Milk Teeth

by Helene Bukowski

  “I saw them too.”

  Edith nodded. “Now they’ll come, right?”

  “Yes. There’s nothing else I can do.”

  For a brief moment I thought that Edith was going to take a step toward me. She raised her arm, as if she wanted to reach out to me, but then she let it drop abruptly and stayed where she was.

  “I told you it would come to this,” she said.

  IS LEAVING ALL WE HAVE IN THE END?

  41.

  Sleep was out of the question. I walked restlessly around the house. Edith sat in the light of the kitchen lamp and underlined individual sentences in the book lying in front of her on the table. She looked up searchingly every time I entered the room, but I didn’t want to speak to her.

  When the house felt too cramped I went into the garden and leaned against the plum tree. The bark scratched at my back. I tilted back my head and looked up at the branches. The blossoms were dried out. They would drop off over the next few days. Once again, there would be no plums.

  I was heading to the shed to check on the nettle mulch I had prepared a few days before, when I heard something break in the undergrowth of the forest. I flinched and turned around. Between the trees I saw deer standing there, quivering, with wetly gleaming copper-colored fur and rolling eyes. I didn’t move, but they must have smelled me because they took flight and blundered back into the forest. I quickly turned and went into the shed. As I bent over the buckets of mulch under the workbench, the tin can holding my milk teeth fell toward me. It was heavy in my hand. I carefully opened it.

  For a long while I stared at the twenty teeth. They were overlaid with the sight of the fleeing deer.

  There would be a party. I was sure of it. I had a plan.

  I went up to Meisis’s room. She was sleeping deeply.

  I sat down beside her on the sofa and woke her up.

  “Do you still have your milk teeth?” I asked.

  Meisis looked at me, confused.

  I grabbed her by the shoulders. “Have your teeth already fallen out?”

  She shook her head.

  “Good,” I said, “then go back to sleep.”

  I DREAMED EGGERT’S DAUGHTERS WERE FOUND IN THE FOREST. THEY HAD FALLEN ASLEEP IN A CLEARING. SIX GIRLS, ARRANGED LIKE A STAR IN THE SUN-BLEACHED MOSS, TWITCHING EYEBALLS BEHIND THEIR CLOSED LIDS, THEIR SLEEP AS HEAVY AS THE FOG ONCE WAS. I DREAMED THAT THEY HAD SPENT A WHOLE AFTERNOON DRINKING QUINCE SCHNAPPS BY THE RIVER, ONE BOTTLE AFTER THE OTHER, AND THAT’S WHY THEY DIDN’T WAKE UP. THEY SLEPT THROUGH WHOLE DAYS AND DIDN’T NOTICE THE LIGHT CHANGING.

  I DREAMED THAT THEY WERE HIDING ON PURPOSE AND WANTED PEOPLE TO LOOK FOR THEM.

  42.

  That same night I drove to Gösta and Len’s. The lights were on in the house. I knocked, and Gösta let me in. She was wearing a white nightshirt that practically swallowed her body. She led me to the kitchen. Len was sitting at the table and wasn’t wearing her sunglasses. A milky haze lay over her irises. I squeezed her hand, and she smiled.

  “I saw deer in the forest. Will there be a party?” I asked.

  Gösta nodded.

  “And they won’t come to get the child until afterward, right?”

  “You know how important the parties are to them,” Gösta said, passing me a glass of water.

  “What do you have in mind?” Len asked me.

  I didn’t tell them. I didn’t want to risk anything.

  Before the bridge got blown up, deer and wild boar often strayed into the territory on their flight from the coast. People rounded them up with their dogs and shot them in the road. Young girls slung on their rifles, just like their fathers had taught them. In the tiled kitchens the men butchered the animals, hung them to bleed out on the verandas, and the following night everyone gathered on the party meadow, set up pavilions, fetched benches and tables, and grilled the meat.

