We Go Forward Read online

  She rushes down the street. I watch her as she goes, her blonde head eventually disappearing into the crowd of people.

  Chapter Two

  Christie

  Every time I mention I'm cold, Carl tells me it's warm for this time of year. Every single time, he goes off about how last year it was twenty below and the Spree, the river running through the city, froze over.

  Carl rents me out his spare room, and I've been living with him for maybe two months now. The house is a little run-down, but there's only one leak in my roof, which is better than other places I've stayed at. He's almost always out, so I get the place to myself a lot of the time.

  "It's freezing," I say, wrapping my arms around myself.

  "This is nothing," Carl replies, quicker than anything. "The river froze last year. You know the river that runs through the city, Christie?"

  "I know of it."

  "That whole river froze. I skated on it."

  "I know, Carl." I grip his shoulder. "I know."

  He laughs as he flicks the ash off the end of his cigarette. "I just don't want you going back to Australia and telling everyone the wrong things."

  If I ever go back, which I don't think I will, but it's easier to not explain these things sometimes.

  We continue on in silence as the crowds get thicker. Tonight is the twenty-fifth anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall, in German called the Mauerfall. Everywhere there are posters and booklets and balloons that have the logo on them, and set up where the wall used to be is a row of white balloons. They're the same height that the wall stood. They've been up for a while now, but it's only now that it's dark I realise that the balloons all light up.

  We came together to the Mauerfall celebrations because my friends all had better options and he decided to tag along at the last minute. I was going to go by myself, but he's come along. Which is fine. I guess. It's not that I don't like his company; I just need to be alone sometimes.

  I trip over the base of one of the balloons and manage to right myself before falling face-first onto the cobblestones. If there's one thing I miss about Australia, it is the distinct lack of cobblestones. I look up at the balloons and see that they all have a pull tag. There's a number on the base: this one is 1645. It seems like they're going to get people to release them manually, but then, that is a lot of people.

  "There's something like eight thousand balloons," Carl says, checking his phone.

  I can't really decide if I like or dislike Carl. He's annoying, sure, but he's not really around enough. And when he is, he's pretty chill. But I don't think I'll be here for much longer, so it doesn't really matter.

  We follow the balloons to the river, and they're lining the bank. I watch the dark water roll past and wonder how many people drowned in there, trying to escape.

  Carl spots someone in the crowds of people and waves. He's always looking for something better, someone more interesting. He moves quickly and I see parts of him in me: I need fresh cities, and he needs fresh everything else. I eventually see that the person he's waving to is Stephane.

  "Hey, I might go ditch," I tell Carl before Stephane's in earshot. Make it easier for him, and then this way, Carl won't have to awkwardly try and get along with both of us at the same time. And I can have my evening alone, just like I wanted in the first place. "But I'll catch you later, yeah?"

  "All right." Carl hugs me. "You home tonight?"

  "Maybe," I tell him, and he says the same thing. I've been invited to a party later, but I don't know that I'll go.

  I cut through a couple of backstreets and find myself near the river, where there are hundreds of wall balloons lining the banks. The water is dark, and I try not to think about how many people were swept up in its freezing current, trying to escape.

  A bit further along, there's one of the wall stories they set up all over the city. It's a blue wooden box that gives some details of events that happened where the box is. It still amazes me how much of everything there is here; so much history. I look down under my feet and there is a brass plaque that says "Berliner Mauer 1961-1989." This too marks where the wall, the Mauer, was. But this is here all the time, not like the balloons. I can't even imagine it back then, not with this many people swilling around me, laughing, taking photos, and drinking glühwein, which seems to be mulled wine, from paper cups.

  That's another thing I'm not used to: in Australia, you'd never be able to wander around the city with a cup of wine, and definitely not at this price. Even in the supermarkets, where we'd have lollies and chewing gum next to the conveyer belts, here there are lollies and chewing gum and tiny bottles of vodka. That'd be something I'd miss, if I ever wanted to go back.

