Then I too hung up and walked naked across the floor and found my clothes and put them on, even my jacket and shoes. I had to get warm, right now, but I needed air too, yes, that was it, and it was in and out all day, I thought, in and out of the building, up and down the stairs, out to the car, in from the car, and it must have looked conspicuous during this past year to those who hid behind their curtains and used the brief time we have on this earth to keep an eye on all that happened at the junction and roundabout on Advokat Dehlis plass, those who went in, those who went out, and who did what and when they did it. Maybe a little like me. At least I didn’t hide. In any case I walked down the stairs and out to the square and over to the Mazda, but I didn’t get in. I leaned against the bonnet and lit a Blue Master. It felt as if there was cause for celebration. It was a movable feast. I looked up the road, a bus was coming down from Voldsløkka and pulled in at the bus stop a few metres away from me, no one got off, two got on, but not me. I wasn’t heading downtown. Why would I.
I walked along the pavement with the perfectly formed cigarette between my lips and came around the corner of my building, from the parking space up towards Bergensgata. Inside the paint shop I saw Tollefsen standing with his back to me in his brown, paint-speckled coat. I had never seen him without it. He was standing by the workbench with several cans of paint without lids lined up in front of him, but it was Sunday. I looked at my watch and went over and tried the door, and it wasn’t locked, so I opened it and called in, are you open, it’s Sunday, isn’t it, and late too. I know it’s Sunday, Jansen, he said without turning around. And no smoking in here, if you don’t mind. I dropped the half-smoked cigarette on the concrete slab by the door and crushed it with the tip of my shoe and said, but are you open, then, and he said, no Jansen, I’m not open, it’s Sunday, and it’s late. But the door is open, I said. Jesus, I know the door is open, he said, can you please be quiet please, I need to concentrate. He was mixing colours. There are people waiting, he said. I couldn’t see anyone waiting, but they might have been waiting somewhere else. Maybe the paint was supposed to be delivered somewhere, what did I know, to Sagene, for instance, it was right down the road, it took three minutes. Any chance of filling my jerrycans today, I said. His back was still turned, you could see he was impatient, he was irritable, he said, then you’ll damn well have to hurry. I let go of the door and half ran back around the building, took the steps two at a time up to the second floor, picked the jerrycans up from the floor in the hallway and ran down again and back around the corner and entered the shop, the bell jingling over the door. Wow, you’re pretty fast when you want to be, Tollefsen said. That’s right, I said. I went over and set the jerrycans on the counter. Only then did he turn around. He smiled. But you should have come a long time ago, all the others have filled theirs. He looked at me over his powerful glasses and said, you know what, Jansen, I’ve had this bet going with my wife. About what, I said. About when you’d come to fill those jerrycans for the first time this year. About how much closer to zero it would have to get before you dragged your feet down here. It’s colder now that you live alone, you’ve known that for a whole year, especially at night it’s colder, it’s colder in bed, if you’re alone you need paraffin, that’s elementary. Sure, I said, it’s elementary. I screwed the caps off the jerrycans and handed him one of them, one of the jerrycans, that is, and said, so who won. Who won what, he said. Who won the bet. I won, said Tollefsen. I know you.
I had to laugh. I gave him the other can and got the first one back. You don’t know me. Jesus, he said. Everyone in this building knows you, Jansen. He had his back to me and his hand turned the tap of the paraffin tank all the way to the left. Slowly can number two filled up. Everyone in the building, I thought, that adds up to about sixteen people, plus children, including Jondal. No chance did he know me. Don’t fool yourself, Tollefsen said. He gave me the other can. The till is closed, he said, you can pay tomorrow. He had spilled a little, so I got paraffin smeared over my palm, I lifted my hand to my nose, it would take a day to get rid of the smell no matter how often I washed my hands, but Tollefsen didn’t care. Now get yourself up those stairs, he said, and fire up that stove, you’ve been in the cold for long enough. Okay, I said, and he said, I have to get this paint mixed, if that’s all right with you. That’s all right, I said. There are people waiting, he said. I still couldn’t see anyone waiting, but I turned around and was on my way out of the shop when he said, and don’t you worry now Jansen, there is not a person in the building who has anything against you, on the contrary, as far as I’m aware. I’m not worried, I said. Good, he said and turned around again and lifted one of the cans and poured paint from that can into another one which was not as full. Damn, he mumbled, and he stood there with his back towards me as he had been the first time I came in.