Cora," I mumbled, embarking for our display board to scribble slogans. "Why would Erik randomly go to Dortmund? That's like more than four hours away!"

Cora sighed, the sound as watery as the rain dampening the pavement outside. "Oh, Charlotte. It wasn't random at all. His girlfriend was buried there—didn't you know?"

I froze, the chalk on my fingers only briefly grazing the board. "Girlfriend?"

Cora fixed herself behind the counter, busying herself by brewing two cups of milky frappes. "Yeah. And he was crazy about her too," she verified sadly. "But then Emilia killed herself. The poor girl stuck her head inside a gas oven before Erik could do anything, really. She was apparently psychotic. That's what the coroners said, anyway."

I dropped the chalk on the carrier and rubbed my thumb and index fingers together, laboring to remove the ashy remains of the utensil. "Wow. She killed herself," I repeated in monotone.

"That's how it happened."

"I can imagine how that must have been on him," I murmured, closing my eyes. "My mother killed herself too. It was unbearable for the longest time."

Cora pressed her lips together, her eyes straying from my gaze. And we stood there in silence for the next few minutes, nothing audible but the sound of the rain exacerbating  centimeters away. "I'm so sorry, Lotte," she finally implored. "I feel like an ass for reminding you of that. I shouldn't have." 

I laughed dismissively. "It's fine, Cora."

"I'm sorry again."

"Just—Erik—is he okay?"

The corners of her lips vaguely twitched, foreshadowing a mischevious smile. "I'm sure he's fine," she prolonged. "Why? Are you worried about him?"

"No!" I squeaked.

But I was. I missed him and his constant complaints and his tendency to make my life absolute chaos. I missed everything about him and I missed having jumbled, barely coherent thoughts.

Everything in my life was flowing so smoothly, I yearned for a hazard. Erik was that hazard. 

"Whatever you say," Cora sang, placing my frappe on the counter. She motioned towards it. "It's a new recipe I saw on Buzzfeed: nutella flavored frappuccino with whole milk and chocolate powder."

"You are a goddess," I commented as I picked up the drink.

"So," she digressed, bringing the cup to her lips for a sip. "What's happening with you and Marco?"

A broad smile fashioned on my lips. "Everything about him is great!"

"I bet he is."

"A few days ago, we rode the metro to a trapeze act. It was spectacular, Cora. I wish I could relive that day over and over again."