by Tore Renberg
But it’s strange being a Hillevåg girl now. Property prices have shot up, there’s a new road, a new shopping mall, an odd place called Hillevåg Business Park, a newly opened fitness centre, a skincare clinic and God knows what else. ‘It’s Stavanger that’s come to Hillevåg,’ Jan Inge says. ‘I’m fucking sceptical’ says Rudi. ‘View over the fjord,’ was how it was advertised the time Thor B. Haraldsen bought the house in 1971. What would the wording be if Cecilie’s childhood home was put up for sale today? ‘Attractive detached residence with huge potential, close to Hillevåg Shopping Centre, allowing partial views of the fjord and within a short distance of the city centre.’
Cecilie finds it sort of scary but also sort of nice. A central reservation with pretty trees. Clean streets. People look happier, she thinks. But it’s still safest going down to the sea. That doesn’t change. The waves come in, one after the other, and the mountains on the horizon don’t move an inch, because they belong to what is eternal, while she belongs to what will fade.
Cecilie has never had a job, never had any friends, and at times she’s felt like she can’t tell the days apart. She likes power ballads, because they make her eyes mist over and she likes fags and cinnamon buns because they help her muscles relax and she is carrying a child in her stomach. But she doesn’t know whose it is. Rudi could be the father, because she’s slept with him thousands of times, and Tong could be the father, even though she’s only slept with him four times, in the visiting room at Åna.
She’s tried feeling guilty but the bad conscience won’t come about. When Tong asked if she could wank him off or give him a blowjob, she’d only thought about it for a second or two. The thimbleweed lay in wreaths beneath the trees out at Åna. ‘Like a favour of sorts?’ she’d asked. ‘Call it whatever you want,’ said Tong. ‘Rudi mustn’t get to hear about it,’ she said. ‘Jesus,’ said Tong. And then Cecilie had felt a kind of burning in her chest and a tingling in her mouth, and she said: ‘Okay, I’ll suck you off so.’ She went down on her knees, shoved the round table to the side, opened Tongs flies as he sat on the sofa with eyes wide-open, pulled his pants down around his ankles and gave his dick a quick glance before taking it in her mouth.
She didn’t mind. He needed it, she could tell. After all, Cecilie knows something about these things, a professional insight of sorts, or whatever she ought to call it. She knows men’s bodies are bursting from within. It was nice, in an odd sort of way, sucking off someone she knew so well, someone who’d always looked straight at her but had never made a single pass at her. She thought about it while she tensed the muscles at the tip of her tongue and licked the underside of his knob, that she’d probably known Tong for close to twenty years and that he’d always behaved like some kind of soldier, pretty much like Steven Tyler sings about in ‘Amazing’, an ‘angel of mercy to see me through all my sins’. Not that she’d thought about it before, but as she’d knelt there blowing him, allowing her tongue to relax and widen, giving him wet, doglike licks, it struck Cecilie that Tong had always looked after her. He’d always watched out for her, in an entirely different way from either Rudi or Jani.
Could it be that Tong had always liked her and she hadn’t noticed? Was that possible?
Cecilie stroked him gently with her fingers while she tongued him, tightening her grip now and then, listening to him gulp and breathe, noticing herself becoming aroused, becoming warm at the thought of one of the guards passing by out in the corridor, pulling the curtain in the window on the door aside and seeing her like this, on the floor, with an inmates’s prick in her mouth.
After that Wednesday in March she began visiting him regularly. Seeing as she was the only one in the house in Hillevåg without a criminal record it was left to her to head out to Åna, get the latest from Tong, check how he was, make sure he was staying clean and fill him in on how things were with the rest of them at home. ‘Get him to look on the bright side of things,’ as Jan Inge said. ‘Give him faith,’ as Rudi said. And after that Wednesday it seemed strange not to wank him or suck him off. After all, they didn’t have that much to talk about. Tong has never been a chatterbox, on the contrary, he ‘s always been the silent type.
