One day when I feel a little better, I take this opportunity to visit Ebba. It is snowing heavily. My hands are tightly knot in the bottom of my pockets. I can’t feel my arms, they’re like jelly; but that is better than the feeling they are being torn off.
At work, I was not capable of doing anything. I just sat there, staring at my computer, and almost fell asleep. Focus reminded me of words from foreign languages.
“Leon! I’ve missed you,” Ebba says when she opens the door. I lift an eyebrow and give a wry smile.
“Missed you, too.”
The door creaks when I push it closed behind me. After opening my coat I hug her, kiss her lightly on the cheek. How warm she is. Carefully, I let go, and squat down to take my shoes off. The shoelaces are dripping wet.
I hang the coat on a peg, and cough. My throat is soar, it burns, and I knit my brows.
“Your cough has gotten worse,” she remarks. I wish she hadn’t said that. It is so embarrassing to get such comments. It is not fair that anyone feels sorry for me; this is a mere trifle. So many things in the world are a lot worse, some things are horrible. I’m often pained of unfairness in the world, and I am thinking: Then, why do I not do anything about it? Get membership in Amnesty or something? But I never set the time aside, am always forgetting it. This makes me feel like a creep. How disgusting I am! – having more than enough money to give to auxiliary organizations, but then I don’t force myself to actually do it.
“Do you want something to warm yourself on?” Ebba asks, penetrating my fog. “I think you sound a little dense.”
“A cup of coffee sounds lovely,” I answer, trying to keep my teeth from chattering. I guess a coffee must be able to make me warm. I cannot remember the last time it was so cold outside. The wind crawled in everywhere under my clothes. My socks are damp and stick to the floor, I sound like a dog as I am following Ebba in to the kitchen.
While waiting for the water to cook, she drops a teabag into one cup, and two spoons of powder coffee into another. Just the smell is making me dizzy of longing. I breathe it in deeply; want to feel the smell down in my stomach. I haven’t felt awake for many hours.
“So, what have you done since the last time I saw you?” I ask.
“Nothing in particular, really. I was out with some friends yesterday. You should have been there, too. Actually, I called you, but there was nobody taking the phone.”
“Guess I must have been asleep, then. I hope there will soon be a new opportunity to meet your friends.”
She smiles, and pours hot water in the cups. Her teabag floats like a beach ball, it is hanging upside down, making me laugh. Ebba gazes curiously at me. It just point at the teabag.
“It’s floating upside down,” I gasp, and the incredulous look she sends me, makes me laugh even more.
“Why is that so fun?” she asks, but smiles. I grab the coffee and lift it up to my mouth. It smells heavenly; I close my eyes and blow on it. The cup is warming my palms and filling my nostrils with steam.
“I am sorry I didn’t come before,” I say, apologizing.
“That’s all right. Have you been very busy?”
“No… Or, I have been working, but… I am not really in form.”
Ebba nods. Dipping the teabag up and down, as if fishing for something.
“I had my last relationship when I was nineteen,” she suddenly exclaims. “I don’t even think I was in love. It was totally absurd; we met, kissed every now and then, and held hands while watching TV. That was it.”
“Why did you have a relationship to him if you didn’t love him?” I ask.
“No idea,” she mutters, shrugging. “Probably just to have a boyfriend. You want to know why we broke up?”
A smile spreads in her face.
“Yeah?”
“I went into his living room one day, and he sat there, sharing his ice cream with the dog. They took every second bite. I asked him if he was attempting illness, and he answered that a dogs jaw is one of the cleanest things in the world. All I could think of, nauseously, was the times I had kissed this guy, and I threw up on his Persian carpet.”
My eyes are narrowing when I try not to laugh. The corners of my mouth are trembling, my cheeks vibrate, and y nose starts to leak. Eventually, I burst out in a laughing fit.
“Are you serious?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“To have fun, of course.”
“No-no, it’s true. Witty, right?” she asks; I smile to confirm that. The temperature on my coffee has lowered, and I drink half of it in one gulp.
Something feels unnatural.
At first I don’t understand what it is, but then the air supply starts to hook on. I cross my arms across my chest, trying to inhale deeply; but it does not work. It is like the breathe stops in my oral cavity and will not go any further.
“You look so weird, what’s wrong?”
Ebba is stirring her tea. The spoon jingles wary against the porcelain. It takes a while before I answer; I rub my eyelids hard with the thumb and middle finger on my right hand, and afterwards I pull my fingers slowly through my hair.
“Can’t breathe.” When she doesn’t say anything, I continue: “It’s so… heavy. Like there is no oxygen left here.”
“Shall I open the window?”
“Yes, please,” I answer, but change my mind. “Or, no. I’ll go myself.”
I pad over to the window and open it, resting my forehead as near the open slit as possible. The frost burns in my nostrils, something tightens my temples. But it helps. After a few minutes I blink furiously a couple of times, close the window and walk back to the table.
“You look more relaxed now,” Ebba says.
“Yeah, it’s better.”
I drink up the rest of the coffee.
“In fact, I have never had any real relationship,” I say, partly to bear the conversation into another direction. “Mostly, I have nourished myself with occasional sex. My last relationship lasted for two weeks.”
“And when was your last relationship?” Ebba asks. I look down on the tablecloth in shame, clear my throat; empty my coffee cup for the third time, and say:
“Sixth grade.” I get another laughing fit. “Oh my god,” I moan.
“More coffee?” Ebba says, laughing. I nod and lean backwards as she turns on the water boiler again.
