by S. J. Gazan
“Can we flip through the photos again,” Henrik interrupted her, “and you can point him out to us?”
“I was just coming to that.” She suddenly looked shy. “This guy was absolutely stunning, he had auburn hair, but not dyed like Johannes’s or a lot of other goths, it was genuine. And he was tall. When I saw him, I got the feeling I had seen him somewhere before. I noticed him when he arrived. He was alone, and I’ve no idea if he knew anyone. Later, I saw him by the bar. He was by himself, but it was obvious that people were staring at him. The women circled him like sharks. I started taking pictures for the Red Mask homepage, and I thought it was a good excuse to chat with him. At that point, he was on the right-hand side of the bar where later I saw Johannes entertain the masses.” She smiled. “But when I tried taking his photo, he wouldn’t allow it…”
“Wouldn’t allow you to photograph him?”
“No, he put his hand on my camera and pushed it down. He wasn’t aggressive or anything, he just didn’t want his picture taken, and I respected that, of course. When I had uploaded the pictures to the computer, I went through them to see if I had accidentally caught him in one of the other photos. I was curious. But he wasn’t there. Like I said, I took around two hundred and fifty pictures, we were around one hundred guests, so in theory each guest should appear two and a half times, but not this guy. It was as if he hadn’t even been there. But several of my friends had noticed him. He was gorgeous,” Stella Marie emphasized.
“Can you describe him, please? What was he wearing?” Søren asked, his pulse quickening. A man with auburn hair had been waiting for Anna.
“He wasn’t in costume. But that’s normal. There’s always a crowd that shows up in regular clothes, people wear what they feel like. So I can’t really remember. Black clothes, I think.” She shrugged. “And like I said, I had a funny feeling of having seen him before. I thought about it the next day, but since then… well, I’ve got a lot on my plate.” She nodded in the direction of the little girl who was watching cartoons. “But he might come next time, who knows? Why don’t you join us, you’re both more than welcome.” Stella Marie’s eyes moved teasingly from Søren to Henrik.
“By the way, do you know when the funeral is?” she added. “I’d like to attend. I know plenty of others who would want to go too. It’s tragic that Johannes has died.” A vertical furrow appeared on her forehead. “We’re really going to miss him.”
“Check with the family,” Søren said abruptly. “Johannes’s mother is still alive, so you should contact her.”
“Ah, Johannes’s mother,” Stella Marie exclaimed. “I heard Johannes came from a rich family, but he had turned his back on it. Susanne Winther told me when she was going out with him. And one day, while I was cleaning up after a Red Mask party, a delivery guy came in with two sofas, would you believe it? I was convinced it had to be a mistake, but the guy insisted. Two sofas from Kampe Furniture to be delivered to Stella Marie Frederiksen. Sponsorship. At that point I didn’t know Johannes’s family owned Kampe Furniture, but Susanne told me. I didn’t get a chance to tell Johannes until our next party, and he nearly had a heart attack when he heard it. We never found out how his mother knew about the Red Mask, and I don’t think Johannes ever asked her. But that night he kept saying, ‘My mom loves me!’ He was ecstatic! He made us all laugh because it was so touching.”
“What happened to those sofas?” Henrik asked.
“They’re in our van with the rest of our gear. The bar, the lights, and so on. They’re ultra cool. Black leather, obviously. We don’t really do chintz.” She laughed.
Once again Søren had the feeling that a minute twist to the kaleidoscope had resulted in a completely different picture.
When they were back in the car, Henrik said: “Are you absolutely sure you can trust Susanne Winther?”
“Yes,” Søren said.
“Would a repressed and downtrodden housewife send two sofas?”
“Perhaps it’s not that straightforward, Henrik. There might be a positive side to Johannes’s mother. Things aren’t always black and white.”
Henrik was driving. Søren buried his face in his hands.
“Hey, are you okay?” Henrik said. His anger seemed to have evaporated.
“Do you know what my life has been like?”
“Er, no.”
“Things were just as they looked. A led to B, B led to C, D, and E.”
