15
It turned somewhat better next morning. I waked up early just like on a schoolday, that unfortunately can’t be alternated. But the silence in the house reminded me: I’m alone, it’s summer vacation, the house is currently mine, and I can do whatever I want.
First, I started playing my CDs downstairs and moved the whole living room’s furniture. White Stripes. Then opened the balcony door, then laid by the poolside with three bags of chips and cola and my favorite book, and I tried to forget all the shit.
Though it’s still early, it’s at least thirty degrees here. I put my feet in the water, and Graf Luckner spoke to me. Because that’s my favorite book: Graf Luckner. I’ve read it for at least three times, but I thought a fourth time wouldn’t hurt. If someone is as dramatic as Graf, you could also make it five. Or ten. Graf Luckner is a pirate in the first world war and he sunk English ships one after another. And if that’s not enough, it’s all gentlemanlike. That means, he doesn’t go shitty on the people. He only dunks the ship and then bring all the passengers home. And the whole thing wasn’t made up, it’s real. The best part is in Australia. There, he acted as a lighthouse keeper and hunted kangaroos. I mean, he’s literally fifteen. He didn’t know anyone there. His ship crashed and he just happened to land on a lighthouse in Australia and hunt kangaroos. But I didn’t get that far this time.
The sun was rising, I put up the sunshade, and the wind was messing it up. I added some weight to its bottom. And then it was complete silence. But I couldn’t read. I was so excited from the “I can do what I want” thing, that I did absolutely nothing out of excitement. I’m different from Graf Luckner on this one. I imagined the whole thing with Tatjana again. Then I thought that the lawn needed some work. But my dad forgot about that, so I didn’t have to do it. But I did it anyway. It bothered me when I had to do it, but now, with me as basically the owner of the house and the garden mine, I found myself responsible for the lawn work. I stood barefoot on our front steps and sprayed all around with the yellow hose. I filled it up full, so the water shot up at least twenty meters in the air. But I didn’t reach the corners though I tried every trick to shoot further. Because, I definitely couldn’t go down the stairs anymore. That was a rule. In the living room, White Stripes was on full blast, the front door open, and me: holding up the hose high and barefoot, with sunglasses tucked in my hair, Graf Koks from the gas company was blowing up his estates. I could do this every morning! I also didn’t hate other people looking at this, but I didn’t see anyone most of the time. It was half past eight, and with the big vacation ahead, everyone’s sleeping in. Graf Koks was doing his chores alone – no, not completely. Jack and Meg, who, just like every other time, bothers him with their paparazzi shit, was paying a visit to his, and they were having a small jam session in the back room. Graf would join them in a bit and make some noise on the DJ table. The birds were chirping, the water was flowing…Koks of Klingenberg didn’t love anything more than this morning hour, in which he sprayed his lawn. He clicked the water button, waited a good ten seconds, filled it full and shot a super cool thirty meter rocket. In the cold, cold night, Meg White sang.
A flimsy car came down the street. It slowly reached our house and started parking. In an instance, the bright-blue Lada Niva was in our garage, and then the motor shut. The driver’s door opened, Tschick got out. He had his two elbows on the car lid and looked as I continued watering the lawn.
“Ah.” He said, and then didn’t say anything else for a long time. “Is that fun?”