by S. J. Gazan
When Katrine telephoned, Søren had almost forgotten her existence. He was at work, it was summer and it was seven months since their one-night stand. The weather had been mild and pleasant, and Vibe and Søren spent all their spare time in the garden in Snerlevej. Elvira was dying. They had installed a hospital bed in the living room for her three weeks prior, and since then she had deteriorated quickly. Vibe and Søren had still not mentioned their split to Knud and Elvira. They couldn’t bear to and had agreed to wait until after Elvira’s death. She deserved to die as happy as possible. Vibe had moved out at the start of April, but when they visited Knud and Elvira, they would catch the same bus or share the car, and when they walked up the garden path, they would hold hands. They still saw each other, both at home in their old apartment and in Vibe’s new one. It felt good, but strange, titillating almost, to make love to Vibe in her new bed, in a bedroom with apple green curtains and wallpaper with tiny flowers, it was almost as if they had only just met. They went to the movies like they used to, went running together every Sunday, and even flew to Paris for a long weekend. A strange calm existed between them; limbo. A few times Vibe had cautiously asked him if his mind was made up, and he had kissed her forehead and said that she deserved better.
“And so does your child,” he had added.
When he realized that it was that Katrine who was calling, his palms grew sweaty. His first thought was genital warts, his second, HIV. Tracking him down had been no easy task, she said with a nervous laugh, because she only knew that his name was Søren and that he worked at Bellahøj police station. She had been put through to several different people, and she was relieved she had finally found the right person. She laughed nervously again, and then she said gravely, “But Bo and I agree that I should.”
Søren was baffled, who was Bo? Bo was her boyfriend, she explained, and she had met him shortly after the night Søren had spent with her. They had just moved in together.
“And Bo will be the baby’s father,” she then said.
Everything stopped.
Søren didn’t understand a word.
It was surreal.
They spoke for a little while. Afterward he called Vibe and told her that he was working late and please would she go to Elvira and Knud’s on her own and he would join them later? Is everything all right? she wanted to know. No, yes, he stuttered. Something has come up at work, he lied.
He worked through the longest day of his life without any sense of what he was actually doing. At five o’clock he drove to H. C. Ørstedsvej and rang the bell. The nameplate below the bell was new; in addition to Katrine’s name it said Bo Beck Vestergaard. Upstairs, in Katrine’s apartment, the situation became even more bizarre. Katrine was seven months pregnant, her belly beautiful and round.
“We’re really looking forward to the baby,” Bo said, narrowing his eyes.
Bo was assembling a changing table in the corner of the room. He was clearly putting in a lot of effort. However, Søren was the biological father, Katrine said, there was no doubt about it. Katrine didn’t meet Bo until after she had found out she was pregnant, and Bo had been relaxed about the whole thing—after all, they were all adults, and he was very much in love with Katrine. Initially, they had decided not to contact Søren, but as Katrine’s pregnancy progressed, they had second thoughts. They didn’t want to lie to the child, but this was precisely what they were setting themselves up for if they concealed the baby’s real parentage at this early stage.
Søren didn’t know what to think. His jaw had dropped and panic stuck to the inside of his throat like an obstinate fish bone. Bo continued explaining. Søren would be kept informed and the child would be told when it was old enough, but Bo and Katrine agreed it would be too confusing for the child if there were multiple fathers around during the early years. Søren understood, didn’t he? He wouldn’t have to pay child support either, unless he absolutely insisted. Bo had his own business selling musical instruments, and Katrine had gotten a job at a school in Valby; she was currently on maternity leave. They would manage. In fact, they were asking Søren to keep a low profile and not interfere too much. Not until the child itself wanted to meet its biological father. It was clear, as far as Bo was concerned, the need would never arise. Søren nodded, asked a timid question and nodded again. He declared that he would need time to process it all. Bo looked pleased and saw him out.
