Sensory noise E-Book

Yanne Schillberg

• Herausgeber: novum pro Verlag
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 423

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

The world of adolescents' thoughts and lives, which at times comes across as unpolished and raw: the young main character Julia is going through her maturing phase and is confronted not only with the friendships and enmities of her girl clique, urgently awakening sexuality or the question of her relationship to her environment, such as the church - but also with her connection to the spirit world beyond the comprehensible. She spends the vacations in a youth hostel, where she has both worldly and transcendent experiences and matures into a new person. An authentic coming-of-age novel - also for adults - that sensitively and with a tragicomic touch depicts what are probably the most formative years in a person's life.

Leseprobe

Sensory noise

Content

Prehistory - when the world was still explained to you

Chapter 1 altar boys

2nd chapter blues dance

Chapter 3 Outdoor pool

4. CHAPTER NIGHT

Chapter 5 Decision

6. CHAPTER FAMILY TIES

CHAPTER 7 Ice cream parlor

CHAPTER 8 Arrival

Chapter 9 Ceasefire

10. CHAPTER FOREST

11. CHAPTER INSIDE

Chapter 12 Of Hunters and Gatherers

Chapter 13 A New Day

14. chapter indoor swimming pool

15. chapter bog body

16. CHAPTER "CHEZ IRIS"

17. CHAPTER DRAW

18. CHAPTER BEFORE NIGHTFALL

19. CHAPTER INCISIVE NIGHT(I. - III.)

Prehistory - when the world was still explained to you

It was a Sunday and still early. Only a few hours before, her husband had first fallen into bed next to her and a short while later into comatose sleep, which still continued unmolested. Only his morning wood stood at attention punctually at eight o'clock. Refreshed from her eight-hour health sleep, Marlis grabbed the bursting member, careful not to come too soon, slid it into her vagina, following her first urge, and rode off to meet the day. Lonely Ranger. Towards the sun, swinging her hips, suppressing the second urge to do her morning toilet. Neither too strong nor too long she had to stop, the act lessened the urge and was over after a few thrusts. Short, but violent. The eruption powerful, the ejaculation accordingly. Soaking wet Marlis descended, down from the bed in direct finish line to the toilet. Cum-soaked, her morning urine swirled into the eternal sewer. She pulled off, stood up, and refrained from putting on panties. She slipped into her blue Sunday dress, had a coffee with condensed milk, and attended Sunday Mass. A fraction of the sperm flowed down her legs and stuck, other sperm successfully found their way up.

9 ½ months later, on a hot summer day, Marlis laboriously pushed herself around between fields of beets and wheat. She was panting heavily. The wheat was already in full spike, straw-blond, soaking up the midday heat that glided shimmering over windless fields. Marlis had picked a bouquet of lupins and corn poppies, knowing full well that the flowers would dry out in her vase by late evening. Still, she preferred the sweaty task of picking flowers along the roadsides of dusty dirt roads to another tough day on the sofa. She had grown tired of dozing for hours on end with the uncertainty of a long overdue mother. The time could come at any time, and Marlis fervently hoped that with the blooming of this bouquet her child would finally see the currently quite sunny light of day.

The bouquets faded. Again and again. It became muggy, the planned rain failed to materialize. Marlis felt that now and then life raged in her steadily growing belly, but labor pains remained elusive. So she began to accept her state of joyful hope as a permanent condition and from then on allowed her first daughter, who obviously felt very comfortable where she was, to participate fully in earthly life. Marlis granted the baby in her belly a right to stay. She relaxed.

A baptism ceremony! That was Marlis' first thought when she woke up the next morning full of anticipation for a new day together with her child. It couldn't go on like this, the little one needed a name, Marlis told herself, and ran a well-tempered bubble bath with additions of fresh thyme, rosemary and sea salt. The whole bathroom already smelled like Mediterranean summer when Marlis submerged her heavy body. The tub spilled over, and rivulets of salty seawater poured across the yellow-tiled floor. Marlis felt like a whale in the waters of the vast ocean as she wetted her huge belly with water again and again and spoke, "My dear little daughter, I hereby christen you Julia Cäcilia Helene. Julia, because you will be divine, and Cäcilia and Helene, so that you will never forget your grandmothers." Spoke' s, got out of the tub and slid with a single swing over the salty brooks across the damp bathroom.

