by Alex Dahl
*
I lie down on the bed. I’m so confused. Every time I close my eyes I see bad things. For all of these months, I’ve been speaking to Amalie, but her silence clutches at my heart with the most crushing force. I’ve been looking for her – in the lake, and in her room, in places she’s never been, and yet, all this time I was looking in the wrong places. In these last couple of months, she has returned to me, little by little, and it has become clear to me that she is still here, in every single beat of her heart. I need her, you, I need you, baby bear, and I think I know, now, how to bring you back. You, the very essence of you, is held not just within your heart. Every cell in a body is nourished by the heart. As blood passes through your heart and then around her body, you manifest yourself in all of Kaia. Your atoms run through her, spreading into every last cell. You and her, you’re one and the same. I can’t believe I didn’t realize this before, that all of this time, you were right there. I have nothing left, nothing but you. I’m coming to get you and we are going to be together, baby bear, me and you.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Iselin
Alison opens the door before we have a chance to ring the bell, and I almost don’t recognize her. Kaia’s mouth pops open, and she doesn’t stop staring at her as we take our coats off in the hallway. Alison is wearing a beautiful high-neck emerald-green silk blouse, tucked into a pair of wide-leg dark jeans. Her hair, which I’ve only ever seen up in a scruffy ponytail or a bun, and which was streaked through with gray, has been dyed a warm brown, with subtle blonde highlights. It gathers in soft curls around her shoulders, perfectly blown out. Her face is carefully made up, but underneath one eye, I can see she’s attempted to cover up a long, raised bruise, and when she turns her head, I see another shadow underneath a thick layer of concealer on her jawline. She reaches up to hang our coats from the hooks running along one side of the hallway, and her sleeve rides up a little, exposing a series of black, ugly bruises on both of her arms.
‘Have you seen Annie?’ she asks Kaia. Kaia shakes her head. Alison starts the movie and Kaia slithers down onto a large bearskin on the floor in front of the television, taking the plate of cookies Alison hands her. I glance around for my drawings, but perhaps she hasn’t had time to hang them yet. Or maybe she decided to hang them upstairs; it’s a big house, after all.
We go upstairs where I sit on a huge leather pouf in her bedroom while Alison brings out dress after beautiful dress.
‘Where’s your husband?’ I ask, looking around the sleek, sparse bedroom as if for a sign of him. What I really want to ask her is: What has happened to you, and did your husband do this?
‘He’s had to travel for work again.’
‘Oh.’ I pull on a thin gray merino wool sweater dress from Paule Ka and look in the floor-to-ceiling mirror.
‘Yeah, uh, Copenhagen.’
‘Does it bother you, that he travels so much?’ I feel like I can ask Alison things like that now – since we spent all that time together in Norefjell, it’s like we’ve known each other forever. Like sisters. But how can I get her to tell me what’s happened?
‘No,’ she says, holding a silky dress up to the light, then handing it to me, though I’ve got my heart set on the Paule Ka. ‘It’s actually quite nice, to get so much time to myself.’ I nod and take the dress she’s holding out to me. Her gaze is sharp on me, as though she is willing me not to ask any more questions. But I’m her friend, and friends are there for each other. I open my mouth to ask, Has he hurt you? In the end, no words will come, and I say nothing.
*
Alison is still on my mind on Monday morning as I walk across the bridge from the harbor front at Aker Brygge to Tjuvholmen, holding a latte from Kaffebrenneriet and wearing a dress from Paule Ka. Everything is new here on this little manmade island; the modern office buildings, the sleek cafés, the trendy hotel, several overpriced galleries showcasing eccentric works of art, the incredible museum at the water’s edge, signed Renzo Piano. Finally, I am here, in the middle of all of this. I wish teenage Iselin could see me now – a professional woman in her mid-twenties, carrying a coffee through Oslo’s finest district, on my way to speak with the editor of Speilet. And all thanks to Alison. If I hadn’t met Alison, I don’t know what I would have done. I’d be at home in my sweat pants, dreaming of being exactly as I am in this moment: going somewhere. She has helped me so much, and now I need to figure out a way to help her, too. But how?