Søren stumbled out into H. C. Ørstedsvej, clammy with sweat, his mouth dry. In a kiosk he downed two soft drinks straight from the refrigerated case while the shopkeeper eyed him suspiciously. What the hell was he going to say to Vibe? Vibe, who had blind faith in him, who still called him “the straightest guy in the world” to her friends, even though they had broken up, even though he hadn’t been prepared to give her the child she so desperately wanted. He walked down to the lakes and began pacing up and down. He had to convince Bo and Katrine that it would be in everyone’s best interest if Søren never became the baby’s father. Not ever. Not on paper, not in real life. It would hurt Vibe deeply if the truth came out. Besides, he didn’t want to be a father, for Christ’s sake. Not to Vibe’s child, not to Katrine’s, and certainly not to Bo Beck Vestergaard’s. It was completely out of the question. He had donated some sperm, that was all. It should never have happened. Katrine was supposed to have had her period, and afterward she was supposed to meet Bo, and they should have had a baby of their own. Why the hell hadn’t he used a condom? He stopped at Saint Jørgen’s Lake and kicked a low wall hard with his black leather shoe. When he had calmed down, he went to see Knud and Elvira.
“It’s good that you’re here now,” Vibe said quietly, as he entered the living room. At first he couldn’t see Elvira and, for a brief second, he imagined that she had got out of bed, fit and healthy, and gone out into the garden to pick elderflowers, but then he spotted her. She was lying in a fold of the comforter—at least that was how it looked. Søren held her tiny frail hand and sobbed his heart out. Three hours later Elvira sighed softly, and then she was gone.
In the weeks that followed Søren tried to brush aside all thoughts of the baby. There was much to do. A complicated case at work, organizing Elvira’s funeral, and then there was Knud, who was falling apart with grief. When Bo called two and a half weeks later, he screamed furiously into the handset that they should leave him the fuck alone, he hadn’t asked to have a baby, and if Katrine could have been bothered to call him when she found out she was pregnant, he would have told her to get rid of it. Later the same afternoon, Søren called Bo back to apologize. He explained his mother had died and he was under a lot of pressure. To begin with Bo was distant and implacable, but as the conversation progressed, he softened.
“Okay,” he said. “Call us when you’re a bit more on top of things. After all, there’s no hurry. Like we said, we would prefer not to have you hanging around. I’m sorry, but I’m being honest here. We just don’t want to lie to the child. She deserves to know the truth so she can have a secure childhood.”
“It’s a girl?” Søren marveled.
“Yes,” Bo said. “And we’re calling her Maja.”
Søren managed to visit Katrine once before she had her baby, one afternoon when he spontaneously drove past H. C. Ørstedsvej, rang the doorbell, and found her home alone. They didn’t speak much, but she looked undeniably gorgeous on the sofa, big, round, and enigmatic as though she was hatching a golden egg. Suddenly, he heard himself promise to keep his distance, as Bo and Katrine had requested, and that he would be there if the girl wanted to meet her father when she got older. If. They sealed the deal with a cup of coffee and, as there was nothing more to say, Søren left.
Maja was born on September 8, 2004. Bo called him after the birth. He was rather monosyllabic and merely informed him the child had been born and that mother and baby were doing well. Then he hung up. Three days later Søren went to Frederiksberg Hospital. He had been racked with doubt, but in the end he had been unable to stay away. He bought a teddy bear for t
he baby and a bottle of lemon-scented lotion for Katrine. The young clerk in the drugstore helped him choose it. In the hospital corridor he hesitated before he entered the ward. What if they had visitors, what if it was inappropriate? But, for God’s sake, they had chosen to involve him, so they had only themselves to blame. And, anyway, he wasn’t some asshole who just stayed away.
To his surprise, the ward was nearly empty. There were no visitors and three empty beds waited for newly delivered mothers and their babies. Only the bed by the window was occupied, by Katrine, who was sitting with a faraway expression on her face. She looked up and smiled, almost as if she didn’t recognize him, then she lowered her eyes. Søren approached her gingerly and placed his presents on one of the empty beds. Then he saw Maja. She was absolutely tiny and swaddled in a white blanket. The bear he had bought for her was five times her size. Maja’s hair was long and black and her face all scrunched up. She was the spitting image of him. Søren was speechless. He looked at Katrine, then he leaned forward and kissed her forehead.
