The Drowned Boy

by Karin Fossum

  30

  TWENTY-FOURTH OF SEPTEMBER. Morning at Ågårds Plass.

  “Yes,” Dr. Morris said, “that’s right. Carmen Cesilie Zita comes to me when she needs to. I’ve been her physician for more than four years now. Nicolai is also registered here, by the way, but he’s never really been in. He’s never ill. That’s to say, he’s thin and anemic, but there’s nothing wrong with him. He’s got a robust constitution. So yes, I know about Carmen’s epilepsy; that’s our main concern. It’s almost fully under control now, but she does still have seizures every now and then. There’s no denying it’s a problem, but not on a day-to-day basis. And yes, I heard about her little boy. What a tragedy. I comfort myself with the thought that they’re young and can start again, though I wouldn’t dream of saying that to Miss Zita. It’s a cold comfort. Things are no less painful when you’re young. The opposite perhaps. But they can have more children, and I believe they will, given time, once they have mourned enough. I would give them a couple of years. In my experience, that’s how long it takes.”

  “What is epilepsy?” Sejer asked. “Can you explain it to me? In a way that I can understand?”

  Morris folded his hands on his desk. “Well,” he started, “contrary to what most people think, epilepsy is not an illness, even though many experience it as such. Let me put it this way: epilepsy is in fact the symptom of various conditions, all of which involve neurological disorders, which result in seizures, convulsions, and blackouts.”

  “A neurological disorder,” Sejer repeated to himself. He was thinking about his own dizziness. Perhaps that was some form of neurological disorder. Then he thought, stop. Get a grip. You’re here about something else.

  “Yes, that’s what we call it,” Morris said. “And the causes of epilepsy can vary; it might be the result of a number of things. In around fifty percent of cases, the cause remains a mystery. But Carmen sustained brain injuries during birth and so has had epilepsy all her life, her young life, I should say. They were twins. One, Louisa, died at birth. She only lived an hour.”

  “What about Tommy’s birth? Was the C-section planned, or was it an emergency?”

  “It was planned,” Morris confirmed. “Her pelvis is extremely narrow. It’s almost a miracle that she could carry the baby to term. And despite having Down syndrome, he was a healthy baby.”

  “Can you tell me a bit about her seizures?”

  Morris took off his glasses and fiddled with the arms. “Yes, of course. Carmen has what we call GTC seizures, that’s to say generalized tonic–clonic seizures. These comprise two phases. In the tonic phase, the patient loses consciousness, which is dramatic enough in itself. The body then becomes rigid and the air is forced out of the lungs, which can sound like a scream and is very alarming for those present. Then the patient stops breathing and the face and lips turn blue. After a few seconds, the seizure then goes into the clonic phase, which causes the convulsions normally associated with epilepsy. The face turns red and the patient starts to breathe again.”

  “And how long does a seizure last?” Sejer asked.

  “Oh, it varies considerably. As a rule, it’s a matter of seconds and minutes. But sometimes the patient experiences a persistent series of seizures, one after the other, a condition that is called status epilepticus. Maybe you’ve heard of it? It is a very serious condition, and it is important to get the patient to the hospital as quickly as possible.”

  “Has Carmen ever suffered from status epilepticus?”

  “Yes, she has. But only once since I’ve been her doctor, and it was pretty serious. She was kept in the hospital under observation for a couple of days. It’s some time ago now, and I hope that she doesn’t have to go through that again, because it is very stressful.”

  “And she is medicated now?”

  “Yes, she’s got medicine. And we’re managing to keep seizures to a minimum. I would say she has a seizure about once a month, which is not so bad. She can live with that. But after a seizure, she can be rather out of it, confused and weak and tired.”

  “And how do you feel she copes with it? Is she bothered by it?”

  Morris shook his head. “No, I wouldn’t say that; she takes it in her stride. But then I’ve never really asked her directly. Even though she’s a slip of a thing, she’s tough as old boots. It’s just awful what happened to the little boy. I heard about it on the news and was horrified. It’s dangerous to live so close to water when you’ve got small children. How are they? I haven’t seen them for a couple of months. It’s a terrible tragedy to lose your child.”

