My math teacher’s name is Steinar Tjelta. He has greyish hair, and he’s got small round glasses and he always wears sweater vests. He is really, really old. Definitely over forty. He speaks slow too and that day he was talking about dividing fractions and simplifying fractional expressions. That is really easy and I wished that we could just start solving the math problems instead of listening to him talk about it. I looked at the clock above the door. It showed the time was 8.32, but it was incorrect. All the clocks in my school show different times.
I looked over at Frida. She was busy taking notes and so were most of the other kids. They didn’t seem bored at all. I knew that the clock in my classroom was about three minutes slow, but I wanted to know exactly what time it was, so I decided to check on my phone. I sneaked it out of my jeans pocket and held it under my desk while keeping my eye on Steinar. When he turned to the whiteboard I looked down at my phone. The time was 8.40. I looked up at the clock on the wall, which now showed 8.43. It was two minutes and maybe fifty-seven or fifty-eight seconds fast. There are no digital clocks in my school and it is harder to calculate exact time on a ticking clock. I looked down at my phone and turned the lock screen on and was about to put it back in my pocket when I noticed someone standing next to my desk. It was Steinar. He held out his hand and said, “Give it to me.” “Give you what?”
Steinar sighed. “Give me your phone.”
I put my phone in his hand.
“You can have it back after class.” Then he put my phone in his desk drawer and went back to talking about dividing fractions and simplifying fractional expressions. It was still one hour, fourteen minutes and twenty-six or twenty-seven seconds until class finished.
We finally started solving some math problems and it felt good to have something to do. Once you finish the tasks you are given, you are supposed to check that you have got the correct answers before moving on. But I didn’t bother checking because I knew that they were right. When it was nine minutes and twenty-one or twenty-two seconds left of class, I had finished all the tasks that Steinar had written on the whiteboard. So I moved on to the next chapter in the book, which was about square roots and prime numbers in calculations. I did six of the problems before I noticed that Steinar was standing next to my desk again.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Math,” I said.
Then he put a chubby finger on my math book and said, “Why are you solving these? This is not what I asked you to do.”
Everyone in the classroom turned and looked at us.
Steinar wet his finger with his tongue and flipped back to the previous page. He put his finger in my book again. “These are the ones you are supposed to do. We haven’t got to prime numbers in calculations yet.”
Then the bell rang and I said, “I need my phone back now.”
After class I saw Frida coming out of the toilets down the hall. She walked down the corridor and was probably on her way to meet her friends. I stopped her. She looked confused. “Oh, hey,” she said. “Did you take my watch?” She laughed. “What?” “Did you take my watch?”
Her smile disappeared. “Malin, of course not.” “Did you see who did?”
“No. I mean, where did you have it last?”
“Before swimming class yesterday. After swimming class it was gone.”
“Oh no. That’s awful. Well, maybe someone has found it. You should check the lost and found. I’ll go with you if you want.”
Frida walked with me over to the custodian’s office. He is the guy who changes the light bulbs and he always has a lot of keys on his belt. No one knows his real name so we just call him the custodian. Frida knocked on the door and the custodian came out. Frida told him that I had lost something and wanted to check the lost and found box.
“Ah, yes,” he said and went into the back room. His keys rattled when he walked and I was thinking that a custodian would never be able to sneak up on someone.
When he came back he was carrying a box, which he held out to me.
The box contained some swimming goggles, a flashlight, a yellow flip-flop, some keys and two swimming caps. But no blue and white OTS watch with an analogue and digital display.
“It’s not here,” I said.
Frida shrugged. “You could always just buy a new one.” But I didn’t want a new one. A new watch wouldn’t have Magnus’s record in it. Frida smiled. “Hard life, huh?” “But your life is perfect,” I said.
She tilted her head. “What makes you think my life is perfect?”
“You’re pretty, and you have a lot of friends and a great family and all the teachers love you.”
“There is a lot of pressure with having to be perfect all the time. Everyone expects me to do well on my handball team, and get good marks in school and become prom queen. Honestly, I think you have it a lot easier.”
“Why?”
She shrugged. “No one expects anything of you.”
29
Family Dinner
When I came home from school that day my house smelled like soap. And in the kitchen all the dirty pans and dishes were gone and everything looked really clean. I sat down at the kitchen table and got started on my homework. At
3.52 p.m. Aunt Lillian came in carrying two full grocery bags. She started putting the food away and asked me, “Do you want pork chops or meatballs for dinner?” I wasn’t really hungry so I said, “I don’t know.”
Aunt Lillian shrugged. “I might as well make both. They both taste good with gravy and mashed potatoes. Oh, and I am baking an apple cake for dessert.” Maybe it wasn’t just old widows who would die to have someone to cook for. Maybe it was women in general.
“A letter came for you today,” Aunt Lillian said. I looked up. “For me?” I couldn’t remember the last time I got a letter.
“Yes, it is on the table in the hallway.” I figured the letter would be from my mom, because I don’t know anyone who lives far away and she did mention that we could write to each other. But when I saw the envelope I knew straight away that I was wrong. The envelope had a window where my name and address were printed. It was a letter from the medical centre telling me I had an appointment with the physiotherapist.