Cecilie would get behind the wheel of the Volvo, drive past Sandnes, past Bryne and out to windswept Jæren. She would turn off the main road after crossing the River Hå, drive through Nærbo, over the flat expanse of Opstadsletta towards Åna, watching the old prison building rise up on the barren height, thinking how from a distance it resembled a German concentration camp she’d seen on TV. She had a strange sensation as she drove up the grand tree-lined avenue flanked by dry stone stone walls, before she drew to a halt, pressed the button and said: ‘Cecilie Haraldsen, here to visit Tong.’
She liked driving to Jæren in sunshine, in wind or rain, listening to Aerosmith on the stereo, smiling to the guards at the entrance, who began to recognise her after a while, and she liked the feeling of being a known face. It felt like they knew why she was there and that she was swathed in a kind of respect. Jealousy even. She liked nodding to the guards, feeling their eyes upon her as she walked down the hall to the visiting rooms. She liked to open the door and see Tong sitting there, see that body of his, strong from all the work-outs, with his jet black hair shining. She liked closing the door behind her, going down on her knees, sucking him and pulling him off. She got to know his breathing and his body, she saw the veins on his sprawled forearms thicken. Over time she saw a light and colour in his eyes she’d never seen before, and one day, just as he was about to come in her mouth, he said: ‘Jesus. I’d do fuckin’ anything for you.’
Rudi talked and talked and talked without stopping, never more so than when they were having sex; she was so fed up of all that blather. Tong hardly ever spoke. But when he first opened his mouth, the words that came out, they were perfect.
He just seems so bloody smart, she thought.
So why is he with us?
Maybe it’s because of me?
Cecilie hid the thought away in her heart and she looked forward to going to Åna once a week, but she never allowed Tong to touch her. She never let him undress her. That’s where she drew the line. If she took her clothes off, allowed him to see her and put his hands on her – that would be wrong. It’d be unfair to Rudi. Because no matter how browned off she was with Rudi, he is the one she loves, that’s the way she’s always seen it. Up until last summer. Then she’d sat astride Tong. She’d just done it. It wasn’t like she had her hands on the wheel listening to Aerosmith while the countryside of Jæren flew past and the thought of having sex with him had popped into her head, she had just come into the visitors’ room that particular day and done it.
I couldn’t help it, she told herself. I wanted him. It was the first time in my life I ever actually fucking wanted a cock.
Since then they’ve had sex four times on the brown leather sofa. And Cecilie has to admit that now there’s a lot going on in this life that, until recently, was just drifting imperceptibly along. The father of the child could be Rudi, or it could be Tong. She has a grown-up problem on her hands. Because Rudi trusts Tong one thousand per cent. And Rudi loves her. And Tong says he’ll do anything for her. And Tong is strong, he can smash anything with his bare hands, he’s stronger than Rudi, but the fact of the matter is that Rudi is crazier than anyone she knows and that makes him the strongest of all. If Tong wants to do anything for her, then he ought to be aware there’s also another who will, and his name’s Rudi, he’s out there and he’s got ADHD.
On top of all that there’s Jan Inge, and he’s not strong but he’s the one who runs everything, without him none of them are anything, and Jan Inge loves them all. If he knew about this he wouldn’t go get the shotgun and blast somebody with it, he’d burn down the whole house. Set fire to everything and let everybody die, including himself.
And all these people, they work together. And none of them know she’s pregnant. So what’s she going to do? Sit and wait, see what kind of kid com
es out, if it has Korea eyes or ADHD eyes?
‘What do I feel?’ she whispers in a low voice while she listens to Rudi making a racket down in the basement, while she puts on her shoes and opens the front door on the bright, clear September day.
‘In love?’ she says in a low voice as she comes out on to the street. She takes out a bag of Fisherman’s Friend, needs something to get rid of the taste of vomit. Surely she won’t be throwing up every morning from now on? It was probably the sight and smell of Jani stuffing his face with those eggs. He’s way too fat now. He needs to go on a bloody diet, that brother of mine.
Am I in love?
In love with Tong?
At the same time as I love Rudi?
Cecilie glances down at her stomach, gives it a rub and whispers: ‘Don’t you worry about it. Mummy will sort it out. Somehow or other. But right now we need fags, a cinnamon bun and skincare.’