Julia was not outside, but there! A mighty jolt hurled her from one wall to the other, softly bouncing her off when she heard her mother soothingly talking to her: "My dear, don't worry, everything still went well, now we first need a good breakfast on this fright!" Julia then crawled into an upper fold of her stomach with the intention of remaining there as long as possible and resisting the peculiar urge to go down. She resisted, and had been doing so for quite a while. Today was a new day, it was a good day, the day was all about her: There was an extra shot of milk in her coffee for breakfast, and she had her first experience with the police when the children's supplement of the Stadtanzeiger was read to her: "Oskar, the friendly policeman." And after Marlis had finished with the rest of her daily paper, she assured her that Julia was a good child who left her alone to read, and as a reward she would now tell her some nice stories from the paper during a digestive walk. So Marlis told her, between power poles and generators, dandelions and corn poppies, about a faraway land where the children always had black hair and slit eyes and there was much more water and greenery than here on the dusty trampling path. One of the children, a little girl, would decorate colorful postcards with her bright white eyeballs and teeth. The card would say "UNICEF" because the children lived in Vietnam, where they could splash in the azure ocean. Julia splashed along. Meanwhile, the midday heat brooded its ears. While Julia was being educated about worldly events in an age-appropriate way, they walked for a while past a sugar beet field to the sunflowers, one of which would accompany them home. They turned back and left the seclusion of rural expanse behind them with the entrance to the new housing estate. As they passed an advertising pillar, Marlis pointed to many faces framed in red on a poster decorating the pillar. One of them was almost completely hidden under a shaggy scarf, a ruffled beard flashing out. Julia learned that where this man was right now was even hotter and at least as dusty as here. He would be in the area where Jesus came from. Julia had already heard of Jesus, he was something like Oskar, the friendly policeman, and helped, at that time at least, the people who were good out of trouble. Jesus also wore such a cloth around his head, like the man in the poster, who was just learning how to share in Palestine. So did Jesus the bread and the fish, and St. Martin on his white horse his coat. With this news, Julia wondered why the faces of the black and white people looked so grim, but she would be told eventually. It was probably because they were tired of the heat.

The next day also brought neither the longed-for cloudburst nor Julia into the world. It seemed about time that Julia should be brought closer to her father. Not that she had not met him yet: Whenever he came home, and that was not too often, he was silent unless he was singing. His singing was loud and resounded throughout the house, and when he was close to her, Julia could feel the vibrations of the notes produced by his haunting tenor. Whether she wanted to or not, Julia could not avoid her father's songs! They were songs she did not understand. She resolved to ask her father about his songs first thing, as soon as she had the chance. She only understood that much, that it was about men who go through the moor as moorland soldiers with a spade, about men who no longer like the beer in their pub, who are here today, there tomorrow and hardly there, are gone or hiding in the forest, because they have the dog of the tanker king on their conscience.

"Today we'll visit your father, then we can admire and cheer him on!" Marlis packed the necessary change as well as some cookies and juice. Would Julia meet her father for a singing performance today? The path took them past sprawling fields on the hot asphalt, a light breeze coming only from the breeze as Marlis had chosen to ride her bicycle. With difficulty they made headway, their gigantic bellies almost hitting the steering wheel. It didn't make it any easier that today pilots were practicing low-flying in their starfighters in the nearby sky. The concussion of heightened decibels penetrated from head to belly. So enlightening storytelling had to be cancelled unfortunately, one was glad to reach the destination at all.

In a shallow bay behind a few poplars a green field opened up, isolated groups of people stood around the field. There was also singing, but not very melodic, it was rather a rhythmic bawling that resounded up the hill. "Rudi forward, another goal! Rudi forward, one more goal!" As they reached the edge of the field, they were greeted exuberantly by an athletic guy who came so close he bumped his belly, "Well, how are you and the little one? Your Rudi is once again living up to his reputation as the top scorer. In the first half, he scored one of his infamous headers, and it was on target. But we haven't won yet, it's nice that you're here now, you can play the mascot!" "I'm the mascot, and with my little mascot in my belly, I bring double happiness!" "Well, let's see, will gladly believe it!" Grinning, the man turned his full attention back to the game in progress. Despite, or perhaps because of, the somewhat gruff sound of his words, Julia felt a pleasantly relaxed sensation; the sonorous voice seemed familiar to her as her mother enlightened her, "That, my dear, is Jupp. He's our neighbor and your father's teammate, the best person to laugh and drink beer with. Jupp tore a ligament at the last game, so he can't play today. But we're here for you to see your dad in action and to cheer him on!" Spoke' s and first made a U-turn in the direction of the soup cannon. There were two stews to choose from, pea soup or pea soup with chowder. Marlis decided on pea soup with chowder. Just as the sticky green mass spread into the plastic bowl, a murmur went through the audience, and then whistles cut the air. Curious, Marlis wiggled toward the field with a jerk, a luscious portion of the meal landing on her stomach. A green pond spread out on her white flowered summer dress, on which the liner also stuck and slowly slid along the pond's seaming shore. Julia felt warm, almost unpleasantly hot, and she would have loved to slide on the liner herself, to rush down and bite off a piece at the end. Immersed in the idea of a slippery ride on the giant sausage, she didn't even notice that she was getting closer to her goal bit by bit and pedaled towards the exit until she was caught by a suction, but by then it was already too late to turn back. Julia fought back with her hands and feet, but at the same time she felt pleasure in her slide, against which any defense seemed futile. So she let herself drift until it suddenly became uncomfortably narrow. There she wished nothing more ardently than back. She thought her head would have to burst into a thousand pieces, and she could no longer breathe. All of a sudden, everything was over. Within a fraction of a second, she no longer noticed anything, until she was startled by her own scream and woke up. The shock made her eyes open. But only briefly, for it was unbearably bright, and with a blink she caught a glimpse of the bockwurst, buried under green mush. For the moment she had seen enough, and all the excitement had thoroughly deprived her of her appetite. She wanted to go away again, back, whether falling asleep would help? She tried, but she didn't succeed: "Goal, goal, goal!" boomed over the square. And then she got a good slap on the butt.

