See You Tomorrow
Page 34
‘Yo! Tampon!’
He’s only a few metres away from them. Tampon keeps himself in great shape. He’s so in form and fit-looking it’s almost threatening, thinks Rudi. A healthy mind in a healthy body, as Granny used to say when she saw Rock Hudson on TV. Look at that. The beard covers up his harelip. The bright, blue eyes. The tanned, healthy skin. The shiny hair. Guy’s got muscles coming out of everywhere. Impressive looking, there’s no getting away from it.
‘Tommy Tang! Well, well, what’s the long arm of the law doing on the old stamping ground?’
Tommy gives them a cheeky grin, a grin Rudi can remember, a grin which made all the women in Tjensvoll, Madla and Gosen melt and dream of going on a date with Pogo.
‘Heh heh, indeed, was just about to ask the two of you the same thing.’
‘Heh heh,’ Rudi laughs in reply, ‘after you, sir.’
‘Heh heh. No, by all means, Rudi.’
‘Heh heh.’
‘Heh heh.’
‘Tam-pon. It’s a long time since we met around these parts. They were the days, eh?’
‘You’re right there,’ laughs Tommy Pogo. ‘Yeah, so I’ve just moved back. Living on Sommerstien.’
‘Hah.’ Rudi slaps his palms together. ‘There you go. Back to the land of childhood. You hear that, Jani, Tampon has moved home.’
‘I heard,’ says Jan Inge, in a strained tone.
‘And what are you two doing here?’ Tampon lets his gaze drift from Jan Inge to Rudi and back again.
Jan Inge’s face breaks into a broad, self-confident smile. ‘Will we tell him, Rudi?’
Rudi looks at his friend uncomprehendingly, his thoughts running around confusedly in his head, but he understands by the look Jani gives him that all he needs to do is follow his lead. ‘Yeah, let’s just spit it out.’
Jan Inge laughs. ‘We must be getting a bit sentimental in our old age, just like you. We were sitting at home – we’ve had lots to do recently, a load of work with our removal company – and it was almost as if all this moving we were doing for other people made us aware of how little we move ourselves, if you know what I mean—’
‘Yeah,’ says Rudi enthusiastically, ‘that we’re just over there in Hillevåg and never get the finger out—’
‘And then Rudi said: “Jani, I wonder how things are out in Madla these days. In Tjensvoll. In Gosen. In Haugtussa.” You know how it is, he’s from around here.’
‘I know that, heh heh.’
‘So here we are. Breathing in the diamond air of the eighties.’
‘Diamond air?’
‘Yeah. A comparison.’
Tommy Pogo’s smile lets them know he doesn’t believe a word.
‘So you’re living here. Your kids are going to school in Gosen then?’
‘Yeah, Ulrik’s in third year. Kia’s in first year. They’ve got a good set-up for her there.’
‘Oh, yeah, forgot about that acc—’
‘Yeah.’
‘Something to do with ski—’
‘Slalom. In Ålsheia. She’s paralysed from the neck down.’
‘That’s tough.’ Rudi shifts his weight from one foot to the other. ‘So. Heard about how things are with Remi, by the way?’ Rudi grins, but he can feel Jani’s eyes burning into him.
Tommy Pogo takes out his mobile and looks at it. ‘No,’ he says, putting the phone back in his pocket, ‘but listen, Rudi, now that I have you here.’
Pogo takes a step closer. He cocks his head a tiny bit to the side. Rudi moves backwards.
‘That key,’ says Tommy.
‘Key?’ Rudi says, his eyes flitting about.
‘The key to the centre.’
‘The key to the centre?’
Tommy Pogo smirks. ‘Rudi, come on, I’ve been wondering about it for almost thirty years. Where did it get to?’
‘Oh! The key to the shopping centre!’ Rudi relaxes and slaps the palm of his hand off his forehead. He laughs, and thirty years seem to disappear, and for a few seconds he feels like it’s old times, and he almost has to stop himself from giving Tommy Pogo a hug. ‘Heh heh,’ he chortles. ‘The key to the shopping centre. Christ. I’ll tell you where it’s got to.’
Rudi produces a bunch of keys, begins flipping through them and finally holds up an old Union one.
