Weber Tell me I was here

1. Auflage 2026
ISBN: 978-3-6957-0381-4
Verlag: BoD - Books on Demand
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 6 - ePub Watermark

E-Book, Englisch, 376 Seiten

It's been several years since his divorce, but retired artisan Abdel struggles to adapt to life in a big, empty house. Clinging to routines and late-night talks with the affable bouncer at his favourite Irish pub, he is caught between confronting a painful past and an uncertain future. When he impulsively decides to help the teenage runaway Loïc, he is thrust into the centre of a social drama that quickly takes over his life. Their journey through the alleys and beaches of Cannes brings them into contact with an eclectic cast: a shop owner who curates the belongings of the departed, a rebellious musician who offers Loïc a lifeline, and the ever-present, enigmatic Wanderer. Tom Weber's latest novel is a poignant exploration of grief, resilience, and what it truly means to have lived a life, revealing a world of struggle and solidarity far from the glamour of the festival lights.

Tom Weber was born in Luxembourg in 1996. He has been writing literary texts since 2014.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Weber, Tom

Leseproben

1

‘Ah, . How are you doing?’

Jacques sets down a glass he was drying and shakes the hand of one of his regulars.

‘All good, Jacques, thanks.’

Abdel sits down at the bar while Jacques has already reached for a bottle of pastis on the shelf behind him. It’s been years since Abdel actually had to say his order out loud. He has been coming into Jacques’s bar near the town hall once a week for the past 15 years to enjoy a pastis before lunch.

‘Here you go, Abdel.’

Abdel gives Jacques a subtle nod and takes a sip of the milky yellow liquid in front of him. The cooling taste of fresh anise instantly permeates his mouth and settles his mind. Abdel generally abstains from drinking alcohol, but he has always had a soft spot for the signature drink of southern France.

of course this stupid thing breaks down right before noon!’

Abdel looks up from his apéritif and sees Jacques the barman cursing at his espresso machine, looking as if he is about to throw it out into the street. When Jacques gives the machine a loud smack, Abdel jumps up.

‘Whoa there, Jacques, why don’t you let me take a look at it?’

Jacques hesitates, and in his eyes appears a hint of disappointment that he once again does not get to live out his lifelong dream of smashing something to pieces. He finally gives Abdel an approving nod and signals him to step behind the counter. Abdel looks at the espresso machine and asks Jacques what exactly seems to be the problem. After a few follow-up questions, he tells Jacques to fetch him a toolbox. While the agitated barman rummages through a broom cupboard at the back of the bistro, Abdel can hardly contain his excitement. It’s been a few years since he closed down his workshop and retired, but whenever something needs fixing he still drops everything he is doing to get on the job.

‘There you go. Hope there’s some useful stuff in there.’

Jacques hands Abdel a bucket that appears to have fallen into more paint than it has ever been filled with. In it is the most random assortment of tools Abdel has ever seen, all looking as if they had been sourced straight from a war zone. Internally, Abdel is screaming, but he does his best not to let that show.

‘Thanks, Jacques... I think I should be able to do something with this.’

Abdel grabs the one screwdriver that does not look as if it is about to disintegrate in his hand and starts opening up Jacques’s espresso machine. Very quickly, he forgets all about the low-quality tools he has been given as he becomes completely immersed in the project at hand. This has always been Abdel’s favourite thing to do: taking apart a machine, slowly figuring out how it works and how each part relates to another. Piece by piece, a dynamic 3D blueprint forms in Abdel’s mind, and he is able to look at the whole machine in detail and from any angle.

‘That should do it.’

Abdel reconnects the tube he took out and screws the front part of the machine back on.

‘What was the problem?’

‘It got clogged up. You really need to stay on top of maintenance with these things.’

Jacques puts a small cup on the serving tray and presses the button to start the brewing process. Erupting in a deafening symphony of mechanical and vapour-release noises, the machine announces its return to service. Abdel smiles confidently.

‘Looks like you still got it, old man,’ says Jacques, patting Abdel on the shoulder. —and your pastis is on me today!’

‘Thank you, you’re too kind, Jacques. In the over 50 years that I’ve been doing this, I’ve never come across something that I couldn’t fix!’

