Battle of the Rhine

Sunday to Thursday flies by very quickly.In the blink of an eye, Michael opened his eyes, and it was already Friday.Driving by the Christmas market, he couldn't help thinking about last year.

Quincy was naturally away on weekdays.He went out on Sunday, all day, and he must go to church first, and then go on a "date" with the woman surnamed Lehman.Michael lay on the bed gnashing his teeth feebly, just thinking about it drove him crazy.Had he stayed and watched Quincy and Lehman get married, there would have been a scene of tragedy: a man so jealous that he shot and killed everyone, including himself.No guns, no knives.There were several knives in the kitchen, each of which Michael sharpened to exceptional sharpness.

Mr. Franz and Little Hans did not want Michael to go, and they sincerely expressed their reluctance.Michael would sometimes yell at the workers, but he never reported the matter.Everyone likes him very much.Who wants to leave?Michael wished to stay here forever.But he can't help it.Quincy deserved a bright future, not a stigma of being gay, losing his job, having no wife, no kids.His child would be beautiful, Michael self-hypnotized, a small Quinnessy, blond-haired, stern-looking, in overalls.

Michael withdrew a sum of money and left a little in the account.He lives quite frugally, and only needs to meet basic food, clothing, housing and transportation.The frog piggy bank was placed on the dining table. Michael looked around like a thief, quickly grabbed the frog, turned it over and unscrewed the bottom cover.The coins were rolling, and he stuffed the large roll of paper money tied up with a rubber band into the frog's stomach, and then heaved a long sigh of relief, and sat down on the chair.

This living room, this living room has left his traces everywhere.He ripped off the heavy fabrics to bring the furniture back to life; he repaired the grand piano;Michael suddenly realized that he didn't seem to have taken a photo with Quincy - he had imagined that Quincy would sit on a chair, and he would stand aside with his hand on Quincy's shoulder.They stare at the camera and smile, no, Quincy doesn't smile, he scowles every time a photo is taken.Such a picture could be tucked away in the back of an album, taken every year until he was a fat, potbellied man, and Quincy was a serious old man in a hat, still tall and thin.

"You will regret it." A voice sounded in my head.

"No, I think... I won't regret it." Regret what?Leaving Quincy?He regretted it a long time ago, but there is no way back for him to choose.He looked it up, America also has a law against homosexuality, the Sodomy Act, the name is so fucking disgusting.Sodomy laws in every state make homosexuality a serious crime, punishable by up to ten years in prison if caught in North Carolina.Even if you don't go to jail, "Big Girl" mentioned the group of guys holding sticks in ambush downstairs, and beat them up when they saw homosexuals...Michael really couldn't figure out, two men voluntarily went to bed, who would be harmed by this What?He is not afraid of going to jail, but he does not tolerate Quincy going to prison—his college student, who is supposed to go to work, get promoted, marry a wife, have children, live comfortably in a beautiful and spacious big house, drink coffee elegantly, play the piano, read.

"I shouldn't be here," Michael said to himself, "I don't know..."

05:30 p.m., exactly 05:30, Michael remembers so well, Quincy is back.Michael watched his every move greedily: Quincy took off his hat, his coat, his shoes.He looked very calm, walked up the stairs and came down 10 minutes later, gray sweater, white shirt and flannel trousers, his face was very clean.Then he started cooking, getting himself something to eat.Two slices of bread, a small piece of cheese, sausage and coffee.Michael had a sandwich and coffee.Quincy turned on the radio, and the broadcast buzzed, and the forecast was fine and sunny tomorrow.

"You can take what you bought with you." Quincy quickly finished eating, "If you don't take it away, I'll discount it—"

"No," Michael said, "I don't need to."

He bought a lot of things to decorate the house and make it more homely.He'd never worked so hard, and in his own house in town, he was only interested in electrical appliances.Quincy lowered his head and swiped his finger on the table a few times, "Let's figure it out, do you want to take that desk lamp with you? If you keep it, it will be half of the money."

"The suit you gave me is more expensive than all these odds and ends."

"Those are old clothes."

"No, I know it's new." Michael covered his face. "Don't forget it, okay? That's it."

During the night Michael sorted out his last few belongings.He flipped through his notebook, and Quincy corrected the wrong word, drew a circle, and marked the correct spelling.There are also their two contracts, "No knocking on nails", "No eating in the room", "If you bring a man back, you must apply in advance"... Michael read and read, his heart curled up, and Quincy wrote these words What are you thinking about whenHe never asked.Quincy's thoughts, why he is happy, why he is angry, he rarely thinks about some of the deeper things.They never discussed Tim, Michael didn't seriously tell him that Tim was his friend, that he didn't sleep with Tim, kiss on the lips, love him; he didn't Before I have time to talk more about myself, ask Quincy about the past—how was he released?How did you get back to Munich?Got bullied in a POW camp?Can you get enough to eat?Why alcoholism?Why cut yourself with a paper knife? ... Without asking anything, he just happily enjoyed the happiness and joy that Quincy brought him.He also promised to accompany Quincy to watch football. The Munich team was said to be very good before, but after the war, it fell like the whole country.He also wanted to ask Emma, ​​even though he was full of jealousy towards this woman, he also wanted to ask, how did they meet?Are you happy when you are together?Have they ever been to that house by the lake?Yes, and a house by the lake.Michael thought ruefully that he should have asked Quincy to take him to see the small lake, where they could walk hand in hand in the deserted forest.If the house still exists, maybe we can find the collection of Quincy, the porn star with perfect breasts...

Michael was lying on his back on the bed, holding the notebook.Not long after, there was a knock on the door.He sat up, wiped his eyes, and Quincy's voice was soft and floaty, like his hallucinations: "Mike, let me in, will you?"