Last Night in Nuuk

by Niviaq Korneliussen

  ‘Is there something in it?’

  I discover that somebody’s talking to me and I look up. For a moment, I’m absolutely floored.

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘Is there something in it?’ she tries once more.

  ‘In what?’

  ‘In your drink.’

  ‘Something in it? What d’you mean?’ I ask, confused.

  ‘Just joking,’ she says, awkwardly.

  I look down quickly. Is there something in it? What? Oh! If it’s spiked … No, no. Breathe in, breathe out. Calm down, I say to myself. It’s okay. Oh no, I’ve been hit. Am horrified and mumble to Arnaq that I’m going out to smoke. Am so fucking confused that I might just as well be drunk. Light a smoke and breathe in the lovely fragrance of spring. It can’t be. It just can’t be. I have to go home. I want to go home to Peter. And I hear the door open.

  ‘What an amazing smell out here!’ she says.

  ‘What? The air?’

  ‘No, your smoke. But spring as well,’ she answers.

  I manage an awkward laugh.

  ‘Sara,’ she says.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Sara. Me.’

  ‘Oh, I just thought …’

  Don’t know what to say so I shut up.

  ‘What about you?’ she asks.

  ‘What?’

  ‘What’s your name?’ she says, laughing a bit.

  ‘Fia.’

  ‘Hi Fia.’

  ‘Hi Sara.’

  I look down. Am embarrassed. I look so stupid that I decide to tell her I’ve got a lot on my mind right now so I’m easily confused. But something comes out of my mouth that I didn’t plan. I lose control quickly.

  ‘You’re just so gorgeous that I can’t get the words out.’ WHAT?

  ‘What?’ she asks, somewhat surprised.

  ‘You’re so beautiful.’

  Where did that come from?

  ‘Thanks,’ she answers, puzzled but smiling.

  ‘I …’

  I’m unable to talk any longer, point towards the door and walk back in.

  She hasn’t got anything to say herself, but merely nods as I walk away.

  I walk to the toilet to try to calm myself down. What’s going on? Did I, the most talkative person in the whole universe, fall silent? Am I, the world’s best liar, not even able to tell a lie? That just can’t be true. The comfort zone, which I’ve been trying to flee for three years, has just vanished. I’m excited. Frightened. I’m not comfortable and at ease. Peter. I want to find peace with Peter. I leave the toilet and my uncontrollable body walks itself back towards the sofa where Sara is. I can’t stay away. Sit down with my head bent while I look in her direction because I can’t stop myself. From Greenland to Africa, from Africa to the moon, from the moon to Venus, from Venus to the sun, from the sun to infinity, and from infinity back to here. She’s more beautiful than this total distance. If God’s a woman, then she’s more beautiful than God. Sara. I could use some of Arnaq’s vodka. Why haven’t I seen her before? Who is she? I want to talk to her, ask her about everything. Want to ask where she suddenly came from. But I can’t ask her, I’ve only just met her!

  ‘Where did you suddenly come from?’

  I can’t control myself.

  ‘I live in Nuussuaq. My friend invited me to the party.’

  ‘How come we’ve never met before?’ I ask her, pretty directly really.

  ‘I think I’ve seen you on the bus before,’ she says with a funny little smile.

  ‘Really? When?’

  She remembers me!

  ‘Don’t know. Don’t remember. But if it was you, I think you were with your boyfriend.’

  ‘My boyfriend? Peter? We split up. A little while ago. Because I don’t love him.’

  She nods with a smile because what on earth else can she do? I’ve only just met her; I must act more normal or she’ll think I’m a little crazy. Why can’t I tell a lie? Why can’t I control my tongue? Why can’t I simply just shut up? Did I smoke something inadvertently? Not possible, surely. This must be what it feels like to be high on drugs!

  ‘Don’t you want a drink?’ she asks. Since she obviously wants to talk to me. Or maybe she’s just being friendly because she thinks I’m crazy?

  ‘I’m not really in the mood right now,’ I answer.

  ‘Me neither.’

  ‘Same here,’ I say.

