March was as long as the longest month in
eternity. It consisted of early mornings, late nights and lengthy meals. He was
depressed. She was hormonal, as he heard her swear from time to time from
irritation and anger. Grapefruit was getting bigger, unaware what was going on
around him. Even father stopped coming to him as if for years he had been
encouraged by mother, and after her death, he finally expressed what he thought
about the son who spent years in his room. He shed the responsibility.
The flat seemed to be such a safe option.
Norway was from the past and almost legendary, as there was no proof that mother
lived there and maintained contact with a relative in another country. Father
seemed sunk in his new, more successful and less dramatic life.
She was cultivating the grapefruit.
He had time to think about his life. After a
month or so he found another job. Simple and unengaging. He cut his expenses, following the footsteps of his previous company, and resigned from ready meals with set amount of
calories. He rearranged his room, as he needed to start a new phase in his life.
A few years ago he rebelled against the wishes of his parents and decided to
stay at home. Now he didn’t have anyone to rebel against and his decision was
basically his own choice for life.
After arranging the room, he ordered some new
equipment for the flat, called for a plumber and an electrician, making use of
the girl’s presence at home, and called for a cleaner who made the flat
spotless. After this literal purification, he participated in an online mass in
which he bid the final farewell to his mother. Via Google maps, he located the place
of her burial and commemorated with the minute of silence her final sleep.
Then he ordered some newborn baby clothes to
appreciate the fact that while some people left this planet, some were born to
maintain the circle of life. And grapefruit might appreciate the clothes once
he is on the surface.
‘You shouldn’t have,’ she said after opening
the door for the courier.
‘No problem.’
Then he ordered a stroller, those fun plastic
stuff in IKEA for little kids including a bathtub and a bed with the mattress.
‘I didn’t ask you for anything.’
‘I’m this kind of guy,’ he answered.
She didn’t talk to him for a week. The
presents were lying on the side of the corridor, unpacked as if she didn’t have
courage to touch them.
Maybe she thought he was crazy. Maybe he was.
He liked equipping himself like a squirrel in the case of a severe winter. He could
just as well equip the grapefruit. Children needed the feeling of safety. Even
if provided by a Swedish set of furniture.
And then it was spring. Maybe not a calendar
spring as it was too soon for the sunny days to approach. But the sun was
shining, temperatures were warm and pleasant and she would occupy the balcony
with a bowl of fresh fruit salad and a glass of sparkling water. She looked big
and she developed the second chin.
He, on the other hand, bought a fan just in
case the summer was to be scorching. His new job was blissfully monotonous. He
was just relocating one set of data and having the results administered by a
boss who appeared to be a laid-back, forgetful fellow with no sense of a
deadline. He was as stressless as he had wished his supervisor to be. The money
was lower, but he had savings of Norwegian inheritance and from now on he felt
secure.
She was reading women magazines about
cosmetics, celebrities, relationships and the latest gossip. Usual girly stuff. He
even lowered his expectations towards her as the fact that she was carrying the
grapefruit could allow her to waste her time on silly things. She gave up her studies
for the grapefruit. She gave up her Facebook profile for the grapefruit. She
apparently gave up her social life for the grapefruit. He didn’t give up
anything for anybody. He actually gave up life and everyone else for himself.
But she didn’t know what it felt like to feel
fear. She wasn’t aware how difficult it was for him even to make a tiny little
step in the hostile world with trembling limbs, no breath and a sense that he
was going to die. Possibly she would never understand why he chose the life of
an outcast. He didn’t want to be cured. He just wanted to be left alone.
Spring was for them the time of reflection,
making plans, taking decisions and getting accustomed to new circumstances.
Baskets of fresh fruit were coming in while rubbish was going out of the flat
on an everyday basis. She was so nice to mix the music and play his and her bands
interchangeably. He was kind enough to order some books on bringing up the
child and feeding it with the right kind of food. It wasn’t that complicated. Little
babies spent most of their time sleeping and eating. Once you covered nappies
and bathing, managing the newborn
shouldn’t be too difficult. Grapefruit was supposed to be little. Then, of
course, was the possibility of dying during sleep, the crib death or something
along those lines, but once the risk was over, it might be just fine. Even
those textbooks on bringing up the child were easy and written in a simple
approachable language. Making food was not complicated either. First, it was the
milk, which in the case of losing the natural breast milk, could be instantly
diluted in water from the powder. Then you could order those ready made baby
jars or playfully blend the food from the cooked basic natural ingredients.
There was everything: cosmetics for babies, special shampoos, olives, lotions,
and cremes. And of course: yellow hilarious ducks for bathing.
The selection of toys was also fun. Toys for
hugging, toys for biting and chewing, toys for hanging and for rolling. The
child could be just as equipped as he was with his set of CDs, puzzles and Lego
blocks. And books seemed to be amazing. You could buy all these felt playful
books or these blown up as little air mattresses for extra fun during summer
holidays. Blocks for little ones were also cool: bigger than Lego blocks,
wooden, colorful with the potential of building hundreds of ships, houses, and
fortresses. And then you could buy electronic trains, cars, tractors, farm
machines and remote control operated toys to enjoy your household adventure of
a lifetime. Years and years of actual pleasure. Gosh, the kid was fun. He loved
the time when he was a kid, when his parents had been still together, and his
only problems were to get good grades at school and be nice enough at home to
get birthday and Christmas presents.
