Road Trip

I turn over to Peter ‘Next question,’ I say. ‘Who is Maria Montessori,’ he asks.

‘Maria Montessori, born on August 31st 1870 in Chiaravalle, Italy was an Italian physician and educator. She created the Montessori method, a child-centered approach to education emphasising hands-on learning, independence, and respect for a child’s natural development. She also created the Montessori schools and daycares, in which children still learn after her principles.’ #

Pete grins at me. ‘Correct,’ he grins. ‘That was it. Now you officially know everything and we only have about ten minutes left.’

I don’t know everything yet. We briefly went over all the topics that have a possibility of being in my final exam but I still have a lot to learn.

I look out of the window. I cannot see the Eiffel Tower yet.

Sirius took over about an hour ago because Remus wanted to get some rest. Peter and I first planned our evening in Paris, booked us a room in a hotel and then Peter helped me study.

It’s funny how we first thought that this Road Trip would only take a bit more than a day. I mean we didn’t calculate spending half a day in Calais due to sea sickness but it’s still going to be about fifteen hours that we have to drive tomorrow until we’re finally in Rome. We decided to drive the fifteen hours all tomorrow so we would have a lot of time to do tourist things in Rome. I want to see the Pantheon, the Colosseum, the Basilica, the Trevi fountain and so much more.

Remus turns around to Peter and me. ‘Where are we staying for the night,’ he wants to know. ‘The “Hotel Edgar Quinet”,’ Peter says. It was the one with the worst reviews in the tourist guide that we bought on the road, but it was also one of the cheapest options. And since we are on a really tight budget - we still somehow have to pay for two weeks in Rome unless we break into Lily’s dorm and sleep there - we just picked it. It’s only for one night anyway. How bad can it be?

I throw my backpack onto the bed and I am happy that it doesn’t fall apart immediately. Peter’s staying in a room with me and Sirius and Remus are sharing the second room.

I must say, I’m not surprised about the bad reviews. In the corner of the room is mould, some kind of disgusting looking liquid is dripping from the ceiling and I am so happy that we’re only staying for a night. And tomorrow, we’ll go straight to Rome. Or maybe not. We’re still keeping the option for staying in Milan or at lake Como or somewhere in the Tuscany. Depending on if we really want to drive fifteen hours.

‘Let’s please spend as much of the night in Paris so we can avoid sleeping in this shit hole,’ Peter groans. He’s not in the best mood right now. I get it. We haven’t had dinner yet. Luckily, I had a cereal bar on the drive because if I were super hungry right now, I’d be grumpy and absolutely no pleasure talking to.

I look at the bed and can see why Peter doesn’t want to sleep here. A big stain spreads all across the mattress and honestly, I have no idea what that stain comes from. It might be coffee because it has a slight yellow-ish tone to it. It might not be coffee and I don’t want to think about the other possibilities.

‘Yeah, let’s get out of here and go do some tourist stuff,’ I agree. Pete puts down his backpack in a corner that doesn’t look too disgusting and takes out his wallet. ‘In case we find some place nice. I don’t want to eat dinner here.’ I nod. We passed the dining room when we went to our rooms and it doesn’t really look any better than the other rooms. I wonder what the health department would say if they ever went to this place. Or is there even a health department in France? France is weird but I also have no knowledge about any countries other than Spain and England. And not even really about Spain.

I close the door to our room behind us as we leave and knock on the neighbour door. ‘What,’ Remus yells from inside. Peter shouts back: ‘Let’s please go to the Eiffel Tower or something!’ Remus opens the door. ‘Remind me why you booked this place again,’ he questions. I take a look inside. A puddle has formed in the middle of the room and Sirius seems to have borrowed even more disgusting looking towels from the hotel and is currently trying to soak up the water. ‘It was the cheapest I could find,’ I try to defend myself. ‘Yeah. Let’s get out of here. Sirius, come,’ Remus calls for Sirius. Sirius jumps up and looks very happy not to have to continue his task. ‘I think I’ll just have to wash my hands,’ he laughs.

The Eiffel Tower is even bigger than I always thought it would be. Okay, I never really thought about how big it would be but since I don’t really have a spatial imagination, I probably thought that it would be somewhat 300 feet tall. Okay, I actually have no idea how tall 300 feet is but as soon as we stepped out of the hotel, Remus started with his “interesting tourist facts about Paris”. So far it was that the Eiffel Tower itself is 984 feet high, it stands on a platform that adds 17 feet, the antenna on top gives it a total height of 1,083 feet and the Eiffel Tower was the world’s tallest structure in the world until the topping off of the Chrysler Building in New York City in 1929. NERD.

