Jonas Khemiri - Everything I Don’t Remember

“Mmhmm. Or. I don’t know. A few things have started to come up. But they always do, right?”

“Like what?”

“Well, we have some differences when it comes to politics. And sometimes she can be a little jealous.”

*

We met at the commuter rail station, we walked down the ramp to the construction site. They were blasting an old building to bits, men in yellow hard hats were talking on walkie-talkies, large machines were pounding their way through asphalt, it was dusty and we had to shout to hear each other. In the midst of all this chaos, Samuel pointed at a brick building and shouted:

“There’s the library.”

We kept walking along the street, the sounds of the construction equipment faded, we passed an Indian restaurant, a secondhand shop, a video rental store, a real-estate agency.

“That’s a super cozy place,” Samuel said, pointing at a cafe and bakery. “It’s been there since like the fifties. The chef’s name is August.”

We kept walking along the road, we passed a Chinese restaurant, a kebab stand, a deserted gas station with rusty tires and empty soda machines behind a barbed-wire fence.

“There used to be a bike shop there,” said Samuel. “But it closed a few years ago.”

The house was ten minutes from the commuter rail station, and it wasn’t until we approached the mailbox (which Samuel emptied) and started walking up the gravel path (which was full of sticks, plastic toys, bike parts, garden tools, and rotting apples) that I realized that his grandma was still living there. I don’t know why I thought she would have moved out already but when we rang the doorbell she was the one who answered, she backed into the hall and cried:

“At last! It’s about time, said the watchmaker to the headmaster!”

*

Samuel said that they’d gone on a walk, they had bought soft-serve but forgot to bring napkins and Samuel ran into a cafe and asked if it was okay if he took a few paper napkins. On the way out he ran into a few friends of an ex. When he came back, Laide was furious that he’d taken so long.

“Were they pretty?”

“Who?”

“The girls you were talking to?”

“They were fine. But I mean, we only talked for like two minutes. Five, max.”

*

Samuel hugged his grandma. She was half as tall and twice as wide, and as their cheeks touched I saw her close her eyes and smile. It was as if she were filling up on his warmth, the hug must have lasted thirty seconds. I didn’t know what to do so I just stood there in the dim light of the hallway, waiting for them to finish. As Samuel freed himself she opened her blue eyes and broke into a wide smile.

“Why. .? Isn’t this Laide? It’s been so long. Do you want coffee? Yes, we’d all like a nice cup of coffee, wouldn’t we? Samuel, can you put on some coffee? Here, let’s hang up your coat, for goodness’ sake, come in from the cold, shall we light a fire? No, I suppose we don’t need one, it’s so warm in here, no need for a fire, but maybe you’d like one anyway? You’re probably used to warmer weather. It’s warmer than this in Brussels, isn’t it?”

I looked at Samuel but he was already headed for the kitchen to put on some coffee. I wiggled my hands out of his grandma’s grip, hung my jacket on a hanger, and took off my shoes.

*

Another night they had been standing by a lake, talking about the differences in their grasp of Arabic, and a dog owner happened to throw a fetch stick pretty close to them. The wet dog came bounding straight for them and the owner apologized and Samuel said it was no problem and petted the wet dog and asked what breed it was and what its name was and Laide kept her distance. On the way home through the darkening woods Laide was angry because she thought he had been flirting with the dog’s owner.

“And you want to know the craziest part?” Samuel said. “The owner was like fifty.”

“Wow. Even older than Laide.”

“Very funny. I don’t get why she always thinks I’m flirting.”

I didn’t say anything.

“Because there is a difference between being nice and being flirty, right?”

He said it like a question, but it was clear that he didn’t want an answer.

*

Samuel’s grandmother looked at me and squinted.

“When did we last see each other? It must have been several months ago, right? How is everything?”

“Fine,” I said, still unsure whether she thought I was someone else or whether she was just pretending that we had met. “How are you?”

“Oh, thanks for asking, still kicking, said the soccer player to the fireworks specialist.”

“Why?” said Samuel.

“Excuse me?”

“Why did the soccer player say that to the fireworks specialist?”

“You’ll have to ask him.”

“Who?”

“The soccer player. Now let’s have a little coffee, we certainly deserve some.”

She took my hand and led me into the dim house. We passed a fireplace with scorched pieces of plastic among the ashes, a small room with photographs on the walls and a rocking chair on a rug. His grandma stopped to pick up a pink bowl with ornate gold details and a round lid.

“Do you know who made this bowl?” she asked.

“I’m guessing it was Samuel?”

“You’re one hundred percent correct.”

“I didn’t know you could do pottery,” I called to Samuel in the kitchen.

“Me neither,” he responded.

The smell of urine was stronger in the kitchen. Samuel cleaned the coffeemaker and tried to find the filters. His grandma sat down on a stool and asked who was minding the children.

“But Grandma,” said Samuel, “we don’t have any children.”

“No, that’s right, you don’t,” said his grandma, reaching for a bag of candy. “Raspberry boats?”

“No thanks, that’s okay.”

“But you do drink coffee, don’t you?”

“I drink coffee.”

“That’s good. And you have a driver’s license?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Good. A modern woman must have a driver’s license. You are nothing without a license. Did you know that they’re trying to take away my license?”

I looked at Samuel, he shrugged.

“They say I’m too old. That my eyesight is too poor. I’ve had my driver’s license for over forty years. How old are you?”

“Thirty.”

“Can you believe it? I’ve had my license for longer than you’ve been alive. And now they have the gall to say that I— I —am no longer allowed to drive. Have you ever heard the like?”

“Who said that?” Samuel asked.

“What?”

“Didn’t someone say that, like the ear doctor to his patient?”

“No, I said that. Just me.”

Samuel turned on the coffeemaker.

“It’s a Philips,” said his grandma. “That’s a Swedish brand.”

She took my hand and held it, she looked me deep in the eyes, she had silver rings on one hand, and a silver bracelet around the opposite wrist.

“Do you drink coffee?”

*

One time they went to a Chinese restaurant, but because the girl who showed them to their table was young and cute and Samuel had been a little too nice to her, Laide started bellowing that the restaurant mistreated their employees and threw her glass of water at the owner.

“Did she hit him?”

“I mean, she only threw the water. She set the glass down on the bar before we left the place.”

“She sounds unstable as shit,” I said. “Not exactly the sort of person you can trust.”

“Oh, it’s just that there are some things she feels very strongly about. But it is a little trying. Sometimes it’s like I have to watch how I’m acting all the time so she won’t think I’m doing the wrong thing.”

“Sounds unchill.”