The sturdy soup seller turned out to be an experienced farmer and midwife. On the one hand, it made no difference to her whether she brought a little girl, a piglet or a calf into the world, but on the other hand, she felt a certain joy that this fresh little creature would not end up in the course of its life as an ingredient in her hearty stews. The whole affair went in a jiffy, as soon as the contractions began, the child was born. The resolute farmer's wife reached for her knife, with which she otherwise cut the sausages, cut the umbilical cord with aplomb and gave the little one a good slap. She gently placed the little one in the arms of her mother, to whom she had previously prepared a bed for a speedy delivery from her bulky jacket and a tarp that usually served to cover her soup can. Peacefully mother and daughter lay in the shade of rustling poplars. Lifting her head, she made her way toward the field to announce the good news. She watched Rudi, who cast glances in the direction of his comrade Jupps to the edge of the field, as if it irritated him that his wife had not reappeared to fulfill her function as personal mascot. Nevertheless, he had helped his team to a near victory with a deft overhead kick. By now, the team was leading 2-0 with only a few minutes left to play. Final whistle! At last, the farmer's wife was able to finish her mission and complete the family reunion.

Although Julia had not yet recovered from her fright, she dozed in her mother's arms, still quite exhausted from the exertion, which made the situation more bearable for her. Actually, she wished to go back to where she had come from. This could not be arranged, and so she had to come to terms with life. Suddenly she felt someone stroking the back of her hand and welcoming her. She recognized her father's voice, and her curiosity won out. She forced herself to open her eyes briefly to catch a glimpse of her father. He seemed rather tall, but she was not yet able to judge that, because everything around her was simply huge. Actually, one more reason not to look at all. His striking face was fringed with dark thick hair, from which sparkling brown eyes gazed. His nose stood out, casting a small shadow on his narrow upper lip, which bore an equally narrow mustache. He seemed pleased, for his features were derailed into a permanent smile. That much was certain, whether it was because of her or the game she had won, Julia could not judge. Her mother's face resembled an undulating hillside, softly enveloping her in an aura of exhausted bliss. All the shapes were curved, round and bent: her large green eyes with their thick black lashes bending toward the sky, which bumped against crescent-shaped brows when they fell open, her snub nose spotted with a few freckles between arched cheekbones, and her full, wing-shaped lips that formed little dimples in her cheeks when she smiled.

Gently Julia was brought home. It was not what she imagined a home to be, because that was where she had just come from, and there was no going back, but it was not bad. She woke up in a small bed, and as soon as she made a sound, her mother was there. So it could be endured. The only thing that bothered her was her inability to move. While she had grown up in her original home, it had become tighter every day, until in the end she had not even been able to turn around, but she was constantly on the move. It went from one place to another, which had caused her comfort. Now she felt as if she had been discarded and could do nothing about her condition. Of course, every now and then she was chauffeured by stroller, but without constant mother contact, she missed the previous daily routine of being on the move. When she once again could not fall asleep, she yelled and was surprisingly understood in the long term: Sometimes she was carried back and forth in her arms, sometimes she was simply loaded into the car and left alone.

She got to know more and more people, most of whom were well-disposed towards her. After her nap, she received visitors who gathered curiously around her bed, sometimes smiling pensively, which led to her being called a bundle of joy. Soccer buddy Jupp already knew her; he had his wife Hilde in tow. Hilde's first words irritated her, "Oops, what's that giant baby?" Jupp immediately relented. "But that's why she's not so rumpled, and you'd better look at her long hair!" No matter what he said, the sing-song tenor of his words instantly calmed Julia as her mother explained, "In the three weeks she's been in my belly longer than expected, she's probably made a developmental leap and then briskly entered the world as a finished, smooth baby. It almost tore me apart, but it was her decision alone." At the words "almost tore" Julia winced, but already she was lying on Jupp's chest, and everything was peaceful again. An eternal back and forth, or so it seemed to her. It was doubtful whether she would ever get used to it. It was the same with her grandmothers, who regularly and unfortunately often stood together around her bed. Although they were not openly hostile to each other, it was not necessary to notice how different they were, which often led to tension. Cäcilie, called Zilli, was her father's mother. Tough and striking was not only her appearance, but also her way of dealing with people. She had learned no other way and had received a Wilhelminian upbringing, lost her possessions after the war and raised her two sons alone. She was gruff in manner, had hair on her teeth, and did not overthink before speaking. There was one topic that was basically not talked about: Feelings of any kind. For that she could give free rein to her laughter, which she did gladly and often heartily. Then she shook her red mane into the nape of her neck, her brown eyes became slits, and her nose took up the whole face, which was held together by strong cheekbones and a powerful chin.