  Crap, I’ve just agreed with myself. Stupid. That’s okay. Fia, you can do this. Breathe in … I’m trying to say something so that she won’t run away screaming. I try to stop staring at her, but in vain. She looks me in the eye. She smiles. What is she doing? Is she flirting? I send her a broad smile. My insides are burning and I feel my face flush. She notices it and smiles once more. Ouch, my heart.

  ‘Need to work tomorrow, I don’t think I’ll go into town this evening,’ she says.

  ‘No way am I going into town. I’m not in the mood for men,’ I say.

  ‘Why are you talking about men?’

  ‘They’re boring. Only I’m not bored right now.’

  ‘I’m not a man, am I!’ she says, teasingly.

  ‘I know that. I know that perfectly well. You’re a woman. You look every inch a woman.’

  ‘Thank you, I guess.’

  ‘No, yes. You look like a woman; you’re very attractive. That’s what I mean,’ I try to explain.

  She bends her head and smiles.

  We simply steal a glance at one another, smile and talk with other people for a while. I chat with Arnaq but haven’t a clue what we’re talking about because my thoughts are all over the place. I don’t grasp Arnaq’s story at all and glance over once again at the most beautiful woman in the whole world. She looks back at me and I want to scream, jump and throw my arms around her. I clench my fists. Ugh, I want to kiss her. Want to tell her that I want to kiss her. I’ll never be able to find peace if I don’t do it. Wh … WHAT? My own thoughts frighten me. I don’t want to kiss her! What am I thinking of? I know my boundaries. My boundary stops here. Why the hell would I want to kiss a woman? Listen, you’re not into women! I tell myself. My body’s simply confused as hell because of the recent changes in my life. I’ve only just begun to wake up after three years of hibernation. Yeah, I’m just confused. I have to leave. I’ll go and hook up with a guy in town. I’ve been horny and unsatisfied for three years. Am pretty sure that this strange incident will evaporate and I look at her once more. She gives me a smile and I’m just about to tell her that I want to kiss her but instead I grab the chance to take my coat and go out to smoke. I come to my senses, for the first time since I saw her, when I fill my lungs with air and control my breathing. I feel excitement in my body. Looking forward to going into town, so that whatever has taken over my body can disappear. I’ll hook up with a guy who I can take home with me so that I’m no longer turned on. After all I’m only an ordinary human being, who needs to be touched. Physically. That’s all. I sense that Sara’s on her way out when the door is opened. I know already what I want to say as I turn towards her.

  ‘Are you okay?’ she asks.

  I nod and avoid eye contact.

  ‘I’ll be on my way home soon. I don’t want to be tired at work tomorrow.’

  ‘Think I’ll head into town after all,’ I answer.

  ‘Thought you were off men?’ she asks with a slight laugh.

  ‘Yeah, I kind of am. But don’t get me wrong. I’m not into women.’

  She looks at me for a few seconds and then smiles.

  ‘Don’t get me wrong either. I’m not making a pass at you,’ she says.

  My whole body cringes as she says this. She doesn’t like women. What should I do?

  ‘Aren’t you attracted to women?’ I ask her very quickly.

  ‘Yes, but I’ve got a girlfriend.’

  I’m enormously relieved and let out a deep sigh. I just nod and walk in. I walk back to the living room and see that everybody’s getting ready to leave. Although I’m disappointed at ha
ving to say goodbye to Sara, all I can do is get ready to leave with them. While we’re waiting for taxis, I stand outside the crowd in the hope that Sara will come over to me. She doesn’t. I go back, embarrassed. Stupid. Muster the strength to look at her as the fucking taxis, which come between us, arrive and everybody’s busy getting into them. Finally I look in the direction of sweet Sara to say goodbye and discover that she’s already far away. Feel a sense of loss inside. Since there’s nothing else to do, I get into a taxi and look back at the crowd until I lose sight of the scene. That fucking taxi driver is going too fucking fast. We disappear behind something. I’ve vanished. An unknown feeling engulfs me – it calls itself Love. Love? Oh, come on. You haven’t met Love. This isn’t Love. It’s not Love. THIS ISN’T LOVE. Give me a break, for heaven’s sake.

  Town is pretty fucking grim, and I fill my soul with alcohol as quickly as I can. Oh my God. What the fuck am I going to do? What the fuck am I supposed to do? Okay.

  ‘Arnaq, please buy two shots of Fisherman for me as well.’

