The Wolves of Eternity, page 28
Could it really have been like that?
And why did the pastor want me to read it too?
I could understand where Krag was coming from. He was a socialist, this was Russia before the Revolution, and obviously something needed to be done about that society, if it was that depraved.
No, I couldn’t be bothered with this, I thought. I put it down and went aimlessly into the dining room, stared out of the window at the road and the river beyond it that glittered between the trees, then turned and went into the kitchen where I opened the fridge to see if there was anything to eat. I found a carrot and bit into it without peeling it first, then picked up the phone book in the hall, looked up Dønnestad and rang the first number that was listed.
‘Hello?’ a woman’s voice said. It wasn’t Lisa, this was a woman in her fifties at least.
‘Hello, is Lisa in?’
‘Who?’
‘Lisa.’
‘There’s no one of that name here.’
‘Oh, sorry. I must have got the wrong number,’ I said, and hung up.
I tried the second number, but there was no answer.
The third was a man. No Lisa there either, he’d never heard of her.
OK, I told myself, that’d have to do for now. At least I’d eliminated two. Now there were only three to go.
I heard someone on the gravel outside. A second later, Joar came in through the front door.
‘How was school today?’ I said.
‘It was all right,’ he said. ‘I’m hungry, is there anything to eat?’
‘Have a slice of bread with something.’
He dumped his bag and went into the kitchen. I wondered if I should wake Mum up. She wouldn’t want to be asleep when Joar got home.
I knocked on her door.
‘Yes?’ she said.
She was lying on her side in bed, her head resting on her arm, and didn’t look like she’d been asleep at all.
‘Joar’s home,’ I said. ‘I can make us something to eat. Anything you fancy?’
‘No, whatever you feel like, it doesn’t matter.’
I went in to get the breakfast tray she’d left on the bedside table. I took the empty aspirin packaging too, then noticed the waste bin from the bathroom. It was full, partly hidden under the bed.
‘What are you after?’ she said as I bent down to take it with me.
‘Just thought I’d empty the bin for you.’
‘No, leave it. I’ll empty it later.’
‘It’s all right, I might as well take it down with me.’
‘Didn’t you hear me?’ she snapped, raising her voice. ‘Leave it where it is. I’ll empty it myself.’
My heart nearly stopped beating. I straightened up, staring at her.
‘I was only trying to help,’ I said.
I turned round and picked up the tray, and went towards the door.
‘I’m sorry, Syvert. I know you want to help.’
‘Shall I take it with me, then?’
She shook her head.
‘I’m getting up now, anyway. I didn’t mean to get angry.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ I said. ‘You weren’t that angry.’
* * *
*
I wasn’t sure if you could actually crumb fillets if they’d been frozen. In the forces, the fish we’d used had always been fresh, but I didn’t suppose it mattered. Wasn’t the whole point of freezing food that it was fresh once it thawed?
I got some potatoes on the boil, filled a bowl with flour, another one with beaten egg and another with breadcrumbs, peeled and grated some carrots, brought a bag of frozen peas up from the basement, divided a couple of lemons and set the table before turning another ring on full for the fillets, pouring a little olive oil into the frying pan and adding a knob of butter that slid away into the thick oil as it slowly melted, sprinkling salt and pepper onto the fillets and turning them one after another in the flour, dipping them in the egg and then turning them in the breadcrumbs. The butter in the pan browned nicely and started to fizz. I added two of the fillets. Steam and cooking odours filled the kitchen and I opened the window wide while thinking it was about time I fixed the extractor. After a short while I tentatively lifted one of the fillets with the spatula. It was brown verging on black along one edge, almost burnt.
Mum came in. She was looking better, a bit tired, that was all.
‘Mm, that looks good,’ she said.
‘It’s Sicilian blackfish, a navy recipe,’ I said.
She smiled, got her smoking gear and went into the living room. I flipped the fillets, adding some more butter so they could really soak it up, I’d learned that was the only way to get them crisp even though you’d think the opposite was true, that all the butter would make them soggy and limp.
The water started boiling for the peas, I emptied the bag into it and turned the heat down, flipped the fillets again, then put them to one side a few moments later on some greaseproof paper before starting to fry the two that remained.
It smelled delicious!
I drained the potatoes and left them steaming in the saucepan, strained the peas and tipped them into a bowl. I arranged the fillets on a dish with the lemon wedges in between, and transferred the potatoes from the saucepan into a bowl. As I put it all out on the table, everything inside me went cold and still.
I realised why she’d got angry with me when I made to take the waste bin away.
For a few seconds, I stood transfixed.
Oh, Mum, Mum.
I went upstairs, opened and then closed the bathroom door so they’d think I’d gone to the loo, then crept quietly into her room. The waste bin was still there under the bed. I paused a moment without moving, staring at it. It looked like it was full of toilet paper, white, crumpled-up. It didn’t have to be what I feared. And even if it was what I feared, I didn’t have to know. She didn’t want me to know.
