end up here ≫ marco reus

003

From: MaR1989@hotmails.de

Sent: Saturday, May 17, 2014, 02:21AM

To: ELO135@yahooh.com

Subject: please

I want to meet you.

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From: ELO135@yahooh.com

Sent: Saturday, May 17, 2014, 09:53AM

To: MaR1989@hotmails.de

Subject: RE: please

You know that's not possible.

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MARCO

        There I am. Browsing through my ex-girlfriend's Facebook page in the middle of the night. Nothing has changed in the past years. Nothing has been updated. Just a ton of messages have been left on her page. They all say the same. Rest In Peace, Summer. May your soul live on. At first, I got a ton of messages on my page as well, but after a while it died down. They think I have forgotten about her, but actually every anniversary I spend my time on her Facebook page, listening to her voicemail. I miss her. But with a new girl in the picture, I should probably get over it. Maybe. It's been years ago. And we weren't even living together. She just was gone like that. It's not that I've had the time to say goodbye or that I was the one breaking up. We didn't ever break up. We were supposed to be forever...

        She wouldn't email me back before the morning, she was probably busy with her own life or asleep. I mean, it's Saturday, everyone is out drinking and I'm here, at home, being miserable. I'm not saying I hate life or anything, I just get depressed from time to time thinking about her.

        Why did she answer that it's not possible? It is the first thought when I read her email. I don't know why we wouldn't be able to meet. If it's the distance? Then I see no reason to. I travel the world and wherever she lives, I will go. I will pay for the ticket if she wants to come here in Germany instead. Money is not a problem for me. What else could possibly be keeping her back. If she's a man? I doubt it. She is insecure about herself. Well most girls are, and honestly, I don't think I care about the way she looks. Unless she happens to be a man of course, I mean, I'm not into men. I should really tell her that and I start typing up an email, that no matter what she looks like, it won't change the way I feel about her. And it's true. She would go to the World Cup, at least for one game. I don't know which one, but that would mean we would be close to each other. As I will go there as well. If only I knew which one, because I could get to her somehow. Not that she would believe me if I stood before her. Besides, she wouldn't even know who I am.

        I rub the sleep from my eyes and put my phone down after having sent the email. I throw my legs off the side of the bed and stand on my feet. Sigh. It's too early to be getting up, but I had other things to do. I shouldn't have gone to bed at 5 and getting up at 11:30 was probably a little bit too early when going to bed at 5. Sauntering to the kitchen, I make me some toast and put on the TV so I'm able to watch the Daily News. I get down on the sofa and eat my toast. Fortunately nothing too intense happened when I was asleep, but I would probably rather have heard something tragic than some news that doesn't interest anyone.

        “It's time for grocery shopping,” I groan to myself as I open the fridge to see if there's anything to drink. There wasn't and I have been putting off grocery shopping for the past week. It's just not fun to do. It's boring. And there is a big chance that people would recognize me and either start flirting with me or they'd ask for pictures or autographs. No problems with the latter, but it makes the trip way longer. I usually ask my mother to come with me, so I wouldn't be too lonely doing so and I could discuss the things that are happening with my mother. But I'd just go alone this time.

        Ping. I reach for my phone to see who texted me. Or emailed me. Maybe she emailed me this fast. Unfortunately she didn't. It was Mario asking to grab some lunch later. He was in Dortmund to visit his family. That would be perfect, as I didn't have any other plans for today. Besides grocery shopping.

        I push the cart through the practically empty store, putting in whatever I need. And within half an hour and zero people talking to me, I pay the groceries and head home. I'm glad this went faster than I usual. I fish out my phone, impatient to see what she has replied. But she hasn't. Is she scared? Busy? I'm starting to think all things now, not sure what exactly would be the right thought.

        “Mario!” I say when I open the door and I see my good friend in the door way. I pull him in for a manly hug. The rumors of us being lovers, I don't even know why, are all over the internet, “How are you?”

        “Great, absolutely great,” Mario says as he lets go of my hand. He makes his way to my living room. He's been here way too often and he practically knows where everything is located, “What about you?”

        “I wish I could say that I am better,” I answer as I grab two beers from the fridge and throw him one. He opens it with a pop and sips it. I open mine soon after, “But I'm fine. So you're here on family visit?”

        “Obviously. The folks wants to see me from time to time,” Mario laughs.

        “Of course,” I answer, “How's your girlfriend?” Mario glares at me and laughs.

        “My girlfriend?” He repeats, “Oh you mean Lilly, well we aren't really dating yet, but she's great.” I have heard Mario talk a lot about some Lillian from America and they were getting along great and had a few dates I think, but I assumed they were already dating. But apparently they aren't dating yet. That would come. Mario has some kind of charm that make the ladies fall for him.

        “Oh she isn't,” I say, “Would love to meet her sometime anyways.”

        “I'll keep you to that,” Mario says as he gulps his beer down. I have barely even started on mine, “Ready for lunch?” I nod and glare down at my phone to see if there has been an email yet. I sigh and Mario seems to notice.

        “Is it that girl you told me about last time?” Mario asks and I nod once again.

        “She hasn't emailed me back in hours,” I say to him.

        “She might just be busy, give it some time, if she hasn't emailed you in a week, it's time to worry,” Mario says as he pats my shoulder, “Come on, lover boy, time to go.”

        “You drive,” I say as I walk after him to his car. Grinning, Mario opens up his brand new car and I take a seat next to him. The car even smells new and it's extremely expensive.

        “Do you like this baby?” Mario says as he starts the car. The engine starts roaring and I must agree, this is definitely a nice car. Up on my mental to-buy list. I already owned 4 cars though. He puts it in first gear and slowly drives away to our usual lunch cafe.

        “That one drives away smoothly,” I say as we drive on the autobahn. Perks of living in Germany, you have no speed limits on the autobahn. So Mario is probably driving about 160 km/h and it's great. I love driving fast and I love cars. So does Mario and this is why we are such good friends. Our mutual interests and our love for cars, football and women. And our need for speed.

         “Time for food,” I say as we enter the parking lot. Mario laughs next to me. We are so ready for this.