Lying Like Breathing

A few days had passed since the presentation in Room 408. It was Friday evening, and dark clouds were gathering over Bielefeld. Ivan and Rodrigo had agreed to meet at 8 p.m. under the clock at Jahnplatz – the city’s main square, where all tram and bus lines converged and a popular meeting point for locals.

Rodrigo was already there, and Ivan was running a bit late. They spotted each other in the crowd. Rodrigo tossed his cigarette into a bin, straightened his signature leather jacket, strode over with a spring in his step, gave Ivan a firm handshake, and clapped him warmly on the back.

"Shall we go?"

Ivan nodded, and they headed toward the old town. Passing by a row of cafés and shops occupying the ground floors of historic buildings, Ivan noticed there were fewer people around than usual – at least fewer than you’d expect on a Friday night. He looked up at the sky – the clouds were getting heavier and rain was clearly coming, but it didn’t seem like the weather alone was to blame.

Rodrigo caught the glance and looked up as well.

"At least it won’t be so stuffy. Been a while since it rained."

"True enough," Ivan replied.

They exited the old town, walked under the overpass, turned right, and entered the neighborhood behind the train station. Ivan recognized the area – there were quite a few bars and clubs here, conveniently hidden from public view by the highway and the railway. All in all, a handy location.

"Here we are," Rodrigo said, pointing to a sign.

Ivan knew this place too. It used to be the club Cutie – though calling it a “club” was a stretch. Just a square dance floor with a bar along the back wall, which got packed to the brim on weekends when traveling DJs played electronic music. Ivan had been there a couple of times, but not being into that scene, he never really clicked with it.

Now the sign looked entirely different – a crooked wooden board above the door read EL PINTOR. Ivan and Rodrigo stepped inside, and the bell above the door jingled awkwardly.

Ivan instinctively looked around. A lot had changed – the dance floor was gone, replaced with tables throughout the space. The bar at the back was still there, but now polished and adorned with beer taps and dark lacquered wood. There were arcade machines near the entrance, which hadn’t been there before.

"Bloody casino mouth," Ivan muttered under his breath.

"What casino? Don't insult me!"

Ivan turned at the voice. A short guy in a black T-shirt and a grey backwards cap jogged over. He and Rodrigo exchanged a brotherly greeting, then the guy turned to Ivan with a grin and held out his hand.

"Theo."

"We’ve met," Ivan replied, shaking his hand.

"For real?"

"In Bierkeller, I think. A couple weeks ago."

Ivan really did remember seeing this scrawny guy at the student bar, though they hadn’t spoken.

"Come on, guys!" Theo waved them toward the bar.

Rodrigo threw his jacket over a tall barstool and climbed up. Ivan took his off and sat beside him.

"Kinda empty," Rodrigo noted.

"Things pick up after ten," Theo shrugged.

"You into the party life?" Rodrigo elbowed Ivan.

"Already had one of those ‘party guys,’ thanks..." Ivan replied with a bitter smirk.

The place really was quiet. An elegant old man in a gray coat sipped beer slowly in the back corner like he was keeping an eye on the place. A young guy was smashing tokens into an arcade machine, and upbeat but not overbearing funk played from overhead speakers.

"Alright, get me a pale unfiltered," Rodrigo said, slapping Theo’s shoulder.

"Got Guinness?" Ivan asked.

"That’s in the Irish bar over there, mate. Sorry," Theo adjusted his crooked cap.

"Then I’ll have a pale one too. Vom Fass."

"You got it," Theo said and headed to the taps.

They were sipping their pale unfiltered from icy glasses when the door opened, the awkward bell rang again, and a young woman approached the bar.

Rodrigo was telling Ivan something, who was nodding while sneakily glancing at the guest. It was hard to see clearly in the dim lighting, but she looked pretty – tight black top, black-and-red plaid skirt just above the knees, shoulder-length wavy blonde hair. She pulled a small oxygen canister from her purse and inhaled.

"...so I said," Rodrigo continued, sipping his beer, "Theo, man, the air is fresh!"

