Wiederbeleben - 1. How We Met

While for legal purposes I resided with my father, he spent the majority of his time in Europe as a partner of a large consulting firm, making bi-weekly trips back to the States. But even then, he was routinely too exhausted to talk or holds other domestic business obligations. I’m not sure I even rememberd the last time we sat down for supper or went to a museum together. He ensured that my checking account is topped off, and for all intents and purposes, I lived alone.

I attended a fairly large private school in the city; excelling at academics had always come naturally, just like my sexual orientation. Although only fourteen, I had tested out of enough classes to place me two years ahead, moving me to the upper school with those two to four years older than me. Perhaps that was why I had never managed to make any lasting friendships with anyone at the school, but I convinced myself that my intelligence would bring me farther in life than their social and athletic adeptness.

While wind blew frigid night air rapidly across the bridge, my windbreaker was drenched with sweat by the time I had arrived at the center. Partially I was panting at having walked nearly five miles, but more because of the amalgamation of nervousness and fear that replaced the resolve to jump I had left with earlier. Perhaps that was why I lost track of time as I climbed onto and sat perched on the ledge, bathing in the bright moonlight. I was shivering, with tears now flowing freely down my face, when I began to gradually let go of my hands. I became wholly absorbed by the sounds of the fierce currents below that would soon envelop my body.

Abruptly, I found a pair of arms embracing my torso with a firm grasp. I was pulled off of the ledge and towards a boy … my heart raced as his face came into view. He had locks of flowing blond hair and a pair of compassionate blue eyes, staring into mine with the same enchanted look with which I peered into his.

Before I could say anything, he pressed my shoulders into his, and his lips onto mine.

Sudden shock gradually turned into confusion, and then a complete realization of the circumstances.

At first our lips merely moved against each other, but they slowly opened and I felt his tongue trace a line around my lips before it slid past them, entering my mouth. I wasn’t sure what I felt; this was the first time I had ever felt true affection from someone, much less received a kiss. When we finally let go, I began to feel my remaining thoughts of suicide being replaced by a lust for something I couldn’t quite explain. I had determined I was gay three years ago; when I had mustered enough courage to tell my best friend, whom I had confided in since early childhood, he began to avoid me, soon never acknowledging my presence. Indeed, I was sure he was responsible for causing the entire class to ostracize me; it was then that I decided I would put academics before all else, and to suppress my sexual preferences until university.

He led me back to his car, a black Mercedes which he had left stationary on the leftmost lane. His body illuminated by the headlights, I took note that he was dressed in a cardigan and a pair of skinny jeans that highlighted his muscles quite nicely.

Almost too perfect to be true.

After we had both sat down in the front of the car, he slowly wrapped his fingers around my shaking hand.

He whispered, “It’s late. Would you like to come home with me?”

I nodded, and he drove back into the city as I fell asleep on his shoulder.

I awoke with my body still held tightly by Jan’s arms. For the first time in years, I felt happy - truly happy - and above all, safe. I noticed that he was already up, with a comforting smile on his face, as usual.

“Can I stay here for a while? I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep without you.”

He laughed. “Stay as long as you want. This house feels really empty sometimes.”

“You should see mine.”

“If you want, we can go bring your clothes over, if you really do want to stay with me.”

Although he stood nearly eight centimeters taller than me, at 1,82 meters, I found that the chino shorts and light blue shirt he lent me fit me quite snugly. While my muscles were quite lacking compared to his, we were both fairly slender in figure.

It being Friday, Marie had already left for work, but left some Blitzkuchen on the counter for us that she had baked the previous night. As Jan told me, she was a pediatrician at NewYork-Presbyterian who was often overly doting on children. Jan poured two glasses of orange juice, and we ate together on the counter.

"Jan, when do you start school?"

“In September, so there are still four and a half weeks until school starts for me. I attend the German International School in White Plains, a forty minute drive from here; my parents want me to get an Abitur since most of my education has already been in German. Have you considered what you want to do?”

“I have been going to Dalton, but I’m not very happy there. I never managed to make any meaningful friends, and the faculty seem rather disinterested in their respective subjects.”

“I wonder what we can do about that. But I suppose you will be a freshman?”

“Junior, like you. I managed to test out of a number of classes.”

