by Karin Fossum
Eddie thought about Mass. She would be waiting with her hands in front of her face. She might have cleared the kitchen corner already, put away the two dishes and the old blanket. She might even be vacuuming the floor to get rid of all the dog hairs.
You should have been an Alsatian, he thought; you weren’t much good as a guard dog. You just barked no matter who came. The yappy little dog out in the waiting room had stopped yapping and there was a deafening silence.
“When you get home, please tell your mother that everything went well,” Munthe instructed him.
Eddie nodded.
“What about getting a new puppy, Eddie?”
“Mom says no. So it’ll be just the two of us, which is OK. You can just do it now,” he added, because he was waiting. He was thinking about his own death. Not that he was going to be given an injection. His mom wouldn’t even be there to grieve. No one would grieve. No one would come to his grave with flowers, and his coffin would be carried out of Geirastadir Church by six minions from Securitas. Three handfuls of dry earth over the coffin, and the priest might just sing alone with majesty. The hymn he hated more than anything else. Lead, kindly light, amid th’ encircling gloom. Or, as he often thought to himself, help me through the mist.
The hypodermic needle was as thin as a sewing needle. Shiba did not move at all, but Eddie could see that she was breathing. Munthe looked for a vein in her front leg, and then pressed in the contents slowly. There was not even so much as a tremor in her thin body. Eddie watched the dying animal with great intensity.
Once Shiba had been put down, Eddie went to the CC shopping center and had a smoked salmon and scrambled egg sandwich. When he was finished, he went back to the counter and ordered a custard slice and another Coke. For one reason or another, he felt lighthearted. But now he had to prepare himself for going home and decide what to say. Before getting into the car, he wandered around the shopping center, looking at people and things. He was glad that he didn’t know anyone, glad that he didn’t need to talk. About the weather and other stupid things, such as how he was. Almost everything people said to each other was garbage.
When he pulled up in front of the house, he saw his mother’s pale face in the kitchen window. He lifted his hand and waved, but she didn’t wave back.
That night, as Eddie lay awake in bed under the picture of the family in Copenhagen, he thought about Kennedy the cat. What if he put down a line of rat poison from Ansgar’s mailbox to the house? The cat would no doubt be tempted by the tasty little pink grains. And then, the next morning, all he would have to do is pick him up, put him in a plastic bag, and throw him in the garbage. Eddie knew that rat poison contained strychnine. And strychnine poisoning was a horrible way to die, with internal bleeding and cramps. As always, when he had these fantasies, he felt calm. Like after drinking a cup of hot milk and honey.
30
AFTER ERNA’S FUNERAL, Bonnie was given a new client. As she waited outside the door, her body filled with a strange anticipation. A man opened the door and held out his hand, and his handshake was so firm that Bonnie almost whimpered. She entered into a large hallway and took off her coat.
“You can call me Alex,” he said. “No one calls me Alexander.”
“I hope I can be of use,” Bonnie replied. “Just tell me what to do.”
She looked at him with curiosity because he was so different from her other clients. He couldn’t be more than twenty-something. He was wearing a black T-shirt, and her first impression was that his upper body was very muscular, especially his upper arms. He must have been training for years. Otherwise, he had fair hair and an earring in one ear. Even though it was only March, he was a healthy color. He rolled his wheelchair into the living room, and she noted that he was obviously financially well off because he had good furniture and an impressive flat screen on the wall. There were large speakers in every corner of the room and a lot of green plants.
“Do you play chess?” Alex asked.
Bonnie had to confess that she didn’t.
“I’ll teach you,” he said, without hesitation, and rolled over to the table. He got the black and white pieces out of a drawer under the tabletop, and then explained to Bonnie how they could move across the board.
“We’re at war,” he said. “You have an army and I have an army, and we’re both out to capture each other’s king. The point is that you constantly have to think ahead. If you move the knight like this, or this, what space does that leave for my king? Does that make sense?”
She nodded. “I should really use my time on other things,” she said cautiously. “You see, we have to follow regulations. So in terms of what you need, why did you apply for a home health aide?”
“Sod the regulations,” Alex said sharply. “It’s me who decides. You take the white pieces, which means you start.”
Bonnie moved a piece. She had no idea what she was getting herself into. She looked around the room, and her eyes stopped at a photograph of Alex and a beautiful girl with red hair. Alex was standing on his own two legs in the picture, no wheelchair to be seen.
“My girlfriend,” he explained. “She comes every day after work. And with a bit of imagination we manage to do most things.”
He smiled at Bonnie and she smiled back. She was always happy when people didn’t let each other down, in the way that she’d been let down.
“How did you end up in a wheelchair?” she asked.
“Car accident,” he told her. “Head-on collision with a Polish truck.”
“Oh,” Bonnie said, horrified, as Alex moved his first black piece.
“Whose fault was it?”
“Mine.”
“Were you driving too fast?”
“Eighty-seven.”
He waited for her to make the next move. Bonnie found it hard to concentrate.
