Everything I Don't Remember Read Online Free PDF Page B

weeks later. Other people might have
gotten angry and said that he didn’t listen well enough. I thought his way of listening was perfect. You could say anything you wanted and if you told a story and it got a good reaction all
you had to do was wait like six months because then you could tell it again and get almost as good a reaction the second time.
    *
    His mom ends her final email with a simple request: Thanks in advance for not contacting me again. [Her name.]

BERLIN
    Panther sets out Turkish lentil soup, warms pita bread in the microwave, and says that it’s nice to see me. Was your trip okay? How long are you staying? Does it feel
nostalgic to be back? The stairwell is weirdly quiet without your music. I, like, never thought I would miss a Rihanna instrumental on repeat [hums “What’s My Name?”]. How did it
go with the book? It was never published, right? Does it suck to have worked on something for four years without finishing it? Here in Berlin everything is the same. The pierced bouncer with the
fisting-depth ruler tattooed on his forearm still stands there outside Berghain. The little döner stand over by the zoo is still the best. That bitchy transvestite still works at Luzia. A
couple new hipster places have opened in Neukölln, a few squatter apartments in Prenzlauer Berg have been shut down by the police. But how are you? Have you gotten through the worst of it? How
was the funeral?
    *
    I suggested the place, Samuel said it sounded perfect, it was only a few stops from the apartment he was subletting in Hornstull. On the way to Spicy House I thought of all the
nights I had sat there. It was the perfect place. No one ever bothered you. No one asked any questions. Everyone came in, ordered, was left alone. I still didn’t know the names of some of the
bartenders. I opened the door, walked past the drunks by the gambling machines, ignored the biker gang in the corner and slid onto a barstool next to Samuel.
    *
    Panther says she knows the feeling. I still have Samuel in my phone. I know, it’s a little weird, but I can’t bear to delete it. There wouldn’t be any trace
left of him if I did. The name after his would just jump up a spot. Now I see his name every time I look at my favorites [scrolling on an invisible cell phone]. And I still think about how sick it
is that he no longer exists. Did you know he only came to visit me once? He was always coming up with new reasons why it wouldn’t work out for him to come down here. First he had no cash
because it was expensive to sublet, and then he moved in with Vandad and all his money went to going out with him, and then he met Laide and there were all kinds of things to fix up around the
house. And when he did come, I had the feeling that Vandad had, like, forced him to leave Stockholm. I don’t know what he was afraid of.
    *
    For a second we weren’t sure how to greet each other. Handshake? Fist bump? I went with the nod and Samuel reciprocated the nod and I said:
    “What are you drinking?”
    “I waited to order.”
    “Beer?”
    “Great.”
    I motioned two beers to the bartender and seasoned the bar with my hand to show him we wanted some nuts. We started by talking about how things were going (fine). Then we talked about our
weekend plans (maybe going out, or staying home). Then Samuel started talking about fish parasites.
    “Sorry?” I said.
    “Fish parasites. There are some really disgusting fish parasites. Have you ever heard of isopods, for example?”
    *
    Panther says of course she remembers how they met. It was through basketball. We played in the same league; he was on the boys’ B team, which was totally worthless, and I
was on the girls’ team, which won the national championship twice and got silver once. Once we got to know each other, the joke was that I should move over to their team so they could finally
win a game, because at the time I looked pretty much like a boy. Probably no one would have noticed, and my