by Philip Teir
Danilo shook his head and continued to smoke his cigarette.
They stood there for a moment, and Katriina thought about something she’d read regarding the functioning of consciousness. If you turned off the light so there was only darkness and silence, the brain still worked just as much as it did in daylight. The consciousness was always active, even in complete darkness. The closest you could come to extinguishing consciousness was by administering anaesthesia. That was a state resembling death.
‘I have a dog,’ Katriina said now. The whole situation seemed so absurd, and she decided the only natural thing to do was to start up a light conversation.
‘Dogs are stupid animals,’ replied Danilo. ‘Run right into the road. Trust everybody.’
Katriina felt a vague uneasiness, a slight nausea. The food she’d eaten was making her queasy. It occurred to her that no one knew where she was. She hadn’t spoken to anyone in her family all week. It seemed unreal that only a few days ago she’d been in wintry Finland. She leaned down and took off her shoes because her feet were aching. The asphalt was still warm, but little streams of water were running along the road towards the culvert.
‘Should we move it somewhere else?’ she asked.
‘Not much we can do,’ he replied.
The dog didn’t seem as repulsive when she looked at it now. She had a sudden urge to bend down to get a closer look. She knelt down and ran her hand over the animal’s damp abdomen. It was still warm. She felt a slight movement, as if the dog was breathing.
‘I think it’s alive,’ she said. A shudder passed through her body.
Danilo leaned down to touch the dog.
‘What should we do?’ asked Katriina, looking at the chauffeur.
When they were back in the car, neither of them spoke. Danilo pulled on to the road, and Katriina thought for a moment that he was driving back to the city, but all of a sudden he made a big U-turn, accelerated, and aimed straight for the dog’s head. Katriina screamed, but Danilo said nothing.
Half an hour later he dropped her off outside the gate to the building where she was staying.
‘It’s awfully late,’ she said.
‘Yes. Sleep well, Mrs Paul. I am driving home to my son now.’
‘How old is your son?’ she asked.
‘Five.’
‘So he must have gone to bed long ago.’
‘No. He is waiting for me. His mother works at the restaurant at night.’
‘Your son is at home alone?’
‘Yes.’
She thought of saying something, but he seemed to have read her mind.
‘He is fine. He is often alone when we are working.’
She tried to find something to say to conclude the conversation. ‘I have two grandchildren. Amanda is amazing. I miss her. I wish I could spend more time with my grandchildren. I also have a grandson named Lukas. Someday I’ll take them travelling with me. Maybe even come here to the Philippines.’
‘That sounds good, Mrs Paul. Good night.’
twenty-one
ON THE DAY AFTER HIS dinner with Laura, Max bought himself a new shirt and jacket, played tennis and then phoned Stefan to ask him about the breathing techniques he’d mentioned during the dinner party at the Keskinens’ place before Christmas. Max was feeling very anxious. What if he took this leap with Laura? And what if he made a fool of himself? What if he failed to measure up to the demands of the day? He felt like a rusty old car, the kind that people drove only for nostalgic reasons, or because they hadn’t noticed that these days there were significantly more beautiful, more streamlined and less fussy vehicles on the market.
‘I’m so happy you rang,’ said Stefan in his gentle, almost feminine voice, which made Max regret having made the call.
Max didn’t know whether he could manage being with a younger woman from a purely physical perspective. The mere thought was somehow paralysing. What if the sheer stress of it all made him impotent? He might not even have a chance, but he imagined pleasures that were greater than the intellectual triumphs he’d experienced in his career, which, if he were completely honest, had occurred much less frequently in the past few years.
‘I promise that Katriina will thank you afterwards. Come over and I’ll take you through the basic exercises. Then you can practise on your own at home.’
‘Okay. But, Stefan, would you mind not saying anything to Katriina about this? I don’t want her to know.’
‘Ah, so you want to surprise her in bed? Great.’
‘Well, something like that. How long do you think it takes … I mean, to master it?’
‘That’s impossible to say. Two weeks, two months. It all depends on you and your attitude. It’s ultimately more of a mental thing than physical. It has to do with learning to control your blood flow, relaxing, getting your sexual energy and aura moving.’
‘Is it hard to do?’
‘No, not at all. That’s the whole point. It’s supposed to be easy.’
Max took the bus out to Kottby, where Stefan and Gun-Maj lived. Fortunately, Gun-Maj wasn’t at home. Max took off his jacket in the front hall and hung it on a hook that looked as if it was a souvenir from Africa. He couldn’t really tell whether it was meant to be a clothes hook or a decoration, but Stefan didn’t protest.
‘Are you planning to do yoga in those clothes?’ he asked as they went into the kitchen.
‘Did I wear the wrong thing?’
Max had on a shirt and a pair of brown corduroy trousers. He now realised his attire might not be the best yoga outfit.
‘No worries. I’ve got clothes you can borrow.’
Max saw no option but to accept the offer. This was not a moment for vanity. Stefan told him to wait while he went to get the clothes.