Her second grandmother Helene had passed on her round, soft features to Marlis. Although she also liked to laugh, with little tears often rolling down her cheeks, she also gave free rein to other feelings. When she was in a bad mood, the corners of her mouth pulled down, and she had no intention of changing that in a short time. Emotional not only toward herself but also toward others, she felt deep compassion and radiated the classic warmth of a healthy grandmother, with rosy cheeks and white hair that she had laid weekly. They both meant well for Julia when they stood around her bed with bright proud eyes. "My little heart, you have beautiful long black hair! Here I've brought you a little pink bow, then you'll be even more beautiful," said Helene, though she said, "Then you'll see that you're a girl" - which Zilli of course saw right through. "Sure, and in a few weeks we'll start having her hair put down," she said, smiling broadly. Which Helene didn't find funny at all, though, and automatically the corners of her mouth pulled down, unable to do anything about it. "After all, I've brought her something that shouldn't be expected from you." "Sure you did," Zilli spoke up, unwrapping a carrot mash. "Homemade, so the little one will grow up healthy." Helene countered, "The fact that you didn't bring the carrot in one piece is progress, after all. And in a few weeks we'll start getting the kid used to your homemade herring salad. With luck, she'll be eating it willingly in a few years, and she'll be way ahead of the rest of the kin!" she continued to tease, and the corners of her mouth turned up again, albeit a little pinched. That changed as soon as she lifted Julia out of her crib and held her against her chest. Her features became gentle, and she took the form of a rosy cherub. The kisses came later, and it was still enough to stroke the little one's back gently and to sway lightly. The peace could not last too long. "If you go on like this, she'll get dizzy and sick, you'd better hand her over to me," Zilli demanded impatiently. "Sure, so your cologne will make her sick." Reluctantly, Helene placed her beloved granddaughter in her comrade-in-arms.

Julia remained calm, for her it didn't matter which arms she was in. At least when it came to her grandmothers, she made no distinction, especially since both exuded the irrevocable smell of old age. One tried to cover up her own scent with cologne, the other with lily of the valley spray and deodorant, which changed, depending on special offers. The respective result was almost identical, because the smell of age was beyond any suppression. Julia was odorless, still untouchable and immune, occasionally she thought her skin smelled of milk and, depending on that, of fresh carrots, especially after lunchtime. When it slowly became too uncomfortable for her on Grandma Zilli's arms, the scent of freshly ground coffee hit her nose. She already knew it, with an extra shot of condensed milk for breakfast. Now the smell lured her two grandmothers away to the living room for afternoon coffee. For once, they both agreed: There was nothing like freshly brewed coffee with cake, preferably apple cream pie and, depending on the season, strawberry or plum cake, with a good dollop of whipped cream, which was increasingly available from a ready-made spray bottle, making it taste a little like chrome. Julia was alone again and could occupy herself at length with her new bow. To fall asleep, she simply imagined she was lying on the broad chest of neighbor Jupp, who led her into the dream world with his steady breathing. Once there, Julia splashed around in the amniotic waters of the tides, oblivious to the difference from the waking world.

Time passed, the seventies had slowly settled in, Julia had learned to walk and talk, and when she couldn't fall asleep well because her parents weren't home at the time, she simply went across the street to where Jupp and Hilde lived. There was always a warm place for Julia in their marital bed, where the three of them sank into a peaceful sleep in the spoon position. Marlis raised, or better, brought up her daughter in the spirit of the times. A. S. Neill's children's book "The Green Cloud" was the first book read to Julia. In this book the children were allowed to do everything, there were no rules and no prohibitions. However, Marlis did not think it was a good idea to submit completely to the anti-authoritarian principle. She preferred the weakened principle of laissez-faire. In other words, Julia was allowed to do whatever she wanted, but if things got too hairy and she was about to fall off the seesaw while swinging wildly, Marlis made sure, if possible, that it didn't come to that. She didn't pay any attention to the words "You can learn from your mistakes" or "Learn for life" and similar universal wisdom, especially since it was ultimately up to her to doctor her child, which she wanted to spare herself. Although Julia seemed to have something against vitamins, she rarely got sick. Julia didn't like to eat meat, vegetables, or fresh fruit, which reduced her food choices. So there was pasta with tomato sauce, tomato sauce with spaghetti, preferably "Mirácoli", canned egg ravioli, pancakes, apple pancakes, in moderation fried potatoes, French fries, fish sticks, chips, mashed potatoes, false schnitzel, i.e. the leftover schnitzel breading fried with an extra egg and with the invention of frozen pizza gladly also as a special delicacy Pizza Margherita or Tonno.