Cecilie walks up to Mix on Hillevågsveien every day and buys twenty Marlboro Lights. She’s tried to bring it under twenty a day but seeing as how she likes smoking so much she’s just not able. She’s set a limit at twenty, which she maintains by smoking precisely one pack each day. She’s pleased with having made the switch from ordinary Marlboro to Marlboro Light, that’s a step in the right direction.
After she’s bought the fags, she usually goes into Romsøes’ Bakery next to the Mattress Master and buys a cinnamon bun. Then she crosses the street, passes Kvaleberg School, cuts over the playground by the old German bunker, wanders over the waste ground, out on to Flintegata, down to the bend in the road by the corn silos and along the street towards the sea where she sits down and looks out over the fjord, towards the heights of Li and Storhaug and at the water in Hillevågsvannet. She smokes two cigarettes, one before and one after eating.
And thinks.
Just thinks.
For years this has been what Cecilie’s liked best about her life. Getting out for a walk, buying cigarettes and cinnamon buns, sitting down by the fjord and thinking. To avoid being at home, to escape listening to Rudi´s prattle. And she still likes it. But now a lot has changed.
She began to notice them pretty much around the same time she started sleeping with Tong. Women in high heels and fancy clothes. They had handbags with gold fastenings. They started appearing in Hillevågsveien. They came in and out of a building across the road from Mix. They looked stylish and pretty. They looked like they came from leafy Eiganes or somewhere.
Mariero Beauty, it said in the window, even though strictly speaking it wasn’t in Mariero but Hillevåg. Spa, it said. Universal Contour Wrap, it said. Classic Skincare, it said. And the women in the high heels and the gold clasps on their handbags, they went in and out of there. Looking radiant, she thought.
One night, after they’d watched Evil Dead, she looked at Rudi with her softest expression and said in her most mellow voice, ‘Rudi boy, baby, I was wondering if I could maybe go down to that skincare place?’ Rudi’s eyes widened: ‘What?’ At first he was in a huff and then he grew angry. What the fuck did she want to doll herself up for? Cecilie thought about how right his family were, about how it wasn’t strange they didn’t want anything to do with him. That greedy brother of his with the psycho wife out in Sandnes. She should have just done it. Should have just gone down to the basement, fetched the axe and planted it in his back while he was asleep. But Cecilie isn’t stupid, so later that night, after she had sucked him off and taken it so far down her throat that she nearly puked, she made it clear to Rudi that it was him she wanted to look good for, then Rudi nodded his approval over and over. After a while he began to smile. Then he began singing the opening lines of ‘Dream On’: ‘Every time that I look in the mirror, all these lines on my face getting clearer.’ Eventually he said: ‘I get what you’re saying. You’re knocking on forty. You feel clapped out. Okay, baby, you’ll get five hundred kroner, once a month. All sweet. On the house.’
Now she’s walking along. Pregnant. On her way to the skincare clinic. To beautify herself. For who? Meandyou, Chessi, says Rudi. I’ll do anything for you, says Tong, and he’ll be out on Friday, and tonight she’s going to visit him in Åna for the last time.
Cecilie halts. She brings her hand to her stomach. She’ll need the car tonight. Rudi’s heading out on a job, meeting that sweet Pål guy, the one with the nice dog. That’ll piss him off no end, he hates public transport. But she needs to have the car. It’s too much stress trying to get to Åna without a car.
She whips out her mobile, writes a quick text: ‘Visiting Tong tonight. Need the car. XX. At the skincare place now.’
Cecilie puts the phone back in her jacket pocket, sets it to mute. She arrives at Hillevågsveien. She walks over the pedestrian crossing, into Mix, smiles to Geggi and says, ‘Twenty Marlboro Light, please,’ and he says, ‘The day you quit smoking is the day this place goes out of business,’ and she says, ‘No danger of that, Geggi, I need my fags.’
Cecilie walks down the street to Romsøes, buys a cinnamon bun from the woman who works there, the one who talks about all kinds of things in a way that makes them sound amazing. Then she walks out into the light, heading for Mariero Beauty, with a feeling that there’s going to be a lot of change in a very short space of time.