  “It’s actually Nicolai who’s taking it the worst,” Sejer told him. “As you said, Carmen is tough. She’s the one who is coping best; she’s forward-looking. She’s talking about having another baby, so she’s back in the driver’s seat.”

  “And that’s of little comfort for Nicolai,” Morris said.

  “Exactly, no comfort at all. He’s taken this very badly. To be honest, I’m worried about him. And he’s so alone, without any family.”

  “Excuse me for asking, but I’m curious,” Morris started, leaning forward over his desk. “Why are you asking for information about Carmen’s epilepsy? I mean, does it have anything to do with the child’s death?”

  “Yes, perhaps,” Sejer said and stood up. He pushed the chair back into place and got ready to leave. “But I’m afraid I can’t divulge that information; I’m sure you appreciate that. Let me just go back to something you said—that after a seizure, she is generally pretty out of sorts, tired and dizzy and weak.”

  “Yes,” Morris replied. “In a language you no doubt understand, given your profession, after a major seizure she is in fact of unsound mind.”

  31

  EVEN THOUGH IT was the end of the season, there were lots of people on Alcúdia’s white beaches. But there was still plenty of room for Carmen and Nicolai. Carmen spread out their towels by the water’s edge, pulled her sundress over her head, and stood there in her tiny red bikini. It made Nicolai think of a raspberry ripple lollipop. Carmen, his young wife, was so petite and pretty that the Majorcans all whistled enthusiastically wherever they went.

  “Do you think I can go topless?” she asked.

  Nicolai was shocked. “No, are you mad? Please. They’re all Catholics down here, so don’t do it. You might be reported. If you take off your top, I’m going back to the hotel.”

  “OK, boss,” she said, giggling. “No need to panic. I was only asking. Haven’t got much to show anyway,” she said with a laugh. Even though Tommy was dead, she was in such a good mood. A little vacation in the sun and she’s left all her sorrows behind, Nicolai thought sorely.

  After she’d had a look around, Carmen settled on the towel. It was a big, thick beach towel with a picture of Bugs Bunny on it. She had folded her sundress and was using it as a pillow. Nicolai sat looking at the sparkling Mediterranean. Some children were playing in the shallows, while their parents kept watch from the sand, not letting them out of sight. They should have kept an eye on Tommy like that.

  “I’m going to the kiosk,” he said. “Do you want anything? Anything to eat or drink?”

  “No, I’m fine, thanks,” Carmen said. “You can get something for me later. But it’s nice that you want to play gallant. We could pretend that we’re on our honeymoon. We could pretend that we got married yesterday and are very happy. Please say yes, Nicolai,” she said with a big smile.

  He didn’t answer. Honeymoon? They were mourning! How could she think like that? He got up and walked across the warm sand to the kiosk that stood in the shade between some trees. He placed his order and opened his wallet to pay. While he waited for the change, he turned around and looked at Carmen. It was strange to see her from a distance, in her red bikini. Everything became so clear: her beauty, her energy, the things he couldn’t deal with. She seemed so untouched, and he couldn’t understand it. Apparently unaffected by everything that had happened. Or, he thought, I’m merciless, mean, and without empathy. I
think that I’m better than her and grieving more than her, that I was a better parent to Tommy. Shame on you, Nicolai. Shame on you!

  He clenched his fist, exasperated with himself. Then he got his change and walked back and sat down on his towel. He opened the can of beer and took a swig. Carmen sat up and looked at him. Something caught her eye and she was taken aback.

  “What are you doing? Why did you buy cigarettes?” She nodded at the pack of Marlboros lying on his towel, alongside an orange disposable lighter. “You don’t smoke; why have you got Marlboros? Get a grip.”

  “I’ve just started,” Nicolai retorted. “I’m starting right now. The way things are, I don’t see any reason to stay healthy. I might as well enjoy what life’s got to offer. Like you’ve always done, haven’t you?”

  His voice was harsh and desperate. He tore the plastic from the pack, fished out a cigarette, and lit it. He took a deep drag, pulled the smoke down into his lungs, and started to cough.

  “Jesus Christ, how can you be so stupid?”

