Burnt Land

by Tua Harno

  The computer was downloading an update, and Sanna was doodling on her papers until the sound of footsteps in the hallway made her jump. There was no one in sight, but she folded up the paper. The last scribble easily could have been misconstrued. Was she horny? If they only knew, she thought. Or maybe everyone else could tell, and she just didn’t realize it.

  She didn’t know how long she had to go without sex before she would start wanting it. She’d noticed that it had been impossible for her to figure out with Janne. He’d get impatient and angry if they didn’t have sex, yell and carry on about everything under the sun. Sanna was ashamed to be seen in his company as he snapped and tapped his foot, as if the waiter, cab driver, or salesperson were responsible for his predicament. Sanna had silently repeated a mantra to herself: I’m not responsible for my boyfriend, his behavior is no reflection on me, we’re separate people, everyone knows it. But in her heart of hearts, she didn’t believe it. The humiliation gnawed at her, and she would turn away from the looks of those subjected to Janne’s fits. They were together, and he was her responsibility.

  “I don’t get what the problem is, Sanna,” he’d say. “I’m not asking you to cook or do the laundry. I could care less if you clean up around here. But do I have to pay for sex, too?”

  It was discouraging to realize how ejaculating changed Janne instantaneously. The tension evaporated immediately. He might even smooch Sanna on his way to work.

  But if Sanna didn’t propose sex for a few days, Janne would pace around the apartment naked, his penis stiff in his hand, demanding, “When can I put this in you?” Sanna would bend over and it all would be over more quickly than Janne’s rage. She didn’t know how to talk about it, who to talk to. He doesn’t beat me, Sanna repeated to herself. Janne’s a reliable guy, doesn’t have problems with drugs or alcohol or money. He’s a good man.

  But despite all this, Sanna was afraid of him. The angrier he got, the more Sanna tried to pacify him, to restrain his rage in advance. She begged him not to shout at her or to humiliate her when they were out in public. His shouting broke her spirit, and her pitiful sobbing revolted Janne even more.

  A knock at the open office door rattled Sanna from her thoughts of the past.

  “You’re a jumpy one, aren’t you?” said the woman who administered employee Breathalyzers at the main gate. “Go ahead, ask your questions! I’ve been here thirty years.”

  “I didn’t realize women were employed here that long ago,” Sanna said, turning on the recording function on her phone.

  “Not at the mine. Here, in town. Although it’s one and the same,” she said, fiddling with a handkerchief she used to dab at sweat and her nose. “At first I was home with the kids, of course. But with the stricter alcohol rules—they weren’t that strict before, people have probably told you—anyway, the new rules went into effect, and believe you me, they didn’t want them, ’cause what man is ever going to snitch on his mates? But then they figured that if it were a woman out there, things would go more neatly, the boys would do as they were told. Even though I’m not a pretty young thing anymore. It should be you out at that gate!”

  Sanna’s smile became forced. She continued asking her questions, but all the woman wanted to know were the details of Sanna’s personal life.

  “I don’t have any children,” Sanna said, after admitting she wasn’t married, either, trying to move on.

  But the woman persisted. She wanted to know if Sanna liked children—that was important. Even though some people think they don’t care for them and then it turns out they like their own.

  “I suppose that’s the way nature intended it,” Sanna replied, eager to move the conversation along.

  “But you also hear about folks doing all sorts of terrible things to their children,” the woman said in a disapproving tone.

  Before Sanna could respond a knock interrupted them and the woman turned and squealed, “Well, hello there! Why didn’t I see you at the gate this morning?”

  “Why didn’t I see you?” Martti said after giving her a hug.

  “Probably on break. My stars, it’s always so nice to see you. Martti here is a real gem,” she said to Sanna, who hadn’t risen from her chair.

  Sanna nodded.

  Martti addressed Sanna in Finnish. “Do you want a ride home, Sanna? We could grab a bite.”

  “At that place you were talking about? Sure, that would be great.”

