Falling Walls (III)

Chapter 20

I woke up before six in the morning. Everything was still dark outside. I couldn't stop thinking about the upcoming event with Eva Thymann. Unable to fall back asleep, I grabbed my glasses from the bedside table and tiptoed out of the bedroom, closing the door slowly behind me. Facing the window, those hand prints still a thorn in my eye - I would wipe them off in a minute - I watched the first orange rays of sunlight appear behind the Alster Lake. I decided to make myself a coffee and then settle on the lounge with my book. Studying the sophisticated coffee machine shining proudly and spotless on the counter top, I pressed one button, then another. I opened different compartments and even checked that the cord was plugged it, but I just couldn't figure out how it worked. The coffee shop it was, I finally decided and looked through the kitchen to find paper and a pen to leave Tom a message, without luck. I needed to get my clothes in the bedroom, so I would just write him the note on his desk.

With good intentions, I took the pair of leggings from my travel bag, the long sleeve shirt and trainers and clamped them under my arm. Only the rising sun shining through the thin curtains covering the bedroom windows emitted light for me to see where I was and what I was doing. Tom's rhythmical breathing was the only other sound in the room, making my touching over the desk sound like a thunderstorm breaking lose. I soon found a pencil cup, pulling the first to get my hand on out. It was amazing how fast the sun rose, or maybe it was my eyes adjusting better to the dark, but I made out a stack of paper on the side of the desk. Taking the top one off the pile I held it closely in front of my eyes to make sure it was blank. It wasn't. Quietly I put it back and went over to the drawers. I opened the first, looking and feeling inside but could only make out more pens and some electronic devices. Opening the next drawer, in the very back, I finally found some post-its. I pulled the block out when something dropped off it, making a light, metallic sound. With all my clothes still tucked under my arm, I went down on my knees, feeling for the metallic object I had just dropped. Sure enough, I soon felt small smooth links between the tips of my fingers. It was a bracelet I was holding. But not any bracelet. It was a children's bracelet.

I knew I shouldn't be snooping, and I really wanted to put it back. My hand holding the bracelet was already back in the drawer when I just couldn't resist. I pulled it back out and held it into a shadow of light cast onto the desk. Focusing hard on the small engraved letters, my eyes soon adjusted and were able to make them out, one by one: Thomas Mayer?

Shocked, the grip on my clothes underneath my arm loosened and with a loud bang they landed on the floor. Before I could even move my eyes from Tom's name on the bracelet, Tom moved in bed.
"Good morning, sweetheart," he greeted me with a cheerful yawn. I stuttered back a good morning and told Tom I was just going for a run. Then I grabbed my clothes in a messy pile on my arms and hurried out of the bedroom without waiting for a reply. Carelessly, I dropped the clothes on the lounge, sitting down next to them, letting out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

Why would Tom have a kids bracelet with his name on? Regarding it closely, I noticed that it wasn't just a kids bracelet. This bracelet was from a baby, maybe a toddler. Not that I knew a lot about these kind of things, but the jewelery looked in very good condition. After all, it must have been over thirty years old. It also felt solid. I doubted that it was a standard kind of name tag from the orphanage Tom used to live in. But before I could brood even more about it, Tom appeared behind me. I hadn't heard him approach. He was just standing there, staring at me and my hands for a while. In his eyes I could see the moment when he shook off his irritation. His eyes moved up to meet mine, a fake smile pulling on his lips.

"What's the matter with you this morning," he asked, seemingly casual.
"Nothing," I mumbled absently. But there was no point talking around it, so I continued. "I'm so sorry, Tom. I didn't mean to snoop. I was looking for paper and stumbled across the bracelet here. It's got your name on it, Tom." I felt the tears well in my eyes. I tried my hardest not to blink, so they wouldn't well over.
The irritation returned to Tom's eyes. He pretended that there was nothing to it. With a shrug of his shoulder he asked, "So? Why does that shock you so much?"
"Well, - because..." I didn't know what to say. It irritated me that a child that had been in an orphanage from his baby years owned personalised jewellery. And it also irritated me that I had been convinced, or at least strongly considered, that Tom was Eva's son Max.
As if reading my thoughts, Tom interrupted my silent monologue. "Engel, I'm not the missing boy from your book. I am just Thomas Mayer, and nobody has ever looked for me."