Julia was allowed to eat what and how much she wanted, and since she also didn't like sweets or cakes, Marlis didn't have to worry about Julia's fullness or her wallet. She usually didn't worry too much anyway, things always worked out. She did worry a little about the peace and quiet with which Julia could occupy herself for hours on end, and so that her daughter would not become a social cripple, she suggested to Rudi that he consider having a sibling for Julia. When this was rejected by the family board on the grounds that one child would be enough, Marlis constantly brought in substitute children. She invited children from the neighborhood to eat and play, and those with whom Julia made friends were allowed to stay overnight. Rudi couldn't mind that either, since his rhythm was contrary to family life.

Rudi lived in his own world, which had a small intersection with that of his family life, as evidenced by occasional walks in the woods and rare social evenings alongside his loved ones. Besides his occasional work as a municipal employee, in which he was not particularly interested, he spent the rest of his time on the soccer field. On weekends he played in the national league, and in the evenings after work he trained. And when he wasn't training himself, he was coaching the youth or dressing up in his black referee's uniform and earning a penny here and there, which he would spend the same evening with his sports friends at the bar with one or even ten cold beers. In such cases, the neighborhood knew about it the next morning, because Jupp and he mutated into lively street musicians on their way home at night and warbled loud duets, more or less melodically. In exceptional cases, when soccer wasn't being played, Rudi would get on his bike or take a dip in the swimming pool, followed by an extensive visit to the sauna. This left little time for his family, which they didn't hold against him, because they could keep themselves busy without him. In addition came: When he was at home for more than an hour at a time, he hardly spoke a word and hid behind his newspaper. That way he didn't disturb anyone, and no one disturbed him.

Chapter 1 altar boys

It could have gone on forever, but of course the flow of time could not be stopped. Posters with scowling figures in red frames continued to adorn the advertising pillars, but in the meantime Palestinian scarves had become fashionable and lost their political significance. When even the last family goldfish had jumped out of its round glass house without oxygen, part of the dusty dirt road had been asphalted, puddles with tadpoles had become rare, and the river was officially no longer inviting for bathing because of the first measurements of PH levels, Marlis made the decision to take off her rose-colored glasses and go to work in order to stand with both feet in the middle of life. The intimate togetherness with her daughter was dissolved step by step, because the little one was also to lose the alienation from the world with which she had been lovingly brought up up until then - in small steps, so that the impact would not be too hard. What could be more obvious than to entrust her to the protection of the Catholic Church? This protection was to guard her daughter while she could pursue her own interests. So it came to pass that Julia was enrolled first in the Schola and then in the altar server and prayer leader groups. Schola meant that Julia, along with a group of children, filled the pews and together they loudly warbled church hymns that they had previously rehearsed. This was easy for Julia because she had always loved to sing. What was less easy for her was the weekly altar boy meeting, and she was the only one in her group who did not train to be an altar boy, despite the progressiveness of being asked to do so as a girl in the first place. Her refusal seemed all the worse because girls had to obey, and their will was to be broken. Only one will existed, and that was the will of the group, which in turn was the will of the priest, his church, and therefore God's will.

Among the group, Father Simmrath looked around with his characteristic smug smile until his piercing gaze lingered on Julia. "In our little circle, there is one member who does not wish to serve our Lord God." Silence. Julia's penchant for pre-prayer and dislike of acolyte robes and habits were not lost on anyone. Everyone stared at her, curious about what was about to happen. Julia managed not to blush, even though her chest throbbed with excitement. Then she raised her head and looked the priest straight in the eye. His pupils flickered and had contracted to the size of a pin, and in his lap he shepherded the Bible. Julia did not speak a word, waiting to see what would follow. She did not want to break the silence, to drag it out into the unbearable. She clearly heard the monotonous whirring of a vacuum cleaner in the background. Mrs. Ackermann, the priest's lady-in-waiting, tirelessly scurried around near the man sent by God, so as not to have to leave the radius of the call. The pastor broke the ticking silence. One to zero.

"Julia, you are the only one in our circle who is not training to be an altar boy. Why do you want to distance yourself from our group?"

Julia thought for a moment before answering, suppressing her impulse to simply leave the room. "I don't distance myself from the group if the group doesn't distance itself from me," she stated.

"You're setting yourself apart if you don't participate in the communal preparations of the Eucharist, not only from the group, but also from God."

"God cannot exclude me, because He is in me. And you have forgotten one who excludes me, right now at this moment, and that is yourself with your speech here to the group." Her voice was shaky, she had gathered all her courage to stand up to the man. The man of God.

"I don't have to justify myself to anyone except God, so I won't respond to your accusation. And if you prefer a conversation in private, come to the confessional, for there you are in the right place." Julia took advantage of the brief silence of his speech, "I'm not the one seeking the conversation."

"But you should, I'm sure it would do you good," the priest interjected. Julia quickly replied, "Maybe, but then voluntarily, if I choose and with whom I want."

"Are you saying you don't want to talk to me here in our group?"