Pogo sticks his chin out. ‘Jesus,’ he says. ‘Is that it?’
Rudi’s eyebrows dance up and down.
‘You’ve held on to it,’ says Pogo, nodding. ‘Well! I’d better be off home,’ he adds, reaching out and shaking both their hands. ‘I’ll drop by one day.’
‘Yeah, by all means,’ Jani says, ‘by all means.’
Rudi smiles: ‘Sure thing. We’ll be home all right.’
‘Tomorrow,’ says Tommy Pogo, ‘why not tomorrow?’
‘Hey, why not,’ says Rudi, feeling Jan Inge’s eyes boring into him.
‘Good,’ Tommy Pogo says, ‘it’s agreed. See you tomorrow. Steak, chanterelle mushrooms and Brussels sprouts?’
‘Wha?’
‘My favourite meal.’ Tommy turns to go, but stops as though he’s just thought of something, spins back around and asks: ‘By the way – Tong, isn’t he getting out soon?’
‘Yeeah…’ Rudi notices his voice doesn’t sound right.
‘That’s right,’ Jani says swiftly, ‘he’s out tomorrow. Big day for us.’
‘Right, yeah,’ Tommy Pogo says, smiling. ‘Had a feeling he was out around now. Great. Then I’ll have a chance to catch up with him too. Apparently he’s had an okay time in Åna, or so I hear. All right. Talk tomorrow.’
Pogo walks off in the direction of Sommerstien.
Rudi shakes his head. Harelip Pogo. Strange to think of. Once he was in the Tjensvoll Gang, now he heads up Project Repeat Offender for Rogaland Police District. It’s screwed up how life goes. Once Tampon was his best mate, now Pogo is one of Rudi’s biggest problems.
Tomorrow,’ he sighs. ‘What are we going to do now? Call the whole thing off?’
Jan Inge shuts his eyes for a couple of seconds, before slowly opening them again. ‘We go through with things as planned. Tampon’s not going to suspect us after meeting us here and then calling in tomorrow.’
Rudi nods. Go through with it. Masterly.
Jan Inge looks at Rudi. ‘What was the story with that key?’
Rudi smiles. ‘Tommy and me,’ he says. ‘We got our hands on the key to the backdoor of Tjensvoll Shopping Centre. Nicked it from a coat in the break room. At first we used it to get in and knock off fizzy drinks and beer. But after a while we rented it out to people. We put a limit of two crates of beer each. Me and Tommy sat up in Vannassen and ran the whole thing. The police didn’t know what was going on. The alarm would go off, they’d drive down, but there was never anybody there. People just unlocked the door, got in and got out. The cops thought there was something wrong with the security system. Heh heh. It all went to hell when Janka couldn’t control himself. He filled a whole shopping trolley with beer. They copped on then.’
‘Nice all the same though,’ says Jan Inge, nodding. ‘That kind of style is right up my street.’
‘Yeah,’ says Rudi. ‘One of our better moments. Was Tommy who came up with it, of course. I probably would’ve just broken a window, gone in and picked up the beer.’
‘Yeah, that you would.’
‘Hah. The dark side lost a good man there.’
‘True. A kind of Anakin Skywalker in reverse, that Tommy.’
Rudi looks down at the bunch of keys, rubs the old Union one between his finger and thumb. ‘I’ve never been able to bring myself to throw it away,’ he says. ‘It felt pretty intense seeing him. Back here, like. Same old Tampon in a way. Somewhere or other inside that buff cop’s body is the mate I once had. Steak with chanterelle mushrooms and Brussels sprouts. Wasn’t a lot of that when Tommy was a boy. Did I ever tell you about the time we broke into Madlavoll School?’
Jani shakes his head. ‘No, don’t think so.’
