Tómas Jónsson, Bestseller

by Guðberger Bergsson

  no Ásmundur does not want dolly.

  She said Ásmundur. Why does Anna keep saying Ásmundur. My name cannot be Ásmundur. She said: Tómas is going to wipe himself at night. Then she said, the heating bill will not go down if the cold snap continues to the end of the month. I thought the woman said Ásmundurthe way you puzzle over the oil bill a mother lets her child freeze to death on the steps outside

  Stína froze to death the other side of New Yearit is impossible I said afterward you believe the couple in the kitchen that we office workers live better than othersI heard the same old whiningwhy are someone’s monthly incomes twice yours do we have less he cares about having money and obnoxiously continuedIndeed. Ásmundur comes and issues commands. Títa and Stína crept in after me. I rubbed the stick soap around her teeth, at first Stína was reluctant sputtering with open mouth and lolling tongue. It is probably tepid on the tongue.drive the idiot cat out Ásmundur.cats should not be tolerated in residential houses, I say. Títa has squeezed herself under the bathtub, so that next to her . . . (something is wrong with the text here)let me force her out with a broom stick.wait Tómas. Whistle. Títa disappears.There’s little room to move in here. I squash her against the wall, when she bends herself down the shaft drives under the tub and presses an abundance of flesh toward me.WhistleI am satisfied that Anna squashed past me smoking in the kitchen and drives with great thunder: drum-drummumm-drumm, lifting her heavy asscheeks from the chair: drimm.let the cat benono waitKatrín, don’t keep the cat inside, if Tómas hates him, says Sveinn.

