This Should Be Written in the Present Tense

17

It was the twelfth of March, we were lying in the waterbed and couldn’t get up. It was after midday, the sun was shining and there was a racket coming from the cobbles at the front. Someone had given Hans-Jakob an old wooden parlour bench and now he was doing it up. He stood with a sander in his hand and had been at it for a while. We were naked under the duvet, looking up at the sloping wall. There were marks above my head from a foot or a hand. Then came a sound of laughter, the sander stopped and we could hear Hans-Jakob talking to someone. Per got halfway out of bed and leaned over to the window.

‘It’s my cousin. He’s back.’

‘The one who was in the States?’

‘Yeah, he’s down there with my dad.’

‘We’d better get up, then.’

‘Doesn’t matter, he won’t mind. Lars!’

He unhasped the window and the sparrows on the roof flew off as he pushed it open. His cousin shouted back from below, his voice reverberating off the outside walls:

‘Hey!’

‘When did you get back?’

‘Yesterday. The folks came and picked me up.’

‘From Cleveland?’

‘Ha, ha.’

‘Are you coming up? Come on,’ said Per and closed the window. He picked his underpants off the floor and pulled them on, hopping about on one foot. I could already hear his cousin on the stairs.

‘What about me?’ I said and pulled the duvet up under my chin, and then there he was inside the room. They shook hands and hugged. He had longish hair and blue eyes. He had an anorak on and the air around him was cool and fresh, it reached all the way over to me in the bed.

‘Bloody hell, I’m out of shape,’ he said, and patted his stomach. Per laughed.

‘Too many steaks, I bet. You’ve grown your hair.’

‘That makes two of us then,’ he said, and turned towards me.

‘I’m Lars. You must be Dorte.’

‘Yeah, that’s Dorte,’ said Per.

His handshake was firm. He moved his hand up and down a few times and mine went with it, it made waves in the waterbed. He went over and sat down in the swivel chair, Per searched for some clothes in the hammock.

‘Just lying here dossing, the two of you?’

‘You could say that,’ said Per.

‘Have you been out on the town?’

‘What town?’

‘I was supposed to be going to Pub 22,’ I said, pronouncing it all wrong. I cringed but carried on, or it would have made it worse. ‘With my aunt. But she couldn’t make it in the end.’

‘She’s got a smørrebrød shop in Ringsted. She’s quite young considering,’ said Per.

‘She’ll have had it for twenty years next year,’ I said.

‘Long time,’ said Lars.

‘Are you on your bike?’ said Per.

‘What do you think? Where’s your mum?’

‘In the house, I suppose.’

‘Should we go and see if she’s got any coffee?’

‘Yeah, let’s,’ said Per. He’d managed to get his trousers and a T-shirt on now, he came and gave me a kiss.

‘We’ll go and get some coffee on, then.’

‘I’ll be over in a bit,’ I said.

We all sat round the table in the kitchen. Ruth sat next to Lars and kept putting her hand on his arm or his shoulder.

‘He’s like a second son to me, can you tell?’ she said, and I nodded.

‘I can see that.’

‘So what are you doing now, until your course starts?’ said Hans-Jakob.

‘Earning some money at the nursery,’ said Lars.

‘Have you still got your bedsit in Haslev?’

‘Yeah, from April. What about you two?’ he said, looking at Per and me. ‘Are you going to start studying?’

‘At some point,’ I said. ‘I’m thinking about becoming a teacher.’

‘Are you?’ said Per.

‘Good idea,’ said Hans-Jakob.

‘I’d think twice if I were you,’ said Ruth with a laugh. She patted Lars on the head, he kept looking at me while she was doing it.

‘See what I have to put up with?’

He went to the teacher training college in Haslev, his main subjects were biology and physics. I understood he was doing well and got lots of As. It wasn’t something he wanted to talk about, he changed the subject. He told us about his younger brother who’d got an apprenticeship in a bakery in Roskilde. He’d made a cake with fourteen tiers and the top one had been decorated with a helicopter made out of boiled sugar. It was for one of his other brothers, the youngest. There were five of them all together, all boys. Lars was the eldest.

‘And the second best-looking,’ he said with a smile. His blue eyes gleamed across the table.

‘Who’s number one?’ said Ruth.

‘Leon, Ruth, as well you know,’ said Lars. He pronounced her name the English way and Per laughed.

‘Yes, Leon’s always had the girls after him.’

‘Has he, now?’ said Hans-Jakob, turning his teaspoon in the air. He had a wry smile on his face. Ruth had a little dig at him.

‘Just like you, in your younger days,’ she said and shook her head. Her hair danced on either side of her parting, it was thick and had a good sheen to it. She drank a glass of buttermilk every day and claimed that was why. Lars shook his head too, and smiled.

‘Leon’s not meant to be on his own.’

‘Dorte says that as well,’ I said. Lars gave me a puzzled look, Per came to my aid.

‘She’s the one with the smørrebrød shop. Her aunt.’

‘About herself, I mean,’ I said, and felt my cheeks going red. Lars reached out for a biscuit from the dish.

‘What a lot of Dortes,’ he said.

‘Don’t you want some butter on that?’ said Ruth. ‘It’s good for the brain.’

‘Give him a big dollop,’ said Hans-Jakob.

He left again after coffee, we all stood on the cobbles and waved goodbye as he got on his racer with the drop handlebars and took off down the drive. When he got to the road he turned and waved again, Per put both his arms in the air.

‘Come back soon,’ he shouted, and made his voice crack. He pulled me close, Ruth and Hans-Jakob were already on their way back inside. The parlour bench was in two pieces in the yard, it stayed there for months. I buried my face in the opening of Per’s jumper, it smelled a bit musty, an old one from the pile. I could feel him swallowing, ligaments and cartilage bobbing up and down. We stood there like that, and then we went back to ours.