So much to think about.
A nursery in the basement.
A dog, maybe.
But what if the baby has Korea eyes?
Then there won’t be any nursery.
And there won’t be any dog.
Then the whole house will go up in flames.
‘It’s going to be okay,’ she whispers to her stomach as she opens the door to Mariero Beauty. ‘I’m your mummy and I’m going to look after you forever.’
39. I’VE GONE AND DONE SOMETHING REALLY STUPID (Sandra)
All she wants to do is throw herself into his arms, take me away from here, I can’t stand it any more, and that’s almost what she does when she sees Daniel driving into the schoolyard. She feels a sensation in her body, like a lead weight plunging down through it, but she tells herself she’s a good girl, that she needs to practise restraint, but she can’t manage: I’ve no control over myself.
Sandra makes Malene promise not to say a word, sweet Malene who feels like a friend all of a sudden, poor Malene who doesn’t know what’s going on with her dad, and she runs towards Daniel.
He dismounts and pulls his helmet off. Daniel looks flustered. His limbs seem uneasy, he rubs his fingertips against each another and he has a worried look in his eyes.
You know what people say about him.
Sandra wants to say something nice to lighten the atmosphere, to make them both smile, but she’s tongue-tied. Is it time for her to hear the truth – what they whisper about him? Something to do with his parents. Something mental. So mental it’s fucked up his head. Daniel Moi has killed someone.
She’s never seen him like this before, as though he’s present but he’s not. Everything about him seems strange. She has the sudden feeling that everything she’s doing is dangerous, that her decision to ignore what he’s gone through is dangerous, and that there’s truth to the rumours about him.
Sandra doesn’t like being suspicious, but she can’t ignore the thoughts gorging on her mind. She can’t think of anything to say. Daniel stares right into her eyes. What is it he wants?
She closes her eyes.
Are you going to strike me, Daniel?
She opens them: he hasn’t hit her. She can see the muscles in his jaw bunching tightly as he grinds his teeth.
What is it?
Everyone can see me, she thinks. The school building is just behind me, the classroom is right behind me. Get a grip. She can’t stand here, not with Daniel William Moi. But if she isn’t brave enough to do that, then it means she also lacks the courage to stand up and fight for love, and then she won’t be his girl: Be electric in what I love.
All of a sudden, he takes hold of her head with both hands. His grip is firm. She’s scared but then
she feels his mouth on hers. He kisses her. But his mouth isn’t soft, it’s rigid. His kiss isn’t gentle, it’s rough, she can feel he isn’t breathing down in his stomach but up in his head.
I’m making out with Daniel Moi, thinks Sandra. I’m snogging Daniel Moi outside the classroom window. Everyone can see me. I’m doing it. I want to do it.
He lets go of her. Sandra steps back.
‘What is it? Has something happened?’
‘No,’ he says, without looking at her, ‘I just had to see you.’
Sandra feels a jolt of happiness. Say it once more, she thinks.
‘Listen … look, I’ve got to get a move on, classes have already started—’
‘Heh heh. Maybe it’s about time the good little Christian girl got a demerit.’
He laughs. Is it nice? Is a pleasant laugh? Was he being nasty now? Ironic? She brushes her suspicions aside, laughs herself.
‘Heh heh, yeah, maybe it is. But listen – did you see the girl who just went in?’
He nods. ‘The one you were talking to?’
‘That was Malene,’ Sandra says, then blinks. ‘I mean, that was one of the daughters of the guy in the woods last night. I didn’t know what to say to her, I just ran into her—’
Daniel smirks. He points behind her. ‘Is that your class?’
She doesn’t turn around. ‘Are they looking at us?’
‘You can say that all right. Heh heh.’
That laugh. She’s never heard it before.
‘Forget about it,’ Daniel says. ‘You just need to keep your mouth shut, act like nothing’s happened. Don’t mention it to her. We need to find out more, know what I mean? See you tonight, okay?’
She nods. She’ll do as he says, that’s what she wants to do. She wants to trust the person she loves.
‘Sure. But … I’ve told her.’