On one of those sweltering hot days at the end of the summer Dad and Fjoda had dragged Norin out of the cool cellar to go to the supermarket.
“You need some fresh air,” Dad had said.
“You’ll enjoy it. Maybe you could choose some nice ice cream for us for dessert?” Fjoda had said.
Norin disliked the supermarket. The music was too loud, the aisles too narrow and the people too many.
While Dad and Fjoda looked at grapefruits – like some scientific research project they both immensely enjoyed: Picking one fruit up, examining it, putting it back down to take another test subject – Norin went to the frozen foods section.
“Chocolate and vanilla. And chocolate again and vanilla.” He walked down the aisle and peeked into every freezer.
There was more chocolate, more vanilla, some strawberry and a girl. Norin stopped in his tracks. What was a girl doing in the ice cream freezer? Was she dead? Cautiously he went closer.
“Are you dead?” he asked doubtfully as he pulled open the freezer door. She opened her eyes to look at him.
“No, not yet, I think.” She grinned. “But could you think of a nicer place than a freezer on this hot day?”
Norin thought about it. Now that she mentioned it: a freezer seemed to be the right place to be in this heat. Even better than the cellar. Just as he made up his mind and started to climb into the freezer next to the girl, a voice behind him made him jump.
“Benja Wilson! What are you doing again?” A woman came down the aisle. Her head looked like an overripe tomato. Whether it was due to the heat or due to her anger, Norin couldn’t tell. As a precaution he took a step back from the scene. That woman looked fierce.
“Come out of that freezer right now!” The woman demanded.
“But mu-um,” the girl whined. “I’m just practising.”
“Don’t ever say something like that, you hear. Never mention that again!” The woman’s voice became a sharp hiss. “And get out of that freezer right now!”
That was how Norin met Benja.
© Jonathan Linnenberg 2023-06-05