  I pause to avoid a group taking a photo in front of the balloons, and once they're done, wander a bit more. The older people, they would remember what it was like when the wall was still standing. I wonder how many of them were here, twenty-five years ago when the wall fell. I can imagine the elation, the joy, but I know what I'm imagining would be nothing compared to the living reality. And really, you don't have to be old at all to have been alive for that.

  A group of people my age, early twenties, stand with their feet on either side of the Mauer marker on the ground, and they're all laughing, joking with each other.

  Further along the wall, it cuts through a grassy park and there's another wall story. The story says that this park is a cemetery; the graves were destroyed to make room for the wall. I try to stick to the gravel footpath, not sure how many people are buried beneath the grass. There are probably bones under my feet no matter where I walk here, though.

  I breathe in once I've crossed the graveyard, trying to expunge this void from my lungs. I'm too alone and sober for this. Beside me, I catch the gaze of an old woman and she's got the same look in her eyes that I feel in my chest.

  So I keep walking, dodging the crowds and pictures being taken and eventually reach Checkpoint Charlie. There are more people than I've ever seen in my whole life, and by now it's well and truly dark, but the Mauerfall lights are everywhere and it's almost like being in the daylight.

  Someone's selling bouncy balls that light up, just like the balloons. I buy one and see it has the logo for the Mauerfall celebrations printed on it.

  "Hey," someone says next to me, tapping my shoulder.

  I'm ready to have a go at them for touching me, so I turn to the person who spoke, but her face, her brown eyes and skin, are familiar. The purple hair should be a bright enough reminder, but I can't place her.

  "We met yesterday in Kreuzberg, I was crying." She grins, not even a little embarrassed. When she smiles, it only shows half her teeth. It's a lopsided smile, but it's infectious. "Are you here by yourself?"

  "Pretty much," I say. A couple of people from work invited me to their place after the balloon release, but I don't know that I'll go. Not up to the socialising that happens at parties right now. "I'm Christie, by the way."

  "Roslyn. Thanks for yesterday; I needed that."

  "No worries." She's looking round at the crowds, the buildings, like they're made of glitter. Probably her first time overseas. "So what part of Australia you from?"

  "Melbourne." It's nice to have it said in an Australian accent again.

  "Me, too."

  At this, Roslyn breaks into a huge grin. "The best city," she says, her eyes practically made out of hearts. I feel a sharp jab of jealousy, because I've never felt that about a place before. I would like to have that certainty of a home.

  "Have you had glühwein yet?"

  She shakes her head, her curls bouncing. "What's that?"

  "I guess it's just mulled wine. It's the best—come on."

  There are heaps of food vendors out, and we stand in line for an old man sitting behind a rickety table who is quite possibly the slowest pourer of glühwein I've ever seen. Eventually, we get to the front of the line and I buy Roslyn a drink.

  Oh, jeez, I think as I hand over the cup, I hope she doesn't think it's like t
hat.

  She thanks me and our fingers touch as she takes the wine.

  Oh, jeez.

  We end up leaning on a shop's windowsill while we wait for the release of the balloons.

  "So are you here for a holiday?" I ask.

  She nods. "Three months, if I can make my money stretch that long."

  "You definitely could. Your hostel does breakfast, yeah? Just eat as much as you can, sneak out a couple of sandwiches, pieces of fruit, you're set."

  "Technically stealing." She grins at me.

  "A little," I say, shrugging.

  "Did you mean to move out here?" she asks, gesturing to the surroundings. She's seeing it all new; her eyes keep catching on everything and remind me that it's quite beautiful. I forget that Berlin is a nice city.

  "No." I don't do things on purpose often. Things like showering, eating, those kinds of things, yes. But moving here, no. Finding a job, I stumbled into that. Making friends? I'm not sure that anyone really does that on purpose. "I bought a one-way ticket after my dad died and just… haven't stopped moving yet."

  "Oh. That sucks."

  I shrug, waving off her words.

  "How long have you been here?"

