“My name is Julie and I belong to one of the risk groups.” Definitely. I could get up on that, too. But the postman who just stood here. Well. I have a sneaking suspicion that he wouldn`t have. Not under any circumstances, probably. It`s funny how these things are.
As he and my China- package stepped in on the farmland (strangely enough, I associate my house more to a farmhouse than any suburban villa), I laughed, and cried out to him; “So, how are we going to do this, then?!”. I imagined him throwing the package sideways before making a sharp turn, -shouting something about the land of origin. But he didn’t. Instead, he walked towards me. Slowly towards me.
It may have freaked me out a bit. I`m not sure. But at least, I turned the other cheek, and started talking slowly. “I-m n-o-t s-o s-u-r-e … s-h-o-u-l-d w-e e-h-m”. But clearly, he`d done it before. So, in a teacher’s way, and clearly Eastern Norwegian accent, he framed what was to happen first – and what would happen last.
“Okay?” he asked suddenly. “You should get a white paper”. He looked at me. Lowered his face slightly as his eyes drilled into mine. As far as I could see at least. It was a certain distance. “Do you have any white paper?” he asked again. It was so surreal. The postman asked if I had white paper. I had had it explained, but the brain was somehow blocked out. So, while I gave him a crooked smile and bought me some time, I suddenly pictured how he would plant white surrender flags along the entire hedge. White surrender flags, on gates and hedges. Made of chlorine-free A4 paper, stolen from my previous job. Chronic ill, it would mean. Calls for being forsaken. Pale and sick already. Hardly survives phase two. Witnesses have claimed to have seen dozens of disposable gloves in the rabbit cellar. Tons of painkillers, Antibac and Canesten have been observed on the ground floor. I`m not sure what went through their mind with the Canesten- thingy, but I guess, if it can kill fungus, -it might be worth having a go, with some viruses as well.
“Okay,” I said. “White paper and a pen”. I kicked off my sandals and opened the front door with my elbow. Disappeared inside and found a block of paper within arm`s reach. As if it was just waiting there. Lots of wood – which now, would save the world. With the pen I wrote my name and showed it to him. Just as he had wanted. Just as he had told. And with the help of a few strokes of a pen, we prevented cell phones and small machines from being soiled by all kinds of fingerprints. The mailman smiled at me, took a picture of the white paper, and handed me the package.
With his hands.
And I accepted.
With my hands.
“There we are…holding the same package …!” I proclaimed, with some thought. But the postman was as calm as ever.
“Well, I guess, but I mean, surely we do not belong to any risk group, do we now!” he said, – finishing off with a genuine laughter.
The-impaired-immune-system -sentence was at the very tip of my tongue, but I tipped back a little and swallowed it in me. That the package was a result of an Express delivery from China, I did not mention either. Nor the fact that I`d been coughing all morning. Nor did I mention that he was a man (we all know the statistics…) and well over fifty. And I didn’t say anything about the fact that several, perfectly healthy people, had become very ill recently. Here, there and everywhere. I didn’t say anything about it. I kept quiet. I didn`t ask him about his delivery route, – and for how long he`d been out. If he had touched tens or hundreds of packages. Weather he had Antibac, or not, in his car. How everything was, soap, – and water-wise. I said nothing. Just as I didn`t, when my heart-operated neighbour, close to seventy, said that it mostly affected those over eighty. “You know, it’s mostly those over eighty. You know. These old ones. It`s mostly them”.
That’s probably right. Probably it`s most them. I guess the Home Guard at Gardermoen Airport also thinks it`s mostly them. It`s most them in Italy, you know. And in Spain. Mostly them. It`s mostly them in China. They are the ones who wear gloves. Masks. You know, it`s mostly them.