The Outsider(S) Read Online Free PDF Page B

thing was certain. She was as convinced about the bad things waiting to happen to me as she was of the good things waiting to happen to Ramona. Seeing that no one wants to have someone speculate on their death, my decision to avoid her was not just justified but also reasonable. This wasn’t difficult at all. Except during Christmas.
    On that Christmas morning, I went to the gym and was surprised to see quite a number of people. I wondered what their real reason was for being in the gym on a Christmas morning. Were they escaping the loneliness in their own homes? I knew that keeping fit was the last reason on my mind when I grabbed my gym bag.
    I stepped onto the Stairmaster and watched a woman in front of me working out and reading a magazine. I felt dizzy just watching her. An hour later, I was done. On my way home, I realized that the streets were completely empty. I made up my mind to go home and make myself comfortable. I switched on the TV. There was crap and more crap on pretty much all the channels. Three hours and fifteen minutes and three packs of Marlboros later, I was on the A8 headed home, to Mother. The Autobahn was full. I noted that it wasn’t going to be a white Christmas after all. It had snowed consistently for a week. On December 21 st , it had stopped. I don’t know if the guy up there is malicious, but to crash so many dreams of a white Christmas seemed to me at best a malicious act. What was left were small blocks of ice on the sidewalk and a longing for snow. This didn’t bother me, though. I enjoyed the drive. It was almost always the best part of the trip.
    I drove down the small street that led into the small town where Mother lived. I had grown up in that small town, though not in that same house. Mother had inherited that house from her parents, the Eickelschafts.
    Houses tell a lot about their occupants. My grandparents’ house was castle-like with a stately arrogance about it. In my memory, it quite fit their personality. On my right-hand side, around the corner, stood the big house of the Wickles. It was a house I had always admired. It was painted pink in my memory and had something glamorous about it. I watched carefully and realized that it was no longer pink. And there was certainly nothing glamorous about it. The walls had lines of dirty water, perhaps from being rained on. The window frames were no longer white. They were cream-colored and gave the impression that no one had cleaned them in a long time. On my left, I saw the big black Mercedes of my grandfather’s former accountant. To the best of my knowledge, he had swindled my mother and her brother out of Herr Eickelschaft’s big inheritance.
    I parked the car farther down the street from Mother’s house. I was careful to park it where no one could block me from making my escape. There was only one thing to do after arriving at Mother’s. Make an escape. I had polished it to the level of a science.
    “You’re here!” Mother said when she saw me. It was one of those statements that left one wondering whether it was a question or just a simple observation.
    “Yes,” I said tentatively. Mother had that effect on me. The most straightforward things always seemed complicated when Mother was involved. The table was set.
    I could see that the big dining table that could be adjusted to accommodate sixteen people hadn’t been lengthened. There were only chairs for eight.
    “It is very dangerous on the Autobahn. A woman crashed into a truck this morning,” Mother said absently.
    “Oh really?” I responded but only for conversation’s sake. I knew what was going to follow.
    “She looked just like you,” Mother said solemnly.
    I watched her and wondered if she really believed that all dead people looked like me.
    “I have been promoted to senior vice president,” I said, bursting with excitement. I was finally as good as Ramona.
    “Get me the scissors on the kitchen table!” Mother responded. I swallowed hard. Maybe she