Holiday Blues

Bill got off the train in some town in southern Germany. He wasn’t sure where he was, but he was happy about that. He didn’t want to know and end up moving on, or find out that he’d been here once and there was a loyal fan base.

The town, as Bill had soon found out, wasn’t big. It was so small, it reminded him of his childhood and he almost boarded the train again. He wanted nothing to do with Bill Kaulitz anymore.

Bill walked down the main street, taking in the lights that sparkled from the small trees lining the streets and the hometown feel of everything. He felt warm, although the snow was a heavy coating on every surface. Warm lights spilled onto the sidewalk from small town shops. Bill took in everything; there was a small ice cream shop to his left, and next to that was a cozy coffee shop, looking so very warm and inviting, across the street was a bookstore and the post office, and on down the street were various other places to explore. Past that, the road curved into a residential area and a nearby forest, all easy to see from the slight hill that Bill was trudging down.

As he approached the coffee shop, he couldn’t help but notice that it was still open and the smell of fresh pies wafted towards him, inviting him inside. A bell chimed happily as he pushed inside, lightly stamping his feet off on the welcome mat just inside the door. The heat and smells of rich coffee’s and deserts made Bill’s very empty stomach groan.

He made his way through the shop, his hazel eyes darting over a few couples huddled close together with steaming mugs in their hands and a group of friends laughing with smiles in the back corner. An older couple was sitting by a fireplace, drinking deeply from over sized mugs as they smiled at each other, looking genuinely happy.

Bill hoped that the teens in the corner wouldn’t recognize him, or even know him, for that matter. But he also hoped that someone here understood sign language; he really didn’t want to try to explain that he couldn’t speak through exaggerated gestures.

A friendly looking man, probably in his early 20’s was chatting idly with his co-worker behind the small counter. Their conversation ended shortly after Bill had stepped up to them.

“What can I get for ya this eve’ning?” he asked, sliding a sheet of paper towards Bill.

Bill looked down at it, scanning it quickly, trying to find his favorite. They had it, but something else had caught his eye, a drink called Almond Coffee Cream, a coffee mixed with almond flavored liqueur. With chewed nails, Bill pointed toward the drink. He bit the edge of his lip when the worker looked down at the sheet.

“Alcoholic?” he asked.

Bill wondered what his name was as he nodded. Didn’t they have name tags in small towns, too?

“Anything else?” the guy asked.

Bill’s head bowed to the menu, looking for something sweet to fill his grumbling stomach. Happily, he eyes found Spiced Pumpkin Pie. He pointed to the desert, looking up at the man.

“Pumpkin Pie, huh?”

Only a smile for an answer.

“You don’t talk much.”

It wasn’t a question. The smile fell off Bill’s face. He looked down at his hands resting on the low counter. He picked at his ruined nails. I really should get them redone, he thought. The chipping paint covering the plastic and wax was highly noticeable as he nails grew.

The girl behind the guy was busy warming his slice of pie. Bill was getting annoyed that they didn’t have names. The brunet girl turned to the two, leaning against the counter.

“Did you want whipped cream?” she asked, starting to turn to the refrigerator behind her. Bill already didn’t like her voice. It was too high and nasally.

Bill nodded. He was thankful that the two were asking yes or no questions. He was wondering when they would ask something more, though, and how he was going to break it to them that he could talk. Just when he was getting away from his past…

“Did you want anything else?” she asked, pulling out a can of whipped cream.

Bill raised his hands, ready to sign, but then thought better of it and shook his head. Looking back at his hands, his eyebrows knitted together. Anger flared up in him.

“What?” the blond asked. “If you want something just say so, we have almost anything…”

Bill shook his head and bit his lip. He didn’t understand. He thought that Bill was going to say what he wanted, then thought better of it.

“Come on, man,” the man was growing impatient. Bill could easily tell.

Feeling like this would turn into an argument, Bill gave in, just wanting his drink and desert. Bringing his hands to chest level, Bill signed; I can’t speak, so it’s pointless for me to tell you what I want.