“So you are a Wunderkind.” We both grinned.

When we left the house, Jan suggested that we run across Central Park. As the weather was pleasantly cool, I agreed; we decided to share a hot dog near the turtle pond.

When we arrived at my apartment, Jan quietly observed, “You have probably never joined a sports team before, but you have a runner’s build. I was watching your form; you shouldn’t waste it.”

“Maybe we can run together more often.” In truth, I had enjoyed the exercise. "But I wonder if I can run competitively."

"I think you would look ... more provocative ... if you toned your body."

"Jan!"

As I led him to my bedroom, he said, “You were right about the solitude, it is as if someone has died in here!” I laughed, as I started to pack up my clothes. “That would have been my spirit, before I met you.”

“You must really enjoy literature - and these are all in French!” I noticed he was looking through my bookshelves. “That’s so romantic. Do you mind if I borrow a few books?”

My father had once jokingly suggested that I open a library. I noticed he was holding a copy of La Condition Humaine, often regarded as the best of French literature. “Of course I don’t mind. Do you speak French?”

“No, but I was hoping you could teach me. And I’ll help you with German in return.”

I pondered for a few moments, and asked him, “Do you think it would be possible for me to attend school with you in September? I suppose I don’t enjoy the atmosphere of Dalton very much, and I have always wanted to study in Europe, perhaps in Heidelberg.”

He responded, “I expect your father will have to agree first. And you’ll have to work hard with German in the next few weeks, but I assume that will not be an issue, considering your aptitude for learning.”

"It's strange that I met you only yesterday, and now I want to be with you forever."

When we returned, he led me straight to his piano. I noticed Beethoven’s Appassionata, opened to the third movement, pushed aside on the stand with a number of other works. He beckoned me to sit down with him as he started to sing, harmonizing the melody with a chordal accompaniment.

Es schlug mein Herz, geschwind zu Pferde! (To horse! my pounding heart kept crying,)
Es war getan fast eh gedacht. (No sooner was it thought than done.)
Der Abend wiegte schon die Erde, (In evening's lap the earth was lying,)
Und an den Bergen hing die Nacht; (And on the peaks the night was spun;)
Schon stand im Nebelkleid die Eiche, (Already clad in mist, the giant,)
Ein aufgetürmter Riese, da, (The oak, stood towering eerily,)
Wo Finsternis aus dem Gesträuche (Where darkness from the copse defiant)
Mit hundert schwarzen Augen sah. (Turned many somber eyes on me.)

Der Mond von einem Wolkenhügel (The moon, from clouded hill appeared)
Sah kläglich aus dem Duft hervor, (And frowned upon the hazy lea,)
Die Winde schwangen leise Flügel, (The wind by quite wings was steered)
Umsausten schauerlich mein Ohr; (And roared with horror over me;)
Die Nacht schuf tausend Ungeheuer, (To countless shapes the night was turned,)
Doch frisch und fröhlich war mein Mut: (My feelings though were fresh and gay,)
In meinen Adern welches Feuer! (For in my veins, what ardor burned,)
In meinem Herzen welche Glut! (And in my heart, what glowing lay!)

Dich sah ich, und die milde Freude (I saw you, felt the joyful sweetness)
Floß von dem süßen Blick auf mich; (Of your kind eyes come over me.)
Ganz war mein Herz an deiner Seite (My heart was yours in all completeness,)
Und jeder Atemzug für dich. (And every breath was yours to be.)
Ein rosenfarbnes Frühlingswetter (A day in spring with roses blended,)
Umgab das liebliche Gesicht, (It wreathed your face in loveliness,)
Und Zärtlichkeit für mich – ihr Götter! (Tenderness, gods, for me intended,)
Ich hofft es, ich verdient es nicht! (Deserving no such hoped for bliss!)

Doch ach, schon mit der Morgensonne (But soon at sunlight's earliest minute)
Verengt der Abschied mir das Herz: (My heart grows faint to say goodbye.)
In deinen Küssen welche Wonne! (Your kisses' warmth, what rapture in it,)
In deinem Auge welcher Schmerz! (What sorrow lingers in your eye!)
Ich ging, du standst und sahst zur Erden, (I want; your head was lowered in sadness,)
Und sahst mir nach mit nassem Blick: (You watched me go, in deep distress.)
Und doch, welch Glück, geliebt zu werden! (And yet, to be so loved, what gladness!)
Und lieben, Götter, welch ein Glück! (To love, o gods, what happiness!)

