Page 93 of Back Room Host

Since Tuesday, I had been trying to control my jumbled thoughts with drugs, but this short conversation had a greater effect than the coke and benzos combined. It was even the first time my chest loosened a knot, and breathing became easier.

“Saw you’re ‘ready for orders’ again.” Clé fetched a tiny bag out of his jacket pocket and placed it on the table.

I massaged my forehead. “Yeah.”

“So, that’s why the delivery?” He pushed the bag across the table to me. “Don’t overdo it.”

I nodded and grabbed my phone. “Regular price?”

“Yes.”

I sent him the money through the app. “Sent.”

“This is a completely topsy-turvy world right now.” Clé laughed. “Usually, you’re the one bringing the stuff.”

“I’ve been clean for almost a month.” This justification sounded so wrong, but in my opinion, the little stuff Clé brought me on New Year’s didn’t count.

“And how did it feel?”

Surprised, I glanced at him and put the phone away. The fact was, Luca somehow gave me stability, but Clé didn’t need to know that. “It was just like that. Didn’t really think about it much.”

“Are you going back to work?”

“Is that so unthinkable?”

Clé brushed it off with a smile. “I’m just saying. With that thing on your foot? Not exactly sexy.”

“I only have to wear it until Monday anyway. It probably doesn’t matter if I take it off a day earlier.”

“And you feel ready for that?”

“God damn it, Clé! Yes! What else do I have?”

“By the way, I asked at the screen printing shop if they’re hiring apprentices this summer, but they’re not taking any more. I tried. Sorry.”

“You wouldn’t believe how many rejections I’ve gotten since the beginning of the year. I even calculated how much money I would still have to save up to do my own thing; open a club or something. Maybe that would be the solution.”

Clé sipped his beer and shrugged. “Maybe.”

Finding my beer empty, I rose to get a new one. My circulation, however, didn’t appreciate the sudden movement and punished me with a wave of dizziness. I immediately grabbed onto the kitchen counter.Fuck, maybe I did overdo it a bit the last few days.My thoughts returned to Luca; I just couldn’t control it.

How am I supposed to work like that?

With a new can, I sat back at the small table. Clé looked pensive, almost sad.

“So, you probably won’t be coming to the Gothic Party on Wednesdays anymore?” he asked.

“Why?”

“Because Luca works there at the bar.”

“He was fired long ago.”

It sounded disdainful, and yet I felt somewhat empowered. Luca had been so reserved with personal information in our conversations that it always made me feel reconciled when I discovered things I already knew about him.

The first time we met, we both lost our jobs. When I later told him why I had freaked out at the café, he couldn’t stop laughing and called the moment the irony of fate.

But the dark clouds rolled in again. I felt cold, and the time with Luca was pierced by an icy wind. Nothing remained, just this incredibly bleak feeling of loneliness. And although therewas a huge hole in my chest, it felt like I had been carrying a lump of coal around with me since Tuesday.

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