  Sanna surprised herself with her matter-of-fact response.

  “Good, I won’t keep you any longer. It’s always a pleasure seeing you,” Martti said to the woman, who tilted her head coyly as she watched him disappear through the doorway.

  Sanna glanced at the clock and her schedule, then asked the time, even though she had just checked it.

  “One thirty,” the woman answered, shooting Sanna a mischievous look.

  Sanna took a swig from her water bottle.

  “I suppose you know Cooper Reilly is head over heels in love with you. He has a thing for blondes.”

  “I thought he was married,” Sanna said awkwardly.

  “Of course he is,” the woman laughed. “I’m glad you know.”

  Sanna was annoyed. Why did she need to know? Why didn’t Cooper know it himself? And why did agreeing to go out to dinner with Martti feel somehow dirty now? It was just dinner, for god’s sake, not going to the hotel to have sex.

  When the woman left, Sanna called Ralda. She wanted to hear her soothing voice. But after she related things to her, there was nothing soothing about Ralda’s reaction.

  “Stay away from those people, they sound crass.”

  “They are,” Sanna admitted, but then again, she could barely stand anyone. “Why can’t everyone be like you, Ralda?”

  The houses on the outskirts of town were low-slung and surrounded by ragged fences. Martti drove down a road so full of potholes it looked and felt like it had just been bombed. Staring out the window was all Sanna could do to try to hide her irritation. She could see flies swarming around the filthy garbage cans left on the curb. What kind of restaurant were they ever going to find around here?

  “Why is it so nasty here?” Sanna asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t you think it’s nasty here? Or is this that ambiance you were telling me about?”

  Martti carefully backed into a parking space.

  “Are we there?”

  “No, I thought we’d take in the view first,” Martti said.

  Sanna rolled her eyes but climbed out of the car. The sun was going down; the gravel cast shadows the length of spears. They walked a few dozen yards until they came to an unpainted wooden gate. Martti opened it and let Sanna go first.

  They stepped into a yard dotted with a dozen tables of varying sizes. Loads of decorative lights had been strung above them. Soft grass covered the ground; Sanna could feel herself crushing the tender blades under her shoes. She had the urge to kick them off and walk across the lawn in bare feet.

  They sat down and the waiter took their drink order. Sanna was proud of herself for ordering a soda. It was probably full of all sorts of dangerous and toxic stuff, too, but she was pleased she could manage this hell without resorting to alcohol.

  “It’s a school night, and you’ve got work to do,” Martti said.

  “And?”

  Martti shook his head.

  “You wanted to know why Kalgoorlie is the way it is? It’s because the gold is running out. Even now it’s nothing more than a floury glitter. There’s no point building a mansion here. The mine will close, probably within five, at most ten years from now.”

  “What’ll happen to this place then?”

  “If they don’t attract enough golfers, it will cease to exist.”

  Sanna thought about the lethal polychromatic lake in Utah. “What about the pit?”

  “According to the law these days, it will have to be landscaped.”

  Sanna’s soda went up her nose.

  “Ho
w do you landscape a hole almost half a mile deep?”

  “That’s an excellent question.”

  “So does that mean they’ll just leave it? Can you do that, completely destroy an area and then just walk away? What’s that called again, scorched-earth tactics?”

  “The world revolves around metal,” Martti said. “All kinds of new technologies require gold.”

  “Maybe what we need is a different kind of world.”

  Sanna thought about how earlier Ralda had explained how arsenic, cyanide, and mercury leached into the soil from gold mines. No one intervened—the company kept the town hostage because of the jobs. Without them, the town would die instantly. Ralda went on about how no one cared, how in Perth it was fashionable to buy kids ATVs, little Barbie-colored cars that run on gas. Ralda had sounded dejected.

  “That’s how banal evil is,” she’d said. “People want to pay their mortgages and buy toys for their kids. No one wants to know where the money’s going to come from, let alone what the true cost is.”

