Waiting for Superman

Chapter 12: Cherry

Andy’s P.O.V

I sink into my chair and sigh deeply, running my hands through my hair and tugging on it gently. "Ich bin Verwirrt," I whisper.

"Warum?" Amber asks, sitting down across from me and sliding me a cup of hot chocolate.

I take it gratefully and sip at it before my brow furrows in confusion. "Du sprechst Deutsch?"

Amber laughs, sipping at her coffee. I shudder at that. Coffee is too bitter for me, and it just makes me anxious.

"Ja, ich lerne Deutsch," Amber says.

"Wenn?" I ask.

Amber frowns and I can tell that she's searching her German vocabulary for the right words. "Ich weiss nicht," she admits.

I laugh and sip at my hot chocolate, almost sighing when I can feel it warm my insides. Hot chocolate truly warms the soul.

"So warum bist du Verwirrt?" Amber questions.

I almost laugh at her broken German, but I can understand what she is saying. “Ich hatte Jungen,” I groan and bury my face in my hands.

Amber’s lips quirk in a half-smile. “Warm?”

“Jungen saugen,” I whine.

Amber chuckles. “Ja, das ist Wahr.”

I smile half-heartedly at her before whispering, “Er hat mir weinen gemacht.”

Amber’s brow crinkles. “Wer?”

“Louis Tomlinson,” I groan, the name sounding strange as it passes my lips, my German accent mangling it.

Amber’s eyes shoot up almost to her hairline and she asks quickly, “Darf ich mal Englisch sprechen?”

I chuckle at her rushed question and answer, “Ja, na klar.”

So Amber says breathlessly, “What? Tell me about this? When did this happen? When did you meet Louis Tomlinson?”

I sigh, but then I talk. No one but me knows the true story. I tell her about Beau, my voice shaking as I do so and then I tell her about Louis and the night when I finally had enough, and left, my voice growing stronger as the story leaves me. I wrap up my tale with how I got here, and when I saw Louis yesterday and my late-night search of him. When I’m finished with the whole awful anecdote, I whisper, “Ich hat dortbleiben mit er gewollt.”

Amber leans forward and rests her hand over mine. I glance up at her and she says firmly, “Du kannst nicht.”

And I know she’s right, and I truly do, but some part of me wants to go back there, where I had a chance with Louis, where I loved freely, where I wasn’t famous. I was a nobody, all alone. But Amber’s right. Ich kann nicht.

I can’t.

…

I sigh, running my hands through my hair, vaguely noting that it’s getting rather long and I am in need of a trim. This day was a long one, my thoughts not on my business, but on my past, and certain boy named Louis. I’m sure any work I did do was illegible, and probably didn’t make any sense. I might as well have been working in German. Thinking of my native tongue makes me lonely. Speaking it today with Amber did help, as it isn’t often I get to communicate with people that way, as everyone speaks English nowadays, but once in a while I’ll meet someone who understands German. I miss Germany. Life was simpler there.

I had a family, I wasn’t alone, and the places were beautiful. Although I love New York City, it isn’t the same as home.

Amber pokes her head in my door, knocking to get my attention. “Ma’am?” she asks.