The two stared at him for a moment, the realization making things awkward. Bill dropped his hands back to the counter, a weak smile pulling up the corners of his mouth before he looked back down. He began to fidget, feeling exposed and vulnerable.

“Oh,” the blond vocalized his shock. “I’m sorry…”

Bill waved his hand in a way that said that it didn’t matter. The microwave beeped, the whipped cream being put on top shushed, and then Bill had his pie and coffee. Bill smiled and brought his hand to his mouth, bringing it out towards them in an arch.

“Your welcome,” he smiled, recognizing that. “Do you want to pay now or when you leave?”

Bill was puzzled. Didn’t you always pay now?

The man noticed his confusion and said, “Here we run tabs, like a bar, because most of our customers are regulars and stay a while.”

Bill raised his head slowly in understanding before choosing the first option. He pulled out his wallet, something he did manage to grab before leaving the house. After paying, he grabbed his drink and desert and moved to a secluded corner where he could eat without everyone looking at him.

Bill loved to go to public places, like Starbucks and malls, and watch people. He just watched them walk and chatter, interacting with one another. Bill thought it was fascinating and he often did it when he needed to get his mind off of things.

But right then, Bill wasn’t watching the others in the shop. He was busy shoving forkfuls of the pumpkin pie into his mouth. If he had a voice, he would have made a contented noise as the warm desert filled him. He paused halfway through devouring the pie to take a sip from the coffee. The scalding alcoholic coffee actually tasted pretty good, Bill concluded, once you got past the heat.

Bill watched the older couple by the fireplace as he sipped his own mug. He couldn’t taste the alcohol, but he knew it was there by the almond flavoring it gave the otherwise regular coffee.

After Bill was done with his desert, he brought the dishes up to the counter; unsure of what he was to do with them. He hadn’t been in a legitimate coffee shop in years.

“Hey,” he began, “you’re new in town – don’t deny it – but I was wondering if you were going to be staying a while, assuming you’re here for family…”

Bill shrugged, not wanting to give away too many details. This guy didn’t need to concern himself with that.

“What I mean is, is if you wanted to hang out tomorrow night. I work the early shift and all and…” he shifted uncomfortably.

Bill hesitated before nodding. He needed to find somewhere to stay for the night, that was his main concern right now, not possible friends. Bill was shocked with himself, so easily making a friend who knew nothing and probably just pitied him. That’d never really happened before. He also knew, in the back of his mind, that maybe he was here to stay, so why not have some company?

“I’m Andreas, by the way,” the blond smiled. “And that’s Terra.” Andreas nodded his head to the girl behind the counter with him.

Andreas smiled wide and bid Bill a farewell, telling him that they could just meet at the shop around three or so, or whatever worked out for him. Bill smiled and waved, nodding to his plans.

Once outside, the bitter wind hit Bill full force, blowing his hair about him. He turned down the street and took looked for a hotel he could stay the night in. A few blocks down the street, Bill didn’t find anything remotely close. There were restaurants and bars and small shops, but not one hotel.

The wind picked up, whirling snow around him as Bill shivered. Pulling his jacket closer around himself, Bill shoved his hands into his armpits, looking for some warmth. He wasn’t sure how much longer he was going to have to walk to find a hotel, and that bothered him. His legs were cold and sore and he just wanted to be warm.

Bill figured that this town, whatever its name was, had to have a motel because even Loitsche had one, and that was saying something. Bill was pretty sure Loitsche was the smallest town. It’s not even a town. It’s a village! That’s how small it is, Bill thought bitterly.

Bill continued down the road, debating about entering the bar that was just ahead and warming up, possibly even asking the bartender where he could stay. Bill could resist the thought of a drink and the warmth. He pushed his way inside the bar and surveyed the room. There were small wooden tables littering the room, only two or three of them occupied. The bar had only four occupants, including the bartender who was dusting glasses behind the bar. The lighting was dim and it took a moment for Bill to adjust. A shiver ran throughout Bill as he stepped further inside. His hands found their way to his sides as he stepped up to the bar and took a seat a few away from the three men gathered together. He loosened his scarf and rubbed his hands together.