to see the stuff first.
We walk over to a telephone booth to call. It’s Børre who is doing the talking. I can hear him ask if Jessica is home. When somebody at the other end of the line wants to know who’s asking, Børre says it is he who’s calling. Børre.
Jessica and he talk for quite a while. Børre says yes a few times and Power Rangers a few times. Then he gets the address and hangs up.
The pearl ear studs and the brooch are sold, but none of the other things.
Børre’s on fire.
Jessica meets us on the doorstep. She is about twelve and wears her hair in a pigtail. Her parents are also home. And an older sister who looks a little like the one who drove a car and sang in the music video I saw on my brother’s TV. She looks my age.
We shake hands with everybody.
Jessica’s father is quite taken with the Volvo. He can tell it’s the latest model.
Børre and Jessica disappear into Jessica’s room.
I get invited for coffee and cookies.
The parents think it’s a little embarrassing that Jessica has put the note up in the store. They are worried people might think they are short of money and that Jessica isn’t getting an allowance. They explain that it is not the case. They are no worse off than other people, they say.
When Jessica’s mother is about to pour me coffee, I have to say I don’t drink coffee. She asks me what I’d like instead, and I tell her water or soda is perfectly fine. Or squash. She disappears into the kitchen.
Jessica’s father comments that it’s unusual not to drink coffee. He is right, of course. I have this discussion every time someone discovers that I don’t drink coffee. I explain that I don’t disregard the fact that I some day might start drinking coffee, but that I so far haven’t taken to it. I have actually never drunk it. I’ve had coffee in my mouth, but never swallowed. Now Jessica’s mother is returning with a glass of orange squash.
Jessica’s father is talking about cars. He has a Volvo himself, he says. And there’s that thing about Volvo that if you’ve ever had one, trying other cars is out of the question. He came close to buying a Japanese car once, but abandoned the idea. The car didn’t really have anything going for it. Volvo, however. Now there’s a car. Safety. It’s like a good friend. No nonsense, ever. And he puts down his coffee cup to make a hand gesture that seems to mean: full speed, forever. And sunshiny days.
While he is talking, I sit looking towards Jessica’s older sister, Lise. She is looking indulgently at her father. She is pretty.
I tell her father that I agree. Volvo is good. Then I ask Lise what she does for a living.
She’s trying to become a photographer, she says. She takes pictures for a couple of women’s magazines. But she’d prefer to take her own pictures.
I tell her I also photograph occasionally. I have a camera, I tell her. Nikon.
Nikon’s the best, says the father.
Nikon’s good, says Lise.
Børre and Jessica are emerging from Jessica’s room. Børre is carrying a box of Power Rangers pictures, a bottle of Henna shampoo and a piggy bank shaped like a duck. He’s grinning from ear to ear, and asks me for 35 kroner.
When we’re about to leave, Jessica’s mother asks if we wouldn’t like to stay for supper. It won’t be long now. I feel it would be going too far, and besides I have to return the car. I decline politely, telling her that we unfortunately have an appointment. We thank them for their hospitality and for the sale, and Jessica and her family wave us off.
As I put the car into second gear, I look at Lise one last time. In the rear-view mirror. It’s been a long while since I’ve looked at a girl and thought that she’s the kind I’d like to see more often, maybe as often as every day. But I am thinking it now. She ought to be sitting beside me, in the passenger seat, wearing a red sweater. And we ought to drive here and there. Together. I think everything will be a lot better
We walk over to a telephone booth to call. It’s Børre who is doing the talking. I can hear him ask if Jessica is home. When somebody at the other end of the line wants to know who’s asking, Børre says it is he who’s calling. Børre.
Jessica and he talk for quite a while. Børre says yes a few times and Power Rangers a few times. Then he gets the address and hangs up.
The pearl ear studs and the brooch are sold, but none of the other things.
Børre’s on fire.
Jessica meets us on the doorstep. She is about twelve and wears her hair in a pigtail. Her parents are also home. And an older sister who looks a little like the one who drove a car and sang in the music video I saw on my brother’s TV. She looks my age.
We shake hands with everybody.
Jessica’s father is quite taken with the Volvo. He can tell it’s the latest model.
Børre and Jessica disappear into Jessica’s room.
I get invited for coffee and cookies.
The parents think it’s a little embarrassing that Jessica has put the note up in the store. They are worried people might think they are short of money and that Jessica isn’t getting an allowance. They explain that it is not the case. They are no worse off than other people, they say.
When Jessica’s mother is about to pour me coffee, I have to say I don’t drink coffee. She asks me what I’d like instead, and I tell her water or soda is perfectly fine. Or squash. She disappears into the kitchen.
Jessica’s father comments that it’s unusual not to drink coffee. He is right, of course. I have this discussion every time someone discovers that I don’t drink coffee. I explain that I don’t disregard the fact that I some day might start drinking coffee, but that I so far haven’t taken to it. I have actually never drunk it. I’ve had coffee in my mouth, but never swallowed. Now Jessica’s mother is returning with a glass of orange squash.
Jessica’s father is talking about cars. He has a Volvo himself, he says. And there’s that thing about Volvo that if you’ve ever had one, trying other cars is out of the question. He came close to buying a Japanese car once, but abandoned the idea. The car didn’t really have anything going for it. Volvo, however. Now there’s a car. Safety. It’s like a good friend. No nonsense, ever. And he puts down his coffee cup to make a hand gesture that seems to mean: full speed, forever. And sunshiny days.
While he is talking, I sit looking towards Jessica’s older sister, Lise. She is looking indulgently at her father. She is pretty.
I tell her father that I agree. Volvo is good. Then I ask Lise what she does for a living.
She’s trying to become a photographer, she says. She takes pictures for a couple of women’s magazines. But she’d prefer to take her own pictures.
I tell her I also photograph occasionally. I have a camera, I tell her. Nikon.
Nikon’s the best, says the father.
Nikon’s good, says Lise.
Børre and Jessica are emerging from Jessica’s room. Børre is carrying a box of Power Rangers pictures, a bottle of Henna shampoo and a piggy bank shaped like a duck. He’s grinning from ear to ear, and asks me for 35 kroner.
When we’re about to leave, Jessica’s mother asks if we wouldn’t like to stay for supper. It won’t be long now. I feel it would be going too far, and besides I have to return the car. I decline politely, telling her that we unfortunately have an appointment. We thank them for their hospitality and for the sale, and Jessica and her family wave us off.
As I put the car into second gear, I look at Lise one last time. In the rear-view mirror. It’s been a long while since I’ve looked at a girl and thought that she’s the kind I’d like to see more often, maybe as often as every day. But I am thinking it now. She ought to be sitting beside me, in the passenger seat, wearing a red sweater. And we ought to drive here and there. Together. I think everything will be a lot better
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