(Leon is a man aged twenty-six. He has just fallen in love and been blessed with a relationship. For some months, his health has been rather bad. Later, he is told that he has lungcancer and is dying.
)
At work, I was not capable of doing anything. I just sat there, staring at my computer, and almost fell asleep. Focus reminded me of words from foreign languages.
“Leon! I’ve missed you,” Ebba says when she opens the door. I lift an eyebrow and give a wry smile.
“Missed you, too.”
The door creaks when I push it closed behind me. After opening my coat I hug her, kiss her lightly on the cheek. How warm she is. Carefully, I let go, and squat down to take my shoes off. The shoelaces are dripping wet.
I hang the coat on a peg, and cough. My throat is soar, it burns, and I knit my brows.
“Your cough has gotten worse,” she remarks. I wish she hadn’t said that. It is so embarrassing to get such comments. It is not fair that anyone feels sorry for me; this is a mere trifle. So many things in the world are a lot worse, some things are horrible. I’m often pained of unfairness in the world, and I am thinking: Then, why do I not do anything about it? Get membership in Amnesty or something? But I never set the time aside, am always forgetting it. This makes me feel like a creep. How disgusting I am! – having more than enough money to give to auxiliary organizations, but then I don’t force myself to actually do it.
“Do you want something to warm yourself on?” Ebba asks, penetrating my fog. “I think you sound a little dense.”
“A cup of coffee sounds lovely,” I answer, trying to keep my teeth from chattering. I guess a coffee must be able to make me warm. I cannot remember the last time it was so cold outside. The wind crawled in everywhere under my clothes. My socks are damp and stick to the floor, I sound like a dog as I am following Ebba in to the kitchen.
While waiting for the water to cook, she drops a teabag into one cup, and two spoons of powder coffee into another. Just the smell is making me dizzy of longing. I breathe it in deeply; want to feel the smell down in my stomach. I haven’t felt awake for many hours.
“So, what have you done since the last time I saw you?” I ask.
“Nothing in particular, really. I was out with some friends yesterday. You should have been there, too. Actually, I called you, but there was nobody taking the phone.”
“Guess I must have been asleep, then. I hope there will soon be a new opportunity to meet your friends.”
She smiles, and pours hot water in the cups. Her teabag floats like a beach ball, it is hanging upside down, making me laugh. Ebba gazes curiously at me. It just point at the teabag.
“It’s floating upside down,” I gasp, and the incredulous look she sends me, makes me laugh even more.
“Why is that so fun?” she asks, but smiles. I grab the coffee and lift it up to my mouth. It smells heavenly; I close my eyes and blow on it. The cup is warming my palms and filling my nostrils with steam.
“I am sorry I didn’t come before,” I say, apologizing.
“That’s all right. Have you been very busy?”
“No… Or, I have been working, but… I am not really in form.”
Ebba nods. Dipping the teabag up and down, as if fishing for something.
“I had my last relationship when I was nineteen,” she suddenly exclaims. “I don’t even think I was in love. It was totally absurd; we met, kissed every now and then, and held hands while watching TV. That was it.”
“Why did you have a relationship to him if you didn’t love him?” I ask.
“No idea,” she mutters, shrugging. “Probably just to have a boyfriend. You want to know why we broke up?”
A smile spreads in her face.
“Yeah?”
“I went into his living room one day, and he sat there, sharing his ice cream with the dog. They took every second bite. I asked him if he was attempting illness, and he answered that a dogs jaw is one of the cleanest things in the world. All I could think of, nauseously, was the times I had kissed this guy, and I threw up on his Persian carpet.”
My eyes are narrowing when I try not to laugh. The corners of my mouth are trembling, my cheeks vibrate, and y nose starts to leak. Eventually, I burst out in a laughing fit.
“Are you serious?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“To have fun, of course.”
“No-no, it’s true. Witty, right?” she asks; I smile to confirm that. The temperature on my coffee has lowered, and I drink half of it in one gulp.
Something feels unnatural.
At first I don’t understand what it is, but then the air supply starts to hook on. I cross my arms across my chest, trying to inhale deeply; but it does not work. It is like the breathe stops in my oral cavity and will not go any further.
“You look so weird, what’s wrong?”
Ebba is stirring her tea. The spoon jingles wary against the porcelain. It takes a while before I answer; I rub my eyelids hard with the thumb and middle finger on my right hand, and afterwards I pull my fingers slowly through my hair.
“Can’t breathe.” When she doesn’t say anything, I continue: “It’s so… heavy. Like there is no oxygen left here.”
“Shall I open the window?”
“Yes, please,” I answer, but change my mind. “Or, no. I’ll go myself.”
I pad over to the window and open it, resting my forehead as near the open slit as possible. The frost burns in my nostrils, something tightens my temples. But it helps. After a few minutes I blink furiously a couple of times, close the window and walk back to the table.
“You look more relaxed now,” Ebba says.
“Yeah, it’s better.”
I drink up the rest of the coffee.
“In fact, I have never had any real relationship,” I say, partly to bear the conversation into another direction. “Mostly, I have nourished myself with occasional sex. My last relationship lasted for two weeks.”
“And when was your last relationship?” Ebba asks. I look down on the tablecloth in shame, clear my throat; empty my coffee cup for the third time, and say:
“Sixth grade.” I get another laughing fit. “Oh my god,” I moan.
“More coffee?” Ebba says, laughing. I nod and lean backwards as she turns on the water boiler again.
(Leon is a man aged twenty-six. He has just fallen in love and been blessed with a relationship. For some months, his health has been rather bad. Later, he is told that he has lungcancer and is dying.
)
