Page 11 of The Naked Cleaner

“Bathroom first. Give me a urine sample and I will feed you.” He says, looking awfully smug with himself as I roll my eyes. Bastard.

“Whatever.” I’m not an adult. I never will be.

“Good boy.” He laughs. “Small plastic pot on the toilet lid. Fill it up and then come tell me why my cousin says he hates your guts, but can’t stop smiling.”

* * *

My life goes back to normal after that. For a whole week. And yes, Jonas was probably right, because apparently, I have some kind of infection, and I’m now munching antibiotics in a dosage fit for a horse and feeling more nauseous than I am comfortable with. At least I haven’t had any video meetings as my forehead is mottled in every colour under the sun, and I am sporting something that looks like a black eye. Not quite the look a respected freelance IT programmer should present if he is trying to grab a contract.

So, I have been lying low and manage to catch up with some of the tasks that have been lagging behind in my never-ending inbox of tasks. And I have been eating. Well, I tell Jonas that I am eating, and maybe ploughing through two packs of Rice Krispies isn’t quite classed as fine dining, but I poured raisins and milk on it so that is at least three food groups covered for the day.

I’m not stupid. I know my diet is shocking, but... Yeah, I have run out of excuses.

I realise that Jonas is right, and that I am diving head first into all kinds of health problems, and that I will burn myself out into an early grave if I don’t get my stress levels under control. And he is bloody annoying, because I know he is right. I just don’t know how to stop it. How to start living. Howto.

I hate the word. He keeps telling me I need tobe happy. I don’t know what the hell that means, to be honest. I am fine. I suppose I am successful and that should make me happy? I have friends? I think...

So, now I am back in my unicorn slippers and my dad’s old bathrobe that somehow ended up in my flat when he stayed over on a business trip years ago, chewing a stray pencil and tapping absentmindedly on my messy notes that are spread in front of me. I know what I am supposed to be creating, and I know how to do it. I just can’t get my head to cooperate with my fingers today. Like I am distracted, and my brain is all foggy with crap I shouldn’t have to worry about.

I shuffle out to the kitchen and find a stray banana in the bottom of the fridge, which I peel as I lean back against the kitchen worktop, watching the world pass by outside the small window next to me. I can see human beings walking along down on the street, and the traffic lights over by Blegdamsvej. I can see kids skipping along, bikes moving around. Cars reversing carefully out of the ridiculously small parking spaces along the street, and a white van that does a perfect three point turn before sliding into the recently vacated space right outside the entrance to my building.

And I freeze up. Because. Oh fuck.

I know that van.

No no, I’ve never actually seen it before, but the logo on the side is kind of obvious and the dude now unloading a load of stuff onto the pavement looks annoyingly familiar.

Yeah. I freeze up, shuffling on my feet and trying to think. Think,THINK PONTUS!

I could pretend I am not home. He will never in a million years buy that. I know Jonas and Louis speak every day. I know they talk about me, because yeah, Jonas couldn’t keep a secret even if he was standing in front of a firing squad. He will just blurt it all out in my face and smile like it’s nothing. LikeI am just discussing all your shortcomings with my cousin and you should be grateful.

Just for the record. I am not grateful. This is starting to piss me off.

“What?” I state as I throw the door open, almost knocking him out.

“Hi, Pontus! Lovely to see you too!” He grins back, his voice is dripping with sarcasm.

“You repaid Jonas his money, he told me. So, just fuck off.”

I don’t know why I am being such a jerk, because. Well. Just because.

Louis just barges past me with a massive cardboard box in his arms, leaving a black bucket thingy and the goddamn steam cleaner sitting outside my door. Which is kind of.

Weird.

And he doesn’t come back, and then I end up moving all his shite into my hallway, because like, fire hazard and neighbours are a thing and I can’t just leave my front door open and it’s like, alotof stuff.

He’s in my kitchen.My kitchen.And my nice tidy bare fridge is now full of annoyingly colourful plastic boxes labelled with cheery words likeBreakfast FridayandLunch Sunday. Some are labelledsnack.

I’ll give him snack. What the hell?

“We made a deal.” He says, and pins his eyes on me to the point that I am frozen in place. We haven’t made any deals. None that I remember.

“You’re wearing clothes.” It’s weird, because he is like wearing a lot of clothes, joggers and two hoodies on top of each other and a big scarf and a beanie tucked over his head. It’s super weird.

“It’s freezing out there if you hadn’t noticed. Maybe you should venture outside one of these days and discover that there’s a whole world out there. Things like other people and life and weather and happiness.” He snarls back.

Yeah. I would too. I’m being a dick.

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