Since Martin’s death, Palm would visit Elsbeth, the optician, or Selma to discuss passages in the Bible. They let Palm sit in their kitchens, living rooms, or examination chairs. Over the years, faith had anchored itself in Palm, but no one was sure if this faith was solid enough to withstand uninterrupted hours in Palm’s silent house or strong enough to lift all that was no longer there.

Most of the time on his visits Palm discussed the Bible passages with himself, anticipating the rare questions about his explications. “You surely want to know why Jesus told the blind man that he should not return to the village,” Palm would say. “Well, I can tell you.” He would say, “Surely you’ve often wondered exactly how Jesus healed the paralyzed man. Well, I’ll gladly explain,” and then Palm would explain, and the optician, silently stirring his coffee, would let the explanation wash over him. Even Elsbeth, who struggled to follow him, would nod off sooner or later. She slept sitting upright on her sofa, her mouth hanging open, and Palm continued undeterred.

The only one who asked questions during Palm’s biblical exegeses, the only one who at least said, “Yes, Palm, I have been wondering about that, please explain it again,” was Selma. She asked about many things so he could extend his exegeses, so he could kill a few more hours, because that, Selma believed, was the point: killing time so he wouldn’t have to spend yet more hours alone. Now and then during Palm’s visits, Selma would go into the bathroom and gobble down five Mon Chéris at once. Because of the increasing deformation of her left hand, she would unwrap the candies single-handedly, as she had when carrying me for three days. After the Mon Chéris, she would take a deep breath, pop a eucalyptus lozenge in her mouth, and return to the kitchen, where Palm was waiting with further explanations.

None of us dared touch Palm. We’d shake his hand, that was all. We never hugged him or patted his shoulder. On no account did Palm want anyone to touch him, this we knew. As if he risked crumbling into dust.

“Thank you, but that’s not necessary,” I’d answered when Palm had offered to help search for Alaska, because I was afraid he would quote Bible verses the entire time, and the Bible, after all, is bristling with passages that are suitable for when you’re searching for someone.

“May the Lord bless you in your search,” Palm said.

“Seek and you shall find,” I replied to make Palm happy, and it worked.