Encircling 2

by Carl Frode Tiller

  And speaking of revenge.

  That incident with the dog on the beach wasn’t exactly the best way to make friends with someone, and that’s putting it mildly. It was a rotten thing to do and you had every reason to want to pay us back. And pay us back you did. One day Janne’s dog’s mouth started to bleed. The next day his nose was bleeding too and on the third day when Janne went to take him for a walk he couldn’t make it any farther than the lamppost on the other side of the street. He had peed on that lamppost practically every day of his life and he had no doubt been planning to do so again, but that wasn’t to be. The poor mutt was so weak that he couldn’t lift his back leg, so he had to pee straight down onto the ground like a bitch. And not only was his pee pink with blood, as soon as he had done his business he flopped onto his belly and lay there flat out with his tongue lolling, dead as a doornail.

  What you had done was to stuff as much rat poison as you could into three lung sausages and then you had thrown these to the dog, one a day, when he was chained to his kennel. Bendik and I honestly hadn’t expected you to do anything at all. We thought you were a spoiled, mollycoddled vicar’s kid, a middle-class bastard who would be far too much of a wimp and a coward to take revenge, and who would try to disguise his lack of courage and spirit by going on about how it takes much more strength to turn the other cheek. But we couldn’t have been more wrong, because you didn’t stop at killing Janne’s dog with rat poison. A few days later when I was walking home from school you jumped out at me from behind the phone box next to the Favør Cut-Price Store armed with a chain. The last thing I remember, before I came to on the sidewalk with terrible pains in my head, my cheek and my left ear, was the dull clink as you wound the chain around your hand, preparing to strike. This could very quickly have developed into a vicious circle of tit for tat, but it didn’t, because when I staggered home and Grandpa asked who had done this to me and I told him it was the new kid at the vicarage, he realized I was talking about Erik’s grandson. So a little meeting was arranged in the permanently dust-laden back room of the junk shop. There Grandpa and Erik told us in no uncertain terms that we had to make peace on the spot. We glared at each other and weren’t at all keen to shake hands, I remember, but we knew they meant what they said and that we had no option, because even though they didn’t say it in so many words, it was easy to see that they were scared we’d become so blinded by rage and vindictiveness that we would end up dragging our families into it, and that would have had serious consequences for both parties, particularly if one of us was stupid enough to tip off the cops about certain breaches of the law committed by the other lot. Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that this more or less enforced reconciliation paved the way for what was to be a long and happy friendship between you, me and Bendik.

  To be continued.

  Namsos, July 4th, 2006. Acid rain

  I FEEL THE HEAT HIT ME as I come out onto the steps, burning my shoulders, scorching. As I walk down onto the grass I hear the sound of an electric guitar, somebody playing the intro to “Smoke on the Water.” I turn and look up, notice that the window of the old Nilsen house is open, the teenager in the family must’ve started playing guitar. He looks just the type, long hair and headband and all that. I stroll across the garden, take two beers out of the cooler bag and tuck it under the table.

  “Here you go,” I say, setting a beer in front of Grandpa. “Where’ve Jørgen and Sara got to?”

  He doesn’t answer, just nods behind us as he opens the can. I look around and there they are. Jørgen’s sitting on the hood of the Chrysler and Sara’s standing next to it. Something’s happened between them, I can tell. Jørgen looks pissed off. Sara must have said something about that little incident in the kitchen, she must have made some remark that’s annoyed him, or something like that, it’s hard to say. I pick up the paper bag of charcoal and tip the whole lot into the barbecue. A black cloud of soot swirls up and I turn my face away, put my hand to my mouth and cough, glance across at Jørgen and Sara as I chuck the empty bag onto the grass. They look like they’re done talking. Jørgen plants his hands on the Chrysler hood and hops down into the grass, making the car rock slightly. Sara looks at him and gives a little smile, a kind of apologetic smile, but he doesn’t smile back, he’s angry and distant, I can tell just by looking at him. They wander over to us, side by side across the garden. I pick up the bottle of lighter fluid, squirt the fluid over the coals and put down the bottle, look at Jørgen and Sara as I sit back down in my chair.