  At midnight, when it was over, the first songs were intoned. This is how they sat together until the early hours of the morning. The children were there too; when their eyelids drooped, they were carried by their older brothers to the cars and laid down to sleep on the back seats.

  “You know what, those were the good days,” Gösta told me. “Back then there was nothing to be afraid of.”

  43.

  I was standing shielded by the trees and looking toward the meadow where the party would be taking place. The pavilions had already been built, the white plastic coverings freshly washed. A grill was smoking. Cars and trucks were parked all over the place. Beer garden benches had been set up. I heard a couple of women laughing. Laid out on a wax tablecloth over a folding table were the skinned animals. Blood dripped into the grass.

  Off to one side, next to the firepit, the children had gathered and stacked twigs and branches from the forest. I couldn’t stop thinking that when it was lit they would lose control of it. Maybe a burning branch would come loose, slip out. The fire would spread in seconds. I saw the meadow ablaze.

  But the children knew better. Before they shoved the lit match into the deadwood, they had a bucket of sand ready and had doused the ground with water.

  Levke and Wolf were leaning against the canisters of homemade quince schnapps. In their hands they held clear plastic cups full of the brownish liquid, repeatedly toasting each other.

  The woman with the harsh face was there too. She stood off a little to the side, but in a way that nothing passed her by.

  My eyes followed the dogs, which were hunting on the meadows. Not completely decided whether it was still a game or for real, they tumbled over one another and flashed their teeth. The sky had gone violet.

  Len and Gösta used to sometimes take me to these parties, but I had always felt out of place. The other adults would punish me with suspicious looks or act as if I weren’t there. The children too looked over only every once in a while. Gösta and Len let me sit between them and gave me a bit of the meat when the others weren’t looking.

  The longer these evenings went on, the more everyone was drunk. When the first person fell backward from the bench, I knew that it was best if I left, especially if Gösta and Len were already making their way home.

  Once, I put it off for too long. A group of rowdy girls came up with the idea of pouring the schnapps out of their cups all over me. Luckily only one of them was not yet drunk enough; all the others missed. Before they could come up with something new, I fled. At the house I got in the still full bathtub. The water was ice-cold. I left the tub only when I could no longer feel my body. I didn’t breathe a word to Edith.

  The older I became, the more I avoided the parties, until eventually I stopped going altogether. Sometimes I would still notice the distant glow of the fire when I walked through the forest at night, but I kept my distance.

  Now I saw that nothing had changed since then. Only the faces of the people had become older, and I couldn’t find Gösta and Len anywhere.

  With my chin up, I walked across the meadow to the pavilions. People stopped talking when they noticed me. I walked past the benches toward the grill, where Pesolt was standing with his back to me. Alerted by the spreading silence, he turned around.

  “Well, would you look at that, what an honor. We’ve missed having you here over the years. Did you bring the child with you? The grill’s hot enough,” he said, grinning.

  I looked at him in silence.

  “Just a joke.” Pesolt laughed. “The three-day deadline isn’t quite up yet.”

  “There’s one thing all of you haven’t considered with your allegation that Meisis is a changeling,” I said.

  Levke and Wolf filled their cups and came closer. A snide whistle came from another direction.

  “Oh.” Pesolt turned back to the grill and flipped the meat. “Didn’t realize we were still debating.”

  The gathered people roared.

  With a raised voice I said, “Every child in this territory has lost its milk teeth, there’s proof in all our houses.” I paused. “But changelings don’t lose their
milk teeth. Their teeth always stay like a child’s. That’s how it was with Edith.”

  At the mention of Edith’s name, Pesolt’s face darkened.

  “If Meisis is something not from here, like Edith, she won’t lose her teeth,” I said.

  A few murmurs of agreement sounded from the benches. I continued my speech.

  “The child is at the exact age when the replacing of teeth takes place. So when it happens, it’s a sign that she’s part of this territory, just like you.”

