You (65 page)

“And you don’t have to,” Nessi replied. “I think the only person who can forgive Taja is Taja herself.”

With those words Nessi went upstairs, and Stink looked at you quizzically and you shrugged and then you all left the hotel. Since then you’ve been standing in the sun, ten feet away from Ragnar Desche, waiting for Nessi and Taja and hoping with all your heart that Darian’s not going to come back. You walk to the edge of the slope. No sign of Darian. You look around the place. No sign of anyone. No cars on the road, no one walking a dog, not even an elk standing by the water and drinking. Probably all the Norwegians have emigrated and you’re the last people left in the country. You look over at the hotel and wonder if Marten’s father is still sitting at the kitchen table.

When you return to Stink, she’s standing bent over, hands on her knees. She’s taking a closer look at Ragnar Desche.

“He’s not breathing. He’s not bleeding anymore, either.”

“Did you really have to use a pipe?”

“What are you thinking of? Should I have tried to find something softer, or what?”

“Nah, it’s fine.”

“I didn’t plan him to break down like this.”

“You saved our lives, and now shut up.”

“What about Taja?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, do you think we can save her?”

You nearly said there was nothing to save, but even a Schnappi sometimes manages to keep her mouth shut. You stand there and don’t know what to do next. You look at Ragnar Desche for another minute, then you turn away and look over at the hotel. Nothing. No Nessi, no Taja. You imagine Marten’s father suddenly deciding he’s been sitting here for long enough.

“What happens if Marten’s father goes berserk?”

“Schnappi, I hate it when you say stuff like that.”

“I’m just thinking out loud.”

“Then think quietly.”

You purse your lips, draw a cross on the ground with your heel, and spit on it.

“What the hell was that? Voodoo?”

“Nope, just bored. Where have they got to?”

“Perhaps Nessi can’t find her.”

“Perhaps Taja doesn’t want to be found.”

Both of you look over at the beach hotel.

I hope so
, you think and immediately regret the thought.

And then it’s over, the shots from the first floor fall silent, and you’re still lying stretched out on the deck chair. The sun has wandered around the corner and covers your legs like a blanket of light. It feels as if your batteries are being charged. From a distance you think you can hear your father. He talks to you, and although you don’t understand a word, it’s a good feeling that he’s there. You listen, drift off, and feel through the woodwork of the terrace the vibration of footsteps coming toward you.

If it is my father, I’ll ask him if he forgives me
.

“Taja?”

You can’t answer, you lie there and can’t even open your eyes. You can’t sleep now, look up.

You look up.

Nessi is standing in the doorway, a hand over her mouth in fright, the other a fist that doesn’t know what to do.

Typical Nessi
, you think and attempt a smile. It doesn’t work, your mouth is too tired for a smile. Nessi steps outside, she’s so quick, a moment ago she was still standing in the door and now she’s crouching down beside you. You sigh and make a sound like a baby waking up.

“I’m okay,” you say and can’t see what Nessi sees—the dark puddle spreading under your chair and drenching the dry wood.

“You’re bleeding.”

“I’m okay, Nessi, it feels … good.”

“That can’t feel good. You’ve lost a ton of blood.”

She lays her hand on your forehead. Clammy and wet. You’re in shock, your body’s slowly running down, the system’s saying goodbye. Nessi grips your arm.

“You’ve got to stand up, we’ll get you to a hospital.”

“Nessi, don’t!”

A firmness in your tone startles Nessi.

“I’m staying here.”

“But—”

“There’s no
but
. I’m staying here. It’s fine. Really.”

“But, sweetie—”

Nessi starts crying. You’re finding it difficult to keep her in focus. Your eyes flicker like reflections of light on the water, now bright, now dark, you could just go to sleep like that with the sun covering you slowly, and Nessi by your side. Her tears do you good.
She’s grieving over me
. You want to tell her to grab another deck chair and—

“Taja, do you hear me?”

She shakes your shoulder, your head slips to one side, your cheek touches her hand.

Peace
.

“… exactly did he hit you?”

“What?”

Nessi touches your injury, you cry out, Nessi pulls her hand away as if she’d burnt herself, her fingers are red. You look at each other, and there’s suddenly a terrifying clarity in your eyes, that stops Nessi crying for a moment.

“I can’t leave you behind, Taja, please, I can’t do it.”

“Nessi, I’m going to jail, you know that.”

“But if no one knows that you—”

“I’m going to jail whether anyone knows or not. My father is dead and I’m going to jail. Can you imagine that? Me and jail?”

“You’re underage.”

“My uncle will see to it that I’m punished. Or else he’ll kill me himself. I’d rather stay here.”

“But—”

“It’s okay, really. I’m glad to be here.”

“But you’re bleeding to death.”

“It’s just a scratch, Nessi. It looks worse than it is. I swear.”

Nessi knows you’re lying, you know you’re lying. You need that, otherwise you’ll never part. And the parting has to be.

“And call him, promise me that.”

Nessi knows immediately who you mean; she promises.