"I didn't say that, it all depends on the topic of the conversation in this case."

The priest rolled his eyes heavenward as if hoping for help from above. But it did not come, at least not immediately and not for him.

"You're the topic of conversation here, and I'm the one who wants it that way. So, Julia, why don't you want to be an altar girl?" Julia let a few seconds pass and mentally reviewed the previous conversation.

"I can answer this question better than the question why I supposedly distance myself from the group. Incidentally, it may even be that I am distancing myself from the group, and I don't know the answer to the 'why.' Probably I'm not very social." At this, a smirk flitted across her face that she could not hide. "Well, that wasn't the question. Why I won't be an altar server is quite simple: I prefer to serve as a prayer leader and singer during the service, because those two activities suit me and I prefer to serve God that way."

"And so you will never know if serving as an altar boy would suit you as well," the priest completed Julia's answer.

"What I do know, though," Julia countered, "is that neither standing for long periods of time nor the smell of incense does me any good." At the mere memory of her own nausea during a Mass when, at the front of the altar, altar boy Gregor suddenly and completely unexpectedly fell to the ground, white as a sheet, Julia almost felt queasy again. But it was not time to give in to this unpleasant feeling. A stronger annoyance came over Julia when she realized that she had just blurted out her own weakness. What business was it of the priest that she had a problem with standing and incense? Especially since he could now dismiss this as a flaw, pounce on it, thematize and dissect her weakness. In this respect, Julia expected no more from Father Simmrath than from most other adults, from whom she was used to encountering little understanding. Adults wanted to "mold" you, they said. That was nothing other than imposing their own will on the boys, which they usually succeeded in doing, if only because of their adult status.

As if on cue, Father Simmrath responded, "It's all a matter of practice. You are still young, Julia. Take the elderly as an example, who kneel bravely on the benches despite joint pain. That's how they show God the respect he deserves. And you can't even manage to stand longer at a young age? What should God think of you?"

So it was getting silly. To ask in this context what God was thinking. Who could know? In any case, she couldn't please the priest anyway, and she didn't feel like it. The excitement before the conversation had given way to boredom. It was idle to continue discussing with the priest. However, Julia could not bring herself to give in without stabbing him again, despite all her Christian charity: "Instead, I create other things that only God knows, and only God knows what I think, and that is never bad. Therefore, God will not be able to think badly of me. You, on the other hand, will never know what I think, and how or what you think of me is not God's business, but your personal business." He interrupted her, "Do you want to know what I think about you?" "No." "Aha, you must lack the courage for open confrontation!"

That adults always had to draw some conclusions! They should only, it did not matter to her, it should simply only stop! The conversation would only be unnecessarily drawn out, a conclusive end for both sides was not in sight.

The priest would never accept her decision not to become an altar boy, but had to put up with it. So a break with him was inevitable, and she would not have it easy in the future. She answered, "Yes." Father Simmrath, with the thin smile of a cheap victory, turned to his other flocks after brief concluding words.

One of them had particularly blue, particularly googly eyes and naturally blonde curls. She could have it easy. Unless she made it difficult for herself. Bettina was the most developed girl of the group, at least physically speaking. Mentally, things looked different: She found school lessons difficult. In order to grasp something, she needed a lot of time, sometimes even that didn't help. She managed to graduate, but she had to do a lot for it, and especially when it came to female teachers, only private lessons helped. This was not necessary in the Catholic Church, and Bettina's radius began and ended with Father Simmrath. Her interest included not only Pastor Simmrath, but outside the group also teacher Meier Ludwig, classmates Thomas or Jan or neighbor's son Jörg or Thilo or tutor Dietmar or Chris de Burgh or last but not least her father because of his resemblance to Chris de Burgh - or was it Chris de Burgh because of the resemblance to her father? Anyway, each girl had her hobby. Some spent their time at the riding stable, others listening to music and reading, and still others with boys. Bettina clearly belonged to the latter, everything revolved around boys for her, she didn't even have any other ideas. That made it so easy.

2nd chapter blues dance

Imaginativeness was not one of the strengths of the children Julia interacted with as a little girl. In Julia's memory, Bettina emerged as one of those rather boring neighborhood kids who served to liven up the home and shape Julia's social skills in her early childhood. So much for Marli's intentions when she introduced her daughter to other mothers' children or welcomed Julia's newly minted friend home on her first visit as if she were her own second child, the one she had never had. Each time anew. Julia wondered which of these numerous companions Bettina might have been. Was she the one whose facial features slipped from one minute to the next for some unknown reason, transforming her expressionless features into a grimace of rage whose origin could not be fathomed? The reason never seemed important enough to seriously try to find it, even when the girl threw herself onto the tiles with a thunderous roar at the end. Or was Bettina the girl who took a special delight in pushing her chronically thin nasal mucus into her mouth with her fingers over her upper lip until a veritable harelip formed? Or was it Bettina who always spoke of her "heart bleeding" as soon as an argument threatened, nipping it in the bud immediately? No one wanted to be blamed for a heart dripping with blood, so in the end this girl always got her way. The numerous playmates had one thing in common: no idea what they wanted to play. So it was up to Julia to think up and suggest games. Her suggestions were usually rejected without counterproposal on the grounds that she didn't feel like playing and wanted to play something else. As a result, Julia's first words, which she learned to write, included five game options, one of which her respective game partner could check off. The morning was saved, mostly by mixing up everything that was reasonably appetizing in the refrigerator with chips in the kitchen, so that it was edible. They tried their hand at cooking, the horror of all other mothers whose kitchen was sacred. Not so Marlis: She was happy about Julia's independence and about the fact that she only had to use the leftovers for lunch.

