Хьелль Аскильдсен - The Dark Blue Winter Overcoat and Other Stories from the North

There are people everywhere. Unknown women, men, children and elderly people block my path; I lean against a building to calm myself down because I feel like I’m suffocating. Behind all the people rushing about like ants, I spot a large, flashing sign: “Welcome to New York!” I experience a sense of urgency when I realize that I’m in America, and I join the ants to get to the exit. It is evening. The atmosphere is strange. Exhaust fumes from cars fill my nostrils and almost stop me from breathing. I look at the giant, luminous skyscrapers towering against the sky. I feel dizzy; I look down and I see a long line of yellow cabs. I walk up to the one at the front and a dark, heavy-set driver gets out. New York, USA. I wonder if I brought luggage. I can’t remember if I checked in a suitcase or if I remembered to pick it up. When I see the driver put a large rucksack inside the cab, I realize that I did bring it. Well, that’s all right…

“Where to?” the driver asks me with a smile.

“Midtown,” I say to him.

I get out of the cab when we appear to reach the city centre. Even though the city is fabulous and amazing, I can’t help staring at something dreadful that has caught my attention. I drag my heavy rucksack across the wide street and towards the thing I cannot help but look at. I reach it and see a poor man with a long beard sitting by a pedestrian crossing. His hair is grey and his face swollen from a red rash. Embarrassed, he looks humbly up at me and cautiously extends his begging hand. I find him bizarre in the extreme and I squat down and look straight into his eyes. I’m struck by a stench so sour that I almost throw up. Sweaty armpits, urine, shit, bad breath, mould, rotten fish. His gaze shifts from me; he bows his head and withdraws his begging hand. I cup his cheeks in my hands to raise his head and I smile at him. He frowns at me, trying to work out if I’m making fun of him. As I don’t fancy lugging around my rucksack, which might be crammed full of clothes, and because I need to get the scent of fabric conditioner which I recognize from somewhere out of my brain, I offer it to the abandoned wretch. The homeless man is stunned and hugs the rucksack. I feel so sorry for him that I almost kiss him, but his acidic stench makes me nauseous, so instead I get up and leave. My body is lighter now that I’m no longer carrying anything. The scent of freshly laundered clothes has finally disappeared. I want to escape the bright and busy streets so I slip in between two big buildings. It is twilight and silent. I walk past two large rubbish containers, spot an illuminated sign and go inside what I presume is a bar. A couple of elderly men are drinking beer. I order a large draught beer from a vile-looking bartender and sit down, well away from them. New York. I wonder where I’ll go next. What will I do? Why am I here?

I realize that I have finished my beer. As I still can’t feel it in my blood, I get up to order another. I return to my table and find a young woman, who wasn’t there before, sitting right next to my chair. I look at her in surprise as she turns to me, but when she doesn’t react, I sit down next to her so that my body brushes hers and I start drinking my beer. We sit in silence for a long time, drinking greedily. We don’t look or talk, but she is so close to me that I can hear her breathing. I place my almost empty glass on the table. She puts down hers, she has drained it completely. We sit quietly, doing nothing, making no sounds, making no movements. Suddenly she takes my empty beer glass and drinks the remaining foam and licks clean the rim of the glass. Her behaviour is so odd that I stiffen. She smiles and grabs the cigarette packet from the table. She takes out a cigarette which she sticks in her mouth, and takes out another which she offers to me. I take it. I keep it in my mouth, but I still need a light; meanwhile my companion is smoking like a chimney. She blows smoke in my face, lights my cigarette, and we sit smoking with our faces turned away from each other. When she has finished, she stubs out her cigarette on the table and stands up. She jumps up onto the table, crouches in a monkey position and looks right into my eyes. I stare back at her. Her hair, dyed orange, is styled in plaits like Pippi Longstocking. She looks very serious, but then she bursts into a smile so wide that she shows all her teeth, and I start to laugh. Her eyes are adorable, heavily made-up, but the visible gap between her front teeth makes her smile very comical. Without knowing it, she smiles like a stand-up comedian.

“HEY GIRL!”

Her voice is so loud and piercing that my body reacts. I start grinning and I give her a hug. I don’t know why. I hug her just because I feel like it, then I grab her and lift her down from the table. We stand there, still holding each other tightly. When she lets go of me, she puts my jacket around her shoulders, grabs my hand and leads me out of the bar. She takes me to a pickup truck I didn’t notice earlier and sits me down on the passenger seat. She gets into the pickup and turns to face me.

“Where to?”

Her smile is so wide that I start to laugh again. She sticks her tongue out at me.

“Kansas City, baby!” I shout by way of reply.

She gets so overexcited that she grips the wheel and pretends to race the car while she makes engine noises. I can hear that her car is on its last legs; it shudders and splutters when she starts it. It is red and tall. The pickup has an open deck filled with empty bottles.

“Oh, shit. Hang on a minute, I’ll be back soon.”

She jumps out and runs back to the bar. A few seconds later she returns, waving a bag of cannabis in front of my face. We laugh and drive off.

I discover that it is daytime and I put on my sunglasses because the sharp light bothers me. I don’t know how long we have been driving, but at least we have left the city behind. The landscape around here is deserted. Except for our spontaneous giggling fits, we have yet to have a proper conversation. The sunshine is merciless. My chauffeur pulls over and jumps out of the pickup. I join her and discover that she has put down the back flap and is sitting on the deck of the pickup while she rolls a joint. I sit down next to her, waiting for her to pass it to me. I don’t know if I have tried cannabis before, but I don’t care. We get so high that our lungs turn black. We puff and we cough. She gets up and stands in front of me. She rests her hands on my knees and looks at me, very gravely.

“I’m Suffia.”

Once more I’m startled.

“Who are you? Where do you come from?”

Her sudden curiosity jolts my thoughts so that I can give her a reply. Only I have completely forgotten where I’m from and so I offer up a guess instead.

“I’m Changhi Peng Pong from Japan!”

Suffia looks momentarily wrong-footed, then she flings out her arms and starts to dance. “Japan Japan Japan! Peng Pong Ding Dong!”

She doesn’t laugh. I don’t laugh.

“Hello, Ying Yang! It’s very, very, very nice to meet you!”

For the first time, I erupt in bellyaching laughter and Suffia joins in. Our laughter is so powerful that we collapse on the ground and start to howl. Our eyes water. The cramps in our stomachs hurt so much that we burst into real tears before we start to laugh again. I roar with laughter until I can no longer breathe and it feels as if I am about to die. Not that I would mind.

When we have recovered, we get back in the pickup and take deep drags of the joint. I plug my iPod into the car and play Pink’s new album, The Truth About Love and find the song “Blow Me (One Last Kiss)”. We are on the road again with the windows rolled right the way down, and we join in the song: “ Have you had a shit day? WE’VE HAD A SHIT DAY!!! ” We sing along at the top of our shrill voices and drive faster. “ Blow me one last kiss! ”