“Right, and that’s not how it is?”
“No,” Søren said. “Sometimes you’ve got no idea how your life ended up the way it did, there’s only the end product, E, and the starting point, A, and the rest is unknown. The path between the two points is lost.”
“Søren,” Henrik said gently. “I don’t follow.”
“That’s how I operate,” Søren carried on regardless. “I need to be able to retrace my steps and understand what happened. I want life to be like that!” He slammed his hand on the glove compartment. “But sometimes it isn’t, is it? And do you know what that means?” Søren didn’t wait for Henrik’s reply. “It means not everything is what it seems. Many things are. But not all.”
“I still don’t follow,” Henrik said, amicably.
“It’s okay,” Søren said. “I just need to change my life.”
“You need to talk to someone about… about Maja,” Henrik said out of the blue. “You really do.”
Søren nodded. They drove on in silence.
“My parents died when I was five years old,” Søren said suddenly.
“I know. You grew up with Knud and Elvira. I knew that.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” Søren clutched his forehead. “I’m all over the place right now. I really am.”
“You need to talk to someone about Maja,” Henrik repeated. “If it had happened to my daughters, Christ, I couldn’t have sat here today, no way—”
“Do you think it was enough?” Søren interrupted him.
“What do you mean?”
“My parents dying. When I was five. Unexpectedly. Do you think that’s enough to traumatize a child?”
“It depends on the circumstances.” Henrik sounded confused.
“And that’s precisely what I don’t understand,” Søren said in a hoarse voice. “Of course, losing your parents is tragic. But for God’s sake, I can’t even remember them. And Knud and Elvira loved me. I couldn’t have had better parents or a better upbringing and I’m not just saying that.” He looked out of the side window. “And yet it’s as if something inside me is all crumpled up. Completely tangled. I’m scared.”
“What are you scared of?”
“I’m scared of… Vibe is like a sister to me, for fuck’s sake!” Søren threw up his hands in despair. “She has been, ever since I met her at that disco. My sister was my girlfriend for seventeen years! I was scared to have children with her. All the things it takes guts to do…. When I see Vibe with her big pregnant stomach, I thank God she left me. I would never have been able to forgive myself if she hadn’t had children because of me. She deserves so much better.” An embarrassed silence followed.
“I don’t have real friends, either,” Søren continued. “I’ve got you and Allan. And Vibe and her husband, obviously.”
“What’s wrong with me? I’m a decent enough guy,” Henrik said, looking like he was simultaneously offended and amused.
“Nothing. I can’t complain. But you said it yourself this morning. I don’t trust anyone. I don’t give anything back. You don’t really know me, do you?” Again he threw up his hands. “Plenty of children are orphaned, and some of them go into foster care or are adopted and they turn out fine. I was playing in my grandparents’ garden when the crash happened, and it was the best garden in the world. That I do remember. But I don’t remember them dying, I don’t recall shedding a single tear. Nor have I ever been angry that they died, and I haven’t missed them. Not really. Knud and Elvira were my parents. They were. I can’t see any reason why I’m such a fucking coward.” He paused. H
enrik cleared his throat.
“You’ve just done it,” he said eventually.
“Done what?”
“Opened up. Taken a chance.”
“I see my daughter’s face before me all the time,” Søren said. “Suddenly, she’s everywhere. I thought I could get away with it. Can you imagine what it was like lying next to Vibe and not be able to tell her what was really going on? She thought I was upset because we were splitting up. She comforted me and assured me that we would always be friends. She came over with dinner for me, and I kept lying to her.” Søren pressed his fist into his mouth.
“You need to talk to someone,” Henrik said for the third time. Søren looked out of the window. How could he ever have doubted Henrik?
“Yes, I do,” he said.
At 7:50 p.m. Søren rang the bell of an apartment in a residential block on the outskirts of Nørrebro. The name on the door read Beck Vestergaard. Søren hadn’t looked Bo in the eye since the day before Katrine, Maja, and he had gone to Thailand.
