THE FERRIS WHEEL

THE FERRIS WHEEL

THE FERRIS WHEEL


She felt like taking a bath, for the second time that day, but this time she did not fill up the tub all the way. From her dresser she took her – but the name of this device sounded so silly, like a hero in a stupid comic for children. She felt embarrassed every time she read or heard it. But it was necessary. Or else she would burst. With desire, with – Just a short session in the bathtub, she told herself, then she would feel better. She still needed lubricant to insert the black thing into herself. Like a teenager, she thought. In general it was very hard for her to have an orgasm when something was inside of her. From outside it was easier and faster, but the result was never as intense. She sat in the warm water, which was only up to her bellybutton, and pushed a rolled-up towel under her neck. Since the water could not reach part of the tub, she flinched from the cold surface as she leaned back, but after a few minutes she got used to it, and everything went quite easily. She thought about the young waitress. She imagined her wet, as if she had walked through the rain. The uniform, as if of its own accord, peeled off her small, supple, spirited body. My God, all the things you could do with a body like that.

The first orgasm announced itself very quickly. Before it was there, she had decided to satisfy herself three times, but then she came so intensely that she began to cry again, and she could forget about the other two times. She howled like a small child and slapped the bathwater with the flat of her hand, spraying it everywhere. She would have liked nothing better than to get up and go down naked and wet to the Wheel Bar, to kneel down there in front of the girl and ask for her hand.

Gradually she calmed down.
With slightly trembling legs she climbed out of the tub, bent down (so that a pleasant aftershock passed through her lower body) and drained the water. With a soft towel she dried herself off, especially carefully between the legs. She was very sensitive. Easily hurt. A breath of wind could kill her.

The massage device she put back in the dresser, placing three layers of colorful underwear over it. Then she sat down in front of the television and changed the channels indiscriminately. In a sitcom, laughing people sat in a coffee shop and were served by a very old, ugly waitress. Monika had to smile, and contentedly wrapped her arms around herself.
Just as she was starting to follow the plot of the sitcom, the telephone rang.

– Hello?
– Hello, Moni. It’s Elke. I just wanted to ask whether it’s all right if I drop by tomorrow with the boys. You remember, we spoke about it a few weeks ago.
Elke was her sister. She was a single mother of two sons. Monika recalled Elke mentioning once on the telephone that her two boys would like to see the Ferris wheel from inside. Monika hadn’t had time just then, and Elke had called at most three or four times since. They hadn’t seen each other for a long time.
– Okay, said Monika, amazed at how easy it was to say that. What time tomorrow?
– Oh, I thought in the afternoon. Around three?
– Great. So how are you doing?
– Actually the same as always. It’s never quiet for a second here, my two little performance artists make sure of that.
The two sisters exchanged a few more words and said goodbye. The conversation had not been especially profound, but that was quite all right, in Monika’s view. She returned to the sitcom, but the commercials had begun, so she changed the channel.
She watched television until evening. At one point, she warmed up a frozen pizza for herself. It tasted disgusting, far too many mushrooms. She threw half of it away.
The bitter mushroom taste brought back her bleak thoughts, and she searched for a channel on which people were talking. She needed voices that always sounded the same, or else –
She searched and searched and finally found a panel discussion on modern music. She listened and concentrated, trying to understand something of what they were talking about.
– The problem of the series in itself is far from obsolete, let alone solved, said one of the men.

Monika didn’t understand a thing. Nonetheless, she listened until the end of the discussion, then went to bed. It was already quite late, she hadn’t noticed the time. That happened often when she sat in front of the television. The hours passed as if they were being dissolved in hot water. While brushing her teeth Monika briefly thought again about the girl in the café, and the movements of her toothbrush slowed down slightly. She gargled, spat the foamy water into the sink and watched it disappear down the drain.

The bed was cold, the pillow uncomfortable and misshapen. As if she were lying on a fully inflated balloon. Her chin was pressed against her chest, and despite the fact that she was lying down she felt like she was hanging her head. So she had to sit back up and shake the pillow and even beat it a little until it was soft enough. Then she lay still for a long time on her side and listened to herself breathe. Her left nostril was slightly louder than the right.

