Air

Geir stood on a spot of clear tarmac between the crusts of ice, just where the rotten quay started. He couldn’t see anything of Asle, who had jumped over the edge. Had he been holding the stone in his hands when he jumped? Geir thought he had. All he heard was a splash, and he couldn’t see any big stones lying around. As long as he hadn’t tied himself to it. He had read about that, about people who wanted to take their own lives, who tied themselves to a rock so they couldn’t get loose or rise up again, in other words, they sank pitilessly to the bottom, and so drowned. Geir looked at the bar of chocolate in his hand, he dropped it as if it were burning, why on earth had he taken a bar of chocolate with him? He wanted to pick it up again, but then thought there was no time to lose, he had to do something, maybe he should even jump in (he really didn’t want to do that!), he bent down halfway toward the bar of chocolate, realized what he was doing, straightened up again. Aargh! Bent down again, straightened up again. No, he had to jump. He took a step out onto the quay, but then suddenly thought that it would be best to take off his thermal overalls, so they wouldn’t fill with water and pull Geir to the bottom as well. If only his hands weren’t shaking so much! And it was bitingly cold. He peeled off the upper part, pulled off the legs, took off his shoes, socks, stood there in his long johns, his woolen underwear, blue, brand-new, that he’d got for Christmas. He looked around. He hadn’t shouted for help yet, he didn’t know why, but he hadn’t known for sure if Asle jumping was serious or not. It might just be some crazy idea. And if he did shout for help, and it was just a crazy idea, then people would think he was in on it. And now it was too late to shout, now that he was standing there in his long johns. People would think it was him who needed help. To get dressed again! Geir chuckled at the thought. Oh, but there was no time to lose. He had to get a move on and jump. But then his long johns would get wet! The worst thing Geir knew was wet wool. It itched like hell. So he took them off. He took them off and put them down on the thermal overalls. The thermal overalls would be all right there. When he got out, he could dry himself with his thermal vest. So now he was standing there in his string vest and briefs. His trapper’s hat—what was he going to do with that? Asle must have drowned by now, he was going to be too late, there was no time to waste! He’d better keep it on. But then he’d—damn, he threw it down. He took some steps onto the quay. He was shivering. It was cold, and it was icy, and he was scared. The quay creaked. He should just run across before it collapsed! It would be a bit of a mess if the whole quay suddenly lay there floating on the surface, he might miss Asle in all the chaos, he made up his mind, felt it like a spasm in his stomach, he ran over and just then a head popped out of the water, a face drained of any color, a thin head gasping for air, and Geir slipped on a clump of ice, his legs shot into the air, and he knew with every fiber of his body, floating, that this was it, the quay was going to collapse, he was going to fall, and everything would be chaos. He landed heavily on his back, his back thumped down on the quay. The quay held. Dazed, he crawled back onto the asphalt. Asle scrambled to get ashore, he slipped on the stones. Geir limped over to him, bent down, held out his hand. Asle grabbed it, his hand was icy cold. Then he staggered onto dry land, white as a sheet and dripping. “I couldn’t breathe,” he said. “No,” Geir said. “Just didn’t work!” he said. “Sorry to hear that,” Geir said. There was silence, Asle stood there dripping, gasping for air. “I’ve heard that you have to tie yourself to the stone,” Geir said. “Or rather, I’ve read.” Asle raised his eyebrows. “Right,” he said. Geir nodded, a little uncertain. “Well, well,” Geir said. “Quite a day! People have been slipping and falling outside the flower shop, I think there’s a really icy patch there. Three in a row went down on their asses just now!” Asle nodded, looked around. Looked at Geir. And then walked off.

*   *   *

Geir stood there for a moment or two, watched him go, leaving behind a stream of seawater, his thin body giving off steam in the cold. Kipper, Geir thought, and had to laugh, his teeth were chattering because he was so cold, thin as a kipper. Then he felt the pain in the soles of his feet, he was standing on ice, it bit into his skin. His tailbone, his back ached. He limped over to the small pile of clothes. Looked around, put on his thermals. As he pulled his long johns up over his thighs, he saw Åsta toddling along pulling her cart behind her. She gave Geir a stern look, which he pretended not to see. He smiled, lifted his hand in greeting, and pulled his long johns up around his waist with the other hand. Pulled on his thermal overalls, his socks, shoes, and trapper’s hat. Limped over to the van. His feet were cold, his stomach burning. Opened the door, got in, it hurt to sit down. Damn, he’d forgotten the bar of chocolate. But he didn’t want to go back and get it now. Now that he was back in the van. But it was a whole bar of cooking chocolate! He didn’t want to. But he opened the door carefully, all the same, stuck his foot out, but then heard someone coming, so he pulled it back in, closed the door. Too gently. Aargh! He opened the door wide, slammed it shut. He had to laugh. It must have looked odd! A van door being opened only to be slammed shut. He looked out at the street. Not many people about, all in all, no, must be the slippery ice. What about the houses, were people standing in the windows? He leaned forward and looked up at the houses. He saw a shadow move back from the window above the shoemaker. Geir swallowed. Turned on the radio. Too bad about the chocolate. He looked over at Åsta making her way over the ice with grips on her shoes. She waddled like a goose, Geir thought to himself. Goosta, he thought, and had to laugh, hehe, but it wasn’t a proper laugh. Well, well, what a day it had been. He looked up at the window to see if there were any more people. He felt a warm flush through his body. He had been standing there in his underpants and vest. Phew, a bit hot in here! What should he do now, maybe he should just drive home, yes, maybe. Or he could sit here. People might think he’d left early because he was embarrassed. He wasn’t embarrassed! And there might still be some entertainment to be had outside the flower shop, unless someone had salted the sidewalk. And then there was that bar of chocolate! He couldn’t just drive off and leave it. No, he’d stay put.