  Martti studied the menu and Sanna glanced around. He’d been right. It was a nice place. Conversation and laughter filled the air, and the grill was putting out a delicious aroma. But still, did these people care about their environment? Did Martti care about it any more than they did? Probably not, since he was so dedicated to his work at the mine.

  “What made you want to become a miner?”

  “Well, I wanted to get out of Sodankylä. And somehow, even though it might sound stupid, I wanted to prove that my dad was right, that you can make a living digging for gold.”

  There was a newspaper on the bench next to Martti; a grainy photograph of people in suits descending a massive stone staircase dominated the spread. Martti asked if Sanna had heard about the King’s Park case. Sanna nodded; she had read the same article in the mine canteen. A few years back, a body had been found in a park in central Perth and the trial had just ended. The perpetrator, the victim’s husband, had been found not guilty, even though his guilt seemed obvious.

  The waiter took their order and brought them a basket of bread.

  Martti picked up the paper, eyed it, and said, “He committed the perfect murder.”

  “Isn’t it strange that the perfect murder is one where the criminal doesn’t get caught? Instead of, say, a painless death,” Sanna said, picking up a warm roll.

  “The perfection comes from being able to break the biggest taboo of all, the taboo of death, without having to suffer the consequences. I’m not saying it doesn’t have consequences for the individual. If you’ve knowingly killed another person, you’ve shattered the limits of existence, and you can never go back to believing in those limits. Living a sane life is only possible if you have limits.”

  “Does this have anything to do with Botswana?” Sanna asked. “I assume there were plenty of limits in Sodankylä.”

  “Yes, but that doesn’t mean it was possible to live a sane life there.”

  Sanna laughed. “Your home is still there, though?”

  “There’s still a thread that ties me to it, but home isn’t anywhere for me.”

  This is precisely the sort of remark that makes Martti so irritating, Sanna thought.

  After returning his attention to the newspaper, he noted that the cause of death had never been determined. There were no bullet holes in the body, no traces of strangling, no poison, no stab wounds.

  “Buried alive?” Martti suggested.

  Sanna squealed and said, “I can’t even think about that. The thought has terrified me ever since I was a kid.”

  Martti looked at her quizzically.

  Sanna shrugged. “I don’t know what caused it, but confined spaces have always freaked me out. You could never get me into a mine, paid internship or not.”

  “It’s peaceful in its own way. I’ve spent a lot of time in coal mines.”

  “I’m sure there’s a lot ambiance down there.” Sanna shivered just thinking about the darkness, the cold damp, the knowledge that the exit could collapse.

  Martti nodded. “That’s probably why you like wide-open vistas. There aren’t any walls closing in on you.”

  “I’ve never thought about it that way before.”

  “That’s even weirder. Aren’t all women your age gaga over psychology?”

  “I don’t know about all of us. I am.”

  “And you never made this observation about yourself? I suffer from claustrophobia; therefore, I seek out the desert.”

  “I’ve never felt the need to ask why I like the desert.”

  “Because it’s such a normal thing for people to love?”

  “Says the man who’s in love with gold.”

  “I’m not in love with gold.” Martti took a moment to think of a better way of putting it and, when he couldn’t, took a swig of his beer.

  Their food was served, and for a moment they ate in silence. Sanna noticed that the evening had started to feel suspiciously like a date. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been on one. Probably when she and Janne had just started being a couple.

  Then a question slipped out of Sanna’s mouth: “What about Minttu’s childhood?”

  Martti gave her a surprised look and said, “What do you mean?”

  “Was it a happy one? Does she still live in Sodankylä? Does she like it there?”

  Martti mopped up his sauce with the last of the bread. “She’s doing just fine.”

  “Do you have a picture of her?”

  “A few,” Martti said, pulling out his phone.

  Sanna realized she couldn’t wait to see.

  Martti browsed through his photos and then showed her one of a black-haired, pale-skinned girl in a pastel hoodie.

