Chapter 4 A Guest from the North
11:29 PM
Robert could swear that something was on the cards. Lena took twice as much effort to look good when she went to school. Beforehand, she could pull off any outfit, be it a T-shirt and jeans, tracksuit, pullover or a saggy dress that looked like the sack of potatoes. She had also tied her hair in a messy bun, put on her face a dose of BB cream and that was it. She highlighted the fact that she was working with her brain and the only thing that she was supposed to do was to feed it with fruit, vegetables, and nuts. Now, she could be on the cover of fashion magazines.
Robert could objectively admit that she was attractive. She wasn’t just a student, whom he remembered from the time when they met. In time, her features gained maturity and she presented herself really well, turning from a young experimenting adult into a confident woman. He was sure that she would look even better after thirty and that reminded him of the time when it was him who was still married to a woman.
Being married in itself had other benefits than only having a wife and children. In the Polish conservative society, it was an invitation to many family events, christenings, wedding receptions, and house-warming parties. Without his parents, having returned from a couple of years he had spent in Berlin, he was lost and alone. His wife gave him access to her friends, her family members and many occasions to celebrate. Girls had their birthdays, Christmas and children’s days, there was Mother’s and Father’s day, amateur theater plays in the kindergarten, obligatory summer and winter holidays and many more. Robert, whether he wanted it or not, had been occupied. Now, when the girls’ move to Berlin limited his parent-children time, he had a lot of time to think, work and read. Even Anton didn’t bother him as much as he could (Robert wouldn’t have anything against the idea), as he spent a lot of time working and had no family in Poland, who they could visit, apart from one uncle, who was a petty con man and wouldn’t really approve his nephew’s gay boyfriend.
It was a different lifestyle and Robert had to be honest with himself. He liked this lifestyle a lot better, as he had all this time for himself and his career, as much egoistic and superficial it may sound.
‘I can eat it if you want,’ he looked at Lena’s untouched breakfast, which was another in a row of uneaten breakfasts, ‘Maybe it’s some food poisoning or anorexia?’
Lena gave him a deadly look.
‘If you feel bad about Rebeka and you envy her figure, you should remember that she was designed to have exaggerated proportions. Like a Barbie doll, nothing like a real-life woman. You are a real woman and you are beautiful.’
Lena looked at him as if he was complimenting cheese. Robert wondered how on earth his ex-wife fell in love with him. Maybe they were hit by the bug of procreation, despite his sexual orientation and her difficult to meet requirements?
‘I love you too,’ she said giving him her plate with scrambled eggs; she gasped heavily and left the table.
Robert knew that she noticed he was getting panicky without her. She was his only friend and a living family member. He grew increasingly dependent on her. Maybe it was the fact that she was there when he was at his most vulnerable, having lost his consciousness twice, and her always being there to save his butt. Robert grew to know her pretty well and he was sure that there was something that was bothering her. He couldn’t figure out yet what it was.
A week later, right before Robert set himself off to work, he heard a knock on the door. He opened it and behind it, he saw a guy in his mid-twenties, dressed in a plastic raincoat, carrying a big backpack on his shoulders. His hair was messy and of bright blond color, even lighter than Anton’s hair as if he had some bleaching experiment. His eyes were also unusually blue like the ocean in Thailand or any unspoiled holiday resort Robert had never been due to the lack of resources.
‘Hej! Is it The Philologist office? I’m here from the advertisement.’
Robert could tell that there was some accent in the voice of this man, but he really couldn’t tell from where he could come. He gave Robert his hand to shake and Robert noticed that he was wearing a glove with the tips of his fingers missing.
‘Olaf de Palma,’ he introduced himself, ‘Nice to meet you.’
There was a melody in the voice of this man. A melody which sounded strangely familiar, as if he had once or twice heard someone talking in this melodic voice, but wasn’t entirely sure when and where.
‘It’s like this politician. Olof Palme. The one who was assassinated.’
The boy smiled.
‘Well, yes, kind of. I wasn’t even alive then. I don’t remember. But I’m Olaf Jerzy de Palma. My mother came to Sweden from Poland. I speak Polish because of my grandparents. De Palma is my father’s surname. He was also an immigrant in Sweden.’
‘And you are?’, Robert looked at Olaf’s particular image.
‘Backpacking. Now I’m in Europe, so I decided to come over.’
‘So you’re homeless?’
‘Nej, I live in Stockholm. I decided that after graduation I want to travel for a year or two. Become a man, so to say. Before I start working full time I want to learn something about the world. I’m visiting my grandparents in Warsaw. They live on the same street. I came across your website when I was looking for their address.’
‘You have five minutes,’ Robert looked at his watch, ‘I’m already late for work.’
‘It’s about children,’ Olaf started opening his backpack and taking from it a few envelopes which were wrapped up in foil in case they got wet.
‘Children, you say?’ Robert didn’t really have any time and patience for this young man, ‘You know what? My partner will be here in the evening. I will redirect your case to her. You will have much more in common, you are of a similar age. Just be back by eight o’clock. She should be here.’
‘Can I leave it here? Olaf pointed at the backpack.
‘If you wish to, I don’t mind.’, Robert got used to the fact that people left various things at his place, including sex dolls.
Robert closed the door and let Olaf down the stairs. He also texted Lena.
‘What do you know about Sweden?’
‘ABBA, PewDiePie, Tove Lo, Icona Pop, Ikea?’, he received a message after a minute.
Robert knew only the first and the last one, having no idea what the hell this PewDiePie was.
‘For me, it’s enough. You have a client from Sweden this evening. Don’t forget to come back home.’
