Page 32 of Tattooed Sweetness

“The advantage of tattoo butter…” continues Mr. Sandtmann, meanwhile, lecturing. “…is that it preserves the capillary strength of the needles, which are welded together into a bundle. Thanks to its use, the small spaces between them don’t get clogged up with the client’s blood…”

The client’s blood?At exactly the wrong moment, I look again at Bella, who is just applying her brush.

Droplets of blood bead from the client’s skin.

I blink, clearing my throat at the same time.Blood.Hoping in vain to dispel the dark streaks that narrow my field of vision, I swallow. Then…

…I come around on the sofa in the waiting area.

The first thing I see is Bella, who suddenly no longer looks snappy at all, but concerned. She stands at my feet and fans me with a black turtleneck that looks very familiar.

My gaze swings further to the left.

Diagonally behind Bella, the collage woman has thrown herself into a pose and—with me in the background—is apparently recording a social media live video. I don’t understand a syllable of her lively chatter except for Mr. Sandtmann’s and Bella’s first names; it sounds somehow Eastern European.

Where is he anyway?I want to get up, but I am pushed back onto the cushions of the three-seater by hands that grip me firmly. I follow the almost gaplessly tattooed arms upwards with my eyes until I look into Mr. Sandtmann’s face, which is marred by worry lines.

“Fucking hell!” he scolds me. “What was that, Celine? You dropped like a felled birch tree!”

11. To Wear One’s Heart on One’sSimple-Minded

Philipp

Ms. Lechner’s pen virtually flies over her notepad as she jots down everything I explain.

Kind of sweet.Her behavior reminds me of the eagerness with which I followedBig Hammer’s teaching sessions back then. As I continue to talk, I imagine what it would be like to train a junior artist. “The advantage of tattoo butter is that it preserves the capillary strength of the needles, which are welded together into a bundle.” Well, Ms. Lechner doesn’t really need such detailed knowledge to work out my business plan. But I want her to understand what we’re doing here. “Thanks to its use, the small spaces between the needles don’t get clogged up with the client’s blood. Also, it is suitable to treat itching, redness of the skin…”

“I feel…” Ms. Lechner’s gaze, which had previously swung inquisitively over to Bella’s deft fingers, jerks up to me. “…kind of…” Her pupils constrict, only to devour the surrounding light blue within a split second. “…sick…”

“Yes?” I ask, but she doesn’t seem to hear me.

She twists her eyes upwards; all blood leaves her face and as upright as she stands there, she topples forward…

…fortunately, directly into my arms. And not into Bella, Jelisaweta, nor even into Bella’s handle with the still-whirring needles, which she holds aloft like a talisman to defend herself.

“Holy shit!”What was that?

“Twoju matj![8]“ remarks Jelisaweta in elongated syllables, pointing the camera of her cell phone at Ms. Lechner.

Who soaks my T-shirt with her drool.

“Now kiss my ass!” Bella’s exclamation doesn’t mean that the situation is not worth her time. I had to learn that when I first met her. But a child of the region like her uses the words like “I’ll be damned! I don’t believe it!” And they mouth the phrase just as commonly as Goethe attributed it to theknight with the iron fist.

When I read the drama in school, I never thought I would reside within sight of his Hornberg Castle. “You could be a bit more helpful…” I tease Bella. I somehow manage to… well, not exactly throw, but heave, Ms. Lechner’s limp body over my shoulder in the narrowness of the compartment, which is completely overcrowded with four people.

Bella raises her palms upward; at least she finally turns off her Cheyenne Hawk Thunder and sets the handle aside. “What do we do now?” she calls after me as I bend down to keep the back of Ms. Lechner’s head from slamming into the lintel of the sliding door. “Should I call 911?”

Typical Bella. First apathetic, then hyperactive.“For now, just get something to fan her.” I put Ms. Lechner down on the sofa in the waiting area. Then I stuff two of the back pillows under her lower legs to get the blood flowing back to her head.

Jelisaweta seems to want to exploit the whole thing as an event on her social media accounts.

I’m on the verge of jumping up and snatching the cell phone out of her hand. But the fact that the tip of Ms. Lechner’s nose is just getting paler draws my attention to more crucial things.Fuck! Shit! What am I supposed to do?

Her bluish lips open a tiny bit, and I stare at her as if hypnotized.

White as snow, red as blood, black as ebony.The zigzagging thoughts in my brain form an ancient fairy tale quote.

Should I kiss her awake like Snow White right away?Well, the paleness of her nose successfully competes with dancing snowflakes. But, at the moment, her lips are bloodless and her long, thick hair in the color of the sun is the exact opposite of Snow White’s…

---