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They make mujaddara, tabbouleh, hummus, and stuffed vine leaves. Afterwards, the kitchen looks like a mess. Who cares? It tastes damn delicious. With their plates full, they plonk themselves in front of the TV and watchLa La Landagain. Yasira hasn’t felt so good since she had to take on this damn case.
After the film ends, they unfortunately make the mistake of watching the news. According to the organizers, the right-wing torchlight procession to the Reichstag had over a hundred thousand participants. The police counted fifty thousand. Bad enough. Always these torches... The images make an international impression. Torchlight processions in Germany. Hasn’t that happened before? Wasn’t there something? Yasira shudders involuntarily.
“Creepy,” says Zara.
“Damn creepy.”
At least there was a large counter-demonstration. The police had their hands full keeping the protesters apart. Yasira can’t help thinking about the colleagues in the squad cars they overtook this afternoon.
“How’s it going with Lena?” asks Zara. “Have you found out anything new?”
“Well, yes. Her boyfriend...”
“The drug dealer?”
“Yes. I guess he wasn’t averse to fentanyl either.” Yasira looks at her daughter. “Have you ever heard of it?”
Zara shakes her head.
“It’s a synthetic opiate. Fifty times more potent than heroin,” Yasira explains. “It’s precisely this potency that makes it so difficult to dose, so dangerous. The amount of fentanyl that was confiscated in the USA in 2022 alone could easily have poisoned all US citizens of the country. So if someone ever offers you this shit...”
“Mom!” says Zara, rolling her eyes. “I’m not stupid.”
“The US has lost more people to opioids than in all the wars of the twentieth century combined. Soon it will be a million.”
Zara seems impressed. Is fear the right way to keep your children away from hard drugs? It certainly worked for Yasira.
When her daughter is in bed, Yasira writes a message to Jenny, wanting to know how the torchlight procession is being perceived in the Active Homeland-Protection Telegram channels. What will happen next?
“I can’t say yet,” Jenny replies immediately, even though it’s just before midnight. “But they naturally feel vindicated and empowered by the ‘people.’ Something is building up.”
SNOOPY
On Sunday morning, Yasira takes the time to jog a few laps around the lake in Volkspark Wilmersdorf. It often helps her to sort out her thoughts. On many occasions, when she was physically exerting herself and letting her concentration slip, she has had moments of clarity. Then it would click and she would solve the case. This time it’s Lena’s boyfriend who keeps buzzing through her head. Something doesn’t add up. But what? Today, however, she is waiting in vain for a eureka moment. Everything is too muddled.
When she gets home, Zara is sitting at the kitchen table. Pretty and without makeup. Apparently she’s not planning to leave the house today.
“Look,” says Zara and hands Yasira her phone. “This is what the boys in my class are sharing on WhatsApp.”
It’s a video. Yasira presses play. She has seen the images many times before. Too many times. It’s the video in which Lena is raped. But someone has removed the sound and replaced it with the chorus ofLena, the ’90s Pop-hit by Pur. It’s the most tasteless music video she’s ever seen. Yasira stops it and hands the phone back to her daughter.
“The boys are such idiots,” says Zara.
“They sure are,” her mother confirms. “Should I report it to the school administration?”
“They didn’t put the song under the video,” says Zara. “They just shared it.”
“Right, of course. But sharing isn’t cool either.”
“No. But I don’t want to be a snitch.”
Yasira makes herself a bowl of granola.
“No problem,” she says. “One of your classmates’ overcommitted mothers will report it anyway.”
It’s not the only tasteless joke on the internet at Lena’s expense. Yasira has seen plenty of memes that just make you deeply sad about the state of the world.
“Are you going to work today?” asks Zara, “You know it’s Sunday?”
