The Danish Girl

I walk past the Small-Mart and notice a pretty, brown-haired girl opening it up so I ask her, “Are you new?” I like to keep track of who works in the building, not necessarily by name, but visually, just in case I find them wandering around the building. That and all the Small-Mart girls are easy on the eyes.

But then I realize, she’s not new, she just changed her hair. “You used to be blond, didn’t you?”

“Yes. A friend and I dyed it,” she said, but seemed pleased that I noticed. Ah, Canadian girls, always changing it up. I thought little of it and went to work.

A few days later I was doing random building cleaning stuff and she started setting up their displays. She seemed a bit grim (I thought) so I gave her a compliment, “I have decided, you look better as a brunette.”

She thanked me for that. I asked her if they intend to leave the doors in the hallway open during the winter because I don’t want to shovel snow out of here.

“I don’t think so, but I’m only here for four more days. Then I’m going back home.”

“Where’s that?”

“Denmark.”

I’m absolutely stunned by this, I always just assumed she was a local. She looks like a local. Talks like a local. I said to her, “You don’t sound Danish. Your language and accent are impeccable.”

We got to talking and she explained that Danish children are taught English at a young age along with Danish. She actually knew something like five languages. I ruefully told her they tried to teach me French once, but failed.

She was now feeling quite talkative. Even though she was all of 21, she was a seasoned world traveller. She had come to Canada on a work visa to be with her Canadian boyfriend. She told me about Denmark, all kinds of things, their Royal Family, the land, taxes (she was puzzled about the HST, I guess in Denmark taxes are built right in). I also learned that Denmark has liquor laws like Nevada – you can drink wherever you want. She had made the mistake once of buying a drink at the LCBO and drinking it while walking down the street. In Denmark this is apparently what you do when you walk to a friend’s house for a party (pubs are expensive there).

She intends to go back to Denmark and work, taking her boyfriend with her (at least until his visa runs out). They can stay with her parents, rent free.

I told her about some of my world travelling experiences but that I preferred Canada. She really liked Canada, though found the politics odd and didn’t realize that Canada had a monarchy too.

“This is in part because our government is dumb. Queen is nice, government is dumb.”

I enjoyed the chat-up but both of us had to get to work but she did leave with a smile. So, you still got it Bob, even with European girls.

On her last day I realized I had no idea what her name was so I asked and she told me.

“I finally get to know you and you’re leaving the country, what a bummer. They should throw a party for you,” I said

“Oh no, they don’t need to do that… I’ll be back next summer.” And she smiled.

….

Don’t worry nameless boyfriend, I’m not going to steal your girl (I don’t think she realizes I’m nearly old enough to be her dad, anyway). Still, you might want to hold on to her.

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One Response to The Danish Girl

  1. Marcy says:

    Old enough to be her Dad? No way! That would imply I’m old enough to be her Mom and that just ain’t cool.

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