“Goethe?” Indeed, perhaps we were the two lovers described in the poem.

He nodded. “My favorite too.”

He must have noticed I was looking at his collection of compositions, as he shifted to the left and invited me to play. I closed my eyes and slowly placed my fingers onto the keys. I had played Appassionata so many times that it was firmly implanted in my memory; my hands moved effortlessly across the piano, capturing both the technical and the thematic aspects of the piece. My mother had been the one who taught me how to play; in fact, this had been among her favorites. While I never held any desire to become the next Barenboim, playing the piece brought me back to times when she would carefully place a kiss on my cheek and call me a “pianiste prodige”.

I must have been crying as I finished playing, as he took out a handkerchief and delicately wiped my eyes.

“Du bist ein echtes Wunderkind am Klavier, Théo,” (You are a true piano prodigy, Théo,) he said, as he kissed me.

I grinned. Perhaps he could take the place of my mother, as my boyfriend.

When we went downstairs for dinner, I noticed that Jan’s father was back. He smiled, and held out his hand. Jan had told me he worked for Deutsche Bank, and like my father, travelled most of the week.

“Ich heiße Markus Andersen, und du bist Théo, oder?” (I'm Markus Andersen, and you are Théo?)

“Ja, ich freue mich gern Sie kennenzulernen, Herr Andersen, aber ich kann leider nur ein bisschen Deutsch.” (Yes, nice to meet you, but I can unfortunately only speak a little German.)

“Well, nice to meet you anyways. But please call me Markus. It seems you have already become good friends with my son; perhaps you can cheer him up. He’s been unhappy ever since we left Germany.”

We both smiled. Jan remarked, “Perhaps we can make each other happy.”

Marie had prepared for us a dish of Älplermagronen with a plate of Rösti, which we quickly devoured.

“Swiss specialty”, Jan said. “Did you know that Marie attended cooking school for an entire year because she was bored with medicine?”

I found that particularly amusing. "Marie, can you teach me how to cook?"

She laughed. "Be careful what you wish for, or you might end up cooking for us every night."

Jan then turned to his father, recalling the conversation we had earlier in the day. “Vati, Théo hat mir gesagt, dass er mit mir zur Deutschen Schule gehen möchte. Er erwähnte, dass er in der Zukunft auch in Europa studieren will. Ist das möglich?” (Father, Théo told me that he would like to attend the German International School with me. He mentioned that in the future, he wants to study in Europe. Is that possible?)

Markus contemplated for a few minutes, and asked, “Théo, who is your father? Your face looks vaguely familiar to me. Might I get in contact with him?”

I had indeed inherited many of my father’s features - a slender nose and lips, as well as his distinct icy grey eyes. “François Benoît; he is a partner at McKinsey. Indeed, he will be returning here from Paris tomorrow.” I saw Markus’ face light up. “Do you know him?”

“I believe he has worked with our Frankfurt office before, so we are acquaintances. You said that he will be back this tomorrow? If so, I will invite him here for dinner.”

As we lay in bed that night, we both felt as if a new chapter had started in our lives.

"Jan? Why did Markus say that you were unhappy?"

He laughed. "Like you, I have never been able to connect with anyone."

He paused. "Actually, for the longest time, I was in denial that I was truly gay. I kept on trying to date girls, but none of my relationships ever lasted. In fact, the time we kissed each other was the first time I truly felt compassion for someone else."

"And you were the first person with whom I felt loved. And ... I never really got a chance to thank you for ... convincing me that life could be meaningful."

"No, I want to thank you for coming into my life."

"Is there one of those German words that describes how we feel? Like Schadenfreude?"

"Hmm ... just a short one. Wiederbeleben."

"C'est parfait. Euh ... Wieder ... beleben ..." (That's perfect.)

We sat pondering for a while, and soon came to the realization that neither of us had been truly happy until we met the other.

“Jan?”

“Mhmm?”

“I love you.”

“Je t’aime aussi, mon chéri.” (I love you too, my dear.)

“Will you be my boyfriend?”

He did not respond, but instead pulled me closer towards him with a kiss.