When I came back into the kitchen Oscar was rubbing his body against Aunt Lillian’s legs and purring. He knows very well when someone is dealing with food. Aunt Lillian trimmed some fat off one of the pork chops and put it in his bowl.
“He is not supposed to eat fat,” I said.
“Oh, a little fat never harmed anyone,” Aunt Lillian said.
At 4.47 Sigve came home. But he wasn’t alone. He was with a girl. They came into the kitchen and when Sigve saw our aunt, he said, “Oh.”
“Oh, hello,” Aunt Lillian said. She wiped her hands on a paper towel and reached her hand out to the girl. “I’m Lillian, Sigve’s aunt.”
“I am Katrine,” the girl said and they shook hands.
“Are you guys hungry? Dinner will be ready soon.” Sigve looked from the girl to Aunt Lillian. “We were actually just gonna make some mac and cheese and head back out again.”
“Well, there is plenty of food. I’ve got pork chops with gravy and mashed potatoes. And meatballs.”
They all looked at each other for three seconds and then the girl named Katrine smiled and said, “That sounds great.”
I helped Aunt Lillian set the table. She said that we should eat at the dining table in the living room. We normally only eat there at Christmas. Or when we have guests that we don’t really know that well. Which I guess we had that day. At 5.16 p.m. Aunt Lillian announced that dinner was ready and we all sat down at the table. Katrine had blonde hair and steel-blue eyes. She looked like someone who had a lot of friends. And who got picked early for teams in PE.
Aunt Lillian put a pork chop on her plate before passing the tray to Katrine. “I’ve started c
leaning out the attic at home,” she said. “It is amazing how much crap has piled up over the years.” Soon all the trays and bowls were being passed between the four of us. Pork chops, meatballs, mashed potatoes, boiled carrots and lastly the gravy boat.
I was the last person to receive everything, so I had to find room for it all on the table. And I was a bit nervous that I would drop something or spill something. Aunt Lillian said, “I’ve been thinking about doing a clean-up for years, but I never got around to it. It seemed like the perfect thing to do now that I have some extra time on my hands.”
Aunt Lillian had taken some time off from work since Magnus died. That is what she meant by “extra time on her hands”. We all started eating while Aunt Lillian continued to talk about cleaning the attic and how she was going to turn it into a study.
The meatballs didn’t taste like my mom’s. That was a bit strange, because I know they both use Grandma’s recipe. They didn’t taste bad, but they were different.
At 5.29 p.m. my dad came home. He looked at Katrine and said, “Hello.”
“Hello,” Katrine said.
“Well, sit down,” Aunt Lillian said. “There is plenty of food.”
My dad sat down next to me and helped himself to all the food. Then no one really said anything for a while. Everyone was busy cutting and chewing. “The mash is really good,” Katrine said.
“Yes,” Aunt Lillian said, “I made it from local potatoes. I bought them at the farmers’ market off the main road.
They were very expensive though.”
“Potatoes will be on sale at Coop next week,” Katrine said.
This made my dad look up from his plate. “You work at the Coop too?”
“Oh, only part-time,” Katrine said. “I’m still in school.”
“Smart girl.” My dad smiled. He pointed his knife at Sigve. “Maybe you could knock some sense into this one.
Make him understand the importance of an education.”
“Actually,” Katrine said, “I think he should do whatever he wants to do.”
My dad’s smile disappeared. “Oh, is that so?” Katrine shrugged. “As long as they are not hurting anyone, I think people should do what makes them happy.” My dad scoffed. “A bit of a simple mindset, don’t you think?”
“Oh, knock it off,” Sigve said. “You are so arrogant.”
“Arrogant? How am I arrogant?”
“Just because someone doesn’t agree with your way of living, you act like they are worth less than you or something. Everyone has the right to be treated with respect, regardless of their education or income.”
Katrine looked down at her plate and started to cut a carrot into smaller pieces.
Then Aunt Lillian said, “Oh God! I completely forgot about the apple cake.” She got up from her chair and hurried into the kitchen.
Katrine continued to cut her carrot into even smaller pieces and my dad started to laugh a low hollow laugh, while using his fork to push a piece of pork chop around in the pool of gravy on his plate.
“What the hell are you laughing about?” Sigve said.
“Nothing. I just didn’t know my son was a hippy, is all.” Sigve scoffed. “What does that even mean?”
I said, “A hippy is someone who protested against the materialistic society in the 1960s. They were against the military and any use of weapons and they took a lot of drugs and wore colorful clothes. Their motto was, ‘Make love, not war’.”
Everyone turned and looked at me. After four seconds my dad said, “You will have to excuse me, I have some work to do.” He pushed his chair back from the table and left the room.
Katrine, who had finally finished dissecting her carrot, now used her fork to push the pieces backwards and forwards on the plate.
I said, “Are you Sigve’s girlfriend?”
Katrine looked up from her plate and laughed a sudden loud laugh that ended as quickly as it started. She looked at Sigve. “Wow, time sure flies when you’re having fun,”
she said. She put her hand on Sigve’s shoulder. “I should get going.” She got up from her chair, and gently stroked Sigve’s arm before leaving.