That evening Robert logged onto his computer and googled the name of PewDiePie. After watching a video of a guy who screamed while playing computer games and prepared meatballs’ manual, he became more aware that the gap between Lena’s generation and his own was broadening in an increasing pace. When he read that PewDiePie was a millionaire due to his entertaining let’s play videos he wasn’t even surprised. Having looked at his modest bank account, he came back to his Victor Hugo novel and checked his book calendar to plan his trip to Paris.
Robert could objectively admit that she was attractive. She wasn’t just a student, whom he remembered from the time when they met. In time, her features gained maturity and she presented herself really well, turning from a young experimenting adult into a confident woman. He was sure that she would look even better after thirty and that reminded him of the time when it was him who was still married to a woman.
Being married in itself had other benefits than only having a wife and children. In the Polish conservative society, it was an invitation to many family events, christenings, wedding receptions, and house-warming parties. Without his parents, having returned from a couple of years he had spent in Berlin, he was lost and alone. His wife gave him access to her friends, her family members and many occasions to celebrate. Girls had their birthdays, Christmas and children’s days, there was Mother’s and Father’s day, amateur theater plays in the kindergarten, obligatory summer and winter holidays and many more. Robert, whether he wanted it or not, had been occupied. Now, when the girls’ move to Berlin limited his parent-children time, he had a lot of time to think, work and read. Even Anton didn’t bother him as much as he could (Robert wouldn’t have anything against the idea), as he spent a lot of time working and had no family in Poland, who they could visit, apart from one uncle, who was a petty con man and wouldn’t really approve his nephew’s gay boyfriend.
It was a different lifestyle and Robert had to be honest with himself. He liked this lifestyle a lot better, as he had all this time for himself and his career, as much egoistic and superficial it may sound.
‘I can eat it if you want,’ he looked at Lena’s untouched breakfast, which was another in a row of uneaten breakfasts, ‘Maybe it’s some food poisoning or anorexia?’
Lena gave him a deadly look.
‘If you feel bad about Rebeka and you envy her figure, you should remember that she was designed to have exaggerated proportions. Like a Barbie doll, nothing like a real-life woman. You are a real woman and you are beautiful.’
Lena looked at him as if he was complimenting cheese. Robert wondered how on earth his ex-wife fell in love with him. Maybe they were hit by the bug of procreation, despite his sexual orientation and her difficult to meet requirements?
‘I love you too,’ she said giving him her plate with scrambled eggs; she gasped heavily and left the table.
Robert knew that she noticed he was getting panicky without her. She was his only friend and a living family member. He grew increasingly dependent on her. Maybe it was the fact that she was there when he was at his most vulnerable, having lost his consciousness twice, and her always being there to save his butt. Robert grew to know her pretty well and he was sure that there was something that was bothering her. He couldn’t figure out yet what it was.
A week later, right before Robert set himself off to work, he heard a knock on the door. He opened it and behind it, he saw a guy in his mid-twenties, dressed in a plastic raincoat, carrying a big backpack on his shoulders. His hair was messy and of bright blond color, even lighter than Anton’s hair as if he had some bleaching experiment. His eyes were also unusually blue like the ocean in Thailand or any unspoiled holiday resort Robert had never been due to the lack of resources.
‘Hej! Is it The Philologist office? I’m here from the advertisement.’
Robert could tell that there was some accent in the voice of this man, but he really couldn’t tell from where he could come. He gave Robert his hand to shake and Robert noticed that he was wearing a glove with the tips of his fingers missing.
‘Olaf de Palma,’ he introduced himself, ‘Nice to meet you.’
There was a melody in the voice of this man. A melody which sounded strangely familiar, as if he had once or twice heard someone talking in this melodic voice, but wasn’t entirely sure when and where.
‘It’s like this politician. Olof Palme. The one who was assassinated.’
The boy smiled.
‘Well, yes, kind of. I wasn’t even alive then. I don’t remember. But I’m Olaf Jerzy de Palma. My mother came to Sweden from Poland. I speak Polish because of my grandparents. De Palma is my father’s surname. He was also an immigrant in Sweden.’
‘And you are?’, Robert looked at Olaf’s particular image.
‘Backpacking. Now I’m in Europe, so I decided to come over.’
‘So you’re homeless?’
‘Nej, I live in Stockholm. I decided that after graduation I want to travel for a year or two. Become a man, so to say. Before I start working full time I want to learn something about the world. I’m visiting my grandparents in Warsaw. They live on the same street. I came across your website when I was looking for their address.’
‘You have five minutes,’ Robert looked at his watch, ‘I’m already late for work.’
‘It’s about children,’ Olaf started opening his backpack and taking from it a few envelopes which were wrapped up in foil in case they got wet.
‘Children, you say?’ Robert didn’t really have any time and patience for this young man, ‘You know what? My partner will be here in the evening. I will redirect your case to her. You will have much more in common, you are of a similar age. Just be back by eight o’clock. She should be here.’
‘Can I leave it here? Olaf pointed at the backpack.
‘If you wish to, I don’t mind.’, Robert got used to the fact that people left various things at his place, including sex dolls.
Robert closed the door and let Olaf down the stairs. He also texted Lena.
‘What do you know about Sweden?’
‘ABBA, PewDiePie, Tove Lo, Icona Pop, Ikea?’, he received a message after a minute.
Robert knew only the first and the last one, having no idea what the hell this PewDiePie was.
‘For me, it’s enough. You have a client from Sweden this evening. Don’t forget to come back home.’
That evening Robert logged onto his computer and googled the name of PewDiePie. After watching a video of a guy who screamed while playing computer games and prepared meatballs’ manual, he became more aware that the gap between Lena’s generation and his own was broadening in an increasing pace. When he read that PewDiePie was a millionaire due to his entertaining let’s play videos he wasn’t even surprised. Having looked at his modest bank account, he came back to his Victor Hugo novel and checked his book calendar to plan his trip to Paris.
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