65. PRAYER (Sandra)
Dear Lord, I don’t know who you are any more. I don’t know who I am any more. He’s hurting me, he’s tearing me apart, but I try to tell myself that if I am to be ruined, then I’ll be ruined by something beautiful. I’m not able to think about anything else. I hate the here and now, I want to go back to when I was small and you were standing in front of me. I no longer have the feeling you’re there. When I was little, I always knew you would come to me. All I had to do was wait, all I had to do was close my eyes. Now I don’t know where you are. But now is the time I need you. Why don’t you say something? Do you want me to suffer here on my own; is there some purpose behind it? You let me feel love but now you’re taking it away from me. I don’t understand the purpose of that. Please, I’m closing my eyes now, I’m lying here in bed. Breathe on me. Mum and Dad are upstairs in the living room. They’re pacing the floor, I can hear them. They’re talking together, you know that, talking about me. Mum is crying; can you hear that, she’s crying. She’s not used to this, she’s protected me her whole life – Sandra has never done anything to make Mum cry. But she doesn’t recognise me now. It’s not our Sandra, she says. You’ve skipped work, she says. Who is it you’re meeting, Sandra? Why don’t you talk to us? Why are you pulling away? We’re your parents, Sandra, all we want is to help you. The scary thing is Mum’s right – I’m no longer their Sandra. I’m Daniel’s Sandra. So breathe on me, Lord. Breathe first on me, then go up to the living room, get Mum to sit down and breathe on her eyelids and say: She is not your Sandra. She is Daniel’s Sandra. Is he leaving me? Is he not who he said he was? He’s not going to Veronika, he’s not going to her. Say it. He is not going to her. I’m the only one who knows who he is. Breathe on us. Breathe on Malene and Tiril’s father. Breathe on the sisters. Breathe on Mum. Breathe on Dad. Breathe on me. Now I’m calm. I’ll try to sleep, I know you’ll come and lie down beside me a little later tonight, like you always used to do. I know you’ll come. I know that it will be a new tomorrow and I know that everything will be fine.
66. 0162 (Tong)
He sits on the floor with his legs crossed. He’s switched off the TV and the light in the ceiling. The dark of night lies beyond the bars of the cell. He has his shoulder blades lowered, his arms hang limply by his sides and the palms of his hands face upwards. His head is perfectly straight. There’s a calmness around his eyes, around his mouth, in his arms, his stomach and his feet. Heavy hands, heavy fingers, eyes shut.
The prison liaison officer had escorted him back from the visiting room just before half-past eight. Piddien is from Loddefjord, skinny as a rake, talkative bugger, a guy Tong has always thought could just as well be in a cell himself. Piddien had given Tong a cheeky grin, as he had done each time he’d walked him back the last few weeks. He knows well that Tong is getting some action every Wednesday.
‘Well, Tong,’ he had said, giving him a slap on the back, ‘last time you’ll need to get dressed in Åna-issue clothes to get your end away. You’re out tomorrow, that’ll be good, eh?’
Tong hadn’t reciprocated the smile, or the slap, or anything else.
‘That’ll be good, all right,’ Piddien went on. ‘You wouldn’t exactly talk the hind leg off a donkey, but you’ve had an all right stay. Prisoner number zero one six two. You won’t be needing that any more.’
Tong had stood motionless in the doorway with his back to him.
‘You’ll be looking for something in carpentry, then?’
Tong nodded. ‘I’ll give it a go.’
‘Yes,’ Piddien had said, ‘that would suit you down to the ground, that would. Strong lad like you, likes physical work. Worn out at the end of the day, tired muscles. Heh heh, yes indeed. So, will your little lady be coming to collect you then?’
He feels the weight in his palms, the weight on his coccyx.
‘She’s not my lady.’
‘Heh heh, no, no, of course, ha ha.’
They should have meditation classes in prison. Tong has said as much to the people in administration. Everyone who lands in here has their body in a tangle. Their shoulders are so tensed up they’re practically scraping the ceiling. Being locked up isn’t the worst thing – it’s the waiting. The months between waiting to be sentenced and the time you first come in. That’s what screws you up, that’s what wrecks your head. When you first arrive, you’re hardly a person – you’re a knot. It’s not medication you need – it’s meditation. It’s not Subutex you need – it’s contemplation.
Tong meditates every day. A short session at midday and for an hour after lock-up. Then press-ups and a workout. He used to have a mop handle in the cell, to which he tied towels, then attached big industrial soap dispenser refills to the towels, making for an effective barbell. But they took that from him. They don’t like people getting too big.
