7

“Can you hear me?”

Still, there was no verbal reaction. Panic strangled

me from within. Since I couldn’t possibly carry a

man of his size, I would have to call an ambulance

if he didn’t respond. The last thing I needed was to

have my contact details in the hands of a medical

authority. Now the man’s head slowly lifted, offering a visible access to his round cheeks; a double

chin having what looked too scraggy and haphazard

to be an intentional beard. A smallmouth in the

midst of the scruff opened, his lips trembling like

the rest of his massive body, but still, no sound

emerged.

“You need to get out of the cold. Do you think

you can get up?”

Still, nothing, there was still no verbal response.

Perhaps he didn’t understand German? I repeated

my words in English, French and I was just about

to piece together my meagre Spanish when his lips

opened again.

“M- maybe I c- can but I w- won’t.”

The rush of relief I felt at hearing German words,

lightly tinged with the local dialect, the ones the

man had chosen to utter, pierced me to the core. I

had been there myself, and although on some days

I wished I could have gone through with it because

there were still people to whom I still meant something. As wrapped up in oneself as a suicidal person

might be, their life – and death – affected others. I

could not let him die, and that meant getting him

out of the cold fast. Every minute was a risk. “Do you want to die?” I challenged the man

whose head had turned back to the ground. Now it

turned again and his eyes fixed themselves on mine

with determination.

“Yes.”

“Well, too bad because I’m here now and you’re

not going to die on my watch.”

“And wh-what are you g-going to do, c-carry

me?” he scoffed, his grimaced smile revealed his

straight teeth. For some reasons, it didn’t look quite

like the way teeth were supposed to. I pushed that

observation aside. At least, his sense of humour

hadn’t fallen prey to hypothermia yet.

“No, I was counting on your cooperation.”

“N- not going to happen.” His head turned

again.

I straightened, unsheathing my ultimate weapon.

“Then you leave me no other choice but to call an

ambulance. And the police, just in case.”

Loath though I was to turn this spot into an

ought-to-be crime scene and to become involved

with the authorities, I was prepared to do so as a

last resort. Within the past three years, I had compiled an arsenal of evasion and unobtrusiveness

techniques and stood a good chance at extricating

myself from the situation undetected. The sight of

the man in front of me, however, assured me that

we would be spared from any third-party involvement after all. With visible reluctance the hood-covered head lifted and its owner laboriously shifted

himself into a sitting position, his copious flesh un- dulating and resettling. I knew I shouldn’t stare but

couldn’t help it, nor could I keep my lower anatomy

by commenting on the sight in front of me. No, no,

no, no! I had felt the sensation before, and as inappropriate as it had been then, it was nothing compared to this. The man was suicidal and suffering

from hypothermia! At last, I managed to shake myself out of the bewildering trance.

“Atta boy.”

I was treated to another noise of derision before

the man began to pull himself to his feet by the aid

of the concrete parapet, a spectacle to behold with

his bulges shifting and resifting until finally settling

into what must be their accustomed places. I never

realized how much flesh the human body could

hold, and even with his impressive height of about

6’3” visually balancing out his mass, he had to be at

least three times the weight of a normal person. He

was panting heavily. With his weight but also his

scruff and cheeks caked in dirt he appeared of indeterminable age. A little older than me possibly, late

thirties?

“And wh- what are you g- going to d- do with me

now, huh?” he panted, most likely intending to

glower down at me. With my height of 6’1”, however, the preposition ‘down’ hardly applied, so I

stared right back despite my intensifying discomfort

in my lower belly. I’m the biggest threat there is,

buddy, so save yourself the wrinkles and stop glaring. The thought actually helped to tune out my unbidden bodily reaction and to let reason take over.

“Take you to my place.” His scowl morphed into a narrow-eyed stare.

“Wh- why?”

“Duh, to get you dry?”

His stare continued. “You w- want to take a ddirty, d- drenched, super f- fat stranger to your pplace?”

“Yes.”

One of the few perks of my condition was that I

never had to fear for my safety. Should the man

turn out to be an unsavoury character and choose

to act on his perversions, he would regret his decision the second his thing touched my skin. On the

bright side, it would be the last time he’d unzipped

his pants for that purpose. Until he was proven

guilty, however, I would do my best to get him

back on his feet, meaning that we had no time for

Q and A.

“Did you drive here?”

He shook his head, a needless waste of energy

when hypothermia was taking care of the shaking

already. “B- bus.”

Good, at least I wouldn’t have to worry about

moving not only him but also his vehicle.

“I w- won’t fit in the passenger seat, y- you

know,” the man’s snarl punctured my little bubble

of optimism.

“Then get in the rear,” I snapped at him, fed up

with his lack of cooperation. I had hurt enough

people and it was time I helped someone. After

some more staring, albeit with his eyes at a less hostile aperture, he shifted his impossibly thick thighs at last and slowly made his lumbering way over to

my van. A few long strides took me past him easily

and I opened the sliding door, climbing inside and

rearranging the purchases inside, transferring some

onto the passenger seat, before I spread out a blanket I always kept in the car. Was he really too big to

sit in front? Instantly I felt the heat in my cheeks.

Again, I shifted my thoughts towards the logistics

at hand. My van will be able to handle the extra

load, even though the weight of the trailer and supplies. Thank God for strong engines and the lack of

rear windows so no one would notice I was transporting a person. There, space should be sufficient.

I climbed back out, only to catch him watching me

from where he was holding on to the side panel,

trembling and panting.