Page 22 of The Happiness Blueprint
Saga: At least she will always know he’s clean...
Mum: Klara’s workday is better than reality TV.
Dad: How about a net solution? Something that holds it up above water?
Me: Do you want to put the patent application in or shall I?
I laugh. But somewhere deep down I also know that Nina will be laughing at me once her own embarrassment subsides, and I feel I’ve somehow messed up again.
ALEX
Personal Calendar
• NEW TASK:Think of excuse to cancel meeting Paul
• EDITED TASK:Think of excuse other than having to drive at night
• EDITED TASK:Fuck it. Just meet up with Paul, you loser
“It’s on me,” Paul says after we hug, hands slapping one another’s back. Great, that means I can have an actual drink and not just go for whatever is the cheapest on the menu, which disappointingly happens to be a Polish alcohol-free beer.
“How have you actually been, man?” Paul asks. He’s wearing a hoodie and sweatpants despite the fact it’s seven o’clock and we are in a bar. His hair has changed into cornrows since we last met. I’m trying to remember how long it’s been.
“Better.” When the guys ask me how I am, I’ve understood they actually want to know—they care—but my answer needs to be the short version and delivered in an upbeat voice. The recap rather than the full twist-and-turn, digging-into-my-emotions story.
“You look it. Did you enter this into your to-dos to score a point? First time I’d be wholesome enough to be included in a recovery program, if that’s the case.”
“Everything goes in the to-dos. Kind of starting to like it.” Almost obsessed with filling those three entries with, quite often, nonsense.
“What’s new with you?” I ask.
“Met this girl on Tinder,” Paul says. “Not sure why I even bother. I’ve read somewhere that a decent-looking guy has a 5 percent success rate of getting a match on Tinder. Basically, it’s torture. We knowingly put ourselves out there knowing 95 percent will reject us. Most of the time when I flip through the faces, I don’t even want to date anyone anyway, it’s just become a habit,” he says.
“That’s not right, man. Like browsing the online store for new trainers you can’t afford. Window-shopping girls,” I say.
“Since when are you the Love Coach?”
“If you want a love coach, go and see my mum. Marrying off sons is her favorite thing. You know I couldn’t care less about finding love.”
“Well, some of us have hearts. And dicks,” he says, smirking. “Don’t worry, you’ll get there. It hasn’t even been that long.”
“Long enough for the car repayments to be piling up. Not sure what to do about it. I’d like to keep it, but it’s a lot of money for a car. Any suggestions?”
“The car is okay. The ring is just weird. It’d make more sense if Dan wore it. That being said, have you had more girls after you, though? I heard from a friend at work that girls were all over him once there was a ring on it, as if they saw him as wholesome and loyal suddenly.”
“I haven’t been out enough to try your friend’s theory.”
“I know, Alex. It was a joke.”
“I will need to take over the lease of the car if I want to keep it. It’s only half-paid, and the monthly installments are high,” I share with him.
“If I could keep the car, I would. It’s awesome.”
The car is Calle’s shiny new BMW that Dan has kindly let me keep for the time being. We haven’t agreed on a date where I need to return it or if it’sactuallymine. It’s a gray area. It’s the one thing we are robbed of when someone dies suddenly, their last words, last wishes. I wouldn’t even care what Calle would say—buy a pet fish and name it after me, give the car to that phenomenal Uber driver who prays for his grandma’s varicose veins in Arabic every time we drive somewhere, throw my bad underwear out before Dan can see them.I don’t even care.Some instruction would have been nice. Now Dan and I are stuck with all his belongings, and I at least don’t have a clue what to do with them.
Don’t tell Paul that another reason I can’t give up the car is it would stop me being able to haunt the streets of Lund at night to find someone I can blame more than I do myself.
Notice a group of girls looking at us from the other side of the bar. Is it because of the ring, like Paul said? There was a time when I would have shot a smile and invited them over. When I thrived on the attention I got. No one noticed me until I turned seventeen. I was just Alex, the dorky kid who refused hanging out to spend his time playing video games or skateboarding in the park. Had started high school and got through the first year. Then my shoulders grew broader, I shot past Pappa in height, and the fat padding on my face seemed to have shed to reveal cheekbones and a jawline I never knew I had. I was good-looking, and it became my commodity. Always had a girlfriend, not really sure I loved any of them, but I certainly didn’tmindthem. Then I guess I was approaching thirty, looking at Calle and Dan, and started to think love was possible.