  Sveinn hides behind the kitchen table wearing striped pajamas like a prisoner, slurping his morning coffee from a plastic cup swollen and wonky from sleep. Sveinn is muss-haired and puffy-faced after much dozing, after dead sleep, after the amount of money he gathered up yesterday with his hard work and the toll on his back and his knees. Yesterday was payday. Today is Sunday: all day slumber and sleep under the British bedspread. His hands rest ignorant and foolish alongside the coffee paraphernalia with dark mourning streaks under all the nails, swollen and bluish, licked with kerosene.how can she resent him pawing at his naked body, skimmed-milk white, of a Sunday morning when he has belched out the wind from the donuts and coffee he forces the kids on her for the weekend work he has got a job once has twice paid child support payments for the twins Stína and Dóri his envelope was thoroughly stuffed for nine months his frown lightened when the seal was broken and the contents turned upside down what was hiddenanyway what labors workers perform after coming home the night-rate of office workers who go until five then work longer another job after work or night work according to the bank director’s whims (something is probably missing in the manuscript or else the writer has gotten confused; I would not be surprised)not skimping off at lunch after meat chops with red cabbage since time is not cut down to the nailI cannot stand this anymore Sveinn says.He elbows in, grabs the broom and thrusts it under the bath (wasn’t I just writing about that?). We all tussle in the toilet, but Títa lies calm like Svings driven up in the corner behind the foot of the pot (here it should say tub for consistency in error) where we can’t get to her. Rather they scram than you, my puss, I do not rent to people with children. The advertisement was clear: a childless couple. They snuck stowaways in.We came here childless.Fine. Could I have seen into her. He smuggled Stína and Bubba into my basement apartment hidden in Katrín’s belly. I have a legal right to finger her womb lining at the threshold door. Out. Out. Out with your urine-soaked child in your belly before it pulverizes everything into small smithereens and leaves the apartment desolate and devastated. Guerrillas. Shady dealings. Curiosity draws the boy to the door; he wades to the faucet gnawing and tearing his way forward, over the floor in the water puddling from the kitchen tap, which sprays over the cloth in the sink. The fabric is soaked through. He claws the satin paint from the walls, which I painted with a roller, paying full price. He picks at the walls and drills his fingers into every crevice, so nothing can be done with the apartment. Bubbi draws penises on the drawers and closets, stuffing all the keyholes full of matches in defiance of warnings and the announcements by the Homeowners’ Association: Don’t keep matches where children can get them. Do not smoke in bed (which they both do after intercourse). No rules get followed. Bottle caps rest firmly inside Dórí’s jaw and he starts to choke at least three times a week. He swallows buttons and fasteners; repeatedly they rush him down to Urgent Care and pump them out or fill him with castor oil and wait until Anna finds the lost item with a needle in his feces, washes off the dirt in the sink, and sticks the coat button back in the button jar, which the kid walks over to like it’s a jar of bread in a food drawer. Bubbi, you cannot always be getting into the button jar. This is ugh and yeuch, Bubbi. Katrín sits on the chair and smokes (I think I have never smoked like today ho-hum, what?, coated with throat-dirt) until she cries, My Jerí in cho, what’s up with your flab (this exclamation my Jerí in cho is still popular out in the country)—and quickly fetches the castor oil bottle. I catch him red-handed with the phone. Heavily she rises up like an old seal from the skerry: half-drowsy and falling into slumber from the effort. In between: she turns the radio dial like a grindstone (she never can find a station properly) while I seethe at her with my eyes. Tómas since you understand foreign tongues would you be so kind and read this canister Sveinn found it lying around in at the surplus store. She returns with the tin and continues over to the wet kids sitting there like a big floral haystack, which has been heatedthis will be the eternal theme I my father my mother my sister and brother familyand the baking powder blown out from the belly.I move them away before he opens the door and forces out a new Dóri who will knot me up completelyI open the toolbox and take out the razor. I rip the blue seal from a razor blade. In addition, I get an emery board for my fingernails. I stick a new blade in the razor, set it down on the glass shelf below the mirror beside the ashtray and the forest water nymphs. And I stroke a fingertip casually over my stubble, turn on the faucet and let it run until the hot water steams. I wet the brush in the appropriately warm shaving water and stroke it across my jaw, pulling back my face against the heat. Steam layers the mirror. I wipe it off with a washcloth. I lather shaving cream over my stubble and smear solid splotches on my whiskers. I follow the directions (Modo de emplear) of the shaving cream. My beard is sore and I go over the stubble twice with my Gillette razor at different settings: 7 for the first shaving, 8 for the secondno a person should not own an apartment for strangers to spawn in and lay waste to with their lustful bodies even if they are sympathetic before he can wipe himself with his own paper this brush its jaws its own toothbrush and dry off the whale oil with its own towel The State ought to set up a general defense fund for this stuff. She stood in front of me proud like a queen impregnated in her sleep by some dreamprince; and I gave in, I accepted the coffee, and sat down, crushed, at the table with my legs crossed, drinking more cups than I ought to while your snootiness softened. While I sat nailed to that chair I imagined a penguin rummaging forward with a refrigerator on his stomach alone on a journey over the glaciers of the North Pole. She showed me with the fear of god an X-ray the doctor allowed her to keep of a lopsided colonone does not need to be a great doctor to see the wrong (my only jee)move your finger across the film which Katrín glued to the kitchen window using condensation (for god’s sake) and the cloudy sky that is the colon met her spine (all asimmer). After having tied you with a tether I threaded it down your trouser leg underneath the sock and tied it to your big toe. She can watch me all bumptious from the kitchen door with her big open surgery that ripped when she was getting to her feet just immediately that same evening barely awake from the stupor of chloroform (awful, she thinks); and asks me to read (would you be so kind) packages and dispensers and asks if I understand the foreign lyrics in a pop song (my jee you do so much good; think of the difference) but I don’t want to hang about for all time in the kitchen staring at a crooked colon (less easy to see now) glued to the window. She sho
uld have shown me the organ picture when she moved in; I would not have rented to them.