“And tell the girls I love them and that I’m sorry. Please don’t forget, I really love you all.”

Nessi strokes your head, she squats down next to you and you lean against each other, forehead to forehead. It’s warm and safe, and it would be nice if Nessi stayed with you like that forever, because this way you can endure everything, cold, heat, loneliness. You fade away, come to again, thirsty and tired, the sun scratches your thighs and tries to get at your lap like an excited puppy, you sit up, you’d like to drink from the fjord.

Just one sip
.

“Give me a farewell kiss,” you say.

Nessi kisses you, her breath enters your mouth, a warm, long kiss.
Longing, I’m dying of longing
, you think, and hear your father’s voice saying in the distance:
If your heart is bound to something, you cannot give it away, for whatever it is, your heart will miss it
. He was wrong. You listened to him, you wanted to keep him with you, and chaos broke out. He misunderstood. It’s real love when you let go of something that’s close to your heart.

“It’d be nice if there were a few more chairs here,” says a voice on your left, and Stink sits down on the floor, saying that her sweet little ass won’t stand it for long.

“You don’t look, you don’t find,” says Schnappi from the terrace door. She has three brand-new chairs wedged under her arms, and she winks at you. A moment later your girls are sitting next to you, their legs outstretched, and sighing because the view is so beautiful, and you’re glad your girls are sharing this place with you. It’s quiet, nobody’s talking about guilt, there’s no past, just four girlfriends in the here and now. Everything is as it was always supposed to be. And sometimes you hear your father speaking as if from far away, sometimes you hear the gentle rolling of wheels as your mother begins the next circuit and pushes the stroller through the night,
even though it’s day. Time is good to you and your girls are by your side, and it can stay that way. Maybe somebody will bring tea and biscuits, a few blankets wouldn’t be bad for the cold times, then you’d sit here forever and look at the fjord, and there would be no better life than this one.

She can’t hear you, she hasn’t been able to hear you for a while now, all the promises and all the forgivings in the world are pointless if she can’t hear you. Her head leans against your head. You still have her taste on your lips, as if with her kiss she had passed part of herself to you. You stroke her cheek, feel her neck for a pulse. You don’t shake her, even though everything within you cries out to shake her and bring her back to life, you let her go.

Enough’s enough
.

You lay her head back gently, take your jacket off, and cover her up with it. The sun has reached her hands now, they look bare and unprotected. You can’t stand up yet. You take her hands in yours and protect them. Her eyes are open a crack, she looks down at the fjord, and that’s how you’re going to leave her.

At peace with herself, in a place that now belongs to her alone.

You let go of her hands, stand up, and kiss her on the forehead before you leave.

They’re waiting outside the hotel.

“Girl, what took you so long?” asks Stink.

“Imagine if Darian had come back,” Schnappi whines, then she sees your face, frowns, and wants to know what’s happened.

“Nothing, I didn’t find her.”

“You’ve been in that dump for an hour and you didn’t find her?”

“Stink, the hotel is big.”

“So’s my ass, if I’m lying. And where’s your jacket?”

Stink shuts up, Schnappi says quietly, “And why do you have blood on your hand?”

You look at your hand with surprise, you’re really a rotten liar. Without giving your girls an answer, you walk past them. They don’t follow you. After a few steps you turn around.

“Are you coming now or are you not?”

“And Taja?”

Stink sounds as if she’s about to burst into tears.

“Taja’s okay,” you say and swallow the tears down and summon all your courage and go on talking: “Taja doesn’t want to come. She’s up to her eyeballs in guilt, and I’m to tell you that she loves you, and you’re to know that she never wanted to be fake, but it’s happened and she regrets it and hopes you can forgive her, but you don’t have to, because as I’ve said, she has to forgive herself, that’s all that’s important.”

“What … what are you saying?” stammers Schnappi, and when Schnappi stammers it means there’s a good chance the world’s about to end. She looks back at the hotel, she looks at you almost pleadingly.

“Nessi, what happened in there?”

“Nothing. I want you girls to turn around, okay? We’re going, and if we don’t go now I’m going to get hysterical and scream so loud they’ll hear me in Berlin. Please, let’s get going.”

They’ve never seen you like this, you don’t know yourself, you stand there and wait, you want to be you again, soft and tender and not hard and resolute. At last your girls get moving.

“Relax,” says Schnappi and takes your hand.

“We’re coming,” says Stink and takes your other hand.

The way down the winding road to the car is a sluggish dream in reverse. You can’t feel your footsteps. Sometimes Stink says something, sometimes Schnappi does, you keep quiet and try not to think, not to feel. You get into the car, the doors close, you take a deep breath and start the engine and then you just sit there without putting the car in gear, hands on the steering wheel and leaning slightly forward as if waiting for a signal to go. Schnappi asks if
everything’s all right, and you almost burst out laughing, because everything’s never going to be all right ever again, but you don’t tell your girls that, you just turn to Stink and ask for the phone. She hands it to you and you take your hands off the wheel and keep the promise you made to Taja.