  “Maybe we should pop over and see Kjersti before we go home?” Sara says, smiling at Jørgen.

  “Are you in that much of a hurry?”

  Sara looks at him.

  “No,” she says with a little laugh, a laugh that’s meant to tell the rest of us she doesn’t know why he’s asking that.

  Jørgen doesn’t say anything for a moment. He picks up the beer I put out for him a few minutes ago and sits down on the chair.

  “I think I’ll stay here,” Jørgen says. “But just you go on over to what’s-her-face’s … Kjersti or whatever her name is,” he says.

  “Whatever her name is?” Sara says with a little laugh.

  “Hmm?” Jørgen says, eyeing her blankly.

  “You know what her name is,” Sara says. “You’ve met her loads of times.”

  “Yeah, of course, it’s Kjersti, isn’t it?”

  She raises her eyebrows, stares at him.

  “Yes,” she says, giving a surprised little laugh.

  “Okay, so I was right then,” Jørgen says, turning away from her and taking a long swig of his beer.

  I look at Jørgen. He shouldn’t do this, he shouldn’t push her away from him like this just because he wants to be loyal to us, shouldn’t push Sara away just because she made some remark about Ma. I feel like telling him this, but I can’t, not when there are other people here. I open my can of beer, look at them as I take a sip.

  “But like I say, you go if you want to,” he says, looking at Sara and nodding in the direction of the garden gate.

  I put my head on one side and look at him, begging him with my eyes not to do this. He’s saying things that he doesn’t want to say and doesn’t mean. He doesn’t want Sara to go, I know he doesn’t, not really. I keep my eyes fixed on him, but he doesn’t notice, he’s looking at Sara.

  “Oh, but …” she says, “I wasn’t meaning to go just yet,” she says and her voice falters for a moment. “And I don’t really want to go without you either.”

  “For Christ’s sake, Sara, I think we can survive being away from each other for an hour or two,” he says, grinning at her.

  Two seconds.

  “Oh, all right,” she says, shrugging. “Well, if it’s okay with you I’ll pop over there a bit later then.”

  “If it’s okay with me?” Jørgen says, grinning at her again. “Why wouldn’t it be okay with me?”

  Sara looks at him, smiling faintly and giving another quick shrug.

  Silence. And then I catch Jørgen’s eye. I give him an almost sorrowful look, trying to let him know how stupid he’s being, that he shouldn’t push Sara away the way he’s doing now, he should swallow that goddamn pride of his and meet her halfway. Otherwise he’ll regret it. I hold his eye for a moment and then he looks down. He gets the message, I can tell by his face. His anger seems to drain away, suddenly he looks more sad than angry.

  “Could I have a beer after all?” Sara asks. She adjusts her yellow hat, pushing it a little further back from her forehead. She looks at me. And I look at her. She’s trying to show Jørgen that she means to stay here with him now, that’s why she’s taking a beer after all, I realize that, this is her way of trying to patch things up with him.

  “Course,” I say, reaching under the table and getting out a can, look at her and smile as I hand it to her.

  “Cheers then,” Grandpa says, raising his can and looking round the table.

  “Cheers,” we all say together.

  I keep m
y eye on Sara and Jørgen as I put my can to my lips. Their eyes meet, Sara smiles hesitantly, tentatively. And now he has to seize the chance to meet her halfway, he mustn’t do anything stupid now. A second and then he smiles hesitantly back at her. I put my can down on the table, catch his eye as I get up from my chair, smile happily at him, approvingly, try to let him see that I think that was well done, it’s good that they’ve made up.

  I pick up Ma’s lighter, walk across to the barbecue and light it. Stand for a moment watching the flames spreading over the black charcoal, sort of rippling from one briquette to the next, soundlessly. And then I hear Ma’s and Mona’s voices, hear them laughing, Ma’s hoarse cackle and Mona’s clear, high-pitched giggle. I turn around. They’re coming across the grass, each carrying a tray. I go back to my chair and sit down, take my pack of cigarettes from the table, pull out a cig and light it.

  “Have you got a diaper on?” Ma asks, looking at Grandpa as she sets the tray down on the camping table.

