I stayed only four weeks in Berlin before I decided to move. Something had not felt right, or perhaps I was no longer used to staying in one place for a longer period of time . At least I had been working as a waitress for the last three weeks and had managed to earn some money. It was not much but enough to buy me a train ticket to Munich and food for the next two days. However, I had nothing left for a hotel room, so that was a big problem.
At the beginning of the flight I had spent too much, having never learned to be frugal. Money was never an issue growing up. If there was one thing Mafia women never had to give up, then it was money. I was a spoiled brat, this I had come to understand.
The moment I arrived in Munich I knew it could work. I liked everything about the city, but there was still the problem that I had no money to pay for a room.
I didn’t want to spend the night on the streets. I wasn’t sure how safe it would be.
As I walked through the center of the city, I noticed some people singing and playing instruments, and they seemed to make a quick profit. There was always a pile of euro coins in the hats they put on the ground.
I could play the piano. Dad had forced me, Aria and Lily to take lessons from the time we could talk, but I had no piano or keyboard that I could use to make music with.
I had a decent singing voice, certainly nothing to get excited about, but at least it didn’t make people want to plug their ears. Maybe it was worth a try. At the next corner a group of three colorful-haired girls were singing and playing guitar, and I headed toward them. When they finally took a break, I approached them. I really hoped they spoke English. They seemed to be my age.
“HEY. I was wondering if you know any place where I could do what you do and sing for people? I’m out of money and this is pretty much my only chance to pay for a room tonight.” The girls exchanged a glance and I was almost convinced they didn’t understand me when the short blue-haired girl said in an accent I couldn’t decipher:
“You need a permit. The authorities in Munich are quite strict. They will fine you if you make music or any other kind of art on the street without a permit. “Damn. Is it easy to get a permit?” The pink-haired girl shook her head.
“NO. They only grant a few permits and make sure you can sing and play instruments before they allow you to make music here.” I sighed and slumped against the wall of the building. The three girls exchanged another look, then whispered in a language that was definitely not German before turning to me. “We share a small apartment. If you want you can sleep on the couch in the living room until you get a job and can afford a place of your own.” My eyes widened. “Really?” The blue-haired girl nodded with a smile. “You’re a backpacker, aren’t you?”
“YES. Traveling through Europe before college.” “We are all Croatians, but we spent the last few months in Munich. You’ll love it.” The pink-haired girl stood. “So what’s your name?” I hesitated for a moment before deciding who I wanted to be.
“Gwen.” Maybe Munich would finally become a place where I could stay and figure out what I was going to do with the rest of my life.
*** What was supposed to last only a few days had turned into two months. I was still sharing an apartment with those three crazy Croatian girls.
We had become friends and I was paying rent for my place on the couch, though not much. Of course, every part of my life was built on one lie after another, but sometimes I almost forgot that I wasn’t who I was pretending to be.
I had also found work as a waitress in a bar frequented mostly by tourists, and my German had improved considerably. Now that I had finally found a place where I wanted to stay, I had decided to give dating a real chance.
When my roommates introduced me to Sid, a fellow Canadian musician with long dreadlocks, I knew he was someone I could get used to, and maybe even make me forget that stupid kiss I had shared with Matthew. Sid looked nothing like Matteo. He looked nothing like the men of the world I had grown up in. He was a vegan, a peace-loving idealist, and he never hesitated to convince others of his ideals. He could spend hours talking about the horrors of dairy farms and the dangers of the NRA.
Sometimes I wondered what he would say if he knew who I was. This idealistic world-improver was his mask, I realized. Perhaps everyone wore some kind of mask.
What had been a novelty and tenderness at first soon began to annoy me. However, I could not leave Sid because it would have seemed like the ultimate failure. If even someone like Sid could not stop me from thinking about Matthew, who could? Sid’s hand crept under my T-shirt, then unhooked my bra. I let out a sound of protest. We were in the living room of my shared apartment, so if one of my roommates came back she would see a show. Her fingers were rough from playing the guitar. He pushed me down until I was lying on my back and he was half on top of me. His tongue seemed to take up too much space in my mouth and tasted like stale smoke. Why had I thought a guy who smokes was sexy? Maybe in theory, but the taste and smell were not something I was too excited about . He started unbuttoning my jeans and kept rubbing his bulge against my leg like a horny dog.
“I want you, Gwen,” Sid squealed, already trying to shove my pants down my legs. Gwen. For the first time the name did not give me pause. Two months with the same name seemed to be the magic barrier to getting used to a new identity. Too bad I had a feeling I wouldn’t use it much longer. Monk was getting too comfortable and Sid was simply becoming too much. He was too intrusive.
“Not yet,” I said, trying to hide my boredom and annoyance.
It wasn’t his fault that I wasn’t participating in our make-out sessions. We had been dating for almost four weeks, so it wasn’t all that surprising that he wanted to sleep with me. And I wasn’t even sure what the hell was stopping me. Sid was not a bad guy. He could be funny after a couple of beers or a few hits of weed, and his guitar playing and singing weren’t bad at all either.
Yet I didn’t want to fully commit to this relationship, I didn’t want to take another step. Before I ran away from home, I had thought I would jump into bed with every guy I met once I got rid of my bodyguards; to spite Matthew and my father more than anything else, so what was stopping me?
“Come on, Gwen. I’ll do you one good thing,” he said as he tried to slip his hand into my panties. I closed my legs and pushed his hand away. I didn’t want him to touch me there. For some reason the ‘idea that he would be the first to do so made me sick. “I’m really not in the mood. And I’m getting
menstruating,” I said to keep him from complaining again. That was a fucking lie. The stress of the last few months had practically kept me from getting my period.
But he didn’t know that. I just wanted this kissing session to end so I could get my laptop and figure out where to run. Sid would soon find a new girlfriend. His cute Canadian accent, laid-back nature, and dreadlocks were a big hit with German girls. He didn’t even bother to hide his irritation, which in turn made me want to push him away and tell him it was over.
“You’re never in the mood,” Sid grumbled.
“At least give me a hand job.” Anger overwhelmed me at his request. Because I did not respond, he grabbed my hand and pressed it against the bulge in his pants. Where was the peace-loving idealist now? With a bang the door swung open. Before Sid and I could move, three men sneaked in. Matthew was one of them. Oh holy shit.