Sometimes you say, even after so many years, you think of her. I look at you quite astonished because most of your sentences, no non of your sentences begin like this. But this one does. I was seventeen by then, you tell me further and you look at your fingertips. Seventeen, most of the day dreaming of girls. Lonely, at home from boarding school but not at home anymore. But maybe it was never a home at all. Of course it was an all boy and boys only boarding school. Everything was forbidden. But girls were most forbidden. Your smile does not reach your eye wrinkles. We did not spoke about anything else than girls. Everyone told the most fantastic stories about what was going on. Who planned to lay whom on a party. Who had the most impressive stories to tell about the most adventurous things to be done with girls. But in reality no one of us even dared to ask a girl out for the movies or even to kiss her on a cheek or at both. But girls were everywhere. Everywhere else. My father you say further, but you know all of his, always had girls around him to forget my mother even sooner. I know and I do not know. It was a dull summer, you say, the days were full of boredom and sport, sport and boredom and dreams of girls, dreams of another life, you dreamt of big travels and real girls at college. It was the summer, when your father decided to let the garden be redesigned. In the first week only a man showed up to dig in the ground, to cut down trees, to remove hedges and to carry big bags of foil and fertilizers. But in the following weeks a woman joined the man within the garden. You cough for a moment and you look at me and I look at you and your knee is close to my knee and you are going on. They were a couple as I realized soon, both in her thirties or something. I couldn’t help to stare at her, to look how she moved her thighs and stretched her arms. I spent afternoon after afternoon staring at her. One day I think she realized that she had a silent observer behind the curtains. She looked back at me, smiling. But I, I was too ashamed, hiding within the room. But I left the window of my room open, so I could hear her voice from time to time, and his voice too a yelling, loud voice rough from many years of endless smoking. And then one day, suddenly I heard her screaming and the she started to cry. When I looked out of the window, I saw the man grabbing her hardly at one arm, shaking her heavily so that she fell. Than he rushed away in anger. But I saw my chance coming and rushed down the stairs, there she sat, unbelievable sad. Of course I wanted to beat up the man who did this to her. But he had already left the building. She cried hysterically. I searched for a tissue and put my arm around her. How marvelous this felt. I felt like in heaven. I took her for a walk through the garden, showed her my hidden tree-house in the old oak. Up there she told me that her partner did not beat her up for the first time, that she wanted to leave him but had no money at all. You laugh out bitterly but don’t stop to talk. I told her, I want and I could help her out. And immediately she started to cry again. I told her, that I had money in my room and would like to do nothing more than to give it to her. She stopped crying, smiled at me, took my hand and l felt her breasts under my fingertips. It felt like losing my mind. But she reminded me of how important the money was, that she was afraid that her man would come back soon, too soon. And I ran back to the house, into my room and got the money for her. I forgot how much it was, 5.000 Pound or something. Money ,I earned by doing little jobs for my father. I gave her all the money and she kissed me again, saying that she would call me as soon as possible when she found a place somewhere safe to stay. I heard violins playing. She went off. Not without giving me a little photograph of her own. I heard more violins playing, the angels started to sing and I did not even dare to imagine that I should be the chosen one who might in near future would lay his hands on her breasts again. But I did not by then that I would never see her again. I waited in front of the telephone for many days and even back in boarding school I waited that someone would call me to tell me that someone, that she has asked for me. She never did. But a few months later, a guy from school, showed me and all the others standing nearby a small photograph, telling the most adventurous stories of his new flame. I knew the woman on the photograph already, the same photograph I was hiding myself in my wallet. But it took many months and years more to learn, that she never even planned to come back. But in the end I learned and I understood. Many girls came, you say, but you do know this already, often I was convinced of myself that I had forgotten her, but today I thought of her, felt like I could catch her perfume somewhere in the air, looked around if she did not would show up at the next corner. But no one was there. Sometimes, you still can see her, you finish your sentence. I can’t see your face anymore in the dark room, but your knees are still close to mine, I touch your cheeks and your cheeks are wet and we both know.