Cecilie, Tong thinks, relaxing his jaw and feeling a softness in his throat, in his face. It was as though she was going to devour him. He entered the visiting room; she was there, as usual, but it looked like she’d been crying. He didn’t say anything. Nor did she. Her bony hand just trembled a little. Looked at the wall as if it were something other than a blank, white surface. But she stood up abruptly. Jumped like a little animal, right over to him, took off his trousers, then took off her own and sat on top of him and screwed him like it was the last time, or the very first. It all happened just like that, the whole thing. And then, while he was inside her, she started going on about her dad in Houston, and she talked about Rudi, something about her being so fed up with him she wanted to puke, and then she went on about not knowing what to do or something.
It seemed like she meant what she said. Tong listened to her, but as time went on and she went up and down on him he had difficulty following, her pussy was eating him and he just said what he always does when he’s about to come – that he’ll do fucking anything for the woman he’s riding. Then she opened her eyes wide, stared at him and said: ‘Do you mean that, Tong?’
He shut his eyes, clenched his teeth so hard it made his jaws ache.
When he was finished, she kissed him and said: ‘That was lovely, Tong. Listen. We’ve something on tomorrow. An insurance job. Do a guy over, cause a bit of damage, make it look like a clean break-in. Are you in?’
She’s fucked up, but gorgeous all the same: ‘Yeah, yeah, sounds good.’
Tong takes a deep breath through his nose, then exhales through his mouth. Last night in Åna. He’s leaving in the morning. As of tomorrow he can do what he wants. Just have to get that pathetic job out of the way. Rudi and Jani. It is so the last time he’s going to work with them.
His body rises. He no longer feels the floor beneath. He glides above a jungle landscape, green treetops drift by below him, a soft, warm wind brushes across his skin. He ascends, descends, and ascends again. He floats in the air over a waterfall, sailing over the plunging water, and there, close by, an eagle is wheeling, Tong opens his mouth, goes for the bird, sinks his teeth into its neck, hears it screech, feels the taste of metal in his mouth, and there, in the wild sky, stands a burning sun.
THURSDAY 27 SEPTEMBER
There are friends who point the way to ruin,
others are closer than a brother
Proverbs 18:24
67. SHELLEY WAS RIGHT (Sandra)
She wakes up in the dark. Neither tired nor teary-eyed. Her body feels ready, as does her mind. She reaches towards the night stand and takes hold of her iPhone. The light from the display illuminates the room. 05:57. She sits up.
I’ll do it, she thinks, and plants her feet firmly on the floor. Taking care to avoid the floorboards that creak, she goes to the wardrobe by the window and takes out a clean pair of knickers. She g
rabs the clothes she wore yesterday off the chair, slips quickly into them, tights, jeans, bra, and top and creeps out on to the landing. She opens the door to the toilet, pees, throws some water on her face and, unconcerned about how she looks, goes downstairs, leaving all the lights off, letting Mum and Dad sleep.
She picks up a shiny red apple from the glass bowl on the kitchen bench.
She pours herself a yoghurt drink and downs it in the light from the fridge.
I’ll just do it, she whispers as she opens the front door. It’s cold, but night is about to give way to morning. It’ll soon be light but it’s still too dark to make out the fjord. Some small birds perch in the trees, only just having begun singing the day in. Otherwise the streets are quiet. No lights on in the neighbouring houses. No one to be seen.
She hastens down Kong Haralds Gate, passing Madlamarkveien and continuing to the bottom of the hill. She crosses Madlavollveien, hurrying between the low-rises, the time getting on for half past six. The tower blocks rise up in front of her, dead and desolate, as if nobody lived there any more, as if those poor, stupid people who once did because they couldn’t afford anything better were, fortunately, all now dead.
The night has done her good and now she intends to cause another girl harm. She slept for no more than four hours, but is as rested as though she slept twice that. You can be as deaf as you like, you handicapped ginger bitch, she thinks as she walks by Coop Prix supermarket. You think you’re sweet and innocent just because you can’t hear. You think you can cut yourself up and then everyone will feel sorry for you.
That’s not how it works.
You’ve taken my man from me.
You’re going to pay for that.
Sandra leaves the shop behind and walks calmly towards the tower blocks. Her body is of steel; she’s never felt so cold. You must never, her mother has said, make any room for envy and jealousy. Well, Mum, here I am, I’ve let it take root.