“What about the guy in the truck?” she asked. “Was he injured?”
“No,” Alex replied. “Truck drivers are pretty safe. But if he had been injured or killed, I don’t know how I would have managed to live with the guilt. He didn’t even break a finger. He came to visit me in the hospital. And now, Magnus Carlsen, it’s time for you to play.”
Before she left, she was allowed to run the vacuum cleaner over the floors in the adapted, easy-to-care-for apartment. He rolled out into the hall with her to say goodbye.
“What are you doing this evening?” she asked. “Is Elisabeth coming?”
“Yes. We’re going to the Apollo gym. We go there every other day. You should start training too,” he said. “It makes you better equipped, you know, for life and things.”
Bonnie shook her head. “Will you babysit for me then?” she said. “I’m a single mother.”
“I think you should get yourself a man,” Alex told her, because he saw that she was beautiful and thought that wouldn’t be hard.
“A shame you’re taken,” she retorted and opened the door. “I can hardly beat Elisabeth.”
They both laughed. And she knew that her days with Alex would be good days.
That night she had a terrible dream.
She dreamed that Olav came to get Simon, and he wanted to take him out to Gullfaks. The father and son sat close together in the helicopter and the sea below was gray and stormy. She stood on the quay and waved as the helicopter lifted, and then she sank into despondency. And as she stood there watching, it plummeted into the sea, and Simon disappeared forever into the churning water. She woke with a gasp and lay there for a while with a hand on her racing heart. A while later, she went into Simon’s room and stood at his bedside for a long time. She stroked him gently on the cheek and then crept back to her room. She often went to bed in the evening with an enormous sense of relief that nothing bad had happened. It could not be taken for granted that they were both healthy and well. She read in the papers every day about catastrophes that had struck other people’s lives, and she offered a quiet prayer to God that she and Simon would be spared.
31
&nbs
p; ONE MORNING, MASS AWOKE with such pain in her back that she was seriously worried. She managed to crawl out of bed and sat down in a chair in the living room. Her wrist was still sore. As soon as she knew the medical center was open, she called and made an appointment. It was urgent, she said; she was in a lot of pain and she needed painkillers. She got an appointment the following day but said nothing to Eddie. She didn’t want to worry him.
When she arrived, she checked in at reception and sat down to wait with a magazine. But she couldn’t concentrate and put it down again. After half an hour, she was called in. She sat down in the patient’s chair.
“Good morning, Thomasine,” her doctor said. “It’s a long time since you were last here. How’s Eddie?”
“Oh, you know how he is,” she said. “Stubborn as a three-year-old and still on disability. But he’s good company. Without him, I’d be all alone.”
He pulled up her medical records on the computer screen and read through the last consultation notes. “So, how can I help you today?”
“I’ve got these terrible pains in my back. And for some reason, my right wrist is sore as well.” She put her arm down on his desk, and he lifted it gently and examined it carefully.
“No swelling,” he confirmed. “Have you fallen or hit it in any way?”
“Not at all. I’m still steady on my feet; I’m only fifty-six, you know,” she exclaimed.
“Quite,” he said and nodded. “Have you lifted anything heavy?”
Mass started to laugh. “I’ve got Eddie. And he’s as strong as an ox.”
“How long has it been hurting?” he asked.
“Quite some time now. It wasn’t much to begin with, but it’s gradually gotten worse.”
“I see,” he said and paused for thought. Then he turned back to the screen and added some notes in the records.
“And otherwise?” He looked at her. She was sitting with her handbag on her lap and looked as though she wanted to take flight.
“Well, I’ve got some bruises,” she had to admit. “There seem to be more and more of them and I’ve had them a long time.”
“Where are they?”
“On my thighs. I notice them when I shower. And I have no idea where they come from.”
“Let me have a look,” he said.
Mass stood up and pulled down her pants. She was shy, but she knew the doctor. She had been his patient for many years, and she really needed to find out what was wrong. He put his finger on the bruises one by one.
“Are they tender?”
“I can’t feel anything, that’s the strange thing.”
She pulled up her pants again. The doctor sat and pondered; she wanted him to say something, but he was just silent.
Then he took out a small flashlight and rolled his chair around so he could get closer and shined it in her eyes. First one, then the other. Mass had no idea what he was looking for.
“We need to take some tests,” he said. “You’ll have to sit and wait outside the lab. We need to check your blood. And I also want you to go to the main hospital for some x-rays. I’ll send a referral and you’ll get an appointment in the mail.”
“Will I have to wait long?”
“No,” he said promptly. “I’ll say it’s urgent.”
“Is it urgent?” she asked, horrified. “Should I be worried?”
“Probably not,” he said and smiled. “But we need to find out what it is. And in the meantime, I’ll prescribe tramadol, which is good for back pain.”
She took the prescription and thanked him.
“Say hello to Eddie,” he said as she got up. And she promised to do so.
“I don’t see much of him,” he commented.
“Eddie’s never ill,” Mass replied.