Everything changed. Not because there was a child at Frederiksberg Hospital who happened to share his genes, not because of her remarkable likeness to him, not because he had fathered another human being, technically, at least. No, it was because his brain was swelling to twice its normal size. He started to laugh out loud. Elvira had died, Knud was in mourning, and his relationship with Vibe was characterized by grief and anger, and yet he raced down Jagtvejen in his car, roaring with laughter. He hadn’t wanted a child. He still didn’t want a child. He hadn’t wanted to sit down to talk it over with Vibe or Katrine or any other woman. But now that she was here, he wanted Maja. With every fiber of his being. He would never let her out of his sight, he would protect her against all evil. The feeling was like an unbreakable chain anchored in his stomach. That night he made a plan. He would visit Bo and Katrine as soon as possible and make it clear to them that the deal was off.
It was a fortnight before Bo said it was okay for him to visit. When Søren arrived, he had rehearsed his speech so many times, he was no longer nervous.
“I’ve decided that I want to be her dad.”
Bo and Katrine had offered him coffee. Bo’s cup froze in mid-air. He gave Søren an outraged look.
“You’ve what? You’ve no right to do that.”
He slammed the cup down on the table. The noise startled Maja.
“Bo,” Katrine began, cautiously. “Let’s just hear Søren out.” She looked up at Søren and smiled an almost imperceptible smile. Bo got up and went to the window, his back shaking.
“I know I can’t be with her every day,” Søren continued. “Probably not even every week, but I want to be in her life and not just as a last resort you call when you’ve got no one else. I’m in this for good. Bo is your boyfriend,” he said, looking at Katrine, “and I realize that he will probably be Maja’s dad in her heart. The one she plays with when she comes home from nursery, the one who reads her bedtime stories, the one she’ll hate when she becomes a teenager.” Katrine smiled. “And also the one who, on some level, will mean the most to her.” Bo’s back started to calm down. “But I want to be involved, and if you won’t let me…” he took a deep breath, “then I will go to court.” A deadly silence descended on the room.
Bo stayed where he was with his back to them, but Katrine said, “Okay, Søren. It’s okay.”
Bo didn’t turn around, not even when Søren left.
From then on, Søren visited them every week. Maja was becoming increasingly alert and Bo less frosty. Søren made an effort when he was there. He asked Bo questions and listened attentively when Bo told him about a particularly bad diapering incident, a sleepless night, or an expression that might have been a smile. What he really felt like doing was bundling Bo up and hurling him out the window.
One November afternoon he found Katrine and Maja home alone. Katrine was breastfeeding, so Søren put the kettle on. When Maja had been fed, Katrine made coffee while Søren changed Maja’s diaper and put clean clothes on her. From the kitchen, Katrine called out with a question about Vibe. Until now they had avoided talking about personal issues completely, primarily because Bo was always hovering by the front door in the hope that Søren might be overcome by a sudden urge to leave. Not surprisingly, this rather put a damper on their intimacy. Søren’s reply was evasive, but when she had sat down again and Maja was lying between them, the whole story spilled out of him. His relationship with Vibe, which had started when they were teenagers, had to end because Vibe so fervently wanted to have a baby, and he didn’t; Elvira, who had died never knowing that Vibe and he were no longer a couple though they still saw each other, and now Knud, who tried to carry on the traditional family Sunday lunch ignorant of the fact that Vibe and Søren lived separate lives and pretended to be a couple purely to shield him from further pain. When Søren had finished, he picked up the little girl. They stood by the window and watched the cars. Maja opened and closed her mouth, and Søren told her that a blue Ford Fiesta had just run a red light. “He’s lucky your daddy is busy holding you,” he whispered, “or he would have given him a ticket.” Katrine, still sitting on the sofa, asked if Vibe even knew about Maja. Søren didn’t reply for a long time. Then he shook his head.