  Fingers stroke the newly shaven stubble. The roots grow under the skin like a complex filigree. To shave me to a gleam I move the razor up then down, criss then cross. I cannot use the same blade more than twice.Títa you cats do not need to engage in frequent shaving your nature is subtle yet complex with darkness covering you should hang ties together at odds wind-drying on a crane the whole winter and get sent into spring like anyone else dried fish in your black jaws in Nigeria you with your thick-coated collar like a fashionable ruff she is like an overcoat from the fashion store Feldinum where Jónni the Mink Merchant employs the state to spruce up old ladies oh he is so considerate

  would you like me to take the diapers out of the bathtubI mean it Tómas

  no it is totally hygienic only let them lie

  do you want a cup of coffeeI have a hot brew on

  The method she uses to ingratiate herself with me is extremely transparent. I am facing the absolute last moment to get rid of them before she empties herself and spawns a full house. Is it enough to make her feel hostility. I send her stern mental signals. She works and potters with the radio in search of “any decent station,” i.e. something light and refreshing. The antenna gets the message and the speakers command her to scram within a day, persona non grata. I have always been diplomatic. This Tómas Jónsson is innately an utter diplomat.he comes so smoothly indeed I cannot put it into words this indeedydeed I do not know how to say ithe manages to be both directly and indirectly too but in a direct wayhe is a tip top gentlemando you want the bottle backjust a drop so sothis was nothing at all only a shadow of a drop hahaha you use words so uniquely sweet of you to let us see yourgod this man Tómas was born a gentleman from the old schoolshe wilts and sits. She draws apart her thighs heavier than ten under-duvets. She sits diagonally on the head chair and foams: Show mercy, now jeezee show mercy, none of your bullishness. And her arms dangle powerfully by her sides, strung down with heavy weights. They touch the floor. She prays for mercy. Here you will find no mercy. She rolls her head to and fro senselessly. Green oozing foam wells from her mouth. I can see the fists in her abdomen, squashed there after coitus interruptus “they said that the queen gave birth to a kitten”; that was Títa speaking from the Thousand and One Nights. She’s widely read a literary cat or rather a female cat who knows how to read classic books. I set her free. She is done in, weary from thirst. From her skirt fall crumbs like black lamb droppings, which Títa bolts down. I drag the bloody message from her swelling body and in the evening she sits deathly pale at the head chair when Sveinn comes home.

  we have to find another apartment

  what’s wrong

  I can no longer endure the constant mental warnings from morning to night cannot switch on the radio and set the station without them raining down on me

  Perhaps someone is advertising vacant housing in the papersHe is wearing his coat. She turns on the radio for Sunday Mass. They both hold their breath and wait for the mental signals. I brush my shoes in peace and quiet, and then the priest says, remain here in this house, eat and drink as you are offered, for the laborer is worthy of his wages. You shall not move from one house to another—it was too late to send the signal: 00/3 leave my house. Worse, I found his dentures under the radiator in the hallway in the morning as I reached for my overshoes; one tooth was missing when I checked the gums I found it in my shoes examined the roof palate with a mirror, much to my horror I thrust the teeth into the soft gum and placed it all on the radiator. Then I went to eat, came back, took off my coat, and went to the door of the restroom. I saw a doll lying on the floor, picked it up, went uninvited into the kitchen and said as I rubbed the doll teasingly on Dóri’s nose: Here is Dórí the doll. Sveinn smiled and I glanced at him and saw that his dentures were pretty much stuck up inside him, put in place after last night’s bender, and teeth broke chewing his steak and browned potatoes, spiced sauce on his tongue.

  Thank Tómas very kindly now Dóri

  From this I drew conclusions: He was the source of the commotion in the hallway. The whole day Magnús has been shamefaced in my presence. I have made an abnormal number of trips to the bathroom—always looking into the kitchen on the way.

  the boys held a little celebration for the company’s anniversary and one gets battered and bruisedhe saysthe man can barely hold his headI am waiting for the musician to dawdle to his feet. He slinks up right at twelve or one each day drinks beer from bottles which I set in the window to cool. What was that rustling in the night. The worst is a torn loop. The overcoat is destroyed by hanging it by the collar, which stretches the material so it pokes out in back.

  Good morning, girls. You are playing ball in the hallway.

  what of it

  How are the walls faring.

  The dear little girls stop their ball game become embarrassed and toss their ponytails

  Have you started going with boys, I whisper slyly.

  the walls are flecked by the ballsthe girls fart disgustedly with their lips and spray their gums which is a problem for a little girl with a little hard stone

  no

  lying ferments early in a woman’s flesha shame she is so coquettishI can see she has been with a boy from those kissing lips I long to bite themwhat comes next

  I jump in through the door that slammed a whole month back and when I open it again shy little girl creatures are giggling in the hallway.