They’re only coming over, she thought, because I live here. They don’t want to visit me at all. For them I’m only a means to an end. They want to see the Ferris wheel, ride the express elevator, wander on the stairs in the main tower, have something to eat in the café. Order something from the waitress. Behave like young monkeys, soil everything and scatter food on the floor. And I, I have to play the friendly aunt the whole time, have to show them my apartment, go out onto the balcony with them and explain to them how often I sit downstairs in the café and that it is one of the few constants in my life.

And then she suddenly saw the whole thing clearly: The visit from her younger sister and her children would be the highlight of the day tomorrow. Just as the visit from the technician had been the highlight of the day today. Highlight, the word expanded, became sticky and choked off her air. Monika felt afraid. She switched on the floor lamp next to her bed and looked at the clock. One-thirty. It was actually already too late, but she had to try anyway: With ice-cold fingers she dialed her sister’s number, let it ring once and then hung up with pounding heart. Like a little kid, she chided herself. Of course, the telephone rang shortly thereafter. She picked up.

– I misdialed, Elke. Sorry.
– It’s okay, said the drowsy voice of her sister.
– Did I wake you?
– What?
– Did I wake you up?
– Yes. I think so. You woke me up.
– I’m sorry.
– You woke me up. I was just dreaming…
The voice broke off. Something rustled. Perhaps Elke had sat up in bed. What might her bedroom look like? Monika had never been there.
– Sorry, she said, that was really stupid of me.
– I was…ah, wait a second…Okay, that’s better. I was dreaming, you know what I was dreaming? Something really funny. I dreamt that it was raining fans. Rotor blades and such. Little saw blades…
– I’m such an idiot, said Monika, I shouldn’t have woken you up. But you know, now that you’re already awake, can I…could you maybe…possibly do me two favors?
– Hm?
The muffled rustling of sheets. Slow breathing, much too close to the receiver.
– First of all: Could you maybe come over with the children some other time?
Silence. The breathing became somewhat softer.
– You didn’t misdial at all, Moni, her sister stated quite matter-of-factly. Go ahead and say it. I know you, after all.
Monika bit her lip and thought: I’m biting my lip. The gesture was stupid and unoriginal. I definitely watch too much television.
– And second, she went on hesitantly, please don’t be mad because of…you know.
– Why didn’t you say that before? What’s different now at…my God, one-thirty?
Now it’s nighttime, came to Monika’s mind. Aside from that there was actually no difference. She had thought about it a little, that was all. She preferred to be alone. At least tomorrow. At least for the next few days or weeks.
– Moni, what’s going on? Elke asked after a while. Talk to me. You woke me up, so talk to me.
– I don’t know what to say, Monika confessed. All I can say is that I’m sorry. It’s only because of…Today a technician was here in my apartment.
– There in the Ferris wheel, Elke said in a somewhat sleepy voice.
– Yes, and he…he had to come, you know, because there was a problem with the control mechanics or something. It was pretty dangerous. What would have happened if I’d had to escape from the apartment really fast? Do you understand?
– No, I have no idea what you’re talking about, Moni. But if it helps you: Yes, I understand.
– Thanks.
– No problem. But I’m really tired, maybe tomorrow we can…?
– I didn’t want to wake you up. It’s just…maybe another time. Please.
– You really mean it, don’t you? Said Elke. You don’t want me to come over with the boys.
– No, it’s not that. It’s about tomorrow. And the next few days. I’d prefer to be alone.
– But why? You’re always alone anyway.
– No, I’m not.
– Yeah, I know, the technician who was there today.
– That’s not what I mean.
– Did you make him up?
– No. Something really was broken.
– The control mechanics, yeah, you mentioned that.
Silence. The two sisters breathed into the receivers.
– Don’t be mad at me, okay? Monika said finally. Remember favor number two.
– What?
– Favor number two, which I asked you to…oh, forget it.
– I’m not mad at you, I just don’t understand you. The boys have been talking about nothing else for two weeks. They want to ride around once in a complete circle. And they want to see how it is on the balcony, whether you can feel the wind from the motion and such.
– No, Monika said softly and earnestly.
– No what?

AuthorClemens J. Setz
2018-12-19T12:55:27+00:00 December 21st, 2015|Categories: Prose, Literature, Blesok no. 103-104|0 Comments