I am actually impressed how all that knowledge fits into Remus’ brain. Peter points at a small café. ‘Let’s grab something to eat,’ he suggests. Sirius groans. I think he doesn’t want to walk any more. Sirius doesn’t like walking and the time we spent in Calais was probably already too much for his feet.

Peter looks at Sirius with puppy eyes. ‘Please,’ he adds. ‘All right, Sirius sighs. ‘But only because I am also hungry.’ We walk over to the little café. It’s almost empty. Probably because it’s not summer break yet, I think to myself. Or maybe because normally, no one eats at this time. And normal people don’t eat croissants for dinner. But we’re not normal people. We are the Marauders.

Our High School Teacher gave us that name. She said we were always going around, spreading mischief. At that time, that was totally true. Remus and Peter had a business running where they always did other people’s homework and assignments in exchange for smaller sums. At some point, the teachers found out and they both got suspended. Sirius and I thought that it would be nice to still keep the business running though and decided to just do the assignments ourselves. I mean, how hard can it be to do some essay on whatever. Yeah. We made the whole year fail in almost all subjects. And that is the reason we got suspended. When we were all finally allowed in school again, we didn’t think long until we reopened the business. And that’s how I didn’t fail every class.

I’m drifting off. Back to the café. I get myself a coffee. Black. No sugar. Just how I like it. Peter gets himself a herbal tea. He puts a lot of sugar into it and I question myself why he does that. Remus doesn’t take anything to drink. I worry about him. He barely drinks anything ever. We each get a croissant. Well, each but Remus. He seems hungry though. I offer him a bite but he snaps at me: ‘I’m’ not hungry, James! If I were hungry I would have gotten me something!’ I decide it’s best not to say anything. Remus gets moody sometimes. He always calls it ‘that time of the month’. I don’t really know what he’s referring to. I mean, I have mood switches too but they don’t come regularly in a month.

Peter orders a sandwich and the waitress brings him a large baguette, probably half a meter, with cheese, eggs, salad, and all kinds of stuff on it. I take a sip of my coffee. It tastes way better than the coffee we have back in London.

I look over to Remus. He just sits there and stares out the window. ‘Is everything alright?’ I know as soon as I say it out loud that it was a mistake asking him but I care. I care for my friends and their health. The only thing Remus had today was a diet coke, I recall. ‘I’m fine. Now stop asking, it’s annoying,’ he tells me. I want to say something but Peter cuts me off. ‘How about after we go to the Eiffel Tower, we look for a nice bar here. We could have a drink and just have some fun together,’ Pete suggests. Sirius nods in agreement. I look at Remus. He hesitates and then says: ‘I think I’ll pass. I’ll just get back to the hotel, read something and go to bed early,’ he mumbles. ‘Come on, Remus. Please. Do it for me,’ Sirius begs. ‘Why should I do it for you,’ Remus wonders. ‘Because I’m your friend. And that’s what friends do. Have fun together.’

I look at Sirius and subtly shake my head as a sign for him to stop trying. Remus sees it and glances at me. ‘What’s that supposed to mean, James,’ he snaps. I gulp. Yeah. What’s that supposed to mean? ‘I just wanted to tell Sirius to let you decide what you want to do and what you don’t.’ ‘Yeah,’ Remus scoffs. I know it’s better not to say anything now. Don’t disagree with him, don’t agree. Whatever I could do right now would be wrong. I’m always wrong when it’s ‘that time of the month’. ‘Just come with us Remus,’ Sirius insists. Remus seems to give up. ‘Alright. I’ll do it. But just this once,’ he exclaims. I nod and Sirius nods. Peter just stares at me while he drinks another sip of his tea. 

We each pay the nice man at the ticket center a pound for our tickets. I’m actually surprised how cheap it is to go to the top of the Eiffel Tower. I would have expected it to be tourist prices. Like what, twenty pounds per person. But I am rather happy that they are cheap. I don’t think we should waste our money on climbing the Eiffel Tower.

‘Come on, James. Let’s go or we’re never going to make it,’ Peter remarks. I quickly catch up with the others and we start our ascend. By the time we’ve reached the first platform, Remus is already groaning. He is in a worse condition than I thought he was. I mean, Sirius and I regularly train our fitness since we play rugby but not even Peter - who says himself that he is in one of the worst conditions - seems exhausted. ‘Do you want a water,’ Peter suggests. Remus looks like he is thinking about the suggestion. I hope he doesn’t bitch at Peter again. Pete takes those things kind of personally most of the time. He knows Remus never means it but he still takes it personally.

Everyone of us has their flaws. Remus always bitches, Peter takes everything too serious, Sirius can’t be empathic and I, I am just myself. Perfect as always. Except that I can’t properly read, don’t know how to deal with problems and have have a fear of getting attached to people. ‘I’ll take one, thanks,’ Remus mumbles.