‘Would you like some tea? Just put on the kettle,’ he shouted from the bedroom as Max sat in the kitchen, looking around. The room was filled with plants, but was otherwise surprisingly minimalist. Max had expected a hippie-style flat filled with Indian ornaments. Instead, it was quite plain, with white-painted walls and lamps that emitted a kind of fluorescent light. Max was cold. The temperature had dropped during the week.
Stefan came back to the kitchen with the clothing. ‘This should do. You can change in the bathroom.’
He handed the clothes to Max and showed him the way.
In the bathroom, Max was confronted with a full-length mirror and a wash-basin made of dark imitation wood. He took off his trousers and shirt and draped them neatly over the edge of the tub.
What the hell are you doing? he thought as he looked at himself in the mirror. Max had generally been satisfied with his body, but now he saw it the way a thirty-year-old woman might see it: the drooping stomach, the baggy underpants that hid his hairy groin and shrunken penis. His chest sagged, and his body was slightly pear-shaped, especially when viewed from the side. He stood in front of the mirror and tensed his arm muscles as he sucked in his stomach, which instantly made him look stronger and more fit. He wished he’d done something about his belly when he was in his thirties, or even in his forties, but now it was too late. On the tennis court he’d seen men of his age who had six-pack abs, men with bodies like athletes, some of them even older than Max. It was a mystery to him how they’d managed to keep themselves so fit.
He looked at the clothes Stefan had given him. A grey T-shirt that was luckily big enough. That wasn’t the problem. The trousers were made of a soft, white linen, but they were too short, so when he pulled them on, they ended just below his calves, and they also felt tight across his thighs.
‘Stefan?’ he called. ‘These trousers are too small.’
‘Can I see?’
Max was startled to hear that Stefan was standing right outside the bathroom. The door was slightly ajar. Had he been there the whole time? Max opened the door.
‘They’re fine. Next time you can bring your own clothes.’
Max sighed. Why on earth had he decided to come here? They went into the living room,
where Stefan had pushed aside several armchairs and spread two yoga mats on the floor.
‘Normally I’d recommend a proper yoga room. But this will do for today. The point is that you should be able to do this anywhere.’
Stefan sat down on a mat, and Max followed suit.
‘Okay. First we’re going to do some simple, basic exercises so you’ll get a feeling for things.’
They did that for about fifteen minutes. It was harder and more strenuous than Max had anticipated.
‘So the goal is for you to learn to control your blood flow. Sex has a lot to do with being relaxed. For instance, if you’re stressed, you’re not going to enjoy sex as much. If the body isn’t sufficiently relaxed, the blood collects in the middle of the body instead of in the arms and legs. Relaxation automatically leads to greater arousal, since the arteries carrying blood to the genitals open up, and the blood is pumped directly into the penis.’
Max had always found it comical when anyone talked about ‘the penis’ in such a clinical way. He tried not to laugh because Stefan was taking the whole thing so seriously.
‘In women, relaxation causes greater sensitivity around the clitoris, and it makes them wetter.’
Max assumed that Stefan had discussed these things many times, and that was why he could speak with such calm authority. He tried to relax, but couldn’t help thinking that he’d been incredibly indiscreet. What if Stefan should mention this session to someone?
‘Where’s Gun-Maj?’ asked Max.
‘She’s out of town. At a conference in Östersund in Sweden. She won’t be back until Sunday.’
Max didn’t ask any more questions as he tried to imitate what Stefan was doing. It was difficult, not only because his body was going numb, but also because the linen trousers were cutting uncomfortably into his crotch.
‘Now we’re going to do a position called the chair pose. Put your arms at your sides, like this.’ He showed Max how to place his arms. ‘And lift your chest up as you squeeze your thighs together and hold your arms straight, raising them over your head and pointing your fingers in the air.’
Max did his best. He was surprised how good it felt, even though it was so awkward that he couldn’t hold the position for more than thirty seconds.
‘Remember that this is supposed to feel good. If it’s uncomfortable, then you’re not doing it right,’ said Stefan. ‘Does it feel good?’
‘It’s fine,’ said Max.
They practised a few more times. Then Stefan demonstrated a series of poses: the cobra, cat, camel, the standing fan. There were so many that Max couldn’t remember them all.
After a while Stefan went to the kitchen to get them some water. Max was stretched out on the floor, feeling how his whole body ached, but it wasn’t entirely unpleasant.
Stefan came back and handed Max a glass of water.
‘When it comes to sex,’ he said, drinking some water, ‘there are some areas that men, especially those of us of a certain age, need to pay attention to. Number one is breathing. If you feel like you’re about to lose your mojo, there’s a lot you can do by breathing properly.’
‘Mojo?’
‘Yeah. You know. If it gets limp. If you notice that happening, you can try to breathe rhythmically with your partner. It might also help to try to increase the blood flow to the penis by tensing and releasing the abdomen.’
‘Got it.’
‘Another problem that men have, especially younger men, is premature ejaculation. This is one of the most important things that yoga can help with. Some people say that you should reach orgasm only about every hundred times you have sex. Touching should be enough. It can be just as powerful as a regular ejaculation.’
Max didn’t reply. What was he supposed to say?