  I looked triumphantly at Pesolt. People got up from the benches in order to see better. The scene offered them a welcome diversion. I could tell from Pesolt’s expression that he didn’t trust me. But the tumult unleashed by what I had said couldn’t be calmed. The wait for whether the child’s teeth would fall out presented the prospect that there would finally be something for people to talk about again.

  Pesolt turned to the grill, deep in thought. The hot coals made sweat run down his face. He rubbed the back of his neck, took the roasted meat from the grill with a fork, piled it on the readied plates, and put fresh, still raw pieces on the grill. Their fat sizzled in the heat. He turned back to me and, with the prong of the fork, picked a piece of steak from between his teeth and spat it out at my feet. The others held their breath: they were waiting with excitement for what Pesolt would say.

  “And your suggestion now is that we have to be patient? For months, years?” He laughed. The others joined in.

  “Meisis’s teeth will fall out soon,” I said emphatically.

  Pesolt turned to the others. “But we are all of the opinion that Meisis”—he spoke her name with disgust—“isn’t a real child. This means we’ll have to wait in vain, while the brat can continue to make mischief.”

  The others nodded.

  “Give us six months,” I said. “If not even a single tooth has fallen out by then, I’ll deliver the child to you.”

  “Six months is a very long time. Imagine all the bad things that could happen in the meantime.”

  “Four months would also be enough,” I said quickly, “you’ll see.”

  Pesolt put his face right in front of mine. I could see the burst blood vessels in his eyes.

  “If anyone’s going to decide how many months you get, it’s me,” he said, so quietly that no one else could have heard it, and then louder for the others, he added: “Now that I think about it, a child, even if it’s not from here, shouldn’t die when it’s innocent. Which is why I say we put up with it for two months. But if it hasn’t lost any teeth by then, we’ll go get it, because we should never get careless, even if we might have a child’s life on our conscience. You understand that, don’t you?”

  I wanted to respond, but I was interrupted by Eggert, who had staggered forward.

  “I should wait two months?” he shouted. His mouth was smeared with grease, his eyes were glassy. “What if that’s too late for my daughters?”

  Rumbling shouts from the back rows became louder.

  “Meisis didn’t have anything to do with the disappearance of your daughters,” I said.

  Eggert tried to punch me, but I moved easily out of his way. His movements were uncoordinated and slow from the schnapps. He lost his balance and fell to the ground. The woman with the stern face stepped out from the crowd and helped him up.

  “Eggert’s right,” she said, standing beside him. “Even two months is too risky. We swore when we blew up the bridge that we wouldn’t ever take anyone in ever again.”

  “I promise all of you that nothing will happen in the next two months,” I said.

  Pesolt laughed. The woman said, “It’s not enough to just promise.”

  It fell quiet. All eyes were on us, mesmerized.

  “If there is another incident, the child and I will leave the territory,” I said.

  The people on the benches began whispering among themselves.

  The woman wanted to say something, but Pesolt cut her off.

  “And Edith?” he said.

  “What?”

  “If something happens again, Edith must leave the territory too.”

  I could feel my pulse. Pesolt was once more holding the reins. Perhaps this was what he had intended to happen all along.

  I straightened my shoulders and said, “You all have my word.”

  Pesolt’s eyes glowed. “Say it properly.”

  I raised my hand. “Should something or other happen here that ought not to happen, Meisis, Edith, and I will leave the territory.”

  “Good,” Pesolt said. “We are, after all, civilized people. Eggert, you’re in agreement with us, right?”

  Everyone knew that it wasn’t really a question. There wasn’t anything left for Eggert to do but nod.

  With this, Pesolt had uttered a decree. He leaned over to him and said, “If the child is guilty, it will get its rightful punishment. Then you’ll also get your daughters back.” He clapped him on the shoulder, and I could see that he was thrilled about planning the hunt for the next two months.

  “Now, finally, let’s drink,” Pesolt said, grabbing his cup, and the others followed his example.