  “It’s none of your business,” he said, irritated, and coughed again. “It’s my life. If I want to ruin my lungs, I have every right to do so without you interfering.”

  “OK,” Carmen said petulantly. “But I’m not going to kiss you when you’ve been smoking. It’s disgusting.”

  “Fair enough,” he said and took another drag on the cigarette. “We don’t kiss very much anyway.”

  Carmen stood up and walked down to the water, paddled some way out, and then shouted back to him in excitement.

  “It’s almost like bathwater! Put that stupid cigarette out and come in!”

  Nicolai wanted to finish his cigarette. He remained stubbornly where he was on the towel and took another drag. That’s right, he thought. Let the smoke drown my lungs in tar. From now on, it’s whiskey and cigarettes all day long. He found comfort in the idea of destroying himself. I deserve to be punished, he thought melodramatically. This is for Tommy.

  “Come in, come and feel the water,” Carmen encouraged him. “You can’t sit there smoking all day.”

  He stubbed out the cigarette in the sand, got up, and waded out into the water. He dived in and then started to swim straight out.

  “Don’t go too far!” Carmen cried. “Stay close to the shore. I don’t want to stand here shouting; please do as I say!”

  He went a bit farther but then turned and swam back in toward her. He was an excellent swimmer and kept good pace. His swimming shorts stuck to his thighs and he had the taste of saltwater in his mouth. Everything was summer and sun and heat. Everything was never-ending sorrow. He was constantly switching between good and bad. For a while, he lay floating on his back. He enjoyed being cooled by the water, feeling fit and alive. After five minutes he got out again and went to sit on his towel.

  “Can you put some sunscreen on my back?” Carmen asked. “It’s in the bag.”

  He rummaged around and found the sunscreen. He sprayed it all over her back. Then he started to massage it into her skin. For a long time she lay there enjoying his touch in silence.

  “Nicolai,” she said. “I’ve been thinking about something. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time, since before Tommy died, just so you know. And we’ve talked about it before.”

  “OK,” Nicolai said patiently. “What is it you want now?”

  He massaged the lotion into the small of her back, right down to her bikini. But it gave him no pleasure—just flickering memories of better times, when they wanted each other.

  “I’ve been thinking that maybe we should get a dog.”

  Nicolai stopped massaging. The idea left him speechless. Tommy was dead, and now she wanted a dog.

  “But we have to go to work,” he objected. “Sooner or later. And then the puppy will be left on its own all day. Do you really have the heart to do that? And you know how they are. They chew cables and things like that and have to be looked after all the time. No, we can’t do it, Carmen. Drop it.”

  She put her head down on the towel again, determined she would convince him. He could tell she was giving it her all.

  “All dogs are on their own during the day,” she said. “Everyone has to go to work, don’t they? We could take it for a little walk in the morning, so it can pee, and then go for a proper, longer work when we get home in the evening. Together, just the two of us. It would be so nice; the house is so empty now. Don’t you think it’s empty too?” she appealed. Her voice was reedy and pleading, a voice that was hard to resist. And he felt the hold she had over him, which made him give in like a helpless child.

  He started to massage in the lotion again, slowly over her shoulders in circular movements. Her skin was like silk, golden-brown and smooth, without a blemish. She had a single mole in the small of her back, about the size of a thumbtack.

  “A puppy costs thousands of kroner,” he argued. “We can’t afford it. I don’t understand how you can even contemplate it when poor old Marian has to give us money all the time.”

  He was finished with the sunscreen, so he put it back in the bag and wiped his hands on the towel.

  Carmen sat up again and brushed the sand from her feet. “Of course I can ask Dad,” she said. “Dad will understand.”

  “OK,” Nicolai said. “You get your way, as usual. What kind of dog were you thinking of? Please don’t say a poodle. If you buy a poodle, I refuse to take it for walks.”

  Carmen burst out laughing. “No, I’m sure we can find something else. But it can’t be too big or strong, because then I won’t be able to deal with it. We can buy a dog book when we get home and I’m sure we’ll find one we agree on. But OK, not a poodle. What have you got against them anyway?”

  “Poodles are for old ladies,” Nicolai said. He took out another cigarette and lit it.