‘But if you ask me, I don’t really believe in that theory. Have you tried going around for several weeks without getting any release? I’ve tried it, and it doesn’t work. You end up having wet dreams. But there is something to that theory. When you feel yourself about to come too soon, you can try to force the energy back into your body. In the best case scenario, you’ll have a physical orgasm that is closer to what a woman experiences – in other words, your whole body will come. That’s very rewarding, let me tell you. I wish I’d known about that when I was young. On the other hand, it’s lucky that this is a secret only old guys like us happen to know. We need to have some way to compete, don’t you think? And that’s our endurance level.’
Max nodded. ‘So how are we supposed to be able to do that?’
He couldn’t believe he’d actually asked that question. Was it even true? Or was it an illusion caused by lots of yoga exercises?
‘It takes a little practice. And it’s not something I can teach you. I mean, you have to practise at home. Preferably with Katriina, but you can also try it on your own. You can masturbate if you like, and right before you come, try to slow down and focus on gathering all the energy inside your body instead.’
Max nodded. ‘I’ll give it a try.’
He couldn’t actually picture himself doing that. This whole session was a mistake, but at least it was over now, and he could go back home.
‘So, are we done for today?’
‘Yes, I suppose we are. If you get confused and can’t remember these poses, there are some excellent instruction videos on YouTube. Just try Googling “ustasha yoga” and you’ll find lots of the most common poses.’
‘Could you write that down for me?’
‘Sure.’
In the sex study that Max had done in the nineties, the missionary position was still by far the most common among Finnish couples. Clearly a lot had happened since then. Maybe it was time to do a new study.
Stefan got up to write everything down for Max on a scrap of paper. Then Max went to the bathroom to change his clothes. He folded the clothing he’d borrowed and gave them back to Stefan, who smiled with his tanned, leathery face – the way only a man who has frequent and satisfying sex can smile.
‘I’m glad you came over. I have to admit I didn’t think you had it in you.’
‘It’s good to try everything, don’t you think so?’
‘I totally agree.’
‘Do I owe you anything for the session?’
‘Absolutely not. Just consider it a friend helping out another friend. Say hi to Katriina.’
Max thanked him and went out into the winter darkness. He got out his mobile phone and rang Laura.
‘Hi, Max. I was just thinking about you.’
That was more than he’d hoped. She was thinking about him. Max felt a new sense of confidence, as if he definitely could do this.
‘Hi. Listen, I was just wondering about something. Feel free to say no. But would you like to come with me to Österbotten? We could do a little work over there.’
‘When?’
‘Well … I was thinking we could take the bus in the morning. If that’s not too short notice, of course. I need to visit my mother. But we have a cottage we could use before we head back home. Maybe we could get some work done.’
‘That sounds like fun. If you like, we could drive my father’s car. I can borrow it.’
‘I don’t have a driving licence.’
‘You don’t?’
‘No. You know … protecting the environment, et cetera.’
‘That’s no problem. I can drive.’
twenty-two
AMANDA HAD INHERITED THE BOLDNESS of the Paul family, along with a feeling of entitlement, a sense that the world existed for her sake. She was not afraid of unfamiliar situations; instead she viewed them as challenges that were meant to be handled. By the time she was four years old, she already knew how to swim, and when she was six she was diving from the three-metre board at the Swimming Stadium. The next summer she was diving from a height of five metres in the Gumtäkt district.
Helen allowed her to climb the tower and dive. She knew it was dangerous. She knew that Amanda might do a belly-flop, which would knoc
k the breath out of her. But she let her try it because the fact that Amanda even dared attempt such a dive fascinated mother and daughter alike. Helen never would have tried anything like that when she was a child. So Amanda, who was half the size of the other kids, climbed up the tower. She waited for her turn and then took up position at the very edge and dived off. Without a trace of fear.
Lukas was different. He hesitated, carefully weighing things before doing them. He didn’t want to subject himself to any risks or land in unexpected situations.
Helen thought that life was like the game they used to play as kids. After placing ten sticks on a board, someone would kick the board and make the sticks fly in all directions. Everyone ran off to find a hiding place while one person picked up the sticks and put them back on the board before going in search of the other kids. The real challenge was for someone to come out of hiding to kick the board before everyone had been found. Those who were timid stayed in place and let someone else do the kicking. Helen thought that Amanda and Eva were the sort who would always run out to kick the board.
She viewed herself as the one who picked up the sticks and searched for the others. Life was an endless process of picking up sticks. There was always something that needed to be done or cleaned up, and as soon as Helen felt that the biggest job had been taken care of, as soon as the kitchen or hallway had been tidied, one of the kids would come running inside and toss their dirty shoes on the floor, so she had to start all over again.
By the end of the week, she felt as though she’d been working overtime after an extra-long shift, counting the minutes until she could crawl into bed. She just needed to make the last steps up the mountain, pick up the clothes from the floor, fill the washing machine, gather up the Lego pieces, take out the essay books to grade, cook dinner and then clear away the dishes. She had to push aside all thoughts other than the tasks at hand and try to make sure that everything went smoothly for the remaining four or five hours before the whole family went to bed, exhausted from the winter fatigue and darkness and the children’s minor but vexing fights about completely trivial matters.