Free The Last Days of My Mother by Sölvi Björn Sigurdsson Page A

where the alternative medicine was kept. Helena sat on a high stool in heated discussion with a short man in a white suit. She was pointing to the curtain and seemed to be ordering him to leave. He turned away quite calmly, greeted me with a smile, and walked out.
    â€œWhat was that?” I asked and handed her back the book she’d hurled during the argument.
    â€œI can’t talk about it,” she said and snatched the book out of my hand. “He has a prescription from Fred, because he treats everyone the same, and then the little shit uses the opportunity to insult me with his preaching. I’m going to close up for a bit. Let’s go for a coffee somewhere.”
    She grabbed a bag from under the counter and led me past a sales stand on the floor, where I managed to knock over a display of vitamin drops.
    â€œHow big is that space?” I asked when we were safe and sound out in the street.
    â€œForty-three square feet. I rent my little nook from the owners of the store. All modern commodities for 600 euros.”
    â€œFor forty-three square feet?”
    â€œThat’s Amsterdam for you. All space is infinitely expensive. There’s a reason for perversions like fisting. Everyone is trying to save space by holing up in someone else’s ass.”
    I found fisting a farfetched result of extortionate real estate prices, but Helena continued ranting and pointed to the next street corner where two small businesses—Asian Sexy Fetish and Dental Surgery 4U—shared a space. Above the business was a low window with a sign that read “Te huur”: For Rent.
    â€œThe height of the ceiling in there is just over five feet and yet that dump can be rented out. In fact, it’s the perfect place for toothless dwarf-whores.”
    â€œDoesn’t it bother people that there’s porn everywhere they look?”
    â€œPeople can get used to anything and everything. I know a lot of people who find porn quite mundane and think of sex shows as a form of theater. The human race is just a species of ape in fancy clothes. We don’t need Darwin to tell us that.”
    We went around the corner and then back into a vibrant shopping street where shopkeepers and fast food vendors nodded to us as we passed. Helena greeted everyone like a street kid and I got the feeling, as we talked more and walked farther, that she belonged both everywhere and nowhere. She had a room in Lowland, had alittle space in a shed at Highland, slept on the couch in three different places in Amsterdam—depending on which friend could accommodate her at each given time—and camped out at the shop when she had nowhere else to go. She claimed to be between decisions, under the influence of indistinct periods of time that she wasn’t sure were beginning or ending.
    â€œPleasure Fountain is busier than many other Smart-Shops because of the people Fred sends to me. I’ve managed to make a living from this even though I don’t make enough to rent an apartment. Things tend to take time with me. I’m half done with medical school, but I’m not sure I’ll ever finish.”
    â€œBut you’re just in your early twenties, right?”
    â€œTwenty-three.”
    â€œHalfway to becoming a doctor and you claim to take your time. Compared to you I’m a fetus.”
    â€œNo. I’m gradually fucking things up for myself. Maybe I need several years to reach a conclusion.”
    â€œYou’re way too young to worry about this stuff.”
    â€œYou’re never too young to worry. Only the sublimely spoiled don’t worry. When I was twelve I was put into foster care in Highland and on my thirteenth birthday I decided to take over from Fred when I grew up. I was going to run the center and change the world, do all the stuff he only dreamt about doing. But life is complicated. You start to worry.”
    While we roamed around the district looking for a good café, Helena