This Should Be Written in the Present Tense

13

The sky over Copenhagen Central was bright blue. We went up the steps at the far end of the platform and shook hands on Tietgensgade. I clutched the collar of my leather jacket tight, there was an icy wind coming from somewhere. The girl shivered too, her eyes were watering and her hair was getting blown all over the place.

‘Thanks ever so much,’ she said, and Lasse joined in:

‘Yes, it was so nice of you.’

‘Take care of yourself. Which way are you going?’ she said, and I pointed. They were going that way too. We walked to the crossing and waited for the green man. A number 12 pulled away from the stop over the road in a cloud of diesel fumes.

‘Bad luck,’ she said, then the light changed and we stepped onto the crossing, my bag kept slipping off my shoulder. A car was turning and gave way for us. Another driver blew his horn and someone shouted. My ponytail blew into my face and then we were out of the wind, sheltered by of the building on the corner. We all stopped at the bus stop.

‘Are you getting this one too?’ asked the girl. I shook my head.

‘No, normally I walk.’

‘We do that normally as well today,’ said Lasse and patted the pocket of his raincoat.

‘Is it the university you go to? Out in Amager?’ asked the girl. I nodded and we set off again, the three of us together, she let him walk in front and stuck by my side.

‘In that case we can see you to the door. It’s exactly the way we’re going.’

Lasse led the way over pedestrian crossings and round street corners, across Langebro Bridge and down a flight of steps on the other side. He stood at the bottom and threw out his arms.

‘Islands Brygge, ladies.’

We came past the supermarket on Njalsgade. She said they’d once found a hair elastic in a packet of mince they’d bought there. To make amends, the manager had given them a whole economy pack with five kilos of pork and a bunch of roses to go with it, so all in all they’d done well out of it. Of course, the hair elastic was a bit unpleasant, it was one of those glittery ones, it had turned up in one of Lasse’s meatballs. For a while afterwards they made a point of looking for things wrong with their shopping. They’d found a wasp in a jar of marmalade too. We were almost there now, the Amager campus was just off to the right. When we got to the bike stands I was about to say goodbye, but Lasse shook his head and walked me right up to the entrance, pulled one of the doors and held it open for me.

‘Have a nice day. And thanks again for all your help.’

‘It was lovely meeting you,’ said the girl, and stepped forward to give me a little hug. Two young guys with leather shoulder bags went past and left a smell of musk behind them. They breezed in through Lasse’s open door.

‘I’d better go,’ I said.

‘Best of luck with everything.’

‘Same to you.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Bye, then,’ I said, and went in. Lasse let go of the door and it closed. I went over to the noticeboards and stood there for a bit. My nose was running, I searched for a hankie in my bag but couldn’t find one. I went to the toilets, and a girl with a diagonal fringe nodded to me before turning back to her lipstick. I blew my nose, looked at myself in the mirror and went out again. I opened a door at the entrance. They were gone. I scurried out into the wind, turned onto Artillerivej and walked back towards town clutching the collar of my leather jacket again with one hand. My bag kept slipping off my shoulder and I ended up putting the strap over my head. Cyclists rang their bells, a bus braked hard and accelerated again almost at once. To the right, under the bridge, a tall, thin girl stepped out of her clothes and jumped into the water to loud shrieking and whooping. Another girl stood with a camera and a towel ready. The wind gusted and cut to the bone.

I bought a roll and a cup of coffee at the bakery in the arcade. The place was expensive, but you could sit there as long as you liked and they didn’t charge for water. I sat right at the back against the wall. I got my book out and tried to read. After almost an hour I went to Scala. I went round the different floors looking at jewellery and jeans, I took the escalator up to the cinema, but there was nothing on that I wanted to see. Before I went home I bought a melon in the Irma supermarket. I sat on the train with it in my canvas bag, looking out at back gardens and sheds and little houses. I thought about my own bungalow with the apple tree and no curtains. It was a very sad melon. I put it in the window in the kitchen, it stayed there until well into November.