Which child Bettina was ultimately no longer mattered. One among many who had now reappeared in Julia's life. "Julia, today I invited my new friend Britta and her daughter Bettina right along with her. When you were little, you played together for a while." Said Marlis. "Your father and I meet Bettina's parents, Britta and Adi, at our bowling nights, so we thought you two should get to know each other better, too." Marlis smiled. "We already know each other from the altar boy group," Julia explained. "Well, I guess 'know' isn't quite right there, you haven't invited Bettina home or told her about her yet. We'll get to know her today. Come into the living room, coffee and cake are ready!" Marlis exclaimed energetically. Britta turned out to be an unbelievable chatterbox during the coffee party, and if it didn't bubble out of her, it did out of Marlis, who used every free second to add her spiel. Julia listened only until she was sure that the getting-to-know-you stories were neither about her nor about Bettina. Bettina was all about boys, and her mother was all about herself. "Julia?", Bettina's voice came through to her. "Are you coming to the KJG party on Saturday, too?" The Catholic Youth Fellowship united all the local youth, except for the three Protestant souls who were already excluded from all communion festivities. The KJG united everyone under the umbrella of the Church, including the older boys, of whom there were surprisingly attractive ones. So there should be sufficient at the start, so that Bettina could feel in her element and Julia could party. "Sure. I'll see you there on Saturday then." The table again sank into waterfalls of talk.

For Julia, meeting boys was still innocuous, and only a vague tingling sensation gave her an inkling of what was to come. This tingling, a slight excitement, always came when she met Michael on the street. In the meantime, he smiled at her, and sometimes they greeted each other. Michael was older, which made the fact that he noticed Julia at all all the more amazing. Julia found the slight excitement pleasant and unpleasant at the same time. The stomach rippled, uncertainty spread, at the same time a certain excitement that could be the harbinger of something forbidden. So far she knew joy and excitement, which could also turn into anger. Could the same excitement eventually express itself in anger or sadness?

Julia didn't want to know that exactly when she spotted Michael a few days later at the KJG party. He was standing a bit off to the side, sipping his beer absorbedly. His bent forearm was drenched in red party light, showing off prominent veins. The sight of Michael's wiry forearms gave Julia a queasy feeling in her stomach, now she had a definite crush! But his gaze went blank, she tried to catch it when she was interrupted by Bettina. If Bettina knew anything, it was about boys: "Micha seems to be getting a bit beery. If you're interested in him, you should take advantage of the situation! Come with me!" she demanded. Julia felt caught. It was almost unbearably humid, flickering spots in front of Julia's eyes warning her that her blood pressure was going down the drain. Bettina grabbed her by the arm, boxed her way free, across the dance floor past air-guitar rocking long-haired guys who had been eagerly anticipating their performance of AC/DC's "Hells Bells" all afternoon. The wet, sweaty torso of a city-famous, behaviorally challenged Herbie came toward Julia with unstoppable force. As she tried to squeeze past him, Herbie jerked to her side, his underarm sweat wetting her cheek and his overflowing pubescent blubber leaving wet stains on Julia's new Fruit of the Loom T-shirt.

Of course, Herbie didn't seem to notice any of this, and neither did Bettina, who was just getting excited about the fact that her cleavage had received a few splashes of apple juice spritzer. She plucked her expansive neckline, which was accentuated even more by the sparkling apple note. Then Bettina puffed herself up in front of Michael, Julia behind her in tow: "Well, Micha, are you going to be at the swimming pool tomorrow when Pastor Simmrath invites us to water polo?" she asked him promptly. Julia, meanwhile, made an effort to hide her sweat-soaked side behind Bettina and hoped that the stern, rancid smell of testosterone that her T-shirt had taken on was drowned out by Bettina's apple scent. She smiled tensely, and latent desperation made her smile, which was supposed to shine as sweetly as possible, seem painted on. Julia felt like Barbie and hoped fervently that no unnoticed bits of food were blinking out from between her teeth. But even if there had been, Ken would hardly have noticed; Bettina had positioned herself all too much in the foreground. Julia stood off to the side, from where she examined Michael and noticed that his gaze was not only all glassy, but also lingered thoughtfully on Bettina's bosom. His state seemed to slide from dull party mood to dull horniness. "What did you ask again?" He was no longer in complete control of his tongue. "Whether you're coming to the water polo tomorrow, too!" "Yeah, sure!" The words trickled out of his mouth like the little beads of sweat from his temple skin. "Great, I'll see you tomorrow then," Bettina fluted. A moment of silence followed, accentuated by an interruption in the music. Seemingly irritated by unexpected silence, Michael squinted woozily over Bettina and seemed to notice Julia at all. He tried to smile in greeting, but out came a broad grin, which Julia interpreted as if he was amused by her strained, conspicuously Herbie-smelling appearance. There wasn't much time to think, because after the silence the disc jockey decided the time was now ripe for a blues. With a breathed "Bada dada, bada dada" Flying Picket's "Only you" started, and restlessness spread. People pretended to make themselves invisible, and so mischievous glances met in the feigned emptiness.