Conceivably, it was nothing. And yet there I was in her bedroom, about to rummage through her waste. I felt stupid.
Delving into the bin, picking beneath the untainted paper she’d used to cover things up, I found the rest to be stained red with blood. At the bottom were two cloths, likewise soaked.
Without a thought, I stood and stared. Then, I covered it all up again, and pushed the bin back under the bed where I’d found it.
It could have been a nosebleed, or even menstrual blood. What did I know?
But why had she tried to conceal it?
She was embarrassed. Maybe she was afraid I’d be sickened by it.
I looked out of the window. The sky was open and blue, like an ocean of air above the green hills.
It was a lot of blood.
I opened the bathroom door quietly, pulled the chain, washed my hands under the tap and closed the door a bit harder behind me.
‘Dinner’s ready, Joar!’ I said in a loud voice and went downstairs again. I filled the jug with water and then called for Mum.
They came in at the same time.
‘This looks nice!’ Mum said as she sat down. ‘Doesn’t it, Joar?’
‘It does, actually,’ he said. ‘Are there bones in it?’
‘No,’ I said, putting the jug on the table. ‘Help yourselves.’
‘You’d make a good chef,’ Mum said, looking up at me as she put a bite of fish into her mouth.
‘Maybe,’ I said without meeting her gaze.
‘But you don’t want to, is that it?’
‘Not really.’
It felt like everything was inside me. Mum, Joar, the kitchen, the yard, the sunlit fields outside.
I sipped my water.
‘Is something the matter?’ Mum said.
I shook my head.
‘No, nothing. I’m glad you like the food.’
‘Who were speaking to on the phone?’
‘Dag.’
She smiled.
‘So why did you stop talking when I went past? Is Dag a secret now?’
‘You think it was Lisa. But it wasn’t.’
‘Lisa. So that’s her name.’
‘There’s a girl and her name is Lisa, yes,’ I said. ‘But we’re not going out with each other, and we’re not going to either. And it wasn’t her I was talking to.’
‘We’ll see,’ she said.
‘See what?’ said Joar.
‘Nothing,’ I said. ‘Were you thinking of going over to Rickard’s after tea, then, or what?’
‘No. Why?’
‘Just thought you might want to go out. It’d do you good, instead of sitting indoors all the time.’
‘Mind your own business.’
‘Boys,’ said Mum.
‘How come you never say anything to him?’ I said.
‘About what?’
‘About him sitting in his room all the time and never going out.’
‘It’s not true!’ said Joar. ‘I go to Rickard’s, or else he comes here. Besides, I’m at school all day.’
‘What do you think, Mum? Is it good for a twelve-year-old to spend his life in his room? Isn’t that just what nerds and failures do?’
Joar burst into tears. He put his hands up in front of his face like a shield.
‘I hate you!’ he sobbed, and jumped to his feet.
Mum gave me a furious look as he ran up the stairs.
‘You’d never have let me get away with it,’ I said with a shrug. ‘It’s for his own good.’
‘What’s wrong with you? You know Joar’s not like you.’
‘Oh, I know that.’
‘How can you call your own brother a failure? No, I’m disappointed in you, Syvert.’
She got up and went after him.
I stayed where I was and poked at my food, but I couldn’t eat anything now and tipped it all into the bin under the sink. It was true what I’d said, it wasn’t good for a twelve-year-old to be cooped up in his room all the time, and I’d certainly never have been allowed to, not even if I’d wanted.
When they came back down again, Joar wouldn’t look at me, he just sat down at his place and stared straight ahead. But Mum did look at me. Nevertheless, I couldn’t return her gaze, even though I knew it would make her think I was ashamed of what I’d said. Rather than that I was scared of what I might see in her eyes.
They ate in silence.
‘I’m sorry, Joar,’ I said after a while. ‘I didn’t mean it. I was only trying to say it’d be good if you –’
‘I know.’
‘You’re a good little brother. I couldn’t ask for a better one.’
He said nothing, but pushed his plate away, drank the rest of his water and went upstairs to his room without a word.
‘Do you want some coffee?’ I said, and got up, taking his plate and two of the dishes with me over to the side.
‘What’s wrong, Syvert?’ Mum said.
‘Wrong?’ I said, and poured what was left of the old coffee into the sink, rinsed the jug and filled it up with fresh water from the tap. ‘I said I was sorry, didn’t I?’
‘You’ve not been yourself today. Is it that girl?’
‘Stop going on about that!’ I said. I was standing with my back to her, spooning coffee into the filter bag, so I couldn’t really gauge what the ensuing silence meant.
I snapped the filter holder into place, took two mugs out of the cupboard and put them on the work surface next to the coffee maker, then got the milk from the fridge as the first drips splashed into the bottom of the jug.
When I turned round she was sitting with her elbows propped on the table and her hands held up in front of her, as if she’d been about to bury her face and had stopped in mid-movement. Her arms were trembling as they might if she’d been tensing her muscles. The look she gave me was furious, hateful almost.