We heard the front door opening and closing. “Is she your girlfriend?” I said.
Sigve didn’t answer. Instead he said, “Why do you always have to be so fucking weird?” Then he got up and left too.
Aunt Lillian came in with the apple cake and said,
“Where is everyone?”
“Gone,” I said.
She put the cake on the table.
“Ah, well, more for us,” she said.
“I don’t like apple cake,” I said.
“Oh, well, more for me then,” she said and sat down in her chair. I was wondering if she was going to cut herself a piece of the cake, because the only plate she had still had pork chops and gravy on it.
“Well, I should probably head home soon,” she said. “I had this guy install a new lamp in the attic today, I can’t wait to see what it looks like.”
“He’s been at your house while you’ve been here? All alone?”
“Oh, yeah, I kind of know him from way back. I trust him.”
“But how do you know who to trust?”
“Oh, I trust everyone until they give me a reason not to.”
30
Physical Therapy
The physiotherapy place smelled like mouthwash. I had to walk up three flights of stairs to get there and I could smell it even before I entered the room. I pushed open the heavy glass door and walked up to the counter, where a lady was sitting. She had red curly hair and glasses hanging from a string around her neck. I told her that I had an appointment. She put her glasses on and said, “What is your name?” “Malin Sande.”
“All right. And why are you here today?”
“I received a letter.”
“No, I mean what is the problem?”
“My shoulder.”
She typed something into her computer and then she asked me to have a seat and I did. There was no one else in the waiting room but me. There were four chairs, a coat stand and a health magazine from six years ago. The walls were white and there were no pictures.
Two minutes and eleven seconds later a man in sports leggings showed up. He shook my hand and told me his name was Audun. His hand was cold and smooth. He nodded, signalling for me to follow him, and we walked into the training room.
The room had a couple of exercise bikes and some other machines that I didn’t really know the use of. There were also weights and some of those big exercise balls.
The only two people in there were an old lady, who was lying on a mat on the floor, and a physiotherapist (at least I guessed he was a physiotherapist), who was helping her bend her knee.
Audun led the way to some chairs and told me I could sit down if I wanted and I did.
“So why did you ask for a physiotherapy session?” he said.
“I didn’t. The doctor did.”
He looked at me for a couple of seconds. “Okay… And what is the problem?”
“I dislocated my shoulder. Twice.”
“How did you do that?”
“The first time I fell off my bike. And the second time I tried to hit a volleyball over the net. I wasn’t successful.”
“I see,” he said.
Then he asked me more questions about how old I was and how much time had passed since my injuries and what treatment I had been given.
“All right,” he said. “We will be doing some exercises today. You need to build up the muscles around your shoulder so that it stays in place.” He started walking and signalled for me to follow him. He led me over to the exercise bikes.
“First we need to warm up,” he said. He told me that I should bike for ten to fifteen minutes to get warm.
I got on the bike a
nd Audun started pushing buttons on the display and set the timer for fifteen minutes.
“I will be back,” he said, and then he left.
I started pedalling and found it really boring straight away. Why would anyone get on a bike that didn’t take them anywhere?
Audun came back after twelve minutes and fifty-nine seconds.
“How are you doing?” he said.
“Fine,” I said.
“Are you feeling warm yet?”
“Yes.”
“Good, you can stop now if you want.” I got off the bike and Audun held up a piece of paper. “I have made an exercise programme for you. You need to do these every day in order to get better. We will get started now and I will show you how to do them.” I didn’t know why he kept saying “we” when I was the only one doing any work.
The programme consisted of me lifting dumb-bells that were only a kilo each. And there were several ways I could lift these to help build muscles. If I didn’t have dumb-bells at home I could use milk cartons. Or water bottles. Then he showed me some exercises where I pulled a resistance band in different directions. He advised me to buy one of these bands.
“Do you do any sports?” he said.
“No.”
“Hmm.”
Lastly, he showed me some exercises on the mat. Push-ups and other ways for me to stretch and put a little pressure on my shoulder.
After our session he gave me the sheet with the exercises on. They were all explained in detail with pictures.
“Now, I want you to pick three of these exercises every day and do each three times, ten seconds each time. Every day.”
“Okay,” I said and accepted the sheet.
“Good,” he said. “The receptionist has gone home for the day, so call in tomorrow morning to make a new appointment.” “Okay,” I said.
When I got home, my house didn’t smell like dinner. Or soap. So I figured Aunt Lillian wasn’t there. The house was quiet so I guessed no one else was home either. I turned the TV on and lay down on the floor to do some of the exercises I had been given. I did two push-ups, but they were too exhausting and I was tired. I went into the kitchen and got a milk carton and started lifting it the way the physiotherapist had showed me. I looked at the clock above the door as I was doing it so that I could keep track of the time. I lifted it for ten seconds, waited, and started from the beginning. It was pretty boring and my mind drifted off. I wondered when my mom was going to call that day.
The Unpredictability of Being Human Page 12