  I stare at her. Okay, now she’s gone too fucking far, she can’t talk to Grandpa like that, not when there’s people listening. She knows he doesn’t like there to be any mention of him wearing diapers. It’s embarrassing for him and it’s probably even more embarrassing now, with Mona and Sara here. He’s always been one for the ladies, Grandpa has. He may be an old man now, but it’s still there, I know it is, he still likes to look good for the ladies. I look at him, see his smile stiffen. He stares at Ma, holds her eye.

  “Yeah, because if you haven’t, then you’d better go and put one on right this minute,” Ma goes on. “You know it just runs right through you when you drink beer.”

  Silence.

  Ma raises her eyebrows and gives him a look as if to say: what are you waiting for? But Grandpa doesn’t get up. He picks up his beer can and takes a drink, trying to look like he doesn’t care, but he does care and he’s raging, I can tell, he’s mortified. Everybody just sits there for a moment, then a grin spreads across Jørgen’s face. He shoots a glance at Sara, but she isn’t grinning, she finds this embarrassing, I can tell. She acts like she’s reading the label on her beer can, like she hasn’t heard any of this.

  “Well, go on,” Ma says, talking to Grandpa like he’s a little kid. And I see how bad this makes him feel. He’s trying to look like he doesn’t care, but his face is stiff with rage. I look at Ma. This isn’t on, she can’t talk to him like this, not when other people can hear. She can’t show him up like this. I put my head on one side and sigh, trying to tell her that she’s got to stop, but she doesn’t notice.

  “Well,” she says. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, if you pee in your pants one more time you can find somebody else to do your washing for you, because I’m not fucking doing it.”

  Grandpa tries to grin, but his eyes are narrow with fury. And it doesn’t help that Jørgen is sitting there with his arms crossed quietly sniggering. And fuck me if Mona doesn’t start laughing as well. She looks at Jørgen, sees him laughing and she starts fucking laughing as well, laughing at how Grandpa’s being humiliated, trying to act the way she thinks a true Williamsen would act. This is yet another attempt to be one of us, I realize that. Trying to be as rough and tough as we make ourselves out to be, I can tell. And now I feel resentment building up inside me, anger. I don’t like Jørgen and Ma making fun of Grandpa, but I like it even less when Mona does it, she’s got no fucking right to sit there, making fun of Grandpa in his own backyard, who the fuck does she think she is?

  “Well, are you going to or not?” Ma asks, not letting up.

  “What?” Grandpa says sharply, almost snarling.

  Jørgen and Mona exchange glances again, snigger softly.

  “Dear God, give me patience,” Ma says, laying her head back and staring at the sky for a second or two, then she looks at Grandpa again. “Okay,” she says, shaking her head. “Have it your way.”

  “Yeah—did you think I’d have it any other way?” Grandpa says.

  Ma snorts.

  “Well don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she says.

  Silence for a second then Sara gets up.

  “I have to go to the loo,” she mumbles.

  She looks at Jørgen, gives him a watery smile, walks off towards the house. She can’t stand to be here any longer. No fucking wonder, we’d scare the shit out of anybody the way we go on. Sara doesn’t fucking dare to sit with us.

  I take a drag on my cigarette, exhale.

  “Hey, c’mon, why don’t we all try to be civil to one another?” I say.

  Ma turns to me as she lifts a full bottle of summer aquavit off one of the trays, raises her eyebrows, stays like that for a couple of seconds.

  “What the fuck’ve you actually got in that?” she asks, nodding at my cigarette. “Can I have some?”

  Then she looks at the others and gives that throaty laugh of hers.

  And Jørgen laughs. And Mona laughs. I was being serious, but they’re all laughing, apart from Grandpa. And I feel resentment building up inside me. I feel my smile stiffening, it’s like my mouth is tightening.

  “Oh, you can laugh,” I say, wait a second, then: “But why d’you think Sara suddenly had to go to the toilet?”

  “Maybe because she had to take a shit,” Ma says.

  She opens the bottle of aquavit and turns to Jørgen, looks at him.

  “Well, I mean she must have to take a shit now and again even if her father is a doctor?”

