This Should Be Written in the Present Tense

33

I found some lemon juice in a bottle in the communal kitchen. I mixed it with sugar and Bacardi, it tasted all right. I made a list of all my options on the back of the letter from Lars with a thick black pen. The world opened up as I wrote. But then I started crying anyway, I let my whole face go and stuck my lower lip out like a child. I punched the daybed, but it didn’t help, it was a foam mattress. I put some music on and sang along, I sang louder and louder and started to dance about from the corner unit to the door and back. It was like the dancing made me drunk on its own. Then there was a knock on the door, it was the driving instructor, he wanted to know if there was anything the matter. I said we were going out on the town and we’d be quiet now. That was all right then, he said.

I did my make-up and put the yellow dress on, it was a bit too summery, so I put a cardigan on top, with black tights and the strappy high heels, a little beaded clutch bag and my nylon jacket. I felt daft standing in the bar with a whisky. Mostly because of the clutch, but I couldn’t stand whisky either. I drank it in one go and ordered another. A guy in a lumberjacket nodded appreciatively across the counter. I looked away. I tried to look like someone who had plans. Two guys beside me laughed, I asked what they were laughing at, they said I looked like a bumblebee. One of them asked for a dance, but I said I didn’t feel like it. After the fourth whisky I collected myself and went out into the street. I fell over a cobblestone and grazed my hand and knee. I got to my feet and walked on. A young man called out to me from a parked car, he got out and came over with half a hot dog in his hand. He was in a suit.

‘Did you hurt yourself?’

‘No, I’m all right.’

‘Is anything wrong?’

‘No,’ I said, and began to cry, then nodded and waved my hand dismissively at the same time.

‘It’s been a rubbish day, that’s all. I’m sorry. Thanks.’

‘Can I give you a lift somewhere?’

‘No, really, I’m fine.’

‘Maybe you should sit down for a minute. Over there,’ he said, and pointed to a bench under a street lamp. He put his free arm around my shoulder and helped me across. It felt very protective. The suit looked good on him, it made him look older than he probably was.

‘I like your suit,’ I said.

‘Thanks.’

‘Have you been to work?’

‘No, I’ve been at a party. Not for very long, though, it was a rubbish party.’

We laughed. I sniffed. He finished his hot dog in a couple of mouthfuls and handed me the napkin.

‘Here,’ he said.

‘Thanks,’ I said. I blew my nose, then dabbed under my eyes.

‘No, it was a decent party, really,’ he said. ‘I was tired, that’s all, so I left. Now I’m off home to get some sleep.’

‘Do you live here in Haslev?’

‘Just outside. Do you?’

‘Yes. Well, no, I’m moving.’

‘Oh, I see.’

‘I’ll probably try to find somewhere in Næstved.’

‘Næstved’s nice.’

‘It’s lively, anyway.’

‘It is. Do you fancy half a Cocio? I’ll go and get it,’ he said, and went back to the car. He came back with the bottle of chocolate milk and offered it to me, it hadn’t been touched. I took a swig.

‘That’s good,’ I said. ‘I’ve had a bit too much whisky.’

‘I know how you feel.’

‘Once I had too much apple schnapps,’ I said, and we laughed again, he was actually quite good-looking. The door of the bar opened. Loud music, then someone came out into the street and whistled, possibly at us. They disappeared round a corner and the door closed again.

‘It was kind of you to come and see if I was okay,’ I said.

‘Don’t mention it. I’d still like to drive you home.’

‘There’s no need. I only live around the corner.’

‘Maybe I could you walk you home, then?’

‘That’d be nice,’ I said, and got to my feet. My head started swimming. He got up as well and put his protective arm under mine. We walked over the cobbles, him with the Cocio and me with my clutch. A wobbling cyclist went past as we reached the lane. He took my hand and helped me down from the high kerb. We crossed the road, still holding on to each other.

‘Is it this way?’ he said, and I nodded.

‘You’re very nice.’

‘Thanks. What’s your name?’

‘Dorte.’

‘I’m Leon.’

‘Are you?’

‘Yes,’ he said, and then we’d reached the corner shop, there was a bundle of newspapers on the step. We stopped and looked at them, they were from the day before.

‘It’s an unusual name,’ I said.

‘I know, I don’t know any other Leons,’ he said, and then he smiled at me. We looked into each other’s eyes for a while.

‘Anyway, this is where I live,’ I said.

A narrow alley ran behind the shop. It didn’t look like somewhere anyone would live.

‘Down there?’

‘Yes. Thanks a lot for your help.’

‘Pleasure,’ he said. Then he stepped forward and kissed me on the cheek.

‘Look after yourself, now.’

He stood there as I walked off down the alley. The yard behind the shop was full of clutter, I hid in between two skips and waited. I was freezing in my yellow dress, a rustling sound kept coming from one of the skips. After a bit I went back and looked. He was gone. I crossed over the street and hurried home.