A story that never ends…
In each issue, a new writer picks up where the previous author ended. After Maya Salomé put a new twist on Isabel Spigarelli’s short story, there just might be more drama lurking around the corner! We hope you are as excited as we are to discover where Kusaï Kedri will take us! Previous stories are available online via queer.lu and writers are encouraged to write in either English, German, French or Luxembourgish.
A clear, crisp sky draped the horizon in Echternach. Although winter was still a week away, the Dënzelt fountain in Market Square, named after the adjacent old courthouse, was completely frozen. Nell stood staring at the faint shimmer of the icicles hanging from the tendrilled sprouts adorning the stone pillar in the middle. High above, a full moon cast long shadows over the medieval square, almost deserted except for a few passersby, caught unaware in what felt like a giant cobblestone ice rink. A short but brutal cold snap had hit the region earlier in the evening, triggering multiple code yellow warnings across the country.
Nell was lost in thought when she suddenly heard what felt like a giant thud of flesh and bones hitting hard against the unforgiving cobblestones, followed by a haunting adult groan and a chorus of gasps, chuckles, and “Oh, Nee!” that resonated throughout the square.
She turned to see a small group of people of various ages, all dressed up for what looked like a family dinner out, hovering over a stocky middle-aged man who was struggling to get up from the ground. The man kept cursing in a local dialect as he winced in pain, barely able to speak.
“This family dinner plan might not be rescheduled anytime soon, but I hope I can save mine,” Nell thought to herself, reaching for the phone in her back pocket to check the time. The home screen showed 20:29. She was late by local standards—very late by Jess’s.
Jess was always on time, even on Sundays and bank holidays. They had agreed to meet at eight in the open-air parking lot next to the former customs house. Nell pulled up the recent calls tab to dial Jess, but her shaking fingers mistyped her mom’s number. She immediately hung up and hastily scribbled a message to her mother, hoping she would understand: “by mstk, cll U 2mr, LU.” Though in her mid-30s, Nell typed faster than the average teenager, even with predictive text turned off. She could knock out 40 words per minute on her cracked cellphone screen, but half of her messages often showed up as excerpts from The Essential Book of Spells, a collection of esoteric incantations. She abhorred vowels too; long and short. She found them too duplicitous, shifty, unpredictable. Unreliable.
Ultimately, Nell dialed Jess’s private number, but the call went straight to voicemail. “Hi, the lesbian you are trying to reach is currently unavailable. In lieu of flowers and candles, Family takes Cash, or Payconiq”. Inconsolable, Nell hung up and launched Telegram to see if Jess was online. Her status showed she had been active on the app just a few minutes before.
Nell chewed on her lower lip, her mind racing with vivid images from the dreams that had been haunting her since that fateful accident with a wild animal on the RN10. It started with the cringy-talking wolf and his disturbing existential monologue. Then there was Lana’s skeletal body walking barefoot on the asphalt, which had freaked her out completely. That night, she even wet the bed. Nell had never seen a picture of Lana before, but there she was, first silent and aloof, then literally introducing herself in her nightmares. “What is she going to do next, ask me out on a date?”.
These dreams compounded her worries, as the more they persisted, the less dreamlike they seemed. How could Nell describe this horror to Jess when all she cared about was keeping their relationship afloat? It had been nearly a year since they started dating, and the last thing she wanted was to confess to Jess about a hanging invitation to tango with a disgruntled, overly hairy wolf, let alone a blind date with Lana de Profundis in a tattered robe and stilettos.
“This has got to stop,” she told herself; these rambling thoughts were draining the little energy she’s got left in her until the end of the year. She knew she had to talk to her doctor about these episodes, but she dreaded the thought of having to go back to prescription medication. The last time she experimented with Benzos was when she was going through the painful divorce from her ex-husband; she could pop over five 2mg Xanax tablets a day, which nearly killed her—had her parents not stepped in and shipped her off to a rehab clinic in the Swiss Alps. The Swiss Alps is still a convenient destination for the happy few Luxembourgers. It’s not too far, and her parents could actually afford to pay for the clinic.
Her phone rang. It was Jess. She yearned to hear her voice.
“Hey Decken,” said Jess. “Glad you picked up. I called you earlier to ask if you wanted me to come pick you up from your place.”
“Hi Jess, I’m sorry I kept you waiting. I am at Place du Marché right now; I don’t even know how I ended up here. I want you, and I’m freezing.”
“Ohhhh! Que rico ?” said Jess. “Stay right there; I’m coming your way.”
A wave of relief washed over Nell when Jess spoke. There was something genuine, and comforting about her voice, almost tranquilizing. Jess had a natural, slightly raspy tone—forged by years of chain-smoking and singing in the municipal choir of the city of Esch, where she grew up. She knew how to listen to people and to Nell in particular. It was a voice that reminded Nell of Masha Béranger, the late radio host on France Inter, who helped thousands of “sleep-deprived” listeners back in the 1990’s, confide in her their loneliness, their joys and sorrows. Nell once told Jess that if she were to learn that the Cattenom Nuclear Power Plant, which sits a mere 30 kilometers away, on the border with France, had a fatal accident, she would remain calm. She’d close her eyes, and wait for the big wave, as long as Jess was by her side, as long as she could hear her voice close by.
“Thanks, babe. I’ll be waiting next to the pharmacy on the rue de la Montagne, opposite the teahouse,” Nell said, “but I’d better get going if I want to make it to the other end of the square in time. I just witnessed a Goliath eat the ground a short while ago while his bemused family watched in disbelief. So, if you see something crawling toward you on all fours, you know it’s me. Not a wolf, not a dog, not a werewolf.”
Jess laughed, pausing for a moment as she figured out the shortest route to the town square before teasing, “On all fours, right? I love all fours.”
“Don’t be silly, Jess. I didn’t mean that,” Nell replied, her heart racing with each step on the icy cobblestone. The playful banter sent flutters through her, as she tried to navigate the slick surface.
“I’ll be standing next to the pharmacy, opposite the teahouse,” she added, her voice suddenly turning flat, which Jess didn’t miss.
“Okay!” Jess responded. “So where are we going? Have you booked somewhere?”
“I tried with the Millebières in Bourglinster, but they said they were full tonight; we can go local.”
“Sure,” Jess replied, eyes scanning the square left and right in search of a parking spot, and Nell. “There you are! I see you now. You look obnoxiously sexy in that oversized puffer.”
Nell felt her cheeks flush at the compliment as she waved at Jess, barely visible through the tinted windshield of the olive green Subaru Forester. The rugged car came to a halt right beside her. Everything about Jess is Gay, and it isn’t a mere hazard, but that’s another story.
The passenger seat window slid down with a soft whir, gradually revealing Jess’s face, leaning slightly forward with a warm smile. There was the woman Nell had always wanted to be with, though she deeply felt that after one year, she still hadn’t fully figured out who she truly was.
“Jump in,” said Jess, “I have an idea.”
“Now? With this weather?” Nell protested mildly.
“Yeah. Jump in; it won’t take long,” replied Jess, a playful glint in her eye.