  I am actually surprised. Peter buys a small bottle of water, no gas, and hands it to Remus. ‘Here you go,’ he smiles. Remus chugs the bottle in only a few seconds and then hands the empty bottle back to Pete. ‘Thanks,’ he whispers. He doesn’t want the rest of us to hear it but I think we all heard it. Remus actually said thanks. It might have been the first time in his life that he did that. He takes things for granted. Well, not really but he never says ‘thank you’ or ‘please’. We just do stuff for him just like he does all our school work for us. Well, not all of it, but most. I take out my camera and snap a pic of the view. Then, I turn around to the boys. ‘Let’s take a group picture. Just like the one in Calais. For the memories.’ Sirius sighs and then says: ‘Alright. But are we going to do this every time we see something interesting now?’ I shake my head. ‘Maybe one in front of the Eiffel Tower later. But not too many.’

We are standing in front of the Eiffel Tower and pose for our  picture. Peter asked a tourist if he could take a picture of us. Now we have one on the platform and one with the Eiffel Tower in the background. Next thing on our agenda is looking for a bar. We are far from the Eiffel Tower right now but we still haven’t found anything that totally convinces us.

Not until we pass a small bar at the corner of a street. Colourful lights shine onto the sidewalk and a Queen song blasts through the door. ‘Le Piano Rouge’ is written on a sign just above the door. ‘It says “the red piano”,’ Peter notes. ‘It sounds nice. Why don’t we go in there,’ Sirius suggests. We all look at Remus. ‘Sure, why not,’ he agrees and we open the door.

The place is not too crowded and in the front, on a little stage, a red piano is standing. Next to it is a microphone, where a young woman finishes “The Millionaire Waltz” by Queen. ‘Make me feel like a millionaire,’ she sings. Her voice sounds angelic and I can see that Sirius stares at her with heart shaped eyes.

The crowd applauds, she gets off the stage and goes over to the counter. ‘Can I buy you a drink,’ Sirius offers her. She turns around rapidly. ‘Me?’ ‘Yes. I heard you sing. You are really good, you know that?’ The woman blushes. ‘Merci,’ she grins at Sirius. He orders her a Kir Royale. I don’t really know what it is but it looks nice and disgusting at the same time.

‘Let’s leave those two alone,’ I tell Peter. He nods. ‘Hey, why don’t you sing a song,’ he suddenly thinks out loud. ‘Me? What would I even sing?’ Pete thinks for a bit and wants to say something but Remus cuts him off. ‘What about Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy,’ he wants to know. ‘Yeah,’ Peter agrees. ‘That’s a nice song. It’s your favourite, I know that.’ It really is my favourite. I didn’t know Peter knew that. I always tell everyone I like All Dead, All Dead more so I don’t sound like a basic bitch.

I look to the stage up front. No one is on there. Just a young woman behind the piano with a cigarette between her lips. I bring up all my courage and go up to her. ‘Hey, sorry. Can you play Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy by Queen,’ I question. She smiles at me and takes her cigarette. ‘Sure. You want to sing?,’ she asks in a strongly accented English. I nod.

She points at the microphone. ‘The stage is all yours.’ I gulp. I’ve never sung in front of an audience, I don’t even know if I can sing. I am scared I might end up getting a panic attack. In front of all these people. What would they think of me? Before I can do anything, Remus hands me a drink. ‘For your nerves,’ he adds and signals me to chug it down. That reminds me that I should never trust Remus. I chug it down and wince and the bittersweet taste of whatever he just gave me.

My head gets a little dizzy and from one moment to the next, all my worries are gone. I go up to the microphone and start singing. I probably don’t hit half of the notes but I don’t even notice it. I don’t care about anything because whatever it was that Remus gave me, made my brain go completely out. I cannot think, I cannot react. I just sing and for the chorus, Peter and Remus join me on stage. I can see Sirius still sitting next to the young woman. They’re both looking at us on the stage and are laughing together. Sirius points at me and his lips move so I assume he says something absolutely charming about me. The girl laughs and then waves at me. I wave back. Sirius pulls out my camera and snaps a pic. I don’t know when he got my camera, but I don’t care.

‘That’s because I’m a good old fashioned lover boy,’ Remus, Peter and I sing the last lyric to the song. The people in the audience clap. It sounds distant in my head. I feel dizzy and can’t walk straight. ‘Hey, everything alright,’ I hear Peter’s voice in a far distance like I’m underwater. I cannot answer him. Everything in front of me is turning and spinning. ‘Fuck,’ Remus mumbles loud enough for me to hear. I stumble down the stairs and Pete catches me. I see black dots in the blurry air in front of me. I open my mouth. I don’t know if words come out of me. I try to say something like: ‘What’s going on,’ but I don’t hear anything. Only a constant sound of beeping inside my head. 

