“It’s the first time I’ve walked a guy home.” Annie smiled at me and tried to free her hand, but I didn’t let go. “I have to go” she said gently but firmly.

“I don’t want you to go”, I whispered and leaned over to kiss her, but she turned away, and my lips barely touched her cheek. Her skin was as soft as peach and smelled like chocolate orange. I don’t think I’ll ever forget that moment.

She gently pulled away from me and said, “Goodnight, Walter.” I nodded. She turned and slowly walked away. I wish I hadn’t let her go, so she could have stayed with me forever. But I just watched her until she was completely out of sight.

The next morning, I felt terrible. And not only physically. I was tormented by my hangover and the vague sense of shame over how I behaved the night before. I was particularly distressed by the fact that most of the night had vanished from my memory. But I remembered Anna very well, and that wonderful romantic moment between us did not seem so romantic anymore. I reproached myself all day, and by the evening I came to the only decision that felt right under the circumstances. I would run! The devil had possessed me and was making me do it. I put some essential items in my backpack, then I took the money from my piggy bank. For almost two years, Sunny and I had been saving for motorbikes. We didn’t manage to save that much, but it was enough to keep me going for a couple of weeks at least.

Once my parents were sound asleep, I left the house. I didn’t have a particular plan. I just walked to the station and jumped into the first train to Munich. There weren’t many people onboard, but I didn’t sit down. I remained at the exit doors for almost three hours, leaning against the window and looking into the darkness. My heart was joyful and anxious at the same time. Adventures! I was ready for them and couldn’t wait for them to begin.

By dawn, I was in Munich. I walked out of the main station, and was immediately met by a city of glass and metal. It had been raining overnight, and the streets were fresh. Raindrops glistened on the windows in the rays of the rising sun. The streets were quiet, almost deserted. Only the roar of the garbage truck echoed from the walls. I was standing and looking around, gradually figuring out what to do next. I decided to surrender to fate and go wherever it took me. I was going to see the country and maybe even beyond to Europe. I planned to stay in different cities, large and small. I was going to find a place that filled my heart and soul, and I would stay there. I’d find a job and start a new life as an adult.

I hitch-hiked my way along. I walked for dozens of miles, slept in train stations and ate at roadside diners. I was stopped by police a couple of times, but I managed to convince them that I was going to Nuremberg or Dresden to my beloved grandmother. Once, I almost ran into a gang of skinheads. I ran away very fast.

At the end of my fifth day of travelling, I was somewhere between Austria, Germany and the Czech Republic. Hooray to the united Europe! I was walking along a country road that ran through vineyards. The sun was setting, and I was thinking of a shelter for the night. When I noticed a building on a hill in the distance. It was small, one story, and painted burgundy. I walked closer and saw there was a man in the yard. He stood with his back to me, cutting his roses.

“Good evening” I said to him in German.

“Good evening” he replied as he turned and looked at me.

I think he may have smiled, but I’m still not sure. The man was not very tall, well-built, and about 50 years old. His short dark hair was greying, and he had piercing blue husky-dog eyes.

“Could you tell me, please, if there’s anywhere nearby I could stay for the night?”

“The closest motel is 40 miles from here,” replied the man, waving his hand to the side. “You’ll get there by the morning,” he grinned. His *Hoch Deutsch [*standardised German] was flawless. “You can spend the night here.” The man nodded towards the house.

I agreed without hesitation. I slept like a log and didn’t have any dreams. The bed and the pillow felt like the greatest inventions of mankind.

I woke up early to drizzling rain pounding outside. The small room he’d offered me was dark and cool. In the corner, an old clock was loudly ticking away. It was 5.30am. The owner of the house was walking around. I could hear the creaking of floorboards. I stretched and was about to get up when I saw a dog and startled. A large black Labrador was sitting in the middle of the room and was staring at me.

“Alicia” called the voice of the man, and the dog jumped up and ran out of the room.

I got dressed and followed her through the living room and into the kitchen, which emitted the wonderful aroma of fresh coffee. The man was conjuring something up at the stove. Alicia, the unusually named dog, was sitting next to him, apparently waiting for breakfast.

Without turning around, the man said, “Sit down.”

I was confused, did he have eyes in the back of his head or something? I hadn’t even had a chance to say good morning to him, but he already knew I was there.

“Sit down” he repeated and pointed to the table.

My breakfast was waiting for me. Scrambled eggs, ham and fresh bread, which seemed to be just out of the oven. I sat down and began to eat. The man sat across from me and stared for a while as I was eating. Then he asked,

“What are you looking for in this area?”

The question surprised and puzzled me, as I didn’t even really know what I was looking for myself.

“A new life” I said uncertainly.

“A new life, heh?” he laughed. “A new life” he said again and shook his head, then got up from the table.

Coffee was boiling in a coffee pot on the old gas stove. The man turned off the heat and began to pour liquid into cups.

“And what about your old life?” he asked.

“I failed” I answered.

“How old are you, boy?” he said as he put the cup in front of me.

I looked at him. He had an unusual gaze and looked at me without any particular expression. It was difficult to decipher his mood, but even still I felt comfortable with him. I thought I could trust him. The hell could’ve I trusted him! But more on that later.

“Fifteen” I answered.

“Well, if you are looking for a new life, I have an offer for you.” He sat back in his chair and reached for the cup. “I need an assistant. There is a lot of work to do, but you’re not afraid of a challenge, are you?” He leaned forward a little.

“No,” I answered.

“I’ll give you shelter, food and anything else you need in exchange for a promise. You must stay here until November, when the last harvest of grapes is gathered.”

“All right” I promised.

He held out his hand and I shook it. His grip was strong and confident. This was not a man of compromise.

So, that’s how my life at the vineyard began. I worked from early in the morning until late at night, and soon forgot about everything. I had no time to mourn Sunny or think about Annie. My insomnia had disappeared, and my appetite returned. I grew four inches and gained strength. My old clothes now became too small, and my mentor brought me some new trousers, shirts, and boots. They were clearly custom-made, even if they were old-fashioned. They certainly weren’t t-shirts and jeans, but I wasn’t complaining. I definitely liked this new style.

The Mentor, which is what he insisted on being called, brought me back to life. He became a father figure to me. He took care of me. I remember I once spent the entire day in the scorching sun working in the vineyard, and in the evening I came down with a fever. He took some cans from the kitchen cupboard and made an absolutely crazy concoction. The smell alone made my eyes water.