Page 60 of White Room Virgin

“Beer,” Simon replied curtly.

“Ah, come in. This way.”

With Simon’s help, I stumbled over the threshold and staggered into my room. I dropped into bed like a stone and longed for sleep.

Simon whistled through his teeth. “Wow, he lives like a monk. Well, if that’s all his possessions, you can’t really call it moving.”

“Moving?” Martin asked in surprise.

“Oh, I thought you knew. Hasn’t he told you?”

“Does he want to move out? Why? What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Simon replied. “He hasn’t been concentrating for weeks. Haven’t you noticed that? He’s been sleeping through lectures, and he hasn’t shown up at church either.”

Simon cheerfully recounted all my missteps without knowing the true story behind them, while Martin played the unsuspecting one—it seemed impossible that he hadn’t noticed anything.

So, this is it … my punishment.

Exhausted, I crawled under the covers and turned to face the wall. They could talk about me all they wanted; all I wanted was to sleep.

28

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Jonah

Since I failed miserably in my own attempt to become a better person, maybe Martin could punish me for my sins. Simon hadn’t minced his words the night before and probably told Martin a lot more than I had realized. This time, I was confident that Martin had informed my parents. Thankfully, I had kept the Lucien matter to myself—otherwise, Simon would have surely divulged it as well.

But what ifhehad already told Martin everything? Martin and Lucien had a special bond, and although I’d never seen them involved in serious conversations, they were undoubtedly very close. It was almost impossible that Martin didn’t know anything.

Crap! I’m as good as dead!

Suddenly, my heart raced, and I felt the urge to get out. Put on my running shoes, start running, and relieve the pressure. However, I remained seated at the kitchen table, nervously tapping my leg and gazing at Warhol's gun poster on the wall. The black and red print reminded me that art had once been part of my life … not so long ago, actually. It made me feel guilty, because although I had felt completely out of place every time, I had somehow enjoyed the gallery visits and openings.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Steven’s voice came from behind me. He had briefly stopped by to discuss something with Martin.

Using a knife, Martin retrieved a key from his waistband and handed it to Steven. “Yes. Unfortunately, it’s absolutely necessary,”

“He will freak out.”

“That’s okay. But we can’t just stand by and do nothing.”

I didn’t know what it was about, but I was almost certain they were talking about Lucien.

“All right,” Steven said, pocketing the key. “I’ll call you later.”

“Thanks. And stay tough.”

“Of course. I’ll see you soon. Bye, Jonah!”

I said goodbye to him with a nervous nod and then Steven was out the door. Martin put a cup of tea down for me. “So, what happened?” he asked in a calm voice and poured himself some tea. “Why do you want to leave here?”

I held the cup tightly between my hands, watching intently as the tea bag submerged in the hot water. Not a single word could escape my lips.

“I thought you felt comfortable here?” Martin continued, taking Lucien’s seat. “You’ll have to give your parents a good reason; otherwise, they won’t allow it. After all, they pay the rent. But if you can’t even communicate to me what the problem is, your only option will be to finally settle into your room—because then you won’t have anywhere else to go. Unless you get a job and pay the rent yourself. But let me tell you: You’re in a pretty privileged position.” He lifted the tea bag from the cup, wrapped it around a spoon, and stowed it away.

“Are you still praying?” I asked softly.

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