  “I don’t get you, to start smoking like that, for no reason,” Carmen complained.

  In the evening, they sat on the balcony and stared out into the dark. Nicolai took drags on a cigarette and released long curling ribbons of smoke. She couldn’t understand why he was smoking and what he was thinking, but she didn’t want to get into an argument. Not now, when she was dreaming about their puppy. She needed to keep him sweet, and she knew how to do that.

  “It’s a lot of work keeping a dog,” Nicolai said and took a sip of whiskey.

  “But no more tiring than it was looking after Tommy,” she said, “and we managed that fine, didn’t we? Just think of all the energy it gave us. You never complained; you were wonderful.”

  He didn’t answer. It had been tiring with Tommy, but it had given him nothing but pleasure from start to finish. Carmen drank some of her Coke, which was pretty flat now. She thought of Nicolai as clay, a mass that she could form as she wanted. Well, that’s certainly how it had been for a long time. But now, since Tommy’s death, he had become more obstinate. His new opposition annoyed her immensely. Latin American rhythms and happy sounds could be heard from the hotel garden: the tinkling laughter of women, the monotone rumble of men’s voices, and the clinking of glasses. Carmen wanted to go downstairs and join in, but Nicolai wasn’t interested. He couldn’t dance either, so there was no point. He poured himself another whiskey and put the bottle down again with a thump.

  “Make sure you don’t drink too much now,” she commanded. “I don’t want to have to drag you around when you’re drunk.”

  He didn’t say anything, just lifted his glass. Part of him wanted to be left alone, but the other part was boiling, looking for a fight. There was so much he wanted to say to her, if only he dared. He felt a coward for not confronting her, but he knew from experience that she quickly got the upper hand. And when she ran out of arguments, she just started crying. And he couldn’t cope with her crying now. He couldn’t face an argument. Dog or no dog, it was all irrelevant. When I can’t cope anymore, I give up, he thought, and I don’t give a toss what other people think. Carmen will win this round too. I always knew she would. I’m pathetic. I play second violin. Da
mmit.

  “Let’s take the bus into Palma tomorrow,” she said enthusiastically. “Then we can look at the shops.”

  “Yes, why not?” he said in a tired voice. He was clutching the glass, only thinking of one thing now, and that was getting drunk.

  “And we can go to the cathedral,” she continued. “Maybe we could light a candle there for Tommy.”

  Yes, it would be good to light a candle for Tommy. But it wouldn’t ease the pain. His grief was like a millstone around his neck, pulling him down deeper and deeper. He felt the whiskey soothing him. He was floating away from reality. He thought, it’s not true that he drowned. This is just a nightmare. And tomorrow I’ll wake up and be happy in a new world.

  “What do you think it’s like here in autumn and winter?” Carmen asked.

  “Dead,” Nicolai replied. “Closed shops and empty beaches, cloudy and wet. People wandering around without any real purpose.”

  “Oh, come on, stop being silly. What do you think they live off?”

  “Some of them probably have other jobs. And some probably live off what they earn in the summer. Think of all the tips you’d get in just one day. You’re too generous with your tips, by the way, Carmen. You have to stop because we can’t afford it.”

  The band down in the hotel garden had taken a break. All they could hear were the cicadas and the odd burst of laughter rolling out into the dense Mediterranean night. A horse-drawn carriage trotted past and they heard the horseshoes ringing out on the narrow cobbled street.

  “I don’t like greyhounds,” she said out of the blue. “They’re so thin. I don’t like Alsatians because they always look so aggressive. And I don’t like bulldogs because they’re ugly. I can’t see how they manage to eat with their teeth the way they are. And you don’t want a poodle. And I don’t want one either. And Chihuahuas are too small; there are limits. St. Bernards are too big and setters are too nervous. And dachshunds have such short legs that they just look weird. I say we get a terrier. You know, one of those small ones. Come on,” she said enticingly, “let’s go to bed, it’s late. I suggest a Jack Russell, a boy. They’re the right kind of size and they look cool. You can’t drink any more whiskey now; otherwise you’ll feel like garbage. Remember we’re going into Palma tomorrow, so you have to be in reasonable shape.”