“Make sure you take good care of them,” Søren had ordered him, fixing Bo with his eyes. Bo had bristled with irritation. Since then, he had seen Bo once. In the church and only from the back.
Søren had called earlier to say he was coming, but he barely recognized the man who opened the door. Bo was unshaven, and he was wearing jeans and a vest. His stomach bulged like a ship’s fender. He stared at Søren, turned around, and disappeared into the apartment. Søren followed him into a small living room that opened into a laminate kitchen. To the right of the kitchen, an open door led to a room where Søren could see an unmade bed. The curtains were drawn and the television was on in the background.
“What do you want?” Bo scowled. He had sat down on the sofa and lit a cigarette. Before Søren had time to reply, he went on: “I don’t know why you’re here after all this time. But if you’re hoping to be forgiven, you can leave right now. You lost any chance of that when you stopped answering your phone; when I couldn’t get hold of you. Not even at the station. Bastards threatened to get a restraining order against me. A fucking restraining order! If I didn’t stop calling. Like I was the criminal. Ha, if only they knew!”
“I couldn’t bear to hear what had happened. They were dead. I couldn’t bear the details.”
Bo sent him a brief, lost look.
“I wasn’t trying to hassle you, but that was how I was treated. Like a stalker. I just wanted to talk to you. I had just lost my wife and my child. Our child. For fuck’s sake, I just wanted to talk to you!” Bo buried his face in his hands.
“I was a coward,” Søren admitted. “I was wrong.”
A pause followed, then Søren said, “I want to hear it now, please. The details. I want to know why you’re here and they’re not.”
Bo went deathly pale, and started panting.
“Are you saying it’s my fault? You total shit…” He made to get up, but his excess weight dragged him back down on the sofa. He accepted his fate and started talking.
“Our hotel room was some distance from the beach, and I woke up that morning when water started coming in under the door. It was total chaos outside. A roof had been ripped off, people were screaming and running away from the beach. I called out for Katrine and headed for the beach. I still didn’t know what had happened, but suddenly I realized I wouldn’t have a chance unless I started running. So that’s what I did. In the opposite direction, away from the coast and up a slope, where I ended up on a hill along with fifty other people. I didn’t want to look down at the bay. I didn’t want to. I lay curled up under a bush, praying they were alive. But my prayers weren’t answered.” He laughed a hollow laugh. “I drank too much wine the night before; we had held an improvised Christmas lunch and I had had too much to drink. My guess is Katrine went down to have breakfast with Maja on the beach when she woke up, so as not to disturb me. They were helpless when the tsunami came. So they died. They were found farther along the beach. That’s what happened, Søren. Happy now? I failed to save them because I was asleep. Because I had a hangover.” Bo retreated into himself.
“I went to the funeral,” Søren said. “I sat in the back.”
“I know, I saw you.”
“Thank you for arranging such a beautiful service. The flowers on their coffins, the silk ribbons and all that.”
Bo said nothing. He looked like he had given up. He eased himself out of the sofa and got another beer. He didn’t offer Søren one. That was all right. Søren’s daughter had died, and he had hidden, like a coward, at the back of the church, convinced that Bo hadn’t seen him. He didn’t deserve a beer. He didn’t deserve anything. A long silence ensued. Bo was staring dully at the television, drinking from the bottle. Søren was numb. When he got up to leave, Bo said: “Guys like you, in their late thirties, going for the big confession, hoping for the grand, all-embracing forgiveness for all their sins, you’re all pathetic.” He hurled the empty bottle into a corner.
“I’ll call you,” Søren said. “I’ll visit.”
“No, you fucking won’t.”
Bo didn’t look up when Søren left. Søren opened the front door. Just as he crossed the threshold, he heard Bo say: “But Maja smiled at me. At me! She never knew who that asshole was.”
With a heavy heart, Søren walked past the trash cans and old bicycles that lined the concrete walkway.
Vibe’s stomach greeted him first when she opened the door. Her head was bullet shaped and her swollen feet were stuffed into Birkenstock sandals. She was grinning from ear to ear.