  ‘Sure,’ she shouts.

  When she comes back, I drink the two shots in one go and tolerate some pig who’s trying to chat me up. What’s his name? Albert? Johannes? Anton? Nikolaj? Sausage! Sausage? Oh, well, it doesn’t matter. Who he is doesn’t matter. A dick is a dick. I turn towards him, close my eyes and return his kisses. His beard scratches my face, making my skin itch. His lips are dry. Fuck it. I turn away from him. Arnaq sees us and is exceedingly proud of her victory.

  ‘Your Fucking Highness, may your will be served!’ I shout at her.

  She toasts me with a laugh.

  I’m doing it to forget Sara, I whisper so that nobody can hear it.

  It’s Sara. Sara. Ah, the ice inside me melts. I begin to kiss Pig-With-A-Nose-Like-A-Prick again. I see that the bar’s lights have come on. Can’t be bothered to listen to Her Fucking Highness’s fucking speech and hurry and grab Wild-Boar-What’s-His-Fucking-Name’s hand and follow him out. I drag him to the nearest taxi, avoiding looking at him while he silently feels me up. As soon as we’re home, he begins to tear the clothes off me although he’s got no idea where my room is. He’s a freaking animal. I might be, too, but he’s an ugly one. I might be, too, but I’m pretty sure sausages taste worse. No choice but to allow him as I point, irritated, towards the room I’m staying in. He doesn’t even bother with foreplay, hasn’t noticed that I’m not turned on. He proudly shows me his fucking sausage. Is that something to be proud of? I think to myself. There’s really nothing good to say about what comes next, and because he’s so drunk I don’t even bother to fake an orgasm. When the few minutes, which feel like an eternity, are over and he’s done, he throws his heavy body over mine. I push it away. He keeps trying to kiss me so I take my clothes and walk out to the bathroom. My reflection is so ugly that I touch my face to make it look better but then I remember the man in my room, so I let my fucked-up hairstyle and the remnants of my makeup stay as they are so that he can flee in horror. He’s just human. Just a man. A man with a sausage in his pants. Remember, just a sausage. I let out a deep sigh and walk in to the man with the sausage. I lie down and discover that he’s hard again, so I snatch my phone and I try to look surprised.

  ‘Oh no, my parents are on their way home!’ I shout.

  ‘It’s Arnaq’s apartment,’ he says.

  He’s obviously sobered up.

  ‘No, my parents live here.’

  ‘I had a thing with Arnaq. I know perfectly well what her apartment looks like.’

  ‘Don’t you know that Arnaq’s my mother?’

  I know that he knows I’m making fun of him, but even so I throw his clothes at him still with a serious expression on my face.

  ‘Hurry up. I have to puke!’ His sausage has shrunk so much that it’s no longer alarming, just pathetic. I laugh. I can’t be bothered with him so I decide to fuck with him. I begin to pretend that I’m about to throw up.

  ‘I’m really going to puke!’

  I run over to him for help.

  ‘Go to the toilet, for fuck’s sake!’

  He pushes me towards the bathroom.

  I go inside and lock the door while I exaggerate with loud sounds to make him believe that I’m being sick. After a few minutes, I hear him leave the apartment very quietly. I smile. Mission accomplished. Now I can sleep and forget everything.

  The sunlight through the window has made everything hot and I kick my duvet off my sweaty body. I smell my hangover breath, which reminds me of yesterday’s awful events and I feel a strong urge to take a bath. The memory of the sausage man makes me nauseous and I remember my legendary throwing-up act and laugh, which actually makes me cough something up. I hurry out into the kitchen and chug an entire bottle of Coke and do everything I can to keep it down. Last night has really taken its toll. I sit down on the sofa and crunch some leftover chips while I wonder why Arnaq still hasn’t come home. It’s a shame that she drinks so much all the time since she lost her job. My little brother is best friends with her, and I really hope she won’t be a bad influence. Arnaq’s a woman, an arnaq – the very word for woman – with a mind of her own, who’s never boring and here I am, waiting for her to come home with new stories. I have a wish. I want Arnaq to have hooked up with another woman, to show up with a gay morning-after story. But of course, Arnaq’s a woman with a mind of her own, and sometimes I envy her laid-back lifestyle. If Arnaq, who can easily hook up with another arnaq, has hooked up with a man, then I can’t be bothered to hear about it. I’m suddenly dying to know. I yearn for excitement.

