One day a week he was free, and then he dragged sacks of cement and wooden beams back and forth for eighteen hours at a stretch,
perspiring and lonely, demolishing and rebuilding the only thing his parents had left him apart from the Saab and his father’s wristwatch.
Ove’s muscles grew and he was a fast learner. The foreman at the building site took a liking to the hard-working youth,
and one Friday afternoon took Ove to the pile of discarded planks, made-to-measure timber that had cracked and was due for burning.
“If I happen to look the other way and something you need goes walking, I’ll assume you’ve burned it,” said the foreman and walked off.
Once the rumors of his house-building had spread among his older colleagues, one or other of them occasionally asked Ove about it.
When he damaged the wall in the living room, a wiry colleague with wonky front teeth,
after spending twenty minutes telling Ove what an idiot he was for not knowing better from the start,
taught him how to calculate the load-bearing parameters.
When he laid the floor in the kitchen, a more heavy-built colleague with a missing little finger on one hand,
after calling him a bonehead three dozen times, showed him how to take proper measurements.
One afternoon, as he was about to head home at the end of his shift, Ove found a little toolbox full of used tools by his clothes.
전체재생
다음페이지
문장검색