  “She’s pretty.”

  Martti glanced at the picture. “I don’t think she gets much sleep, but that’s normal for teenagers, right?”

  Sanna grunted and said, “I don’t remember doing anything during those years except wishing I had a boyfriend. And normal skin.”

  “I like your skin! It’s like dappled sunlight on the forest floor and in the pine needles next to a path . . .”

  Sanna shook her head. An awkward silence ensued.

  Martti cleared his throat and said, “Marja, Minttu’s mom, has a new guy. So Minttu sort of has two parents at home.”

  Sanna nodded and wished Martti would tell her more, but she was also afraid that if he did, she would have to reciprocate.

  “I like these lights,” she said.

  Martti looked up. “You could see the stars better if they weren’t there. The night sky here is incredible.”

  “I don’t know a thing about stars. I mean, I don’t know the constellations,” Sanna said. “I’d like to learn, though.”

  “I can show you the ones I know. I only know a few, but at least you’ll have those then.”

  Sanna nodded. Maybe.

  “We should drive out into the desert some evening. Is Sunday your day off?”

  Sanna didn’t know what to say. “Stay away from those people,” Ralda had said.

  They chatted on the way back to the car. Martti had firmly rejected Sanna’s suggestion that she walk home alone, even though he was staying at the guest lodgings at the mine, in the exact opposite direction of the Shire.

  The lights of the pit carried all the way to the residential area, along with a steady rumble. As Martti pulled out his car keys, Sanna noticed the sharp line his sunglasses left between his eye and hairline, like white chalk across a sports pitch. Before she had time to think, she had traced it with her forefinger from the corner of his eye to his ear. Martti turned at the touch, and Sanna jerked back her finger as if she had received an electric shock.

  “Did I have sand there? Have you noticed how the color of the earth gets into your skin even though you’re wearing your protective gear all day?” Martti asked.

  Sanna nodded. She certainly had noticed. She stepped back to the curb, and once they were in the car, she sat on her right hand. Couldn
’t she control her own hand, for god’s sake? She had just touched Martti’s face, as if that were acceptable.

  Since when had she touched people that way? Was she really that lonely? Martti coughed, rousing Sanna from her thoughts. They were parked in front of the Shire. She looked at him for a moment and then gave him an uncertain smile.

  “If you don’t have anything going on tomorrow, a group of us always gets together to shoot pool,” Martti said.

  Sanna thought about the saloon and its skimpy girls and Cooper putting the moves on her. Maybe there was no way to be friends with these men. She shook her head.

  “Thanks for the ride,” she said as she bolted from the car.

  9

  The day of the breakup had dawned ominously, with Sanna trying to avoid Janne’s insistent eyes. If they could just make it to tomorrow, if he just calmed down.

  “Here’s the deal: it would be best if we broke up.”

  It was like an offer, the handshake you got when you were being fired.

  “It will be a fresh start, a new opportunity for you, too.”

  An icy breeze blew through Sanna’s belly.

  “What are you taking about, Janne? We’re having a baby.”

  “No, we’re not.”

  “Yes, we are.”

  “No, Sanna. I told you I’m not ready yet.”

  Sanna helplessly searched the rug and her toes for the words; she was hot and cold at the same time. “I . . .”

  “You can’t do this to me!” Janne said. “I don’t want this. You don’t have any right to force me to do it.”

  Janne shook her, and Sanna shut her eyes tight. She pictured the necks of her childhood dolls, the white plastic knob shoved through to keep the head in place.

  “Don’t do this, I’m not going to ask you for anything,” Sanna stammered. “I’m serious. I’m sorry, I thought—”

  “Goddamn it!” Janne shouted, shoving her away. Sanna staggered into the wall. He turned his back on her.

  She started quickly stuffing clothes into her backpack, keeping her eyes lowered as she moved between the bathroom and bedroom. She didn’t dare look at Janne. She was afraid a glance would send him flying into a rage.