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

We appear to have arrived at Chicago. The city is vast and it has grown dark without me noticing it. We stop at a petrol station; I go inside the shop to buy something to eat while Suffia fills up the pickup. I’m exploring the crisps and sweets section when someone taps me on the shoulder. I turn my head and nearly have a heart attack when I see her face.

“Are you from Greenland?”

The woman who has Greenlandic features looks at me in wonder. Before I have time to think about it, I nod. I would appear to be from Greenland.

“What are you doing here? Wow, I can’t believe I’ve bumped into a fellow Greenlander! Who are you? Who are your parents?”

I panic so much that I snatch some food and drinks and make my escape while the woman tries to grab hold of me. When Suffia sees me come running, she opens the door to the pickup and starts to drive very slowly. She accelerates as I get in.

“GO GO GO GO!” I scream.

When we have driven some distance, we stop the car and light a joint while we howl with laughter.

“I’m not Ying Yang, Ding Dong! I’m Greenlandic!”

I say all the words I can get out; meanwhile Suffia’s laughter grows louder.

“Where the fuck is GreenLAND?!”

I can barely remember our drive from Chicago to Kansas City, but my stomach muscles and my cheeks ache—apparently because we have been laughing all the time. I’m fairly sure that we have been smoking cannabis the whole time as well because my lungs sting and my eyelids are heavy. We drive past a large sign saying Kansas City and get out in the city centre. Here the buildings are also enormous, but they display themselves like great dinosaurs. This city seems filthier and less safe than the other cities. It is revolting. Suffia looks after me when I leave the car to do some shopping and she blows me a kiss. She starts shouting, “BLOW ME ONE LAST KISS!”

I shout the same back, kiss my hand and blow the kiss to Suffia. When I have done my shopping and am leaving the shop, I see that Suffia is about to drive off and I get a strange feeling. She calls out to me through the open window.

“GOODBYE!”

She turns a corner and waves as she disappears. I don’t really want to her to go, but I find the situation funny because that is just what she is like. Suffia is Suffia. I laugh out loud at her for the last time.

I have left the big city behind and reached the old part of Kansas. The houses are made from wood and the roads are gravel tracks. The people are few and slow. I would appear to have walked the whole way and my stupid, post-operative knee hurts. My post-operative knee…

Following my operation, I stay at the surgical ward at Sana Hospital. I keep falling asleep because the poison is still coursing through my veins and the staff rouse me by shaking me gently. I’m taken through a big corridor in a bright white bed, wearing bright white clothes. I look at the hazy lights above me while they move me along. I feel fine. Smiling, I turn my face to the waiting room as I’m rolled past it. I check her beautiful but anxious eyes when she sees me and am reassured; a feeling of joy takes over my body. She gets up and accompanies me to the side ward. When we are left alone, she comes over to me, indescribably relieved, touches my head gently and kisses me. “I love you,” she says. For more than one long month, she nurses me, cooks my food, entertains me, comforts me when I cry, helps me into bed, is with me, loves me. She never leaves me.

And now I’m alone…

My head hurts. My last memory is of the old part of Kansas. Perhaps I’ve had a fall. The clearer my eyesight becomes, the more I feel that I’m flying across a big road. Street lights appear and then disappear just as quickly, and my body feels cool. The sound of an engine hums in my ear and I turn my head to explore my surroundings. A man about forty years old is sitting behind the steering wheel, and I only wake up properly when I realize that he is staring at my thighs.

“Who are you?”

I try to look terrified even though I’m not.

“You can call me Jeff.”

He winks at me, without smiling. Even though I feel very unsafe, I stay neutral. He wears a faded red cap with visible sweat stains around the headband. He is huge and has pitch-black hairs on his arms. I look more closely and I see that he also has long hairs on his fingers. His stubble bristles; he clearly hasn’t shaved for days. His disgusting lips are so swollen that they might burst at any moment. He is truly hideous. I would really like to know how I got inside his truck, but I remain silent because I am scared of making him angry.

“Where are we going?” is all I say.

“Denver, Colorado.”

He replies while he stares at my breasts. Apart from that, I don’t think a lot about anything during our long drive, but I’m tormented by a hangover and feelings of emptiness and darkness. I’m in anguish. Finally I pluck up the courage to ask him what I’m doing here, but before I have time to open my mouth, he responds as if he could read my mind: “You were lying in the road and I picked you up so you wouldn’t freeze to death. I was fairly sure you had no place to go.”

I wonder what I was doing on the ground. I’m too exhausted to ask any more questions, so I switch off my thoughts and stare out of the window instead.

I come round when I feel too strong fingers squeeze my thigh. The man wakes me up; I appear to have fallen asleep and I remove his hand immediately.

“Easy now; I’m waking you up because we’ll be there in the couple of hours.”

So why wake me up now? I’m looking at him with fear and loathing when suddenly he turns his face to me. When he realizes that I’m staring at him, he winks at me a second time, and I feel both abused and destroyed. Utterly terrified, I cover myself with my jacket and divert all my energy into not nodding off again because the thought that he might touch me again terrifies me. I try to ignore the endless, long road. I count street lights instead and try my hardest not to think. The beast’s foul smelling eau de cologne makes me nauseous and I keep the window open so as not to throw up. Thus we drive through a dark forest for what feels like forever. At times I try to remember something I think I have forgotten, but I can’t identify what it is, so I go back to counting street lights. This lack of clarity brings on a painful headache which keeps getting worse, but as the houses start to rush by more and more often, I start to feel reassured. We drive past the sign saying Denver and vile Jeff heaves a deep sigh. Just before we reach the city centre, bloody Jeff turns off in another direction. Out of fear I tense every muscle so as to be prepared. He pulls up at a remote and deserted car park and rubs his hands.

“Thanks.”

I have thanked him and am about to open the door when that bastard Jeff grabs my wrist and forces me to touch his stiff dick which is caged behind his trousers. Shocked, I try to get away from him, but his hold is strong and I don’t succeed. Even though my heart is pounding, I try to act relaxed and strike up a conversation, something even I don’t understand.

“I’m into women. I don’t have sex with men. I’ve only ever been into women, ever since I was a child.”

The idiot doesn’t listen to my words and forces my hand closer to him.

“I’M GAY!”

I scream it at him and try to snatch back my hand. When I feel his grip loosen, I turn my head to his disgusting, filthy face. When I see a change in his facial expression, I get ready to save my life. His face turns red and his eyes become insanely angry.

“What? A fucking dyke? You’re sick! SICK, SICK, SICK!”

His body is arched and his muscles tensed when I open the door to throw myself out in order to force him to let go of me. When he finally does, I fall a long drop from the high truck. I’m so concerned with making my escape that I don’t feel anything at all when I hit the hard tarmac. All my energy goes into fleeing. It feels as if I’m running underwater; my legs are heavy as they are in dreams. I’m slow and exhausted.