Free Why We Took the Car by Wolfgang Herrndorf

happy when they were unhappy. Though I have to admit that I didn’t entirely understand the article. I mean, on the one hand a light went on in my head, but on the other I didn’t really get it.
    Still, I’ve never come up with a better explanation for the way my parents are. And I’ve thought about it a lot. So much sometimes that I get a headache thinking about it. It’s like when you look at those 3-D pictures, where you have to stare at a pattern until an invisible shape pops out. Other people were always better at that than I was — with me, I could barely get it to work at all. And as soon as I was able to see the invisible shape — usually a flower or a deer or whatever — it disappeared again immediately and I’d get a headache. That’s exactly how it is when I try to figure out what the deal is with my parents: I just get a headache. So I don’t think about it anymore.
    While my father packed his suitcase upstairs, I made conversation with Mona downstairs. That’s her name, Mona. The assistant. The first thing she said to me was how warm it was and how it was supposed to get even warmer in the next few days. The usual. But when she heard I’d have to spend my summer vacation alone, she looked at me with such a sad face that my own tragic fate nearly brought tears to my eyes. Abandoned by my parents, God, and the world! I thought about asking her to run her fingers through my hair again like she had next to the copier that time. But I was too shy to ask. Instead, I stared the whole time at her skintight sweater while pretending to be looking past her and studying the landscape, out the window, as she jabbered on about what a highly responsible man my father was, blah, blah, blah. Getting older had its pluses and its minuses.
    I was deeply engrossed in studying the landscape when my father came down the stairs with his suitcase.
    â€œDon’t feel sorry for him,” he said. He gave me the same warnings he had given me before, told me for the third time where he had left the two hundred Euros, then put his arm around Mona’s waist and walked out with her to the car. He could have spared me that. Putting his arm around her, I mean. I think it’s fine that they don’t put on some sort of show of secrecy, but he could at least wait to put his arm around her until they’re off our property. That’s my opinion. I slammed the door, closed my eyes, and stood there silent and still for a minute. Then I threw myself down onto the tile floor and started to sob.
    â€œMona!” I cried. My throat tightened. “I have to confess something to you!” My voice echoed ominously in the empty foyer, and Mona, who already seemed to have sensed that I needed to confess something to her, put her hands to her mouth in horror.
    â€œOh, God, oh, God!” she cried.
    â€œYou can’t take this the wrong way,” I sobbed. “I’d never work for the CIA voluntarily! But they’ve got us by the throat — do you understand?” Of course she understood. She collapsed next to me, crying.
    â€œBut what are we supposed to do?” she cried frantically.
    â€œThere’s nothing we can do!” I answered. “We just have to play along with their game. The most important thing is to keep up the façade. You have to keep reminding yourself that I’m an eighth grader , and that I look like an eighth grader, and that we have to live our lives as if everything’s normal — we have to pretend for another year or two that we don’t even know each other!”
    â€œOh, God, oh, God!” cried Mona, throwing her arms around my neck. “How could I ever doubt you?”
    â€œOh, God, oh, God!” I cried, pressing my forehead onto the cold tile floor and doubling over. I cried on the floor for about half an hour. And after that I felt better.

CHAPTER 14
    I cried until the Vietnamese woman showed up. She