  "Maybe…" I frown. I have no idea how long it's actually been. "Two months? I guess… if I was in Lucerne in… Yeah. Just over two months. I left Australia two years ago."

  Dad killed himself. Sometimes I wonder how much of his sickness is in me.

  Roslyn looks at me like I'm made of light; she can't see the heavy bones holding me down. I laugh and nudge her shoulder with mine.

  "Stop it. You got on a plane and came here. That's pretty amazing."

  "It was terrifying," she muses, swilling the glühwein around her cup.

  I check my watch. "Oh, hey, they're releasing the balloons in three minutes."

  The row of balloons in front of us is quite impressive. Balls of light floating above everyone's heads. Roslyn and I sit in silence as we wait. It's a nice silence, which surprises me.

  We wait. And we wait. On the screen that shows where the main celebrations are in front of the Brandenburg Gate, there's a man talking, but we have no sound on our end and no way of knowing what he's saying. After I don't even know how long, the balloons at the gate are released. They're doing them one by one.

  "That's well stupid," someone in front of us says.

  I look at our row and the volunteers who are going to release them. There are children and there are people who look seventy.

  "It's like, twenty past," Roslyn says, after a lifetime. There are heaps of people now, and we have to stand to be able to see. She holds up her phone and takes a photo of the balloons and then turns to me. "Is it okay if we get a photo together?"

  "Sure thing," I say, and I don't even need to lean in, because we're squished up together like sardines.

  One of our balloons goes up and Roslyn points, gasping. The volunteer that did it has a horrified expression on their face because they were supposed to wait, but everyone's cheering.

  After a bit, another volunteer lets go a balloon. I follow this one with my eyes and it stays lit up as it travels up into the sky and gets swallowed by the clouds. Another balloon follows it, and another, until almost all of the balloons in front of us are floating up into the sky, tossed about by the wind. Everyone's cheering and the balloons light up the clouds, bright dots against the night sky.

  A few balloons down, there's an old woman. She's the last one in our stretch. When she pulls her tag, her balloon is released and there's a cheer, smaller than the others as people start to move on. She watches the balloon, craning her neck up. She laughs.

  "What are you doing now?" I ask Roslyn. I don't want to be alone now that we can be comfortable in silence. Not after the balloons were let up. Not after they were eaten by the sky.

  She shrugs. "Dunno."

  "I was gonna wander around for a bit, if you want to join me?"

  "Sure," she says, taking my empty glühwein cup and putting it in hers. "I owe you some glühwein."

  After we get some new wine, we walk for a few blocks. There's an empty playground and Roslyn runs up to the swings, gets on one immediately, and pushes herself up into the air, holding out her glühwein and managing not to spill a drop. Her beanie falls off onto the ground.

  When she swings up, I dash over and grab the beanie, put it on my head.

  "Suits you," she says, laughing as the wind whips her hair into her face. I like how easy it is to make her laugh.

  "Thanks." I skol the rest of my drink and place the cup beside the swing as I jump on. My face is warmed from the wind; I can feel my cheeks getting rosy. "Have you had currywurst yet? Unless you're a veggie, then maybe don't."

  "I'm not vegetarian," she says, catching my eyes. When she smiles, there's a tug in my breath. I want to be friends with her.

  "It's really just sausage with special sauce, but it's delicious. You need to try it; there's one on the way back to my place."

  I'm not sure how she's going to interpret that, really, but what the hell. She doesn't seem like a jerk. Hopefully, she's not one.

  "Sounds like a plan," she says, jumping off her swing. I drag my feet against the ground and step off.

  There are currywurst stands all over the city and the closest is a couple streets to the right. It's a tiny booth with a couple of seats scattered around it, fluorescent lights attracting bugs. We get currywurst and she doesn't really like it, so we share.

  "My place isn't far," I say, which is good, because the cold is really starting to get to me. "I have wine. Not glühwein, unfortunately, and it's only cheap stuff because I think all wine tastes the same."

