Gunnar In The Carrels - Part 8
Gunnar In The Carrels
Need to catch up? Links to earlier parts of story follow post.
Part 8
For I have known them all already, known them all:
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons; (49 - 51)
-The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T. S. Eliot
He must have slept a bit, suspended high above the library’s main floor, alone in the row of wooden carrels. He woke slowly, suffused with a warmth of well-being he hadn’t felt since childhood. The air whooshing through the ventilation system made a steady white noise that quieted his internal monologue. For several minutes, Gunnar sat cross legged on the carpet and just breathed, using a counting technique his therapist had taught him to help with the anxiety that sometimes woke him in the night.
Breath in - 2 - 3 - 4 - hold - 6 - 7. Breath out - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7.
Gunnar imagined breathing in a glowing blue light that represented health and vitality. As he inhaled, the light suffused his inner parts with healing radiance and drew out the negative or toxic thoughts, which he exhaled in a grey cloud.
He practised breathing every night before bed now and felt he was getting good at it. Sometimes he reached a state in which his head felt like a helium balloon floating above the rest of his body, buoyant. It felt calm and quiet.
He tried to reach that state now, but the effort only made it more elusive and a single thought kept piercing his balloon.
What time is it?
Gunnar finally gave in and pulled his phone from the pocket of his jacket. Almost 3. Plenty of time to spend here before he had to pick Jenny up from Anneville City Hall at 5:30.
Jenny had made reservations for the two of them at a newly opened restaurant in the city centre named Mildred Pierce. At 7:30, he was to join an audience in the city hall’s auditorium to bid for the services of several higher up city officials, who, if your bid was highest, would become your ‘servant’ for a day. Jenny had coached him several times on how to vote for her so that he would not discourage others, but would ultimately be victorious.
There were five new texts on his phone.
David Larsson: Staying late. No need to pack up.
He assumed his father meant pick up since Gunnar and Jenny were supposed to collect him on the way to the auction.
Constance Nilsson-Larsson: Gunnar, Where are you? I left my umbrekka in the car and looks like rain so need it now and can’t fins you. Please come back and meet us now we are going to the coffee place across from theatre you know the one we went to after Othello last year. Sheila has
Constance Nilsson-Larsson: Come bck now and bring umbrekka to cofee place, plz. Love Mom
Jennifer Kobayashi: Dinner cancelled. Srry. : ( See you at auction, Manly Man.
Gunnar knew Jenny was trying to soothe his ego by dragging out her old pet name for him. He was never sure if she used it to encourage him to be more classically masculine or if she was employing the not-so-subtle sarcasm of which he knew her to be capable.
And then there was this:
(227) 461-9803: GNR! UOK?
He didn’t recognize the number, but obviously the sender knew him and his number. Gunnar trashed the first four messages and responded to the fifth cautiously.
Gunnar Larsson: Nvr bttr. U?
Reassured that he had plenty of time and relieved to be freed from another dinner conversation in which Jenny again outlined the ideal events and timelines of their individual and joint political careers, pointing out in a manner she said she hoped was supportive and a wee bit concerned, that his current employment as unofficial family chauffeur and general errand boy was not going to be acceptable when she moved her focus from municipal to federal government.
Jenny never mentioned the fact that he paid for all of their meals and outings with wages earned at sundry temp jobs in David’s political circles or through Connie’s charitable organization for the promotion of women that she named Valkyrie. They had an unspoken understanding that he came from white privilege and had not actually earned his money, whereas Jenny had clawed her way up out of poverty. Gunnar wasn’t sure Mr. and Mrs. Kobayashi, who owned five very elegant Japanese restaurants, two in Japan and three in North America, qualified as poor.
In fairness, they only had two restaurants when we met, he reflected and remembered the day in second year, shortly after the school psychiatrist had helped David, Connie, and Gunnar reach an agreement that he could change his major from political science to accounting, that young Jenny Kobayashi sat down beside him in a dark corner of the student centre, startling him with glossy black hair, dark eyes and overwhelming scent of pretty girl.
“You’re David Larsson’s son, right? You were in my poli sci classes last year. What happened?”
Over time, Gunnar would grow familiar with Jenny’s intrusive questions and learn to be careful with his answers, but on this first meeting he was startled into honesty.
“I broke down.” Gunnar felt a hot flush rising over his cheeks. “I had to change majors.”
“What did you change to?” Her eyes were holding on to his with a particularly intense gaze. He wanted to glance away but couldn’t.
“Uh - accounting.” Gunnar winced as his voice raised interrogatively.
“Why?” she asked, finally breaking eye contact to look at her watch, allowing Gunnar to quickly survey her petite body, taking in her rather professional style of dress and resting briefly on smallish breasts outlined under a soft looking green sweater.
“Why?” she asked again, more sharply. Had she seen him looking?
Gunnar knew his face was now fully aflame and struggled to speak against rapidly tightening vocal chords.
“Numbers,” he croaked and cleared his throat. “Numbers are simple. Unstressful, you know.”
And Jenny Kobayashi said she did know. Then she asked if he would take her out for dinner and a movie that Friday.
Gunnar’s pocket was vibrating. He looked at his phone.
(227) 461-9803: Sup w shades? U FBI?
A cold trickle of fear raced down his spine as Gunnar realized the sender must be in the library with him.
Whoever it was, they had seen the whole thing.