I don’t know how I got there but the next thing I can remember is me hanging over a toilet vomiting the soul out of my body. I feel worse than after the big Party. My stomach still feels like crap and I would love to throw up just one more time to make me feel better but for some reason, nothing comes out of my mouth anymore. ‘Are you feeling better, James,’ Peter inquires.

I first shake my head and then nod. ‘A little bit,’ I exclaim. ‘I want to throw up again.’ I can feel Peter’s hand on my shoulder. ‘If you really want to vomit, you can always try putting your finger down your throat,’ he suggests. Even the thought of it disgusts me. Shoving my finger down my throat.

I think Peter noticed that I am not very convinced so he notes: ‘It’s not the best thing to force yourself to vomit. Your stomach acid can always leave permanent damages or you can get it into your lungs. But I don’t think we have any herbal tea here, so just do it. You might feel better afterwards.’ I hesitate but then, I push my finger as far back into my throat as possible. The feeling of nausea gets stronger and I quickly pull out my finger again. It hurts in my throat to get the vomit out and when I look down it doesn’t look like the rest of my vomit. I look at Peter. He’s the doctor. Well, not yet but you get it, right? ‘You should really eat something,’ he explains. ‘That’s bile acid and you vomit it up when your stomach is empty. And it’s not really good to vomit it up.’ I want to disagree with him but I trust him more than myself. 

Peter helps me sit down at the counter. Sirius and the girl he met come over. I don’t know where Remus is but Peter assures me that he’s fine. ‘Man, what happened to you,’ my best friend checks on me. ‘I have no idea,’ I reply. Peter throws a quick glance at Sirius and it seems like he wants to tell him something without me noticing. ‘Oh, sorry I haven’t introduced you to Julie yet. Guys, that’s Julie, the girl who sang the Millionaire Waltz earlier. Julie, that’s Peter and James, two of my best friends,’ Sirius introduces us to the girl.

She smiles at me. ‘You should really watch your drinks. People put anything into people’s cups these days,’ she comments. ‘I don’t think anyone put something in my drink. The only one who had it was Remus and I’ve know Remus since an eternity. He would never try to poison me or something.’

Remus would never. Remus would never hit me. Remus would never use me. Remus would never rat me out. Remus would never hit on a girl he knows I like. Remus would never drug or poison me. It’s always been like that. Ever since I met him at summer school when I was eleven. I still remember how I sat in the the corner of the room and he entered. He just looked at me and came over and sat there with me in silence. I’m certain that Remus didn’t drug me. That’s against his moral compass and his moral compass is strong.

I let my eyes wander through the room, looking for Remus. He stands by the piano, a cigarette between his fingers, chatting with the woman who plays the songs. It’s only now that I realise no music is playing. Remus doesn’t look relaxed like he usually does when he smokes. He looks worried. His eyes meet mine and he quickly looks away. But I know he saw me. What I don’t know is why he doesn’t want to see me.

‘Let’s go over to Remus,’ I suggest. Peter looks over to him with worry in his gaze. ‘What’s wrong,’ I inquire. ‘Are you hiding something from me?’ Peter quickly shakes his head. Maybe too quickly. I can sense that something’s up so I just stare at Peter. He gulps and it looks like he is collecting his thoughts. ‘He should tell you himself,’ Pete mutters. So something is up. Something concerning Remus.

I push myself up from the bar stool. My feet still feel a little wobbly and my legs aren’t exactly in the best state to walk freely but I make my way over to the red piano through the crowd. ‘Hey,’ I greet Remus. He just stares at me with an emptiness. ‘Are you alright,’ I wonder. He just nods and then adds: ‘Are you?’ I nod too. ‘I’m better now.’

Remus takes a deep breath and then, he just hugs me. I am startled but after a few seconds, I hug him back. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he whispers into my shoulder. Then, he pulls himself out of the hug. ‘What’s wrong?’ He shakes his head. ‘I’m so, so sorry. I never should have given you that drink. I just saw that you were super nervous and I thought it might help you singing on the stage. And knowing you, Peter told me to just give you some anxiolytics so you wouldn’t get a panic attack. And he told me he still had something they had done research on for studies and I think it was called Buspirone or something and he told me to just put it into your drink. And, I’m so sorry, he gave me this little pill box and told me what pill to give you. And I must’ve mixed them up. And Peter says you probably took some Phenobarbital that they did studies on and it’s effects are pretty much unpredictable and I’m so sorry.’

I just look at Remus. They wanted to drug me? They wanted to help me but they wanted to drug me. ‘That’s- well, it’s not your fault. And it probably isn’t Pete’s fault either. But- why did you want to drug me in the first place?’ Remus just stares at me with watery eyes. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he whispers again.