  "Wine is disgusting." Roslyn nods decisively. "The cheaper the wine, the happier I am." She grins, her teeth showing. They're very straight, except for one canine tooth that's half-twisted.

  *~*~*

  When I get to my front door, I find I've forgotten to lock it. When I was growing up, we never used to lock the door, so I'm used to keeping it this way. Carl gets annoyed at me, but we haven't been robbed yet. I think he'll be secretly relieved when I tell him I'm thinking of moving from Berlin already.

  I shuck off my coat and hang it on the rack. Roslyn does the same as I remember to lock the door behind us so Carl doesn't chuck a hissy when he gets back.

  "You can keep your shoes on," I tell her as she bends down to undo her laces. "If you're cold." Of course she's cold; the house is freezing.

  We go into the kitchen and I flick on the light switch. The globe lights up for a second, then pops.

  "Goddamnit, again?" I feel my shoulders slump.

  This has happened at least five times since I've lived here and I keep telling Carl we need to get an electrician or something, but he waves me off. The box of candles is under the sink and soon, I've set them up around the room.

  "Red or white?" I ask, and pass her a blanket hanging over the back of a chair. It gets pretty cold in here and the heater takes a while to warm up the place.

  "Red. But either is fine, really."

  Thankfully, the glasses have been washed. I set them on the table, candle flickering between us, and pour the wine.

  "You know how to treat a lady," Roslyn says, and she's looking at me like...

  Candles. Wine. Oh, my god. I mean, I noticed, I couldn't not. I was just hoping she'd... not. Damnit.

  "Erm," I say as we toast. I take a sip quickly. "Roslyn." I put my glass down.

  "Sorry," she says. "You're not into girls?"

  "I'm not into anyone." I shrug. "I'm asexual, and aromantic."

  "Ohhhh." She laughs once at herself. "Sorry, my bad. I'm not very good at reading situations."

  "S'fine. I'm actually surprised that I don't have to explain it to you?"

  Usually me coming out is followed by a barrage of weird questions and me leaving, or kicking people out. And the same things repeated: maybe you just haven't found the blah, blah, blah. Ugh, spare me.

  "I might not know a lot,
but I know a lot about queer things." She gives me a knowing look, then drinks more wine.

  And I've been included in the queer umbrella. I definitely need to be friends with her. Or maybe I need to stop clinging to the first person who isn't a complete jerk.

  "So, I've been waiting to ask this all night, but," she says, getting her phone out of her pocket, "d'you have WiFi?"

  I snort. "Oh, my god."

  "Hey," she says. "I need my internet fix. I didn't realise how big my addiction was until now, and it's fuckin' huge."

  Once she's online, the first thing she opens is Google. "I need to figure out how to get 3G on my new SIM or I'm going to die." After about thirty seconds, she rests her forehead on the table beside her glass. "Ughhhhhhhhh, too hard."

  "You can do it later," I say. "Do you have Facebook?"

  She passes me her phone, still sitting with her face down on the table, and I find myself. I need a new profile picture. I don't really go online a lot, and the one I've got up currently is from ages ago, when I was still living with Luca, before I realised he was a massive jerk.

  Once she gets her phone back, she immediately opens up an app I don't recognise and types away furiously.

  "My twin," she says, not breaking from the typing as she speaks. "We've never been apart for this long and I'm, like, freaking out. They need to know about glühwein."

  "See? Like, even if you don't like it, it's still amazing."

  "Warm drinks outside when it's freezing is definitely something I can get behind," she says. "Jalen's great, though. You should definitely meet them. They're genderqueer, though, so if you're a giant transphobe, then just... don't."

  "I don't think I am a transphobe, but then I'm cis, so I don't know. I'm not going to misgender them, though. Promise."

  "Or ask weird questions about surgery? Or—" She blinks slowly as she sways the tiniest bit in her seat. "Such a lightweight, sorry."

  "That's okay. I mean, I get a lot of weird questions about being aro ace."

  She peers at me. "Yeah. I'm bi and people are jerks." She drinks some more. "Fuck, I hate wine."