It was a summer evening in the Norwegian capital, Oslo. It would already have been night if it wasnât for the sun, which, as accustomed in such northern latitudes that time of the year, was lingering above the horizon, seeming hesitant to part with the one-half of the firmament visible from the northern hemisphere; so rendering the people, too, equally reluctant to quit the day and go to bed, despite the clock being in disagreement with the sky.
After a long, pleasant day of boozing and sunbathing in a park, I, finally and quite randomly, ended up among a large company at a friendâs apartment. The party was mainly composed of jolly Mozambican and Portuguese drinkers. There was only that one fellow who made a notable contrast in the uniformity of the group.
A young fellow he was, hardly twenty-five. He was evidently European but neither Norwegian nor Portuguese. I did not initially exchange any words with him; nor did he with anyone else. He sat by himself on a stool in a corner, not drinking, lost in some private reverie, hardly paying any notice to whatever happened around him.
I did not judge him to be shy, but rather introverted by choice. It seemed he had wound up in that place and company by some accident and felt quite alien there. He naturally attracted my curiosity, and I set about examining him. The result of my preliminary, visual examination of him was that he was the kind of semi-lunatic, lonely and solitary, socially dysfunctional, highly depressive, easy-to-get-excited, and emotionally impulsive guy whoâs played too many video games in his life.
My opportunity to learn more about his personality finally arose when I stood up and made for the balcony.
âAre you going out to smoke?â inquired the fellow, simultaneously reaching for his cigarette pack in his pocket, a strong desire to express all that his mouth was soon to utter being pronounced in advance by a fiery glance in his eyes.
A few moments later, we were both standing on the balcony. The after-midnight sky over the Norwegian capital was still illuminated in dim tints of orange and purple by the sun, which still lurked shallowly below the horizon. Two little flames glowed momentarily through the imperfect darkness, lighting our fags. And without any further delay, my company began to yearningly disclose what obsessed his thoughts; and I to eagerly listen.
He was half-German and half-Norwegian in blood, but heâd grown up solely in Germany and couldnât speak any Norwegian; heâd never met his Norwegian father. That was, in fact, his first time ever setting foot in Norway, just a couple of weeks prior to our crossing ways there.
The reason that brought him thither, as well as his current life mission, was one of financial nature. Heâd got himself a job in Norway so to rapidly raise some dough. He definitely didnât seem like the greedy, money-loving kind of man. Instead, he looked like the sort of person who wouldnât care a whit about wealth and would happily spend his days in idle scarcity if it wasnât for some idealized purpose.
I didnât need to strive much to get to hear of that purpose. He was rather too anxious to speak to me about it on his own initiative. He proceeded straight awayâŠ
âI am in love. I am seriously in love with that girl. You know, I just came here from Thailand. Iâd been there for the last year or so. I originally planned to travel around Southeast Asia. But then, soon after I arrived in Bangkok, I met that girl. I fell in love with her instantly and never left. I stayed over with and for her in Bangkok until I recently ran out of money.
âAs I was boarding that plane, a couple of weeks ago, coming here to Oslo, I was swearing to myself that I will never contact her again; that I never want to see her or hear anything from her again in my life; that I will utterly forget her as soon as I land in Europe the day after. I was resolute to come and work and earn some money to go traveling for real this time.
âBut here I am now, after all these days, thinking of nothing but her. I tried hard to take her out of my mind, but it is plainly impossible. I love her. So Iâm now here earning money only for going back to her.â
âThatâs alright, mate. I donât see anything wrong with all that. I mean, sure, traveling is great. But if you really love her so muchâŠâ I attempted to spirit him up.
âItâs not about traveling. There is more⊠You see, our relationship had been extremely problematic throughout this year. There was too much conflict between us. We fought the whole time. Almost every day, there was an epic battle between us. She has a very irascible character, and she can get very violent, tooâŠ
âYou see this one scar on my belly? And this one on my arm? And this one over here? And this one too? And this, and thisâŠ? She did them all to me!
âI was just trying to calm her down every time, but she was only getting further exasperated. There was a point after which her temper would explode, and there was no turning back. She was getting blinded, completely mad, grabbing the first knife, scissors, fork, or whatever sharp happened to be within reach and coming straight for me. She was furious. There was nothing I could do to stop her. Most times, I would manage at least to run away and get cover. Only two times I ended up in the hospital.
âYou may be wondering how I can still love her and want to go back after all that. I also do wonder myself. But I really think we could work it out this time. Itâs worth a try, at least. Itâs because I can now clearly see that I was the main culprit for our strife.
âOur fights would always start after me rebuking her for her job and prompting her to quit it. I could understand, then too, that that wasnât good behavior from my side. I was sharing all the money I had with her, yes, but I am not rich, and it could not be enough for her and her family. It wasnât right to expect her to quit her job.
âItâs just that I couldnât stand it sometimes⊠It was too painful to see her coming back home drunk in the morning, knowing that sheâs slept with who knows how many random, perverted scamps for money throughout the nightâŠ
âBut I have now thought of it better. I am pretty sure I can go back, live with her, and abstain from scolding her altogether. And then I can work out some way to make enough money and bring her out of her predicamentâŠ
âI know what you are thinking! I know exactly what you are thinking right now! You are thinking that Iâm that deplorable sociopath whoâs spent most of his life playing video games isolated in a dark room⊠You are thinking that Iâm that lamentable coward whose heart was about to leap out of his chest and was overwhelmed by dreadful panic every time he had to speak to somebody; whoâs never had any friends and was to all a sucker and a subject of mockery⊠You are thinking that Iâm that weak, awkward, naive, childish idiot who went to Thailand and fell madly in love with the first nasty whore who opened her legs for him⊠Thatâs precisely what you are thinking!
âWell… you are perfectly right! Thatâs exactly who I am!
âI know itâs pathetic. But this is my fate which is far beyond my power to alter. I must go back there and suffer it⊠because I love her.â
I would have liked to allay his disquiet, but there wasnât much I could say. We remained there silent for the time it took to inhale the last few drags of the third of the fags weâd lit up to accompany the narration of this bizarre story until we, both at the same time, quenched the butts in the ashtray.
âWish you good luck, mate,â was the only thing I managed to say, trying to hide the pity and emphasize the empathy in my voice, as he first stepped back into the apartmentâs interior, where he occupied his previous post on the stool in the corner and sank once again into his lonely, afflictive thoughts.
The story you've just read is a part of my "Real Stories of Real People" collection, wherein I narrate my encounters with various remarkable characters I've run into while traveling around the world. The entire collection is published on my blog and may be read here. But if you'd like to get them with you to the beach in your ebook reader or as a physical book, and very appreciatedly support my creative activity, go ahead and grab your copy from Amazon for the cost of a cup of coffee.
