Black Sky

Chapter Three

Despite the blue sky, it was freezing cold. Tom opened the tailgate, rummaged around between the suitcase and the two backpacks that were destined for the longer stay at home, and pulled out his dark blue peaked cap with earflaps.
As he walked across the parking lot, toward the rest stop, he contemplated how his breath steamed in front of his lips.
Despite the short distance, he could already feel his fingers freezing.
Wretched cold. If you closed your eyes, you could almost smell the snowflakes in the air. He passed a trailer where two children and the wife - all blond - had just gathered in front of the open door, while the father rummaged around in a sports bag. When he walked back up, he had two pairs of light-shielding glasses in his hand.
Tom spotted more spectators gathered between the cars. Some already had their light-shielding glasses on and were staring up at the sky. Tom even saw an older man squatting leisurely in a camp chair, his head loosely on the back of his neck, his light-shielding goggles firmly on his nose. It was, Tom thought, as if the entire world was waiting for something.
Of course, there was the solar eclipse, which had been announced on every radio program for weeks. And yet...
Tom thought of the distorted machine voice on the radio, and the chill that crept along the back of his neck had nothing to do with the outside temperatures, which were steadily approaching sub-zero. Today was just a damn strange day. That was all.
Rubbing his hands together, he noticed in the corner of his eye a boxy van with the name of a trucking company on its side pull into a parking space.
If that wasn't the car that had honked at him so angrily. Shit. Tom stared straight ahead, his pace quickening.
The rest stop building was one of those modern, yet anonymous structures built along every German autobahn. A large glass front reflected the sunlight. The red and gray color was probably meant to give everything a Scandinavian flair. Isolated feathery clouds drifted across the peaked roof.
Considering the blue of the sky, Tom thought, it was hard to believe that in just a few minutes, everything would be plunged into darkness.

A medium-length line had formed in front of the Burger King's cash register, where a red-haired boy in his early twenties was listlessly serving, past two magazine racks, an ice chest, and a rack of overpriced chips. There was another one of those meaningless fast-food restaurants in the service area that sold ready-made lentil soup with bockwurst (for only four euros extra, as the sign proudly proclaimed - what a bargain!, Tom thought boredly), half-cooked goulash and overpriced Leberkäse. But there, apparently, all the cash registers were closed, and that meant, of course....
Tom's thoughts drifted.
Through the large glass front, he could see more cars turning into the parking lot. More people in light goggles and camping chairs.
Tom didn't miss how, with a soundless swish, the glass double doors swung aside, and a man and woman entered. The only things they had in common were pale skin and clear blue eyes that identified them undeniably as father and daughter. Tom was not immediately aware of why this couple attracted his attention. In any case, it was not the father, although his height of over two meters was quite impressive. He had a kind of scrunched-up face, as delicate as a shredded blood sausage, and was one of those men who manage to look both fat and muscular, like a construction worker or a Russian Mafia thug. The daughter was two heads shorter than him, of slender but athletic build, and with hair dyed pink. Tom estimated her to be about his age, maybe two years younger. In any case, early twenties.
When her father was distracted for a moment - he let a blatantly disdainful glance wander over the food tables - Tom gathered his courage and smiled at the young woman. She returned his gaze, openly, directly, if only for a split second, then looked away again. There had been nothing hostile in her gaze, but no invitation either. She hadn't returned the smile.
Rather, she had seemed confused somehow, Tom reflected. Nervous, watchful eyes. He turned his head again, his thoughts still on the woman with the pink hair. It was pointless: one of those fleeting connections with a person he would never see again anyway. Besides, he wouldn't have approached her anyway; not when she was standing next to this grizzly bear of a man who, to make matters worse, was her father.
But one could dream, after all. It was especially those people you would never meet anyway that Tom Fischer liked to think about. It was a melancholy but warm feeling; the thought of an encounter that would never come about was sometimes even more beautiful than the encounter itself, especially with women.
He wondered what her name would be. Surely something totally stuffy like Elisabeth - it fit so wonderfully, because it was so not, at all, in keeping with the dyed hair - but surely it was abbreviated, to something English, like Lizzy, or....
"If you want a cheeseburger, we're out."
Tom almost winced. He'd been so lost in daydreaming that he hadn't noticed how the man with the half bald head and the scaly residual hair had finally made up his mind and left the line.
"Yes?" the clerk said boredly when nothing came immediately from Tom. "What can I get you?"
Shit, what do I want?
"One French fry and a Coke," Tom said, because it was the first thing he could think of. "And a bag of chicken nuggets."
"On the menu?"
"Yes, please."
The clerk turned and yelled to the back. "One chicken nuggets menu regular!"
Tom thought again of the woman with the pink hair. Surely she had forgotten him again. Why wouldn't she? He was certainly the only one who bothered with such stupid considerations.
"Where do you actually buy light protection glasses here?" he asked the clerk.
"I guess you forgot, too, huh?" A barely noticeable smile showed at the corners of the boy's mouth. "You can get them at the gas station cashier, but there's quite a line there now. You'll never make it out in time."
"You're not the only one who forgot," the clerk continued. "But you can have mine."
"Really? Gee, thanks. Really cool of you."
"Sure, no biggie. I'm going to miss it anyway. Got cashier duty now, and if I leave here for a minute, I'll get the biggest scolding again." The boy lowered his voice and leaned forward conspiratorially. "My boss is an asshole," he said in a whisper, a crooked, audacious grin on his face.  "Sure, man," Tom said. "I understand. Bosses...you can say that again."
He actually got along pretty well with the boss of his work-study position, but this guy didn't need to know that.
"Yeah, man," the kid continued to whisper, "real wankers. I'll tell you. Worse than Hitler. I see." He reached awkwardly into his back pants pocket, pulling out a crumpled thing Tom recognized as a pair of light goggles. "Here you go."
"Thanks," Tom said. "A thousand times, dude. Thanks."
"No problem," the redhead replied patronizingly. "Be glad to do it. That'll be seventeen euros."
Tom's smile slumped a little. "Please?"
"Seventeen. Cash, on the hand. But don't make it so flashy, please."
"Oh."
The guy laughed. "Did you think I was just going to give it to you?"
The look on Tom's face was answer enough, and he immediately felt like the last idiot.
"They're 19.99 at the gas station," the redhead said. "I'm making you an offer here because I like you a lot."
Without making a reply, Tom was already reflexively rummaging for his wallet.
"And I think your menu's ready," the redhead said, setting down two greasy mini-bags and a Coke that had, by all appearances, been passed to him from behind. "Pay up with pleasure. Cash only, of course, I hope."
And he grinned all over his face.