Anxious People(38)
Ro tugged at her arm anxiously and hissed: “Why do you always have to argue with everyone?”
Because Ro had seen that look in her eyes before. On their very first date several years ago Julia was standing outside a bar smoking while Ro was inside ordering drinks. Two minutes later a security guard came over to Ro, pointed through the window, and asked: “Are you with her?” Ro nodded, and was immediately thrown out of the bar. Apparently there was a delineated smoking area outside the bar, that was the only place you were allowed to smoke, but Julia had been standing two yards beyond the boundary. When the guard told her to go inside the rectangle, Julia started jumping about on the line, mocking him: “What about here? Am I okay HERE? How about if I hold my cigarette inside while I’m standing outside? What about here? If the cigarette’s outside but I blow the smoke into the rectangle?” When Julia had a bit of alcohol inside her, she tended to have trouble respecting any sort of authority, which might be thought a bad character trait to reveal on a first date, but when Ro was being thrown out, she asked the security guard how he knew she and Julia were there together, and he replied gruffly: “When I told her to leave, she pointed at you through the window and said: ‘That’s my girlfriend, I’m not leaving without her!’?” That was the first time Ro had ever been anyone’s girlfriend. That was the evening she went from being hopelessly infatuated to irrevocably in love.
Later on, it turned out that Julia’s personality when she was drunk was exactly the same as Julia’s personality when she was pregnant, so the past eight months had been fairly tumultuous—but life is full of surprises.
“Please, Jules?” Ro said tentatively.
Julia hissed back: “If we leave now, this apartment could well be sold by the time we come back! How many apartments have we looked at? Twenty? You’ve found something wrong with every single one, and I can’t bear it! So I’m damn well going to have this one, and no one’s going to come along and say I—”
“P-i-s-t-o-l!” Ro repeated.
“Are you going to be farting a ten-pound monkey out of your uterus any time now, Ro? Well? So shut up!”
“It isn’t fair to play the pregnancy card every time we have an argument, Jules, we’ve talked about that…,” Ro muttered, sticking her hands deep into the pockets of her dress, and then Julia realized that she may have gone a bit too far, because Ro’s hands had only delved that deeply into her pockets when the neighbors’ kids killed one of her birds.
The bank robber let out a quiet cough and said: “Excuse me? I don’t want to interrupt, but…,” then raised the pistol a little higher so that everyone could see it and remember exactly what was going on here.
Julia folded her arms over her chest and repeated, one last time: “I’m not going anywhere.”
Ro let out a sigh so deep you could have found oil at the bottom of it, then nodded firmly: “And I’m not going anywhere without her.”
This would obviously have been a very touching moment if Zara hadn’t spoiled it by snorting at Ro: “No one offered you the chance to leave. You’re not pregnant.”
Ro dug her hands so far into her pockets that she actually punched holes in them, and mumbled: “We’re actually on this journey together.”
Roger, who had been getting more and more frustrated that no one seemed to be focusing on the most important thing here—that Roger hadn’t been given any accurate information—was now pointing at the bank robber with both hands: “So what are you after, then? Well? Is it the apartment you want?”
Anna-Lena described a square in the air with her hands like a mime artist trying to say “apartment.” The bank robber groaned in resignation at the pair of them.
“Why would I… you can’t just… are you suggesting that I’m trying to steal the apartment?”
Roger seemed to recognize how ridiculous that sounded when it was said out loud, but seeing as Roger was a man who was never wrong even when he was obviously wrong, he clarified: “Now look here! It’s got huge potential for renovation!”
Anna-Lena stood behind him with an imaginary hammer, waving it in the air by way of illustration.
The bank robber coughed quietly again, and could feel the beginnings of a headache, then said: “Can’t you just… lie down? Just for a little while? I wasn’t trying… I mean, I was going to rob a bank, but I had no intention… look, this isn’t what I had in mind!”
For various reasons the silence that followed was so complete that the only sound was the bank robber’s sobs. That’s never a comfortable combination, someone crying with a pistol in their hand, so none of the others was entirely sure how to react. Ro nudged Julia and muttered: “Now see what you’ve done,” and Julia muttered back: “It was you who…” Roger turned to Anna-Lena and whispered: “It really does have immense potential for renovation,” and Anna-Lena replied quickly: “Yes, it really does, doesn’t it? You’re absolutely right! But… isn’t that damp I can smell? Mold, even?”
* * *
The bank robber was still sobbing. None of the others felt like looking in that direction, because, as already mentioned, it’s hard to feel comfortable with armed expressions of emotion, so in the end it was Estelle who cautiously padded over. Either she didn’t know any better, or she most definitely did. It might seem a little odd that Estelle hasn’t been mentioned very often up till now in this story, not because Estelle is easy to forget about, but because she’s very hard to remember. Estelle has what might be called a transparent personality. Eighty-seven years old, with a body as gnarled and crooked as a piece of ginger, she slipped over to the bank robber and asked: “Are you all right, dear?” When the bank robber didn’t answer, she went on babbling in a singularly untroubled manner: “My name’s Estelle, I’m here to take a look at the apartment on behalf of my daughter. My husband, Knut, is parking the car. It isn’t at all easy to find anywhere to park around here, and I don’t suppose it will be any easier now that the street’s full of police cars. Sorry, now I’ve made you worried. I didn’t mean it was your fault that Knut couldn’t find anywhere to park, of course. Are you feeling all right? Would you like a glass of water?”