It was raining cats and dogs for almost a day and a half now.  It was
midsummer, holiday time.
Victor stared through the tentopening.
Could it be he was just angry, or was he feeling sadness too?
The book Aron had put in his bag, just before he left, ironicly appropiated to the situation: "The betrayel."
He went back inside the tent en sat on his air mattress. Tumbling his thumbs he sight. He wasn´t having a good time, here, alone.
If only Aron was there.
His dawdling and complaining would be at least better then this complete silence.
They started their trip two weeks ago, at the German border. They planned an active holiday: Every day they´d bike fourty miles and within a month they ´d be in Athens. It seemed like a brillant plan though it was ashame he didn´t reckon with one thing: Arons fitness, or better to say: his lack of it.
Looking back he could slap his head for not thinking that there would be a problem.
Aron  might have looked enthousiastic and might have said he would work his body to "ride that couple of miles," but he knéw Aron. In the five months that lay between the decission to go and the departure, he had not done a thing, while Victor had made all the arrangements.
Usually Victor found this amusing, although there 'd been confrontations, but this holiday had it all.
Excited they biked to the East, when Aron asked, half an hour after take off, if they could have a rest. Victor was surprised and looked back at his swetting friend. A rest? Why? He wasn't tired, was he?!?!
Embareshed Aron admitted he was.
Victor hit his break and  madly  he trew his bike on the ground.
He took some distance from Aron who sat down, gasping. Victor felt the irritation coming up. It would get to be so much fun, when they had to stop every half an hour!
He walked back to his friend, who looked up to him with languid eyes. "I really think I underestimated it.." Angrily Victor pinched his eyes. "Underestimated?! Man you didn't do shit for it!" Aron averted his eyes and  intensely studied a blade of grass.  Victor went on: "Well, don't think I'm gonna put up with this! I'll stick to the plan: Every two hours a fifteen minutes break, so pick up your bike, hump on and act like a man!"
He rode off, expecting Aron to do the same. A few minutes later he heard gasping behind him. In spite of himself he slacked the speed. He figured that when they biked twentyfive miles a day, it would take them fourteen days more to reach their destination.
They biked for another hour and Victor saw Aron had trouble keeping up.
Victor felt for him. After all, the kind soul did come with him and had been well the last hour. But still he thought it was his own fault, he could have worked on his condition.
To improve the atmosphere he said: "It' s quite beautiful here, isn't it? The cornfield.. and those cottages."
Aron nodded, without really seeing, simply because he couldn't bring himself to concentrate on anything else but the turning of his legs.
Victor noticed. "Do you see that sign over there? Kügelhausen, 1 mile? That's where we go for a drink, allright?"
Again Aron nodded, this time enchanted. He had a goal now to keep his mind on.
Fifteen minutes later they rode into the little village. Soon they found a bar. They took the luggage of the bikes and walked in. The villagers where laughing at the couple.
It was a funny sight, one as red as a lobster, soaked with swet and gasping under the heavy luggage, the other as fresh as if he just walked out of a relaxing shower.
They sat down.
A waitress took their order. "Ein Cola." Aron ordered. "Are you sure?" Victor asked. "Then you will be thirsty again soon. You  better order some soda or a juice."
Obstinate Aron shook his head. "Ein Cola." he repeted. Victor held up his shoulders and ordered a soda. He had to know for himself then.