“I’m the happiest hippo on the planet,” she said, hugging Søren. “How lovely to see you! I thought you were working around the clock and would visit once the police were no longer ‘clueless,’ as the papers say.” She scrutinized him. “Hey, what’s wrong? You look completely shattered.”
Søren hung up his jacket.
“Vibe, I need to talk to you. My timing’s crap,” he nodded toward her stomach, “but it’s urgent. I can’t wring a single constructive thought out of my head until I have spoken to you.”
“That sounds serious,” Vibe said, lightly.
Her husband, John, was sitting on the sofa and the television was on. A bottle of massage oil stood on the coffee table, and John had a towel in his hands. There were also two glasses of red wine. Hers still full, while his contained just a drop. They were watching a cop show. John got up and shook Søren’s hand.
“Hiya. Sorry about today’s papers, eh?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Søren mumbled.
“Can I get you anything? A glass of wine? Are you hungry?” Vibe asked. Søren hesitated. He was starving. Vibe read his mind.
“Darling,” she said to her husband. “Please would you heat the leftovers for Søren and pour him a glass of wine? He wants to talk to me. It’s important.”
John’s eyebrows shot up.
“Is it okay if we go into the dining room? Then we won’t disturb you.”
John checked his watch. “I’ll heat some food for you,” he said, glancing at Søren. “And then I’ll take Cash for his walk, so you can talk.”
“I’m really sorry,” Søren apologized. “I didn’t mean to ruin your night.”
“That’s all right,” John replied, putting his hand on Søren’s shoulder for a moment.
Twenty minutes later Søren was eating goulash with mashed potatoes. He tried to remember when he had last eaten. Vibe poured him a glass of wine, and they made small talk while the food disappeared. When he had cleared his plate, he carried it into the kitchen so Vibe wouldn’t have to get up. In the kitchen, he drank some ice-cold water from the faucet and splashed some on his face. Then he went to the living room. Vibe was sitting in the corner of the sofa, looking expectantly and anxiously at him.
“I’ve been dreading this moment for twenty years,” she said.
Søren stopped in his tracks. “I don’t understand,” he said.
“Ah,” she said quickly. “I’m getting ahead of myself.” S
he looked away. “Sit down, get it off your chest, you look so tormented.”
It was Friday October 12, and it was pitch-black, cold, and nasty outside. Søren leaned back and stared at his hands. Then he told Vibe the reason for his visit.
Could she remember going on that course in Barcelona in December 2003? Yes, of course she could. Did she remember Søren going out with Henrik? Søren had told her about their night out when she came back, about the restaurant, about the girls at the neighboring table they got talking to, who had come with them to a club where they had danced. Vibe remembered it well. The night he had gone home with a woman named Katrine. Vibe’s eyes hardened to begin with, but then she started to smile, wanting to know if Søren was here to confess to an old infidelity. “Bad boy,” she said, wagging her finger at him, “but honestly,” she went on, “we were together for seventeen years and I was perfectly aware that it might happen, that it might already have happened, there’s no need to look so guilty,” she said. Søren shook his head. No, there was more.
“I couldn’t say it,” Søren said eventually. “I couldn’t make myself tell you. I didn’t want a child with you, but I had gotten another woman pregnant. I just couldn’t. It was also because of our relationship, Vibe,” he said, as though she had protested. “We were like brother and sister, for God’s sake! We weren’t lovers. There was no spark. Not really. I mean, take John. Even John treats me as if I were his brother-in-law, not a hint of jealousy even though I’ve slept with his wife more times than he has.” Vibe couldn’t help smiling. “Apart from the fact that I truly didn’t want to be a dad, then our relationship was enough of a reason for us not have a child together. And then Elvira and later Knud died… I just couldn’t tell you Katrine was pregnant. At least, not then.” Søren swallowed. “So I decided to wait a little. Until the storm had passed. Just like we decided not to tell Knud and Elvira we had broken up.”
“Did they know about the baby?” Vibe whispered.