She lowered her arms and her face fell back into repose.
I put a coffee mug down in front of her. The moment had been so fleeting I wasn’t even sure it had happened.
‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘I won’t pester you about her any more. You’re right, it’s none of my business. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.’
‘It’s best that way,’ I said. ‘And the same goes for you. You don’t have to tell me anything either. Unless you want to?’
‘What would I have to tell?’ she said with an abrupt laugh.
‘I wouldn’t know,’ I said.
She made herself a cigarette. It cut through me as she inhaled, and I looked out of the window at the side of the barn, a glowing red in the sunshine. She’d never liked me criticising her for smoking, it had always irritated her if I passed comment, so it had been a couple of years at least since I’d said anything.
But now I couldn’t help it.
‘Do you think it’s such a good idea to smoke when you’re not well?’
‘I’ve got a bad back, that’s all. But thanks for your concern.’
She blew smoke out into the air.
‘What are you staring at out there, anyway?’ she said.
‘Nothing. Spring’s here now by the looks of it.’
‘Let’s hope so,’ she said. ‘Have you thought any more about what you’re going to do?’
I shook my head.
‘Don’t you have to apply now if you want to get in somewhere in the autumn?’
‘Not necessarily.’
‘Oh?’
‘I could take a foundation course. I’ve been thinking I might.’
‘Where?’
‘I’m not sure. Trondheim, maybe. Or Bergen.’
She nodded.
‘What about until then? Have you asked at the factory?’
‘There’s nothing going at the moment.’
‘No,’ she said.
‘But if it’s money you’re thinking about, I’ve signed on, so I’ll at least have a small amount coming in.’
I regretted it straight away, I knew she didn’t like it.
‘I’ll see how Joar’s doing,’ I said, putting my half-finished coffee down on the side and leaving her on her own. As I got to the staircase I heard her sigh. If the blood was an indication of anything serious, she’d have more important things to worry about than me and my trivial concerns, so maybe everything was OK after all.
I knocked.
‘What do you want?’ said Joar.
He was sitting at his desk with his back to me.
‘I didn’t mean what I said. It didn’t come out right, that’s all.’
‘But it’s what you said,’ he said.
‘Are you not coming with me to the swimming baths, then?’
‘Now? Why?’
‘It might be fun. I haven’t been for ages. And we did talk about it the other day.’
‘You’re only asking because I cried.’
‘Of course I’m not.’
‘Yes, you are.’
‘Listen,’ I said. ‘I need to get out a bit. And I’d rather not go on my own. Come on. We can get some sweets afterwards.’
‘I’ve got homework.’
I gave a snort.
‘You’re way ahead of your homework, though, aren’t you?’
‘Yes,’ he said.
‘Are you going to come with me, then?’
‘OK.’
* * *
*
The swimming baths were situated on a spit of land outside the centre of town. The building was right by the shore, with big panorama windows through which you could look out at the sea and sky. I’d always liked the feeling it gave, especially when it was windy and the waves outside were topped with white while I swam in the calm, clear pool inside, or when the clouds above the town were dark and pellets of rain fell all around. It was like being there and not being there at the same time, existing in one world while looking at another.
‘They close at seven,’ said Joar as we stood at the counter to buy our tickets.
‘That’s all right, it means we’ve got a whole hour,’ I said.
I paid with the money Mum had given us, a hundred-krone note, and received two rubber wristbands, each with a little key attached, along with the change. Nearly all the lockers were taken, so the pool was probably packed, I thought to myself before finding two vacant ones at the end of a row, which was all right seeing as they were close to the showers. Four boys with wet hair, no more than ten years old, were chattering away as they dried themselves and got changed, while two elderly men sat at opposite ends of the bench that ran down the middle. One of them had a big belly that drooped to his thighs and a bloated face with wide bulging eyes, the skin underneath them yellow and fatty-looking, he looked like he could have a heart attack at any minute. The other was small and thin, ruddy-faced, most likely after his sauna, and his body, pubic area included, was almost completely hairless.
It was amazing how ugly people could be without their clothes on. An ape looked better than those two. At least apes had fur to cover them up.
Joar got changed at the bench, quick as lightning. I’d only just taken my sweater off and was bending forward to remove my socks, while he was already down to his underpants.
He was skinnier than I’d realised, all elbows and knees, and his vertebrae were visible all down his spine.
It was because he was growing, his body used up all its energy.
I undid my belt and stood up, pulling my trousers down to my knees. He got his towel out of the carrier bag and wound it around his waist before turning away from me.
‘What are you doing that for?’ I said, sitting down again to get my trousers off. ‘It’s a men’s changing room, you know! No girls here!’
He said nothing and didn’t turn round, but leaned forward and slipped his hand underneath his towel to remove his underpants.
‘Joar! Bare bums are allowed here!’
‘I don’t care,’ he said, and put his underpants down on the bench before picking up his trunks, stepping into them one foot at a time and wriggling them on under his towel.