Theo, who was wiping glasses, chimed in,

"That’s right, we had hyperventilation installed the other day."

Rodrigo clapped.

"Really works?"

"Don’t you feel it yourself?" Theo fanned Rodrigo dramatically with his bar towel.

Ivan noted that it was easier to breathe since they’d entered.

"I’m telling you," Theo glanced at the TV in the corner, where Health Minister Reifenberg was once again delivering a speech. He scowled, reached for the remote, and changed the channel. "They’re just stirring panic, trying to heat people up. We’ve been through COVID already. All this pandemic, state-of-emergency stuff – he’s lying through his damn teeth, lying as easy as breathing. Give it a couple of years, no one’ll even remember."

With that, Theo turned away and approached the young lady.
"What’ll it be?"

She thoughtfully traced her finger along the display cases and fridges for a moment, settled on a dark bottle in the back corner, and said,

"Krushovice dark, please. In a bottle."

She said it in such a deep, chesty bass that Ivan – and Rodrigo too – turned instinctively. Ivan glanced again, trying not to stare. Yep – no breasts, prominent Adam’s apple.

"Make sure you know your roommate's gender!" – a line from an old song popped into Ivan’s head.

Without missing a beat, Theo brought her the beer. She nodded, pulled a stool over, and sat next to Ivan and Rodrigo. For a second, the three of them locked eyes.

"Cheers!" the woman said, raising her bottle.
"Prost!" Rodrigo clinked first – nothing could ever throw him off.
Ivan raised his own bottle. They all took a sip.

"Linda," she introduced herself in that same bass voice.
"Rodrigo."
"Ivan."
"Ivan, huh? Interesting name – where are you from?" Linda asked with curiosity, tilting her head slightly.
"Croatia. Been in Germany five years," Ivan replied.
"What do you do?"
"Student."
"Ah, I see..."

Ivan gave her a standard intro – the kind you prepare for chance encounters – then left Linda and Rodrigo to chat and headed to the bathroom. After finishing up, he washed his face and took a hit from the oxygen canister on the wall.

"Used to just be soap and paper towels here," he thought in passing.

After a few breaths, he went back upstairs. People were starting to show up. Rodrigo and Linda were already chatting like old friends – Rodrigo was the kind of guy who could connect with anyone. The guy at the arcade had lost completely and stormed out, slamming the door. Theo, armed with a towel and wet wipes, was wiping down the machine.

As he passed Ivan, Theo nodded,

"Told you, here´s not a casino – it’s  just an arcade machine. My dad brought it from Japan."

Ivan took a closer look – he’d really mistaken it for a slot machine. Too many flashing lights and flashy graphics. On the screen, a girl in a latex suit was gunning down cyborgs with both hands. Numbers and letters popped up constantly:

"1000 POINTS, B RANK, 2000 POINTS, A RANK, SUPER, 5000 POINTS, S RANK, 10000 POINTS, SS RANK, 50000 POINTS, SSR RANK!"

"What game is that?" Ivan asked.

"Ghost in the Shell." Want to try?" Theo smiled.

"Nah, I’m good," Ivan waved it off. The colors were already hurting his eyes. He shook his head and looked around. Rodrigo and Linda were still deep in conversation, the bar was more than half full now, and the mix of chatter, soft funk, flashing screens, and beer in his system felt… perfect.

"Could you refill?"

"No problem," Theo nodded and went back behind the bar.

Ivan returned to his seat. Only now did he notice the elegant antique rifle hanging in a wooden frame above the bar – clearly decorative. Next to it hung a branded oxygen canister the size of a fire extinguisher.

"Here you go," Theo handed him the glass, and Ivan flinched at the cold touch.
"Thanks!" he raised it in a toast. "Cheers!" Ivan turned to Rodrigo and Linda.
"Prost!"
"Raise that glass!"

They laughed, clinked glasses, and drank. The night promised to be a long one.

Somewhere in the back room, Theo was loading another oxygen canister into the hyperventilation system. 88%.