It’s true. I don’t think it’s any fun. I think it’s better to be by yourself. I never know what they want. They take toys and they confuse everything. I can’t tell from their expressions what they are thinking. They’re just weird.
Often I get bewildered when I’m around them and that makes me feel bad. Sometimes, I feel so bad that I start crying. I’m afraid of them. Still, they don’t do anything nasty to me. I just don’t understand them and they don’t understand me. It’s like we don’t talk the same language. They’re smarter than me. They know all kinds of things I don’t know. And no one ever tells them off. Though I’m stronger.
But they’re always surprising me. I don’t think they’re annoying. I don’t want to be bad around them. But when I get scared, I pull their hair. Ideally, I just want them to go away and leave me to be me.
— Why don’t you want to play with them? he asks.
I don’t know what to say.
— Are you being shy, Jón?
I’m not shy. But I am afraid. I’m afraid of people, including Einar. They don’t understand me. I want him to stop talking to me and to stop looking at me. I want to go home and go into my bedroom. I don’t want to be me. I don’t want to be here. I want to go far inside myself, further, further, deep down where no one can bother me and no one is mad at me.
Sometimes, when I’m completely asleep, I feel strange. My thumb seems gigantic and I disappear inside it. Inside the thumb, two people are talking. They speak slowly and I can’t hear what they are saying. They don’t notice me. I walk past them and into a long hallway, down some steps and down a long stairway. I walk along another long hallway and at the end is a room that is as soft as a cotton ball. I come back outside myself and lie on the floor in the room. And I sleep.
— Jón?
Suddenly I hear a roaring from outside the house. The floor is shaking.
— What’s going on? I ask.
— What do you think? he asks in return.
I do not know. Perhaps it’s some battle we’re fighting. Perhaps it’s Satan. Maybe he’s come to get me. Satan knows about me. He is the Bad Guy.
Once, Mom called me and told me to come into the telephone room. She handed me the phone and said a woman wanted to talk to me. I was scared. The woman asked if I was rude. I denied it, but she said she knew everything about me. She asked me if I knew what happens to bad boys. I didn’t speak. She said that Satan comes to get the rude boys like me and stuffs them into a black bag. She asked if I wanted Satan to come get me. I said no.
After the call, I went into my room. I couldn’t catch my breath and I was only able to fill my lungs by yawning. I was seriously tired and wanted to disappear into the giant thumb. Satan is an ugly name.
The sound keeps going. Einar switches between looking at me and writing in his book.
— It’s just coming from the corner, I say.
I’m bad and ugly. Maybe Satan really has come to get me. Maybe he’s coming up out of the ground. Maybe Einar is friends with Satan. Maybe Mom won’t care if Satan takes me. Maybe she’s already gone. I might never go back home. It’s like a heavy slab is laying across my chest. I’m defenseless: I don’t have my knife with me.
I jump to my feet and listen. The sound is coming from the radiator. Sometimes a sound comes from the radiator in my room. But that’s a quiet buzz and not a great noise like this. Then I figure out what it is. It’s just some drilling. I breathe easy. I sit back down.
— Were you frightened, Jón? Were you afraid of the sound?
— No.
— Do you know how old you are?
— Six.
— Which school do you go to?
— Foxvox!
— Fossvogs?
— That’s what I said.
— Is school fun?
— Yes.
— Who is your teacher?
— Her name is Marta. I’ve got a schoolbag, too. It’s red with a picture on the front, of a boy standing by a tree, giving a girl an apple.
— Is it a nice bag?
— Stebbi says that it’s a girl’s bag.
— Who is Stebbi?
— He’s my friend.
— So you have friends?
I don’t want to discuss these things. It’s no fun. I like the way my bag smells. The scent of leather is my favorite smell. I love my bag because it’s good to breathe inside it. Sometimes I’ll stick my face in it and breathe the nice smell and then I feel good. Sometimes, it smells like whatever snacks were in my bag.
Smell is very important. My sister Runa sometimes teases me by making me smell baker’s ammonia. That’s bad. I think all smells are good, except others’ poop and pee smells, and the smell of cucumbers.
The smell of cucumber is the worst smell in the world. It makes me sick. Once my mom tried to give me bread with slices of cucumber. She threw the slices away and put pâté in its place. But I could still smell it. The smell of cucumber is so strong. It’s green and spiky.
There’s paper on the table and whiteboard markers. Markers smell good. I like sniffing markers. When you sniff colored markers, you’ve got to be careful not to write on your nose. The red one smells of oranges.
I take a piece of paper and a marker and draw a picture of Satan with his bag. I also draw a knife and a gun to kill Satan with. If Satan comes, I’ll kill him with a knife.
— Who’s this? asks Einar, looking at the images.
— This is Satan.
— Who’s that?
— He’s just some guy.
— Do you know him?
— No.
— Do you know where he lives?
— He’s friends with The Octopus.
— Who’s that?
I don’t want to talk about it. I get bored so I shut up. Maybe it will all go away if I don’t talk about it. I’m not talking about Satan. I don’t even think about it. And I’m not going to talk about Salarías, either.
Einar looks at me curiously. I wish he’d stop doing that. I don’t want him to see me. Maybe he can see what I’m thinking. My mom can tell when I’m about to do something. Maybe he’s thinking about what to do with really bad and ugly boys like me.
I get the toys out of the toy-box and put them on the table: a large bull, some miniature cowboys, a lion, and an elephant. The bull attacks the cowboys and kills them all. It also kills the lion and elephant and butts them off the table. I put the bull on the table and build a fort around it so no one can get to it to kill or hurt it. I take everything that’s on the table and arrange it around the bull.
I take the desktop phone and make a fence with the cable. A dial tone sounds from the handset. That’s okay. Nobody can hurt the bull. The bull can look after itself. It can butt anyone who tries to kill it. If Satan comes, the bull will gore him to death.
When the bull is completely safe, I go back to studying my comics.
Einar writes in his book. I read the paper. I recognize J. That’s my initial. But it’s difficult to draw. Though not as difficult as drawing R and S.
Stebbi knows how to read. Mom once pointed to the letters on the fridge and asked us what they spelled. I didn’t know. There were so many characters. But Stebbi knew: A — D — M — I — R — A — L.
Einar goes out and calls Mom. They talk; I don’t listen to them. I don’t care what they’re saying.
— Put your coat on, says Mom.
I get dressed while reading my paper.
I don’t want to be there. I want to go away and to be left alone. All of a sudden we’re outside. I won’t ever go back again.
~ ~ ~
Jón Gunnar is my research subject on account of his lack of restraint and his isolation from other children […] His expression suggests he is somewhat confused: “lost.” He seems to barge headlong without taking account of what he is up to, and without seeming aware of his surroundings. Jón Gunnar sat with his mother in the waiting room, greeted me without looking at me and brought with him a comic he was reading. He was headed into the wrong corridor, but he got his bearings and then was on his way into another room in the right hallway before he made it to my room. He walked straight in, seemed to have no reaction to me as a stranger, sat at the desk and began reading his paper. He was wearing a winter coat; when he seemed to be starting to get quite warm, I suggested that he seemed like he might want to take off his jacket. He carried on doing what he was doing while he struggled out of the jacket and dropped it on the floor beside him.