There was no way out, the blues had to be danced, and every dancer, no matter how unmusical, succeeded in rocking back and forth more or less closely embraced with his partner, whereby the sense of time played less of a role than the closeness to the partner. The very amorous and daring embraced in such a way that the girl put her head on her partner's chest and wrapped her arms around his neck, while the boy posed with his hands on his waist or even lower. Particularly daring guys stuck their hands deep into the waistband of their partner's pants, some re-functioned the buttocks as a drum and tapped their fingers up and down on the buttocks in time. Less resolute candidates kept their distance with tense forearms, their hands parked on their partner's hips. Julia reckoned bad cards, but still hoped that Michael wanted to dance with her. She gathered her courage and looked in his direction. Bettina had already swung her arms around Michael's waist. The neck-wrapping could still happen, and later Bettina would credibly assure her that she only wanted to demonstrate to Julia how to concretely exploit the situation of beer bliss now. The fact that Michael's hands slipped lower and lower towards the end was not her fault. That was how it was. And Julia had only been able to see the end on the dance floor, because she herself had danced the blues very intimately. So she could not complain now.

She had danced the blues, but inevitably and compulsorily with Herbie. Still completely befuddled by his performance with the air guitar, he literally fell around Julia's neck to cleverly conceal his dizziness. He was able to hold on to Julia, and so he oozed past with her between the other couples, leaving his scent marks on each. Beat by beat, he had Julia in his grasp, feeding the dried stains on Julia's T-shirt with fresh, hormone-soaked sweat. Sweat was normal; anyone who let it get to him was considered a prude and prissy. Julia held on, she wanted to spare herself an unpleasant exit, especially since she couldn't be sure that an escape was even possible with this tight grip. Herbie's hands gripped tighter and tighter, pushing her waist in his direction as his pelvis insistently pushed forward in powerful little circles, always inching closer in the approach until Julia felt his cock as it bounced against her hip bones. It had to be the cock, it felt hard but not bony. Since Julia had not had contact with a cock before, she could only assume that the bump had to be an erect penis. She felt queasy and was glad when the Flying Pickets finally gave up. With a hard break, the disc jockey belted in "We Will Rock You," and Herbie could abruptly kneel on the floor and air-drum like the majority of guys who had boners. The DJ knew his stuff. "How embarrassing!", Julia was greeted by Bettina. "Embarrassing," was Bettina's preferred term for just about anything and everything. She never really felt embarrassed herself, but she found it all the more chic to find something embarrassing. Julia didn't have the nerve for that now. She overheard Bettina's artificially built tension to ask "What?" and suggested instead that they drink a Coke and then make their way home together. They had come here by bike, and it was beginning to dawn. Bettina set about adopting a sullen defensive posture, but then changed her mind and agreed with Julia. "Well, how did it feel to dance blues with Michael?" asked Julia, two small Coke bottles in her hand, one of which she handed to Bettina. "What was it supposed to feel like. He had wet palms and a beer flag. He swayed a little when he danced, too." "You can't think of anything else?" poked Julia further. "You did like it, you could tell! After all, I had nothing else to do when I was caught in Herbie's arms." "He liked it! And by that I mean Michael completely, in all his greatness, that's for sure!" replied Bettina with brutal honesty. Julia instantly felt a lump in her throat. She sipped her Coke listlessly, seeing Michael leaning against a windowsill far away. The windows were covered by thick curtains, so no light penetrated the dance room to make the guests think it was the middle of the night and they were adults. She couldn't fault him, couldn't talk him ugly as he stood there with his slightly bent back and his chocolate brown hair falling somewhat brittle into his face. Slowly it was enough for her here! Last but not least, Feargal Sharkey's throat gurgled unbearably through the room, this freak could only have an even bigger lump in his throat than she did! She really didn't have to put up with that now. Bettina also made no further effort to make an immediate exit. Maybe she actually had something like a guilty conscience towards her, after all, she had been itching to dance with Michael herself. Julia couldn't help thinking that she had made Michael palatable to Bettina in the first place. Silently, they pedaled toward the setting sun.

Chapter 3 Outdoor pool