  Just as I’m losing patience, I hear somebody trying to open the door and I hurry over. A rather intoxicated Arnaq enters the room as if she’s fucking royalty and I laugh at her.

  ‘What’s up, Arnaq? Did you sleep at all?’

  ‘The night is still young. I’ll sleep when I die!’ she says cheekily, stripping off her coat.

  ‘Where’ve you been?’ I ask, hopefully.

  ‘Not telling!’

  ‘Did you go home with someone?’

  I follow her into the living room.

  She sits down on the sofa and refuses to say anything. Gives me a playful smile.

  ‘Woman? Man?’

  ‘Does that matter?’ she asks, slightly irritated.

  I know that she doesn’t like to be quizzed like this but I’m too curious to give up.

  ‘No, it’s irrelevant. I just want to know because you tell such great stories.’

  ‘What about you? Did you bring Kristian home with you? You should be the first one to spill,’ she says.

  ‘Who’s Kristian?’

  ‘Oh, come on! Were you that drunk? Kristian!’

  The sausage man’s name is Kristian, apparently. If I’m going to get her story, I’ll have to tell her about my horror show.

  ‘I brought him home with me,’ I say with a laugh.

  ‘Honestly? Here? Surely you know, don’t you, that I had a thing with him? Yep, that manwhore!’

  She roars with laughter.

  ‘He remembered. He totally knew this was your place. He said so.’

  ‘Shit, how embarrassing!’ she says and begins to laugh uncontrollably.

  ‘What about you? Who did you hook up with?’ I ask.

  ‘You can’t tell anybody else!’

  ‘Who would I tell? I promise I won’t.’

  ‘Inaluk.’

  ‘Inaluk who?’ I ask.

  ‘Inaluk Inaluk.’

  ‘Inaluk?’ Now this is a surprise.

  She nods.

  ‘Is she gay? I thought she had a guy?’

  ‘Please don’t tell anybody!’

  ‘I’ll keep quiet. Don’t worry.’

  ‘I think it was the first time she was with a woman,’ she says, slightly embarrassed.

  ‘Oof. Was she bad?’

  ‘No, but she was a bit hesitant.’

  ‘How do women do it?’ I ask Arnaq, without thinking.

  ‘Can’t you figure it out? God, y
ou have no imagination!’

  She gets up from the sofa and walks over to her room.

  ‘Arnaq … I was just asking.’

  ‘Then come here. You can’t know until you’ve tried it! LET’S SCREW!’ she jokes from her room.

  What would it be like, how would she react, if I did come, what would it be like to try with her, what might it do to our friendship, what would she look like naked, would she not look sexy, how would she kiss, how would she screw, what would it be like, how could I go in there? I couldn’t. I wouldn’t dream of it. My thoughts make no sense. I’m simply tired of sausages. Believe me, I’ve tried all sorts of sausages. Cocktail sausages, frankfurters, red, brown, yellowish, big, small, sausages … you name it. I’m sick of them. I’m off sausages. I want to take a bath, scrub my body clean so that the stench of sausage can vanish without leaving a trace in the water pipes.

  Plan:

  No more sausage.

  Friday once again. It’s a strange week for me. I haven’t been to classes and I need to get out a bit. I decide to switch off the computer although I keep thinking of stuff I’ve found on the Internet. Romantic attraction, sexual attraction or sexual behaviour between members of the same sex or gender. Google knows everything. But I still haven’t found the answer. Doubt, ignorance and confusion make me restless. But even so, I don’t want to go back to my comfort zone. My comfort zone is gone. I’ve recovered from that fucking travesty last Friday, and Arnaq and I have decided to deal with our restlessness. Hope has returned from the dead, popping up like the devil. All I need is to see her briefly. Because I need to get to grips with my desperate brain.

  ‘What have you bought?’ I ask Arnaq as she walks in.

  ‘A bottle of vodka and some mixers,’ she answers in a breezy voice.

  ‘A whole bottle? That’ll kill us!’

  ‘What did you get?’ she says.

  ‘Four beers.’