I draw Alison’s smart coat tighter around her dress; though we are in the second week of March, the temperature has dropped once again. The thawing cracks that had started to appear across the plates of pale blue ice in the inner harbor have congealed like scars. I lower my head against the bitter wind coming in from the sound, hurtling through the gaps in between the buildings.
I’ve arrived in front of Speilet’s offices, and the building is even more impressive than I anticipated. It directly faces the fjord, whose dark water and patches of white ice are reflected in the building’s mirrored facade. Though I’m ten minutes early, I’m about to step through the revolving doors to wait in the warm reception, when I feel my phone vibrating in my handbag. I ignore it and it stops for a moment. I take a deep breath and step forward, but then it starts up again and I stop to fish it out. It must be Noa; she’ll be back from Barcelona and eager to catch up. I don’t want to speak with her right now; I haven’t entirely forgiven her for giving me the third degree the other day about Alison, and I’m about to press ‘Reject’ when I realize it isn’t Noa’s number flashing on the screen, but the school’s.
‘Hi there, Iselin. It’s Anne calling from school. I’m afraid Kaia isn’t feeling too well this morning.’ My heart begins to race and my face immediately burns red.
‘Oh no. Oh gosh, is she okay? Where is she?’
‘Now, I don’t want you to worry. She’s just here in the office with me. A headache, she says. Can you come for her?’ I hesitate, and look up at the mirrored building, imagining myself inside it, working in an office of my own, looking out at the gently rippling water.
‘Yes. Yes, of course. It will take me at least an hour to get there, I’m afraid. I’m in Central Oslo, so… But… I could ask a friend.’
‘Sure. What shall I tell Kaia?’
‘Tell her that I’ll head home as soon as I can, and that Alison may come for her first.’
‘Also, I wanted to check with you – would it be okay for us to give her some paracetamol?’
‘No. No, actually, don’t give her anything. She’s on immunosuppression medication; it could interfere with painkillers. I’ll be there soon.’ I imagine my little daughter, lying flat out on the school secretary’s sofa, clutching her head, face twisted in pain. I just want to be with her to make it better. I hang up and dial Alison’s number. It rings for a very long time, but then she picks up, voice hoarse.
‘Um, hello?’ she says.
‘Oh, hey, Alison, it’s Iselin.’
‘Hi, Iselin!’ Alison’s voice noticeably brightens at the sound of my voice. ‘Finished already? How did it go? I bet you blew them away!’
‘No, I… Shit, they just called from the school and Kaia’s not feeling well and I’m about to go into Speilet and—’
‘Calm down, sweetie. I’ll go get her.’
‘I… I… Thank you.’
‘It’s just down the road; don’t worry about it. You know I’m happy to help.’
‘Could you bring her back to ours? The key’s inside one of the rain boots to the left of the door. I should be back in a couple of hours. She needs her meds at three. Kaia knows how much, and where everything is.’
‘Of course. Hey, good luck today. Knock ’em dead.’
‘Thank you,’ I say, and hang up. I turn the phone on silent before putting it back in my bag. I smooth the soft wool fabric of the dress down and take a final, deep breath before going inside Speilet’s building, thanking God again for Alison Miller-Juul.
Chapter Forty-Nine
‘Can we play doctor and patient now?’ says Kaia. I nod, taking her in: pale face, feverish eyes, little pursed mouth. Once again, I have the sensation that Kaia is a mere mirage; that the real child is Amalie, beneath the surface. Kaia gets up and disappears into the bedroom, before returning with a real stethoscope hung from her neck and a wry smile. What an odd object to own, but I figure it isn’t so strange when you’ve been a heart patient your entire, short life.
‘I’m the doctor,’ she says.
‘Uh-huh,’ I say. She reaches across and yanks my V-neck sweater down, placing the diaphragm in exactly the right place below my collarbone on the left.
‘Oh no!’ she exclaims. ‘You’re sick.’
‘I am?’
‘Yeah. Your heart doesn’t work.’
‘Oh…’ I close my eyes, pretending to look extra ill, but really, I feel overwhelmed and close to tears, being so close to Kaia, feeling her hot, quick breath on my cheek. ‘Can you fix me, do you think?’
‘Yeah. Maybe.’ She removes the stethoscope, and places a little hand above my heart, fixing me with her cool blue gaze. ‘Does that feel better?’
‘Mmm-hmm.’
‘Did you know you can die from a sick heart?’