  In such good weather, you should play with the balls outside.

  there’s no smooth wall outsidesays the strumpet cheekily balls don’t bounce on pebbledash

  the wall of the garage.

  it is far too low for us

  i think you have grown tall high in the air.

  of courseshe says, turning up her nosethat’s just for little girls but we’ve got breasts why not have a look

  and then the door opens further on in time and again the frost has come and autumn returned it’s started to rain and autumn rain breaks cold and bleak down the house walls and the sidewalk filled with little girls buzzing in high heels red painted lips red silk-letters pasted on the cheeks with an old bra on top of their sweaters my fingers crack with arthritis in the cold and old age and misery settle when I slam the door behind me and pray that it clicks in the latch I say grumpy and aged

  Get lost take your nuisance balls some other place.

  Outside it’s pouring bucketssays the strumpet

  Raining, I correct. Go play on the second floor then, the corridor in your apartment.

  Then the balls will run down the stairs and you do not have to search for them when you lose them

  Yep-yep, I say, overcome by the arguments of youth.

  Lend us this ball for our ball gamesays the strumpet and dives her hand suddenly under my coat you have reached the age of having little sense dear girl

  Any balls there.

  I jerk back, she pinches pretty firmly.

  yes why else are you all scrotum-touchy always whistlewhistle with your pocket-billiards and we can see into your toilet at night my jee hee we knocked and said to Anna we are so desperate would you please let us use your toilet thousand thanks and we made a teensy weensy hole in the paint by the window and can see in hee hee and didn’t pee our pants

  The girl has a leg to stand on. Yes, this girl is not making it up, a hole in the paint no bigger than a pinhole.but I play my part and steal chewing gum from the radiator where they cannot hide it from me in a gum bank overnight I glue it over the hole

  you are terrible you devil you imp and pussy who stole the chewing gum you damn gogo

  the girl creatures that day were without chewing gum after a milk-and sausage-offensive to the store not long before gave them a chance to steal the paper- and explosive gum but the wrapping on the chewing gum is bad for the element in the radiator there are no ideal spots so the gum is not visible when you walk down the stairs until you look at more than one side then filch it fr
om the hole and I chewed the rest to test how it would chew this devilish gray viscous damn fortunately man has teeth for this large chewable menhir

  I disappear as far back in time as I came. The apartment has no doors. She stands open, empty and gaping, like a newly built house, opposite the airport, which is now in hiding there under the hill. I two-step around the naked doorless rooms. Rusty claw-fittings protrude from the light gray stone wall. The planks run horizontally only, in some places with a bridge between, with wide gaps both in the ceiling and on the walls of this sarcophagus. I stroke my fingertips down the inside of the outer walls; loose flakes of timber break away, and I see the grill at the end of the wooden beam adjacent the floor, where moisture enters in through the walls from the ground and causes cold feet. They have been left there through distraction and negligence during the work instead of being caught up with hammering nails as is the custom indeed there are no damp vents in the outer wall so the beams rot. I touch the house and draw my fingers down the wall rugged and pleasant under the tips of my hand which turns gray with cement dust. And I press my fingerprints onto the windows with this gray powder. I think: Four outer walls, nine interior walls, floor below, a ceiling over me. And all around me: the strong smell of cement-mix and drying plaster astringent to my senses. My eyes see: widely scattered around the floor wall-spoons like metal sets, some on the edge others sitting on polished paper, wall hammers and sharp chisels, all shiny from use. Empty or half-empty cement bags lie against the walls. A battered water pail too shamefully heavy for my thin arms from the concrete at the bottom, and a cement-dirty mixing trough. The floor in the living room has been beaten with wall hammers, marked white with countless blows. I say to myself, and the spirit of the apartment to me, Tómas, you move in this Fall. I tour the apartment. I touch every wall once, I touch the ceiling in my imagination, the panes with my fingertips.no one is working insideI love this apartment. She is everything I have acquired with thrift and self-denial and setting myself aside for fifty-seven yearswhere have the masons hidden themselvesI came here after work at nightI broke in via the service door