While Jacques goes back to serving some of the other patrons, Abdel takes another sip of his pastis and turns his attention to the newspaper he brought with him. As his eyes listlessly move across some of the main headlines of the day, his attention is suddenly grabbed by a minor story down in the corner:

Abdel turns to page 12 of the newspaper to read more about it. In a small paragraph underneath a picture of several police cars, the news report explains that last night a young man was found dead in an alley in the west of Cannes. He appeared to have been stabbed multiple times and succumbed to his injuries on the spot. When the police arrived at the scene, they found that the victim was carrying several grams of marijuana as well as multiple ziplock bags containing other illicit substances. The investigators assume that he must have been a drug dealer who potentially got in a fight with a rival, as the neighbourhood had recently seen a series of increasingly violent conflicts related to the drug trade. The victim was 14 years old.

Abdel shakes his head in disbelief. Fourteen years old? Drugs? Violence? He wonders what kind of circumstances would lead someone so young, essentially still a child, to end up in such a frightening world. Abdel tries to remember where his mind was when he was 14, but his memories are patchy. There is so much lived experience between today and his early teenage years that it seems impossibly long ago. To imagine that a life could end on the filthy ground of an alley at such a young age leaves Abdel completely shocked.

‘Have you heard about this, Jacques? The boy they found in La Bocca last night?’

‘Yeah, a guest already brought it up earlier this morning,’ Jacques replies, looking for his pack of cigarettes. ‘Drug dealer, wasn’t he?’

‘The article says he had drugs on him.’

‘Course he had. Do you have a lighter?’

As Abdel is about to reply, another guest seated near the entrance signals to Jacques that he can have his on his way out.

‘I’m telling you, our laws are way too lax. They should throw them all in prison, or just shoot them straight away for all I care. Useless scum.’

It is always awkward when someone you know a little suddenly spews out some of the worst opinions you have ever heard. Abdel never really knows how to handle situations like this. If he were a bit more assertive, he would push back against the hateful sentiments Jacques has just shared. He would tell him off for dehumanising people who are clearly in very difficult situations and should be helped, not hunted down. He would tell him to get a grip and reassess himself, as this is no way to talk about others. But Abdel is not the type to slam his fist on the table. The best he can do is refuse to agree with Jacques, give him a vague stare that merely suggests acknowledgement of the statement, and return his attention to the newspaper.

Abdel tries to continue reading, but again and again his mind wanders back to that first story. After noticing that he attempted to read the latest football results five times in a row and still did not take any of it in, he decides to give up. Abdel finishes his pastis and picks up the newspaper. He decides not to leave a tip today.

* * *

Cannes bustles with tourists most of the year, but between early January and mid to late February there is a brief window of respite during which things calm down a bit. Abdel does not mind the tourists, but he enjoys walking through Rue d’Antibes without constantly worrying about bumping into someone carrying an absurd number of shopping bags.

Strolling down the street, Abdel glances at some of the passers-by. Have any of them read that story? And if so, is it bothering them as much as it does him? From Abdel’s experience, the answer for most people is probably no. Abdel has always been slightly confused by people’s tendency to block out the tragedies that surround them. He has never done that. In fact, he is not able to. The injustices, the horrific things humans do to each other, get stuck in Abdel’s mind. They are with him when he goes to sleep, and they greet him when he wakes up the next morning. Abdel realises that he will never be able to solve all the world’s problems. But how could you just not care to even try? If there is a chance that you could make just one single thing in this world better than it was before, why would you not choose to take action?

Abdel decides to take a left near the Best Western Hotel to reach Rue Hoche. This street was fully converted into a pedestrian zone many years ago, which has made it much more pleasant to walk through. The street is flanked on both sides by myriad cafés and restaurants. During the warmer months, they all put out their terraces, and the area is filled with chatter and laughter. Whenever he walks down the street at that time of year, Abdel likes to imagine himself sitting in one of these colourful chairs and sharing a drink with someone. He imagines entire conversations to go with it, too. He can entertain himself quite a bit like this, and he often ends up with a smile on his face—almost like the people on the terraces.

Abdel has barely made it halfway down the street when he sees something that excites him immensely. About ten metres ahead of him is a man dressed in a heavy winter coat, a pair of trousers that resemble a potato sack, and shoes that seem to do more to expose his feet to the elements than protect them. He is slightly hunched over and has a huge bald...