  “To the territory,” he shouted.

  “To our life,” they responded, and knocked back the quince schnapps, their faces contorted with excitement. The hubbub started up again. I was no longer being observed.

  Eggert stood up and tottered over to me.

  “I’ll kill that brat long before if you don’t watch out,” he hissed.

  Pesolt stood behind him and put his arm around his shoulders. “It’s okay, Eggert. The child won’t slip through our fingers.”

  Eggert shook him off. “Since when have you been on Skalde’s side?”

  “Sleep off the schnapps first. Seems like you’re not seeing things straight.”

  For a moment I thought Eggert was going to go for Pesolt, but he just raised his hand, murmured something incomprehensible, and stumbled back to his seat.

  I wanted to steal away, but Pesolt turned to me and gripped my arm tightly.

  “I warn you, don’t get any ideas about doing something stupid, you hear me? And Edith better not get in our way either. And no little games with the dogs, understand? Otherwise it may come to pass that your house accidently catches fire.”

  “I get it,” I said.

  Pesolt grinned and let me go. “Then everything’s good.”

  I saw to it that I got away.

  44.

  Edith was lying in the tub in the bathroom.

  “You smell of smoke,” she said. “Where have you been?”

  I leaned forward over the washbasin and looked at myself in the mirror. I tried to smile, but it slipped out of place.

  “The child’s safe now,” I said, turning around.

  She creased her forehead. I told her about the party and what I was able to negotiate. Edith lifted her wet hair, twisted it into a bun, and squeezed the water out of it. “And what happens when Meisis’s teeth don’t fall out?”

  “They will.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “She’s the right age.”

  “Mine never fell out.”

  I said nothing.

  Edith sank back into the tub. Water flowed over the edge and ran over the tiles. “Sounds to me like all you’ve done is broker another deferral. And even if Meisis’s teeth fall out, Pesolt will find a reason why she has to be handed over to him.”

  “Two months is a long time.”

  Edith watched the waves created by the movement of her body. “Have you thought for even a second that it’s possible that Levaii’s sisters haven’t disappeared?”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Maybe they left voluntarily.”

  “Where could they have gone?”

  “You can’t honestly believe that they just disappeared into thin air?”

  “There must be a logical explanation. But they surely can’t have left the territory by choice.”

  “How can you be so sure
?”

  “That would be suicidal. It’s still only safe here in the territory.”

  “If that’s what you think,” Edith said.

  We avoided looking at each other. Our silence stood heavily between us.

  “You have to lose your teeth,” I said that evening to Meisis. We were sitting at the kitchen table eating thin onion soup. “If they fall out, you can stay here, in the house. With me and Edith.”

  Meisis’s head sank and she turned her spoon over the tabletop. “And if they don’t fall out?”

  “Your teeth will fall out,” I said firmly.

  Meisis nodded, but something else seemed to be troubling her.

  45.

  My memories of the time after the party have a hazy shimmer.

  I started showing Meisis the land. I woke her every morning, even before the sun had come up. We ate a meager breakfast of dried roots, sometimes a few nuts, then we set off. I always showed her a different part of the territory. We hardly ever used the pickup. I had missed walking, and I didn’t want to have to keep to the roads.

  In these early hours it was still bearable outside. We rarely rested and were constantly moving. When it got so hot in the morning that the asphalt on the road melted, we just lay in the shade.

  For hours on end I walked with her through the territory and told her the specifics. I pointed at the fallen trees, the land line on the horizon, the wild mustard, real verbena, and musk mallow. The way the fieldstones were stacked in unshakable formations. Three lone birches in an open field. The glowing orange rowan berries and the sandy soil.

  I acted like there was nothing left to fear.

  When the sun got even higher, we started back toward home. We fled inside the house. I hung up wet towels against the heat, but it hardly helped at all. We left the curtains closed the whole afternoon and dozed into the twilight.