Page 47 of The Happiness Blueprint
“I kind of go off food. It becomes a way to stay alive and nothing else. I count the carbohydrates, enter them into my pump remote and then I eat them. When I have a busy afternoon, I don’t want to take the risk of having high blood sugar.” High sugars equal headache, nausea and excessive peeing. Not ideal for van driving.
“It sounds like I need to start taking you out for lunch.”
“No!” That came out way too fast. The thought of having to socialize every single lunch hour is...exhausting.
“Okay,” he says. Any disappointment, he hides it well. I conclude that he asked out of politeness, that type of question you want the other person to decline. Such asShall we split the bill?
“Then, I’ll at least bring back an extra sandwich. Just in case.”
“That would be fine. Thank you.” I relax a little. Talking about sandwiches—that I can do.
ALEX
Personal Calendar
• NEW TASK:Cancel plans with Paul (in fact drop everything every time she suggests she needs me)
• NEW TASK:Pick up math book after work (ditto: pick up everything she needs every time she needs it)
• NEW EVENT:Klara study club 7pm (notat all overly excited—simply helping afriend)
SAVED TO DRAFTS
Calle,
Was thinking today not necessarily about you but about death. I had a friend from school, you knew him—he was a year above me at school. He died from cancer two years ago. I was shocked, although not enough perhaps; his funeral was the first one I ever went to. Remember I borrowed a jacket from you? Anyway, he left Sweden when he was eighteen. For months he talked about it, had gotten a scholarship to a New York university, couldn’t stop talking about what a shithole Malmö was and how the big city waiting for him was, made it sound like the red carpet was rolled out and all he had to do was attend and things would fall into place.
He went to South Africa afterward, Cape Town, which from the pictures of it looked like Miami, all white beaches and trendy restaurants. Then back to America, Los Angeles this time, I could see him fitting in there. He only came back to Sweden for Christmas and Midsummer. Christmas Eve is our family celebration and Christmas Day is for friendships, for going to the clubs of nostalgia and catching up with school friends. And Midsummer is midnight sun, schnapps and dancing with flower scents in one’s nose. He came back for that.
Then he got sick. He held on to the big, big world, got his treatment in a city where there was no one to bring him or his family quiches. Then he died—and finally came home.
What I understand from life is this: you live and travel and can build yourself up to be anyone you want, but in the end, you are returned to and buried in the soil you worked so hard to escape.
Graves don’t mean anything to me. I haven’t visited in months: yours could have a garden gnome on it by now for all I know. I go to the space where you lived. And loved.
I’m helping Klara study. Now I feel like I hear you inside my head goingThere is an awful lot of Klara in these emails lately, bro!and yes, there is because there is an awful lot of Klara in my life recently.
Lately I am not sure where I belong, which is a surprise, and not a pleasant one. I had thought this was a place on earth as good as any, and it is: it is not its lack of appeal or inferiority which unsettles me now but that there is a point I must follow, and if that moves, then I could too. I am not rooted here and would happily go other places to be returned to the soil one day, that’s enough for me. Haven’t spoken about it, but in a few weeks Klara is heading back to London, orhome, as she calls it. After her dad’s last checkup. London! Went for a weekend there once. Beer is overpriced or foul and the queue for Tussauds took longer than the walk around the museum. Also, what actually is the point of looking at wax dolls? London is now this big threat looming over my head, like I’m waiting for it to rain. I have to be supportive of her plans, I owe her that. She deserves it all, even if that’s London and not me. Besides, we’re friends as she has made abundantly clear, and she’s seeing someone else. Not even available. But hard not to think about her when her name pops up in my calendar every morning. Today, tomorrow, the day after. And I can’t really imagine a day when it won’t.
Don’t take Klara Nilsson away from me, London. You have enough fucking people already.
A
Already dark outside. Sometimes I think it’s so dark it feels like it will never be light again. Wonder if other people have thoughts like that?
Klara’s dad has an open-door policy, and after two knocks I’m welcome to proceed, so I do, taking my shoes off and placing them by the door. I walk to the back of the house and into a spacious living room.
“Peter.” I nod to him.
“Hi, Alex. Klara is upstairs.”
She’s in her bedroom? Surely I shouldn’t be going up there? Is it still a girl’s room, or has she given it a makeover? Does she have childhood posters on the wall (horses? Eminem?) and a lava lamp? Can’t help feeling like I’m a kid again and heading into a girl’s home to ostensibly help her with schoolwork. Feel an urge to tell her dad my intentions are innocent and we will be focused solely on mathematics. University prep. Confidence-boosting. Except there’s no need for that at all—Iamsimply helping her with math. Still, it feels polite not to rush upstairs into her space. I lean against the door frame and start updating Peter on our work.
“The nursery kitchen project is going well. We’re waiting for one pallet of tiles to arrive, but by next week that should be finished. I’ve fitted the shelving in the pantry.”
“Good, good. You’re doing well. Been a great addition to the team.” Peter stands up slowly, hands gripping the coffee table. I resist the urge to help him get up. Wonder how I’d feel if I didn’t have the strength to do ordinary things.
My phone beeps. I hold up the phone as an apology to Peter who walks off slowly. A message from Paul:Our catch-up canceled so you can help a girl with math?? Dude, if that isn’t the oldest trick in the book...