Two hours and eight miles later Aron spoke. "You... where right...pff...I should have..huh ....ta.. ta...ken a soda..." Victor smiled and took a bottle out of his bag. He had asked the waitress to fill it when Aron had gone to the lavatory.
Gratefully he took it.
That day they biked sixteen miles. At four o'clock they put up their tent at campingsite 'Treibaumen.'
Aron  was exhausted and  Victor extremely irritated. This was half the distance he had in mind they'd come today. When they'd go on this way, in two months  they'd still be in Germany!
That evening they ate chips and a salad.
At seven Aron layed down for 'a while' but didn't woke up before the sun rose and Victor woke him for their next round.
Grumbling he stood up at seven and at a quarter past eight they were ready to leave. At least, Victor was,  for Aron was in a terrible mood and complained about muscelar pain.
Victor promissed himself not to lose his temper, but his patience wasn't very huge.
In five minutes Aron started to complain about saddle soreness, ten minutes later he had a sore back and a few minutes later he swore there was something wrong with his rightknee. When he started his next lamentation he was attacked by Victor.
"What the fuck is wrong with you! If you can only bore about your so-called pains, you can shut up, for I don't care! Pull yourself together, don't think and BIKE!."
His eyes spark and he saw Aron writhe together.
"I'm sorry but I feel so terrible! Everything hurts." They stopped.
"You have only yourself to blame. If you 'd just worked your body like I told you to there wouldn't have been any trouble! And now you're sitting here.."
Aron interupted. "Yes! And now I'm  sitting. On this rotten bike! Jésus Victor, you know this isn't my game and still you always get it your way!"
Surprised Victor looked at him. "But..but you where enthousiastic to!"  "Untill a certain level I was, indeed. But I thought you would come to see thís isn't something that fits me. Athens! If it would have been Brussel, it would be different. You always expect to much of me. With your talk of: "Come on, you can do it!" Well surprise, I can't! And even more important: I don't want to!"
He got of his bike and walked up the road.
"What are you doing?" Victor asked.
"I'm going home! Hitchhiking!" He put up his thumb, ready for a car to pick him up.
Victor chew on his lip. Should he say it?
He couldn't resist. "Aron?"
"What!"
"Ehm.. When someone will pick you up... They won't bring you to Amsterdam.."
"So what! They 'll get me closer then you will!"
"No they won't."
Slowly Aron turned around. Victor couldn't help smiling. "This is a one way road. As you may have noticed, it's going the same way as we are.. to the East. And the Netherlands are in the West!"
One moment it seemed as if this was to much for Aron but then he went to Victor. Standing close he said: "Don't ride of yet. I 've got something for you." He opened his bag and took a book out of it. He gave it to him. "'The betrayel. '  Read it, and pay attention to the maincharacter Guido. He's a selfcentred son of a bitch. Just like you. I hope you'll end up better then he did."
He closed the bag again and turned his bike so it faced the endless way they came from. "Have a nice trip and please don't contact me when you come back. I've had enough of you. For the rest of my life!"
He kicked his peddle and put a distance between him and Victor, who stood there with the book in his hand, looking at the back of the man who became smaller and smaller. He was both astonished and embarished. But underneath all of this, he felt respect for Aron, maybe even for the first time ever.

***

The rain had stopped. Victor looked outside as he turned the last page of the book. It had been five days and  200 miles since he last saw Aron. His eyes read the last lines. He hadn't liked the book. But it had passed the time and kept his mind of Aron. He wondered when he 'd come home and how things would go when he himself would come back. Was he serious or just mad when he 'd said he never wanted to see him again? Traveling alone leaves lots of time to think and he came to the conclusion he had been wrong. He couldn't wait to tell Aron he was sorry about everything and that he was willing to change.
That evening he went to the bar. His eyes fell on the telephone hanging on the wall. He walked over and dialed the number.
"Hi this is Aron! I'm sorry, but I'm not here, there or at the place you want me to be. So leave me a message so I can call you when I will!"
The answeringmachine. He hated that thing. But needing to express his thoughts he began talking.
"Hi this is Vic.. Look, I know what you said, but I'm really sorry. I had some time to think about everything and I want to apologize... I think I'm coming home earlier.. It's no fun without you... Please, can we talk it over? Please? I'll call you when I get home.."
Enchanted he walked back to the bar, sat down and ordered a beer. Next to him there were two guys of his age, talking. He didn't really listen to their conversation untill something caught his attention.
"Tragic, he was our age! Can you imagine? Dead!" The other guy, who looked like a pig, shook his head. "I just don't understand why he didn't run away immediatly when he saw that train coming! I mean, who cares about a stupid bike!"
"He probably  wasn't sain! My god, it must be terrible, trying to save your bike, then seeing a train coming up to you and thén noticing your foot is stuck between the rails and your cycle! Nightmares!"
His friend emptied his glass in a draught. "Where was he from again? Amsterdam? Well then he must have thought he was having a bad trip!"
The guys laught loudly. Victor had turned pale and stared in front of him. His mouth had turned dry. Afraid of what the answer would be, he asked them: "Excuse me, but.. when and where.. did it happen?"
The pig-guy looked at him. "What? Oh, you mean that guy! Er.. About four, five days ago. Don´t know where, somewhere near the Dutch border I think." He went on with his conversation, already talking about another subject.
Victor couldn't breathe. This wasn't real, a bad dream, a lie. But it wasn't.
He had sent Aron into death.
That was the truth.
 


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