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For a moment, I believe I’m floating in the weightlessness which follows one of my nightmares.
Daaam, Da-daam, Daaam-daam…The gloomy wailing of electric bass chords now underpins the percussion. And even before the voice ofCerebral Bore’s singer, distorted into the low pitch of a bass, kicks in, I’m wide awake.
“Fucking hell!” Disoriented, I look around at the gloom, grabbing for my cell phone, which is lying next to a sleeping pad on the floor.A sleeping pad?Only in the third swipe do I manage to wring the alarm’s neck.
Tired from the effort, I let myself sink back onto the thin mat. I’m even wearier from the memory I’ve lived through for the first time in months.
In the sparse glow of streetlights filtering through the glass front, I slowly find my way around: the three-seater sofa and the glass table with the perfectly layered template booklets and tattoo magazines in the waiting area. The counter with computer and swivel chair, the sliding doors to the separate tattoo compartments…
I stand in my tattoo parlor.But why?
As if it could answer my question, I stare at the cell phone’s display. I read off0:23, wondering who the hell set an alarm for this time of night. Digging into the Android’s innards to clear the inhumane alarm time chases away any remnant of my sleepiness. When I finally make it, I feel the squeeze of my bladder.
“Fuck!” Yawning, I struggle up from the sleeping pad, groping through the darkness to the employee restroom. There I relieve myself leaning against the wall, head resting on my bare forearm.
The roar of the toilet flush drowns out my hiss as I confront Jolly Jumper with the far-too-cold water from the tap.
Visibly miffed, this coward shifts into his stable, whereupon I reach for the toilet paper. Annoyed, I pull back the foreskin, dab it, and the glans thoroughly dry.
After the cold of the tiles creeping under my skin, this finally tears away the shell of sleepiness that held me embraced. “Fuck! Shit!” Falling asleep is definitely out of the question now.
One thing I swear to myself:Tight budget or not. In the new parlor, a hot water tap in the employee bathroom is a must!Brooding, I stare into the small mirror, run my hand over my head, and notice my hair is a touch too long again.If I had my hair clippers at hand now…
But it’s in Bella’s bathroom.
Bella…Another point I don’t want to think about, especially not now. Not immediately after the flashback.
I turn on the light, get some cleaning shit from the closet and do the dusting. As if any could have settled on the surfaces since last evening…
Of course, the rag stays clean. Even though Bella’s hovel may be the big bang and the haven of chaos at the same time, at work and in the parlor, my partner is the complete opposite of the mess in her private life.
What should I do now?It’s shortly after half past twelve. Given the time of day, it would be pointless to carry out the morning round of hygiene now or even to prepare the workrooms. Bored, I plop down on the office chair behind the counter. My finger is already on the switch of the computer, but then something which feels like a realization flashes through me.
I haven’t often felt something like this. To be precise, exactly three times in my life so far: When I left the old existence behind. When I followedBig Hammer. And when I decided to earn my living with tattooing.
I realize that the nightmare, as much as it still sticks in my bones, is a hidden hint from my subconscious.
Involuntarily, I have to smirk.
Bella, who has a rather esoteric bent, would certainly claim that fate, angels, or some other supernatural power had a finger in the pie.
But they don’t exist.Only strange trains of thought, which my gut hatches without the help of my brain and reveals all of a sudden.
So, it is a turning point.Lost in thought, I run my hand over my stubbly chin.That’s right, I’m about to start a new chapter in my life.After an apprenticeship, a tour of various parlors and my own place here in sleepy Hassmersheim, the vision of a really big parlor is within my grasp.
Well, Mosbach doesn’t come close to Heidelberg, Mannheim, Stuttgart, or even Munich. But I’m not drawn there; there’s too much nationwide attention I could attract.
No, the small major district town is perfect for my needs: A commuting area extending beyond the district of Neckar river and Odin’s forest. Countless secondary schools with potential clients, not to mention the dual university. Fortunately for me, tattoos are no longer frowned upon among prospective academics.
The region is also popular with vacationers. The main highway, which connects the town with the surrounding cities, brings in more walk-in clients. Not to mention the suburban train connection to the Rhine-Neckar metropolitan region and the streetcar, which quite a few of my clients take to get here from Heilbronn.
Lost in thought, I stare at the shop window reflecting the shimmering ceiling light.Well, Philipp.I give my reflection a mocking look.Hard to believe, but it looks like you’re settling down in your old age.
The corners of my mouth widen as a self-deprecating smirk appears on the reproduction of my face in the glass pane.
In your old age…There can be no question ofold age, of course, given my twenty-eight years. On the other hand, it sometimes seems to me that I’ve already used up more life than a feeble eighty-year-old.
I give myself a jolt, get up and walk over to my regular compartment. In the full-length mirror on the side wall, I take a careful look at my body. There’s not much room left to make a mark for this new chapter in my life… For a while, I consider covering up one of my existing tattoos, but doing so doesn’t seem appropriate for the occasion.
