From the day that Michael learned his own name, he was a quiet child. A little, blond-haired boy who didn’t talk unless he was asked to. His parents’ friends found him adorable, and sighed: “That must be every mummy’s little dream…”
The truth was different. Although they never said so, his mum and dad had always wished that Michael would be a little more open. Their wish never came true. Many years later, however, he actually would open, but not to them.
Michael spent his adolescence in his room, reading Jane Eyre, Robin Hood, The Alchemist and several other complicated classics, listening to music that his classmates would describe as weird. He walked around like a ghost at school, never chatted with anybody, but that did not make him despondent. Despite the shyness and anti-socialness, he had no trouble with his mental health. The reason for not having friends at school was simply because he didn’t want to. If there was the slightest interest, things would have been different. He was happy and content most of the time.
And he wrote. Every day he could invent stories until he fell asleep over paper sheets and ink. He read it all when he awakened, his heart usually swelling with pride and great self-assurance. At the age of sixteen, Michael had created four novels and countless short stories. What he wanted to do, was grow up and become a writer. Live with a cat or a girlfriend in a small, dark apartment with candles to light it up.
Unexpected and odd to everybody, Michael had his first girlfriend after his seventeenth birthday. Ever since he hit puberty, he had been longing desperately for love. Love, with nothing like it. The desire of perfect harmony with someone elses body and mind rushed through him; made his blood frequently boil one moment and freeze the next. It sometimes gave him insomnia.
When he suddenly fell in love, Michael wrote more than ever before. They met at a café. The only free chair was at his table, and she asked if she could sit there. Afterwards he followed her home. In the beginning they were just talking – a completely new experience to Michael, which he loved. But all the sudden the talking subsided, they fell dead calm and started to just look at each other.
Michael felt like his body was about to melt and run like twinkling water down on the floor, but instead he kissed her. That evening, both of them lost their virginity. After that, they couldn’t keep their hands off each other; impossibly.
“I’m pregnant,” she told him a year later. “And I am having the baby.”
Her awkwardness scared him. A baby? Now? Their life had just begun together. Michael thought he would be sad, angry, frightened – anything – but he was happy.
“But that’s wonderful. I love you, and I promise that I will do my best,” he said, stumbling.
The birth of his child was long-drawn, while waiting outside the room he bit his nails off, cried with compassion for Denise, and drank more coffees than he was capable to count. His parents were waiting for him to call and tell them that mother and child were all right. Michael did not realize until the baby was put in his arms by a nurse – he was a father now.
“It’s a girl,” the nurse said.
“She is the most beautiful thing I have seen in my life,” he answered, and started to cry tears of joy. A new life. His child.
Little baby…
The truth was different. Although they never said so, his mum and dad had always wished that Michael would be a little more open. Their wish never came true. Many years later, however, he actually would open, but not to them.
Michael spent his adolescence in his room, reading Jane Eyre, Robin Hood, The Alchemist and several other complicated classics, listening to music that his classmates would describe as weird. He walked around like a ghost at school, never chatted with anybody, but that did not make him despondent. Despite the shyness and anti-socialness, he had no trouble with his mental health. The reason for not having friends at school was simply because he didn’t want to. If there was the slightest interest, things would have been different. He was happy and content most of the time.
And he wrote. Every day he could invent stories until he fell asleep over paper sheets and ink. He read it all when he awakened, his heart usually swelling with pride and great self-assurance. At the age of sixteen, Michael had created four novels and countless short stories. What he wanted to do, was grow up and become a writer. Live with a cat or a girlfriend in a small, dark apartment with candles to light it up.
Unexpected and odd to everybody, Michael had his first girlfriend after his seventeenth birthday. Ever since he hit puberty, he had been longing desperately for love. Love, with nothing like it. The desire of perfect harmony with someone elses body and mind rushed through him; made his blood frequently boil one moment and freeze the next. It sometimes gave him insomnia.
When he suddenly fell in love, Michael wrote more than ever before. They met at a café. The only free chair was at his table, and she asked if she could sit there. Afterwards he followed her home. In the beginning they were just talking – a completely new experience to Michael, which he loved. But all the sudden the talking subsided, they fell dead calm and started to just look at each other.
Michael felt like his body was about to melt and run like twinkling water down on the floor, but instead he kissed her. That evening, both of them lost their virginity. After that, they couldn’t keep their hands off each other; impossibly.
“I’m pregnant,” she told him a year later. “And I am having the baby.”
Her awkwardness scared him. A baby? Now? Their life had just begun together. Michael thought he would be sad, angry, frightened – anything – but he was happy.
“But that’s wonderful. I love you, and I promise that I will do my best,” he said, stumbling.
The birth of his child was long-drawn, while waiting outside the room he bit his nails off, cried with compassion for Denise, and drank more coffees than he was capable to count. His parents were waiting for him to call and tell them that mother and child were all right. Michael did not realize until the baby was put in his arms by a nurse – he was a father now.
“It’s a girl,” the nurse said.
“She is the most beautiful thing I have seen in my life,” he answered, and started to cry tears of joy. A new life. His child.
Little baby…