Like We Used To || Manuel Neuer

17

        Manuel's confession on live t.v. makes me so sentimental that I find myself abandoning all plans with Asher and Belo to spend my spare time in isolation. It is now late at night and I am lying down on the balcony of my hotel, staring at the stars and thinking about my childhood. There is one memory in particular that I am replaying in my head over and over again.

I am sixteen years old and Manu and I have just gotten into a really bad fight. We are shouting hurtful words at one another and he is making my heart ache and I am wondering what the hell we're fighting about. Because somewhere amidst the myriad of destructive words fueled by irrevocable pride, we have lost our motives.

We are just going on and on and I think the reason I am so angry at Manuel is because he is constantly going around with that irresistible face of his and kissing too many beautiful girls who don't care about him—and he doesn't care about—and wallowing in his arrogance like I don't matter to him anymore.

Returning to reality, I close my eyes and say aloud, "What was that about, Manuel?"

My only audience is the inky sky and she remains silent, staring at me with her twinkling stars and moving the jaded clouds that she has possession over all while continuing to be passive.

I sigh.

The concrete of the balcony that I am on is so hot. I realize how bothering it is all at once. I want to return to my air conditioned room but that means saying goodbye to the sky—my date for the night—and I don't know if I can do it.

But I do.

Going inside, I lock the large door leading to the balcony and fall onto my large bed. My luggage is on my bed and it's already packed. There are clothes poking out and I haven't shut it  yet but I know that now is the time to because it is almost time for me to go and maybe I should make plans with Mama about meeting up in the airport now.

Thinking about Mama, I realize that I am feeling really homesick.

I miss Mama and I miss my friends whom I haven't contacted all summer and I miss everyone in Gelsenkirchen. I miss the collective vibe of our town and I miss the place being tiny enough for everyone to know everything about everyone else.

Rio is so big and vast in comparison and I am lost.

I am lost and I am aching for familiar territory.

I just want to go home.

I wonder what I would be doing right now if I were back in Germany. Mama would plan a get-together with a few close friends, most likely, and we would drink German beer and indulge in trivialities that meant more than anything else like we did every year.

Sometime in the night, I would suggest that we listen to Wer Bin Ich and dance and Mama would complain that Lafee is too depressing but comply anyway because she loves me.

That would be a good night.

At the thought, I reach for my phone on the nightstand and unlock it so that I can play Wer Bin Ich. As the song begins to play, a gentle knock arises from the front door and I get up to answer it, convinced that it is room service.

But it's not room service and I don't even know who it is because before I can raise my head, I'm being shoved into a wall and I'm being kissed senselessly. "Azelie," he murmurs in between kisses and his breath smells like a sweet raspberry that only one person in the world is capable of tasting of—Manuel. 

A rush of heat starts in my chest and I am completely frozen but Manuel is breathing heavily and working his lips on mine.

Ich will nicht träumen.