She took a number outside the lab; there were obviously a lot of people in front of her and she found it impossible to relax now. When she was finally shown in, she didn’t dare ask about anything. But when they were done, she did ask if they could send a letter when the results were ready.
“We’ll send the results to your doctor,” the receptionist said, “and he will contact you.”
She thanked him for his help and went out to the car. She stopped at the pharmacy to pick up the painkillers. When she got home, Eddie asked where she had been.
“I had a few errands,” she said. “You know, the bank and things. And the post office.”
“Jeez,” Eddie said and whistled. “Does it take that long to go to the bank?”
She didn’t answer. Instead she went into the kitchen and out of habit glanced down into the corner, but Shiba was gone. Neither of them mentioned the dog anymore.
Only a week later, she got a letter from the hospital with an appointment. When she got there, she made her way through the main entrance and took the elevator to the x-ray department, full of hope. This time she didn’t have to wait before she was shown in and the examination didn’t take long. They took x-rays of her back and wrist.
Once again, the results would be sent to her doctor. She took Eddie out for a Chinese meal later in the afternoon. She hadn’t told him about her visits to the doctor and hospital yet. She kept telling herself that it was nothing serious. In any case, the tramadol was working so well that she almost forgot the pain. And when her doctor contacted her to say that all the results had come in, she was certain that it would soon all be sorted.
He sat with his hands in his lap and looked at her. He took off his glasses.
“I’m going to explain to you what we’ve found so far,” he said, “but I’m afraid you’re going to have to go for further tests at the hospital.”
Mass didn’t dare respond. Her eyes were glued to the doctor, and she was gripping her handbag so hard that her knuckles were white.
“We have found something in the blood tests and x-rays,” he explained. “And when I examined your eyes, I saw that you had jaundice.”
“What?” She stared at him, nonplussed.
“Yes,” he confirmed. “The whites of your eyes are yellow. You perhaps haven’t noticed yourself.”
“What does that mean?” she asked.
“That’s what we need to find out, and that’s why I’m referring you for more tests. But there’s something else as well, and this will probably surprise you. It turns out that you have a fracture at the base of your wrist. Radius. And I initially thought osteoporosis, as it’s a common symptom and injury.”
Mass closed her eyes in dismay. “I’ve heard about women who get fractures just by turning over in bed,” she said. “Or banging into something, like a door or piece of furniture.”
“Yes,” the doctor said hesitantly. “That’s right. But I’m not entirely sure that is what’s wrong with you. When is the pain in your back the worst?”
“When I’m lying in bed. Not when I’m moving around. It seems so illogical.”
“Fractures can actually happen spontaneously,” he told her. “Which might be the case here.”
“But how can that happen? Is it an illness?”
“I don’t want to comment on that, really; I’ll leave it to the experts,” he said. “I’ll give you a referral. They’ll probably take some more blood tests at the hospital. Ultrasound, an MRI, and a CT scan. And maybe a couple of biopsies.”
The worry was eating at her now. What was wrong with her, and should she tell Eddie? She decided not to say anything until she knew for certain.
When she got home, she tried to distract herself with domestic chores, but it was impossible to concentrate. She sat down with the paper but didn’t read it; she ate some food but didn’t taste it; she turned on the TV but it was nothing more than images that flickered by. She hardly slept that night and took more and more tramadol. Even though it would soon be spring, she couldn’t muster any enthusiasm.
Eddie thought she was in mourning for Shiba. It worried him that she was so restless. One day, he suggested that they get a new puppy, but Mass gave a definite no. “This time you’re not going to persua
de me,” she said.
She went back to the hospital, where she went through endless tests. Everyone was friendly toward her. She wondered if that was because they realized how worried she was. But then she thought probably not, because they had to deal with so many people and were practiced at it. When she was finally done, she put her clothes back on and took the elevator down to the café. Now she just had to wait for another letter. In the past few weeks, she had started to experience stomach pains and had lost some weight. Even though that was something she had wanted for a long time, she knew this weight loss was due to something else, which wasn’t good. She sat there with a cup of coffee and studied the other people. She thought they were moving so slowly, that all the voices just merged into a hum that rose and fell. Then she drove back home to Eddie. She didn’t tell him anything about what she had been through.
One day, he came in with the newspaper and put the mail down on the kitchen table.
“There’s a letter for you from Vestre Viken Health Authority,” he said. “Are you going in for a mammogram?” He could just imagine his mother’s heavy breasts pressed together between two glass plates, and he was sure that she didn’t like standing half naked in front of strangers.
“No,” she said evasively. “It’s something else.” She picked up the letter and then put it back down on the table.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” he asked. “What is it?”
She sat with the envelope in her hands. “Can you get me a knife?” she said wearily.
He fetched a knife for her, and she opened the envelope. She read the few lines on the page. They asked her to come to the hospital for a consultation with Dr. Bromann, in connection with the examinations and tests that had been done.
“It’s just the results of some tests,” she said bravely to Eddie. “I have to go in on Friday and talk to the doctor.”