Not Enough Time

I can't imagine my life without him. When I met him, he was just another boy, being chivilous. He was handsome, of course, with his blond hair covering his beautiful blue eyes, but I didn't like him. Yes, he saved my life, but he was rude. And, he didn't really save my life, but I call it saving me. My name is Sofia Müller, I'm a sixteen year old German girl, born and raised in Germany, and I've only been in love once. I don't know if he felt the same way, but I loved him. I was in love with Klaus.

It's 1959, and I'm on a train to go visit my grandparents. They live in Düsseldorf, and I live in Berlin. I've only been there once, when I was seven. My grandparents usually come to us. Us is my father and I. My mother died of cancer two years ago. My last day with her was amazing. I took her to the park, and we sat on a blanket, and had lemonade and sandwiches. She was talking to me about colleges I could go to, and how she wanted to go to college. I still remember the smell of the cherry blossom trees, and the salty breeze coming off the water. I snap back to reality when I hear someone speak. It's a man. He has a scraggly beard, and his clothes are ripped and stained. "I'm sorry. I was lost in thought. "What did you say", I ask. "Drink?", asks the man. His voice is scratchy, and his breath smells like beer. "Oh! I have somewhere to be, sorry", I say, lying about it being another three hours until I get to my grandparents house. I cross my legs, and wrap my arms around my chest. He grabs my wrist, and pulls me up from my seat. "But you have time, don't you"? His foul breath lingers into my lungs. "Let go! You're hurting me", I say, trying to pull away from his grasp. I scream, but it seems like there are only the two of us in the cart. He pushes me back down, and brings his unshaved face to mine. But before he kisses me, a fist punches him in the jaw. The boy, who is probably my age, grabs the man by the shirt, and pulls him up. "If you try to kiss a minor without her consent again, there will be consequences", says the boy, harshly. The man says nothing but spits in the boy's face. "Leave", says the boy, letting go of the man's shirt. The man stumbles away, and goes into the next cart. I examine the boy. He has blond hair, like me. His hair hangs over his eyes, and even though they look mad, I can tell there is some goodness in him. It's hard to see the color, but they're blue. He's wearing trousers, and a clean, white shirt. He wipes the spit off his face, and stares at me. He stares right into my eyes. I look right back into his. His eyebrows are angry, but they fall when our eyes meet. "Thank you", I say, filling up the silence. "I didn't do it for you. I was looking for a fight", he says harshly. "Well, you still saved my life". "A girl like you shouldn't walk around by yourself". He runs his hand through his hair. "A girl like me? What's that supposed to mean"? He says nothing, and walks away. I roll my eyes, and walk back to my seat. I see the boy walk to the cart that horrible man walked into, and I follow him to the door. I look through the cart window, and both the man and the boy are there. The boy throws a punch at the man's stomach. He kicks him in the shins, and punches him in the face. The man falls limply to the ground. I'm shocked. Why would the boy do this? The boy turns around, and sees me staring at him. His eyes look worried. The tears are welling up in my eyes. I turn around, and go sit down. I tell myself that it was nothing, and it was just someone trying to be nice. But some part of me says that there was something more.

Three hours later, the train rolls to a stop. I grab my suitcase, and walk out the train door. My grandparents are waiting for me there. "Oma, Opa, I missed you", I say, while running to hug them. "How was the train ride, Sofie Dofie", says my Opa, while scruffling up my hair. He calls me that, which I hate. I laugh, and flatten my hair. "It was fine, Opa", I say, lying about what happened. "That's great, Sofia", says my Oma. She's an English woman, and moved here a week after my Opa and her got married. She learned German as soon as her and my Opa went on their first date. My Opa was visiting England, when he saw my Oma, and instantly fell in love. At least, that's what he said. "Shall we go home", I say, after coming back from their past. "Of course", says my Opa. I don't remember their house very well, but I do remember their dog, Dieter. He's a golden retriever, and always has time to snuggle. When I get to their house, the memories come flashing back. My first bike ride in the driveway, the popsicle my Opa gave me after I skinned my knee falling off that bike, and how sticky I got eating that popsicle. I walk inside the house, and everything is familiar now. "Where's Dieter", I ask, looking back at my grandparents. But they don't have to answer. He comes running through the kitchen, and right to me. I lean down, and scratch his ears. "I missed you, buddy", I say. He looks up at me with puppy dog eyes, as if to say, 'I missed you too'. "Your room is upstairs", says my Oma, while grabbing my suitcase. "Oh, thank you, Oma. I can bring own bag up though. I don't want you to hurt your back". I take my bag back, and walk upstairs. Dieter follows me. The walls of the room are a dim olive green, and there are books everywhere. I collapse on the lavender colored sheets. I could live here forever. I fall asleep, and wake up to the birds singing.