Page 3 of White Room Virgin

Produce

Children

Money

Peace

Be good

Be smart

Be successful

And ignore how it crushes you”

The thought of rebelling against my parents’ expectations suddenly warmed my heart. Oh yes, I was ready to take my life into my own hands and embark on this adventure. I felt a tingle of excitement in my body and anticipation for something I couldn’t even put my finger on. It was exactly what I wanted. I wanted love! I wanted to get married and start a family! I wanted to live a peaceful and happy life in freedom! But my parents kept me on a tight leash, and I wasn’t allowed to do what I wanted. That had to change.

I realized that the author likely intended an entirely different interpretation with those lines, eluding my understanding. Nonetheless, with determination, I tore a sheet off the wall, folded it neatly, and stowed it into my jacket pocket.

Feeling energized, I ran back home, up five flights of stairs, and straight into the kitchen. Martin was standing at the stove in front of a pot of boiling water, opening a package of spaghetti.

“Look at this!” I said and put the sheet of paper on the table. “I found this by the river.”

It was only then that I noticed Lucien was here too. I greeted him in a friendly manner, but he didn’t give me a glance. Instead, he lit a cigarette, took a quick look at the leaflet, and then looked out of the window, uninterested.What’s wrong with this guy?

“Dinner’s almost ready,” Martin said, taking the leaflet in his hand. “You can take a shower first if you want.”

“I’ll hurry,” I replied and left the two of them alone.

As the water poured down on me, I wondered how much alcohol can change a person. I didn’t even have experience with that! Lucien had been pretty drunk when we first met. Although I questioned the authenticity of his kindness, I preferred it to being ignored. Martin had warned me about Lucien, but I didn’t think much of it. Lucien giving me the cold shoulder unsettled me a little. But we didn’t really know each other yet, and maybe ahouse dinner would help. After my refreshing shower, I returned to the kitchen.

“What’s going on?” Martin asked Lucien as he set a bowl of salad on the table. “Have you been pulling an all-nighter again?”

Lucien blew out the smoke and took a sip of beer. “Only two more days,” he mumbled. “I’m in the final stages.”

I sat down in my new seat, diagonally across from Lucien, and leafed through a magazine beside me. But it was useless. Every third page was missing and the rest were torn up.

“Were you able to organize the transport?” Martin asked him, draining the pasta water.

“Yes.” Lucien stroked his hair, revealing dark circles under his eyes. “Steven’s coming back with his uncle’s van.”

“Ah, that’s handy. That was the glassmaker, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Lucien replied, looking out of the window once again, lost in thought. “Are you coming too?”

I would have loved to know what it was about, but my gut told me that this wasn’t the right time to ask. There was something about Lucien that made me feel unwanted.But maybe he’s just tired.Martin placed his heavy hand on my shoulder. “Of course! And I’ll bring the newbie with me.”

I was so startled that I winced. Martin chuckled with amusement and looked at me with his deep blue eyes. “So, how are your studies going? Have you got off to a good start?” Whenever Martin inquired about something, he always sounded very interested, as if he wanted to understand the person he was talking to. Even though we had known each other our whole lives, his probing left me feeling self-conscious. I let my gaze wander between his dark, bushy eyebrows so that I didn’t have to look him straight in the eyes. And if that didn’t help, I searched his otherwise impeccable chestnut brown hair for a loose strand. But there wasn’t one.

“Uh, yes … everything’s fine,” I replied and glanced at Lucien.

He took a drag on his cigarette and stared out of the window again. He didn’t even move when Martin put a full plate in front of him and sat down at the table with us.

I folded my hands dutifully and bowed my head to say the table prayer in silence. Then I thanked Martin for the food. He was already holding his fork and forcing himself to smile while Lucien transfixed his eyes on me. It was almost scary the way he pierced me with his gaze.

“Is something wrong?” I asked, reaching for the grated cheese.

Without saying a word, Lucien dropped the cigarette in the ashtray and finished his beer. He then picked up his fork and started eating. Martin grinned and turned to his plate. The situation irritated me. After all, Martin and I had grown up together and he had made no attempt to pray at all. “Why did you stop saying the table prayer?” I asked.

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