  “I suppose so,” Jørgen says.

  And they laugh again.

  I feel myself getting more and more annoyed. I keep that tight smile on my face, but the anger is building up inside me.

  “Would you like a little aperitif before dinner, Pa?” Ma says, talking as if nothing had happened. She looks at Grandpa, holding the bottle over a tumbler on the table. Grandpa doesn’t answer, he’s feeling mortified and he can’t act as though nothing’s happened, can’t even bring himself to look at Ma.

  “Pa?” Ma says.

  “Are you talking to me?” Grandpa asks, eyeing her peevishly.

  “Well, you are my pa, aren’t you?”

  “How the fuck would I know,” Grandpa says. “Your ma wasn’t much different from you, so it could’ve been just about anybody.”

  “Now you tell me,” Ma says. “After I’ve had to put up with you all these years.”

  And she cackles again.

  And Jørgen grins and take a sip from his can. And Mona laughs, she screams with laughter. She seems to find this very entertaining. I look at her, at her cheerful, lively face. The spiteful comments are flying and she sits there laughing and acting as though this is all perfectly okay, as if it’s quite normal for us take the piss out of each other like this. Not that we haven’t always had a pretty blunt, rough way of talking to each other in our family, but it’s not usually as bad as this. There’s always been a lot of kidding and banter and bickering, but over the past few years a more caustic note has crept into the way we talk and behave, particularly where Ma’s concerned. It’s like there’s this anger underneath all her laughing and joking these days. A rage that wasn’t there before, I feel.

  “I’d say it’s debatable who’s had to put up with who,” Grandpa mutters.

  “Oh, is that so?” Ma says. “Well, why don’t you move into the old folks’ home then? If you can’t stand me cooking your meals and keeping house for you, you can just pack your bags and leave right now.”

  Grandpa doesn’t answer. He sneers as he raises his can of beer to his lips, takes a drink.

  Then Sara appears, still smiling that kind of watery smile.

  “Do you want me to help you, is that it?” Ma says, still not letting it go. She stares at Grandpa. “Come on then, let’s go up and get you packed.”

  She puts down the bottle of aquavit and takes a step towards the house, gives Grandpa a look that says: what are you waiting for?

  “Aw, shut your gob,” Grandpa snarls.

  “What? I was only offering to
help you pack,” Ma says, looking at Grandpa and smirking.

  Silence.

  Sara doesn’t know where to look, she’s feeling more awkward than ever, I can tell. Her face is red. Jørgen and Mona look at one another and grin. They’re behaving as if this is just a bit of harmless fun, they don’t catch the bitter, vicious undertone, the rage. After a moment Mona looks at Sara and smiles. Just relax, she says, says it without words, blinks slyly as she says it, trying to let Sara know that this is perfectly normal, this is just how we are and there’s no need to worry. But Sara is worried, worried and uncomfortable, I can tell. She looks at Mona and smiles that faint smile of hers, smiles quickly, then looks away again.

  “Well, are you coming or not?” Ma says. She just won’t let it go, she stares at Grandpa, smirking, tormenting him, mocking him.

  And the anger grows inside me. I stare at her. And now I’ve got to tell her to let it fucking go. She can’t go on like this, not when Sara’s here anyway. Can’t she see how uncomfortable the girl is, how awful she thinks this is? Well, obviously not, she just goes on and on, I feel fucking ashamed for her when she carries on like this, it’s fucking embarrassing. I lean forward, drop my cigarette butt into the same can that Ma dropped hers into, sit a little further back in my seat and look up at Ma. I’m just about to say that I think it’s embarrassing when she carries on the way she’s doing. But I don’t get the chance. All of a sudden something white comes flying through the air. Comes rocketing over. I only catch a glimpse of it before it lands on the grass with a loud splat, lands right at Ma’s feet. Ma screams. What the fuck was that, what the fuck’s going on? I crane my neck and look down at the grass. There’s a half-full Co-op bag lying on her foot. A burst Co-op shopping bag, carrot peelings and glistening coffee grounds spilling out of a big hole. Ma stands there with her mouth hanging open and her arms out, confused, gobsmacked, staring at the shopping bag.