Everything Like Before, page 22
Anyway, I came around with my face among the chess pieces. Other than that, it was pretty much like waking up after a normal sleep. I felt slightly confused. I didn’t know what else to do but put the chess pieces back into place. But I wasn’t able to concentrate on solving the problem. I was just about to go over to sit by the window, when the doorbell rang. I won’t answer, I thought. It’s probably just some evangelist who wants to have me believe in eternal life. There’ve been a lot of them lately. Superstition seems to be experiencing a surge in popularity. But then it rang again and I found myself in two minds. They do usually ring only once. So I called out “just a moment” and began making my way to the door. It took a while. There was a boy there. He was selling raffle tickets to support the local school’s marching band. The prizes were an unintentional insult to the elderly. A bicycle, backpack, soccer cleats, and the like. But not wanting to appear dismissive, I bought a ticket. Even though I don’t care for band music. My wallet was on the dresser so I had to ask him to come inside with me. Otherwise he would have had too long to wait. He walked behind me. He had probably never moved so slowly in his life. Along the way I killed time by asking what kind of instrument he played. “Oh, I don’t know,” he said. I thought that was a strange answer but I presumed he was shy. I could have been his great-grandfather. Perhaps I was. I do have many great-grandchildren but I don’t know any of them. “Are your legs very sore?” he asked. “No, they’re just awfully old,” I replied. “Ah, okay,” he said, seeming reassured. We reached the dresser and I gave him the money. Then I was seized by a bout of sentimentality. I felt he’d had to use an unreasonable amount of time to sell just one ticket. So I bought one more. “That’s really not necessary,” he said. Just then I suffered a sudden dizzy spell. The room began to spin. I had to hold on to the dresser, and in so doing I dropped the open wallet on the floor. “A chair,” I said. As soon as he’d brought it over, the boy began picking up the money lying strewn on the floor. “Thank you, young man,” I said. “Not at all,” he replied. He placed the wallet on the dresser. Looking at me with a serious expression, he said: “Can’t you ever go out?” and it dawned on me that I had probably been outside for the last time. I can’t risk passing out on the sidewalk. That would mean the hospital or the old folks’ home. “Not anymore,” I replied. “Oh,” he said, and looked at me in a way that made me feel sentimental again. I’ve become an old fool. “What’s your name?” I asked, and his answer only made matters worse. “Thomas.” Obviously I wasn’t going to tell him that I had the same name, but it put me in a peculiar, almost solemn frame of mind. Well, perhaps it wasn’t so strange. The bell had just tolled for me, as it were. So I suddenly got it into my head that I wanted to give the boy something to remember me by. I know, I know, but I wasn’t quite myself. So I asked him to take down the carved owl standing on top of the bookcase. “That’s for you,” I said, “it’s even older than I am.” “Oh,” he said, “I couldn’t.” “Yes, my boy, yes-yes. And I want to thank you for your help. If you’d be so kind as to make sure you close the door tightly behind you.” “Thank you so much.” I nodded to him. Then he left. He looked happy. But he might have just been pretending.
Since then I’ve had several dizzy spells. But I’ve placed the chairs I have in strategic positions. It makes rather a sorry mess of the room, almost gives the impression of it being almost uninhabited. But I’m still living here. Living and waiting.
archipelago books
is a not-for-profit literary press devoted to promoting cross-cultural exchange through innovative classic and contemporary international literature www.archipelagobooks.org
Kjell Askildsen, Everything Like Before
