Whiskey Latte

August, 2016

August, 2016

Ingrid lay spread-eagled on her bed, tangled in thin summer sheets. It was so fucking hot. Her mood always suffered from the heat. She'd been awake for several hours, had scrolled through all the possible social media updates and now stared at the ceiling as if it held the answers to all of life's burning questions.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. Her head turned in that direction, then she flipped over so she could reach for it. Propped on her elbows, she read the message from Oskar, one of her former university lovers, inviting her to an outing he was in charge of as a student volunteer. Sommeruni was underway and he had to look after the international students during the free time activities.

He felt she would be a valuable addition to their evening of public drinking. Ingrid felt the same.

This newfound purpose to her existence gave her the strength to get out of bed and make breakfast. She scrambled a couple of eggs with two handfuls of cheese and bacon and dug into it straight out of the pan, with chopped tomatoes as a side dish on a nearby plate. For dessert, she mixed herself a boozy frappe from two sachets of instant coffee and a shot of Irish cream. The hours that remained until she had to begin getting ready were spent binge watching some gory show on Netflix.

Oskar messaged her a reminder two hours before they were due to meet in Treptower Park, to pump themselves full of beer and wine on the bank of the river Spree. Ingrid texted back a confirmation that she was on schedule. She wore her lightest summer dress and pulled up her hair in a loose, messy bun, which fully exposed her shoulders and her collarbones. Nevertheless, she packed both a breezy shawl and an umbrella. And a change of underwear, just in case.

When Ingrid made it to the particular spot in the park, Oskar and his cohort of doe-eyed students had already popped open the beers and were passing around a bottle of wine. He waved as he saw her approach and welcomed her with a hug that lasted too long for Ingrid's taste, given the heat.

"Hey, everybody, can I have your attention for a minute, please? This is Ingrid," he put his arm around her shoulders and the crowd murmured a half-hearted slow-motion 'Hi Ingrid' in unison.

"Ingrid is one of the most international people I know, which is why I asked her here tonight. She's Romanian, like some of you here, I think." He scanned the crowd to see if he could spot the students in question. Cheers and whistles erupted from the back of the group. "There you go!"

"Hi!" Ingrid waved at them.

"She did her bachelor's in London," Oskar continued, "and just finished her master's here with us in Berlin. I think she did some time in New York and Amsterdam as well. Right?" He turned to her for approval.

"Wow, you're saying it like I went to prison or something."

Collective laughter made Oskar reconsider his word choice. "You spent some time in New York and Amsterdam."

Ingrid nodded appreciatively. "And Denmark and Hamburg and Sweden."

"Like I said...very international. So," Oskar grabbed a beer bottle and popped it open for her, "if you're nice to her, she'll answer your questions in any of the following languages: English, German, Romanian, Swedish, Danish, Dutch...Spanish?"

Various exclamations of amazement arose from the group.

Ingrid shook her head. "Oh, no, my Spanish is...rough around the edges to say the least and I only know enough Danish and Dutch to order food and find a toilet. As for my Swedish, it's basically non-existent. So...English and German, please," she smiled.

Oskar helped her mingle with the crowd, introducing her separately to some of the students and refreshing her acquaintance with some of the volunteers. They'd met when they were both freshmen—except Oskar was just starting his bachelor's degree and Ingrid her master's. Their relationship was brief but passionate, as most of Ingrid's relationships tended to go, and a bond remained.