Weddings

Chapter 14

Till phoned that afternoon to tell Paul there was a post-band debriefing at his place. "Did you speak to Schneider?" Paul tried to sound casual.

"Yeah, he's coming. Why?"

"Oh.. no, nothing. Thought he might be busy, that's all."

Paul got in his car, just starting the engine when the passenger door opened and Emil clambered into the car. "Hey! Need a lift somewhere?" Paul looked openly confused and surprised to see his son sat beside him.

"Uhhm.. Yeah. You're going to Uncle Till's, right?"

"I am." Maybe he has a friend nearby? Seems unlikely; Till lives in the arse end of nowhere.

"Cool. I'll come with."

"What?" Paul turned to look at his son. "Listen Emil, not today. We have a very important meeting, sorry."

"Yeah yeah, Dad." Emil scowled, letting the irritation show in his voice. "Clearly I'm not coming to keep you company."

"Why do you want to come then?!" Now Paul really was confused.

"Nele's there today." Emil coughed awkwardly, shifting a little in his seat. "Thought I'd er.. see how she's getting on." Oh. Right.

"Listen, Emil... You're going through a tough time right now. I don't think it's wise to focus on other girls just yet. Take a break for a while, eh?"

Emil groaned and knocked his head back against the headrest a few times. "Dad! Stop being a biddy about this! It's not as if you didn't consider using Schneider this morning. Besides me and Nele are just good friends, I just want to talk to a friend right now. And even if I do start bringing other girls back, at least I'm not gonna break their hearts. It'll just be fun."

Fuck. Say what you want about my son, he's always been intuitive. "Th-That's different. What happened with Schneider.. His feelings.. um.. I'm not rebounding from anyone else." Paul lied, feeling a lump in his throat as he realised how close he'd come to ignoring his own advice to Emil.

"Yes you are, Dad! You obviously are! Liar. You're clearly rebounding emotionally from.." Fuck he knows, he knows about Richard! Paul felt his muscles go tense, turning to look pleadingly at his son, Please stop! Don't say it. Please! Emil momentarily paused, looking at his father's nervous face, "Rammstein, Dad." His voice was soft, "I know it's an emotional, difficult time for you. You've come to a decision about what you want to do, and perhaps that's a decision you never thought you'd make. I can't claim to know why you're leaving the band, but I know you must be. That's why you've been so upset this week, and why all your bandmates are coming round and trying to please you; Richard helping me move in, Schneider trying to seduce you, Till calling a meeting. I'm not stupid Dad. But listen, it doesn't matter to me what you do now; to help yourself get over the band. It doesn't matter if you start a shit new band, and fuck Schneider and start a fight with Richard. It doesn't matter if you drink yourself into a misery, or even if you take drugs or start smoking again." Paul briefly remembered how much pressure a younger Emil had put on him to stop smoking. "It doesn't matter to me dad. I don't care. I don't care because I know what you're going through. I feel it too, about my girlfriend. So if I don't judge you, you can't judge me, right? Just remember I love you, and I care about you, and all that other gay cuddly, lovey stuff. Oh! Sorry Dad, not that being gay is a bad thing." Emil coughed awkwardly now his speech was over, and Paul couldn't help but grin, reaching over and ruffling his son's hair.

"Okay, well done; you've convinced me to take you. But do not get in the way, or get involved if you hear us fighting. The last thing I need is a pissed off Till Lindemann." Paul got on the road, mind already turning to the upcoming meeting and wondering what might come out in the heat of the moment. Nichts. Hopefully nothing. There's no reason this can't just be a calm, fond farewell.