Tim and Karim: It feels right (Part 1) by GermanCut

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I am Tim and I’m nearly 17 years old. Maybe you already know my father: Maik, who told the story of our barbershop-adventures which ended with completely clean-shaven heads for both of us. He is a real storyteller but concerning this story, he said to me: "This is your own story, Tim, and nobody else has the right to tell it except for you. Tell your story, when you feel the right moment and when you are ready to speak."
I think that the right moment has come. So many things have happened. Let me take a deep breath before I start.

It was the weekend before school started again. A couple of people from my class met at Jessica’s home for a party. Jessica is my classmate and good friend since we have gone to comprehensive school. For two years my other good friend at school is Karim.

I still know, when he first stood in front of our class and our teacher introduced him: a tiny boy shifting from one foot to the other with intense eyes nearly hidden under long black curls.
"Oh my God, he is so cute!" Jessica whispered, who was sitting next to me. "Yes, he is", I answered and felt immediately that I blushed. I replied disgruntled: "Shut up for a moment, Jessy! I have understood that he’s called Karin, but it’s impossible that he has the same name as my aunt."
Jessy had shut her mouth and so we heard what kind of music Karim liked and that he did athletics. Then, after hesitating a bit, he added: "And I love poetry."
That was unusual, totally out of line. Some of the boys laughed. But Karim said with a firm voice: "Yes, I love poems. Some are really beautiful." I admired his courage to state his preferences, but it was Jessica, who said: "Karim can sit at our table if he wants!"
This was the beginning of our friendship.

Of course, Karim was at the party, too. I hugged him when he arrived, because we hadn’t seen us for weeks. I wasn’t too surprised about his appearance, because after I had sent him a photo of me and my dad with our bald heads, he sent me a smiley and a photo of himself with the comment: "Not as short as your hair, but shorter than ever before." His new hairstyle was what we called "boxer-cut" among us: a very short crewcut with the sides shaved down to zero.
Now our hair was regrown, but it was still short of course. Karim looked so different. That fascinated me that much, I couldn’t take my eyes from Karim, watched him secretly from all perspectives. I’ve never seen the back of his neck before: only short stubbles of dark hair have been left. I could hardly oppress the desire to touch them… This wasn’t the cute tiny boy any more whom I had in my mind. He was still cute, but he became… hot!
"Hot, hot, hot!" This word quickly appeared, consumed my thoughts, made me sweat, made me blush. To tell the truth: I felt discomfort. A boy finding another boy hot? What’s up with me?
The music was getting louder, some girls began to dance, and I took the opportunity to open the door of the veranda and go into the garden.

I took a seat on a bench at the end of the garden, looking at the meadows and the forest beyond. It was already getting dark.
I didn’t know how long I’d sat there, thinking about all and nothing, when I heard the door getting opened and the voice of Karim with the sound of music: "Tim, are you here?"
"Yes!" I answered. I heard his steps on the lawn. Karim brought two glasses of lemonade and sat down next to me. I grabbed in my pocket and fetched out two cigarettes which had become a bit flat. We smoked and sipped our lemonade. Nobody said a single word.

"You have hair again", said Karim, breaking the silence.
"Yes, I decided to let it regrow", I replied.
"That’s a pity!" Karim said, "I would have liked to experience your bald head."
Karim sometimes has a weird manner choosing his words. I don’t know if it’s because of his Arabic origin. So, I said: "But I’ve sent you photos of me when I was a baldy!"
Karim emphasized: "I said that I wanted to experience it. That’s more than only see it!"
These words were shady, mysterious, somehow exotic. I felt my heart beating louder. I swallowed and said with a voice that sounded strange in my ears: "What do you mean with that…"
Instead of giving me an answer, he put his arm around my shoulders and caressed my neck slightly with his finger. My heart felt as if it would explode in the next moment. I wanted to cry, to laugh, to dance. But instead, I put my head on his shoulder with a deep sigh.

We gazed into the night, caressing each other. I heard Karims soothing voice:

"Der Wald steht schwarz und schweiget
Und aus den Wiesen steiget
Der weiße Nebel wunderbar."

(The woods stand dark and in silence
And from the meadows rises
The marvelous white fog.)

"You know?" he added.
"Yes, everybody knows this old song by Matthias Claudius", I answered.
Karim snorted lightly: "No. That’s not what I mean. You know that this is happening now, that we experience today the beauty the poet felt once upon a time?"
I was carried away by my feelings, together with him, like the marvelous white fog.
Oh my God, Karim…

(To be continued)

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