Chapter 2: Courage

Courage. That's what Abraham said. It took courage for his mother to survive the Holocaust. Wolfgang was not involved in anything as bleak, but he still needed courage all the same.

They had the diamonds. Wolfgang could barely believe it. Suddenly his life was picking up again, in more ways than one. There were so many factors to consider – Steiner, Abraham, the sudden influx of Abraham's money.

Wolfgang didn't have time to think of that woman on the balcony. He wouldn't think of her, he told himself. He wouldn't.

Then Felix makes his speech. Of new love, of lost virginity. Time for new shoes, he concludes. Wolfgang loves Felix, loves him more than any of his real family. He is Wolfgang's brother. So they go get new shoes.

Wolfgang might love Felix, but he'll only go to appease him so far. Wolfgang slips on shoe after shoe, entertained by Felix's antics, and finally settles on a new pair of black boots. "Those are so you, Wolfie," Felix proclaims, laughing. "Maybe too you. You should try something…" Felix reaches toward a pair covered in dyed yellow alligator skin. "…a little different!" Felix spins around, holding the shoes aloft, turning them over in his hands.

Wolfgang utters a snort of derision, "I like my shoes," he says, as he slips on his new black boots.

But something was wrong. "What the fuck?" Wolfgang swears, pulling off the boot and shaking it. "Eugh," Wolfgang's face wrinkles up, confused and disgusted, taking in the caked mud, both on his new shoes and his holey black socks.

"What?" Felix asks, partly in puzzlement and partly in concern, turning around.

Wolfgang started, staring at his socks. A second ago, he had felt warm slimy mud sliding between his toes. Wolfgang had warm air hitting spots where the sock had inexplicably been worn. But now - now the sensations were replaced by utter normality. His boot was dry, his socks were repaired, his toes were dry, and there was no mud to be seen.

A bolt of terror shot through Wolfgang. What the fuck is wrong with me? Wolfgang thought, feeling a rising tide of panic beginning to hit him in waves. Am I cracking up? Hallucinating? Was that girl a figment of my imagination, the same as this mud? What the fuck? I can't let Felix know.

Felix always somehow knew when Wolfgang wasn't feeling quite right, and suggested they go out to the club to blow off some steam. Wolfgang readily accepted, probably a little faster than he normally would. He was ready for some familiarity. Felix shot him a bit of a look at his quick acceptance, but didn't push the issue.

Then Wolfgang was on stage, facing Felix and their friends, more than a little drunk.

The second the cool plastic of the microphone's stand was in his hands, Wolfgang felt cold sweat break out across his face.

He was immediately transported to that dreadful choral recital, the female director's insist prodding, "Wolfgang… Wolfgang…". His mind flashed to his father's accusatory eyes and loud laughter.

Maybe I've gone insane,Wolfgang mused. It was only a matter of time.

"Fuck you!" Wolfgang shouted, suddenly enraged at the memory. "FUCK YOU!" Felix's fisting pumping approval seemed far away, the cheers of the club goers faint and muddled.

Wolfgang felt like punching something. No – he was punching something. With gloves? He was angry at something. Someone else. But that doesn't make sense, because he was also standing in the club in Berlin, stinking of alcohol and pain. A phone chimed. Was that his phone? His phone was with Felix, wasn't it? Wolfgang felt his fury building to a crescendo. His phantom punches got faster, his legs kicking furiously, making contact with a punching bag that wasn't there.

But the first bars of the song began, echoing throughout the club. "Ah, come on," Wolfgang sputters, rocking back. Not the head-banging, tension releasing song he was hoping for, exactly.

"Ooh, I love this song!" One of the girl chimes from the audience, and Wolfgang feels some of the pent-up tension leave his shoulders. Calming emotions seem to flood Wolfgang's body from all directions. The casual embrace of lovers, the elated drive home after a good day at work… Wolfgang suddenly didn't feel quite so desolate. He swipes some sweat from his cheeks, and a small smile pulls the skin around his mouth taut. If he was more inquisitive, Wolfgang would realize this was not the feeling he usually gets from alcohol, but at that moment, he really didn't give a fuck. He pulled the microphone off the stand, ready to sing.

"25 years and my life is still…" Wolfgang begins the first verse, flat and still not giving a fuck. "… For a destination…" The calming feelings crashed over Wolfie like a cool shower, smothering the angry fire previously alight within him. "… For a revolutionnnnnn…" Wolfgang raised his fist in the air, giving into the music swirling around in his head. "I SAID HEY! WHAT'S GOING ON!" Wolfgang's eyes locked with Felix's elated ones, feeling invincible.

The next verse began. Wolfgang crooned into the microphone, feeling punch drunk and silly. He felt eyes on him, from on stage, and then from his left side. Slowly, slowly, he turned.

There she was. The woman from the balcony.

Wolfgang turned fully towards her, his eyebrows knitting closer as he took her in. She was wearing a temptingly skimpy silk tank top and tight yellow pants. He could hardly believe she was there. Wolfgang opted to ignore her clothing in favor of sliding up his scrutiny to meet her warm brown eyes. But the woman ducked under his intense gaze, biting her lip and smiling down innocently. Sensually she rocked toward him, swaying to the beat. Her lips formed the silly lyrics, and her teeth gleamed in a grin as she giggled. A hot breeze washed over Wolfgang, once again transporting him from his spot in Berlin.

Slowly, her gaze lifted to his, and Wolfgang felt as though he was falling into her eyes. In the back of his mind, Wolfgang knew he was probably standing there like an idiot on stage. He, once again, didn't care. Instead, he kept his stare firmly on the woman, and opened his mouth. Then he began to sing back to her.

"And so I wake in the morning and I step outside, and I take a deep breath, and I get real high and I –", and suddenly Wolfgang was awash in red and orange, in a bedroom, "-scream from the top of my lungs-", her beautiful arms were extended, lost in the heat of the moment, "-What's going on!" She was beaming, looking as though their world, their moment, was the best thing that had ever happened to her.

Wolfgang hadn't felt this alive in, well, forever. He rocked back on his feet, taking in a big breath. They began the last verse in perfect tandem. "And I said hey, hey," they were getting closer, Wolfgang began to move in – "Hey hey…"

Wolfgang watched her wet lips form the words, "…I said hey…" Wolfgang smiled, completing with her, "What's going on…" Eager to taste her beautiful lips, Wolfgang leaned in almost all the way, intimate, ready – and was torn abruptly out of the fantasy, thrown suddenly back on stage. He was in the club in Berlin.

Wolfgang finished the song a little shakily, feeling the desire and wonder that had coursed through him slow ebbing away. Felix was so ecstatic that Wolfie had loosened up onstage; that he didn't notice Wolfgang's hasty retreat back to their table. And when Wolfgang was ready to go home, Felix was still grinning dopily, hailing a cab to take them back.

Wolfgang lay in his bed on top of the sheets, fully clothed, the cracked ceiling spinning above him. He reeked of sweat and alcohol. But as his eyes slipped closed, Wolfgang caught a new, yet familiar scent - the smell fresh marigold and jasmine.