Milena Moser: Will you pick me up?

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“Are you picking me up?” – “Transparent.” It sounds so easy. But this is not always the case. We had been together for several years when I first accepted his offer to pick me up anytime, anywhere. I was a little confused. Don’t want to count more steps? Explore the area? Or if you are going to drive, then at least support the dilapidated public transport? Victor doesn’t think anything about it, he offers it to me every time I leave the house. And yet every time I feel a faint sense of embarrassment that I failed. And as I wait at the corner of Dolores Park for the familiar rumble of Victor’s truck, I suddenly remember:

My first bike tour with my best friend. It was spring break, between sixth grade and high school. We both have birthdays in the summer, so we are not yet 13 years old. we were children And we had an idea in our head to drive five days in Switzerland. One. I don’t remember exactly where our route took us, I remember only Kreuzlingen. And the Rhine Falls. On the way we bought groceries, but we didn’t have the money or the courage to go to restaurants or cafes. And we spent the night in youth hostels, from where we called our parents every night.

Our parents. How we managed to convince them to do this, I do not understand. Both of us probably claimed that others had already resolved it. When I think about it today, I get very scared. Two young girls traveling alone all day long, naive, inexperienced, completely defenseless. What could not be!

But nothing happened. Once we shared a room with older girls who asked us about our friends and if we kissed anyone before. Knowing full well we had no idea. In the shared kitchen of another youth hostel, an older boy approached us. My girlfriend threatened him with a wooden spoon and he left us alone. It has been raining cats and dogs all day, and I can still see Darvida softening in our hands. By the time we got to our destination in the afternoon, we were soaked to the skin. We have reached our limits, we have surpassed ourselves. And it was good.

Only at the last stage, not far from home, we suddenly felt uneasy. We were in for a long and steep climb. The courage that carried us through the week has left us. I called my mom from a phone booth. – Will you pick us up? There was room for two bikes in the trunk, and it wasn’t far by car.

But now it was the sum of our journey, the quintessence: “What, did you let us take you? By car?” I don’t remember if our brothers distributed it, but soon everyone did. And our adventure lost its luster. “Ha ha, you should have called your mommy! So embarrassing!” No wonder we still find it hard to ask for help today. And I don’t just mean myself and my girlfriend.

I’m so lost in memories that I can’t even hear Victor’s truck approaching. I only see him when he stops next to me. And then I get rid of the memories, the demands, the awkwardness.

Source: Blick