When he left Maja and Katrine an hour later, he had made up his mind. Katrine had given him a photograph of Maja, which he had put in his wallet, behind his driving license, and the time had come. Knud would learn that Vibe and Søren were no longer together, and Knud and Vibe would learn of Maja’s existence. He dreaded Vibe’s reaction, there was no denying that, but he suddenly yearned to tell the old man that he was a great-grandfather. He started by calling Vibe to check that she was free this Sunday—she was, she had no plans apart from their usual lunch at Snerlevej. Then he called Knud. No one answered the telephone. He called back later the same day, but still nothing. In the evening, he grew increasingly worried and drove to his childhood home. He had called Knud fifteen times at least, and there had been no reply.
Søren found Knud in the kitchen, sitting on a chair facing the garden. His hand, resting in his lap, held a framed photograph of Elvira. On the kitchen table were two bags of groceries. Knud appeared incapable of summoning the energy to put them away. Søren hugged him tenderly.
“Is it very bad today?” he asked, carefully taking the photograph from Knud. In the picture Elvira was old and wrinkled and yet irresistibly alive. Knud turned his head and stared blankly at Søren.
“I’ve got cancer,” he said, smiling weakly. “That’s how bad it is.”
That Sunday, they had lunch in Snerlevej as usual. Vibe had offered to make lasagna and salad. It was bizarre. Knud had bowel cancer, which had spread to his liver. There was nothing the doctors could do.
“And here was I thinking cancer wasn’t infectious,” Knud remarked dryly. He seemed neither scared nor sad; on the contrary, he praised the food and had second helpings. Afterward he suggested they have a cigarette.
“But you don’t smoke.” Søren was taken aback.
“Oh, yes,” he said. “I do now.”
They lit cigarettes and flicked the ashes onto their plates. It had been ten years since Vibe and Søren had quit smoking, and the three of them coughed and spluttered like teenagers. They all started to laugh and that was when Vibe suddenly exclaimed:
“Wasn’t there something you wanted to talk to us about, Søren?” She gave him a searching look. “It certainly sounded like it the other day.”
Now Knud was looking at him, too.
“Nah,” Søren said. “You must have misunderstood. Everything’s fine.”
On December 18, when Maja was just over three months old, Bo, Maja, and Katrine flew to Thailand for Christmas. Søren loathed the idea. Thailand was far away, they would be staying at some hotel on an island, and he was convinced that Maja would have forgotten all about him by the next time she saw him. Katrine was busy packing when he came to wish them Merry Christmas. Bo, fortunately, was out. He gave M
aja the world’s tiniest bracelet with a four-leaf clover pendant.
“She really is far too young for jewelry,” Katrine smiled. Søren watched her while she folded Maja’s tiny onesies and placed them in the suitcase.
“Why can’t you stay here?” he blurted out. Katrine laughed. Then she asked him if he had told his family about Maja yet. Søren was just about to lie, but he hesitated a fraction of a second. Katrine shook her head.
“How long are you going to keep your daughter a secret?”
Søren went to the window with Maja in his arms. This time, it was a Nissan Altima that ran a red light.
“I’ll tell my grandfather on Christmas,” he said. “When I’ve got some time off and everything has calmed down a bit.”
“I would like to meet him,” Katrine said.
His eyes widened. “Are you serious?”
“Yes,” Katrine replied. “I really would. If you ever have the guts to tell him.” Katrine winked at Søren. “Perhaps we could have lunch together, when we’re back, all of us.”
“Including Bo?” Søren winked back at her.
“Yes, of course,” Katrine smiled.
Søren nodded. Then he laid Maja on the fleece blanket on the floor. She waved her arms, kicked her legs, and stuck out her tongue. She was starting to lose her hair, and her deep blue eyes studied Søren with curiosity. For the next half hour they drank coffee and chatted before Søren left. He kissed Maja’s soft forehead and squeezed her tiny foot, warm and wriggling, inside her footed pajamas.
After Christmas, Vibe and Søren spent four days in Sweden where Vibe had borrowed a cottage from her business partner. Søren intended to confess to Vibe while they were there, and when they returned to Copenhagen he would also tell Knud about Maja. The woods behind the cottage seemed endless, and the snow scattered like crystals from the trees when a squirrel leapt or the wind stirred. Søren chopped firewood and gazed at the forest, briefly tempted to swap his life for one that was simpler and more manageable.