‘Yes. Yes, I did know that.’
‘You need medicines. Here, open your mouth.’ Kaia shoves a pretend spoonful of medicine into my mouth and I smile, pretending to swallow.
‘So, do you know what’s wrong with me?’
‘Yeah. I told you. You have a sick heart. You’re gonna need a new one.’
‘Do you know how it got sick?’
She ponders this before answering. ‘Bacterias probably.’
‘You think?’
‘Yeah.’ I nod, resisting the urge to pull her close, to breathe her in like oxygen, feeling for the thud of Amalie’s heart against my chest.
‘Okay, my turn to be the doctor,’ I say.
‘Nah,’ says Kaia and gets up from where she’s been sitting perched on the armrest. She picks up the stethoscope and is about to walk away with it, but I hold her back by the wrist.
‘Please,’ I say.
‘No.’
‘Kaia, come on.’
‘I always have to be the patient!’
‘Just one time, please.’
She stares at me defiantly, crossing her arms over her chest. Then a thought seems to occur to her, softening her expression. ‘Will you give me a Hobby if I say yes?’
‘A hobby?’
‘It’s a chocolate! With raspberry jelly and banana marshmallow.’
‘Oh. Umm, yes. Of course.’
‘Promise?’
‘I promise.’
The reality of what is about to happen strikes me so hard I can’t bear to look at her, so I fix my gaze on my hands. Kaia sits down on the armrest again, leaning slightly toward me so that her chest is level with my face. She unbuttons the top few buttons on her blouse, unselfconsciously revealing the jagged, fleshy scar, then she expertly places the diaphragm on her chest, handing me the earpieces. I hold them for a moment before placing them in my ears, my eyes transfixed by Kaia’s calm, deep gaze. I’ve wanted this for so long, since the moment I first saw Kaia, when she fell off the sleigh and I imagined the frightened scramble of her heart. Amalie’s heart.
Heartbeats boom in my ear. The sound doesn’t fill me with dread or exacerbate the black overwhelming panic I’ve lived in for the past eight months, like I’d feared. Each precise, perfect beat of Amalie’s heart resonates at the very core of me, and like a miracle, it’s as though they begin to draw the broken pieces inside me back together. I listen to it for a very long time, looking out at a violet afternoon sky, the way you’d listen to a concerto demanding your full attention, and still, Kaia does not appear to grow restless. Finally, I pluck the earpieces out and look around, as if emerging from a dream. Kaia doesn’t seem perturbed by the tears streaming down my face.
‘It’s okay. I know why you’re sad,’ she says, handing me a napkin from a holder on the kitchen table which reads ‘Merry Christmas’. ‘It’s ’cause it’s sad that it was someone else’s heart.’
‘Yes,’ I say, unable to move even an inch.
‘They’re dead now.’
‘Yes.’
‘Poor them.’
‘Yes.’
‘But not totally dead,’ she adds breezily and goes back into the bedroom to put away her stethoscope. I don’t dare speak again for fear of interrupting what she may say next, but she says nothing. She comes back out, and I notice that her eyes are red-rimmed and drooping. She settles into the crook of my arm and I close my eyes, too, feeling the soft rise and fall of her chest against my own. We’re going to go away together, you and I, I think to myself, and I have to stop myself from saying the words out loud – Kaia can’t know just yet. But in these moments, what had been a vague idea in my mind begins to take on the solid contours of a plan.
Chapter Fifty
Iselin
I open the door to the sound of Kaia’s bubbly laughter coming from the living room. I place my handbag down in the hallway and stand a moment in front of the mirror. Iselin Berge, Speilet’s new in-house illustrator. I feel numb, and almost teary just at the thought. The amount of money they offered me is so much more than I could have imagined. Over three times what I’d been receiving in benefits. More than all of my commissions. I wipe away a tear and give myself a small smile. You did it.
‘Mamma!’ shouts Kaia as I walk into the room. She’s lying on the sofa, and though she looks cheerful, her face is noticeably pale. I feel her forehead and she seems to have a slight fever. Call us at the smallest indication of illness, Dr Harari said at our last check-up. The list of things that can go wrong for Kaia, especially in the first year after the operation, is long. I’ve made a decision to not spend all my mental energy obsessing over what could go wrong, and so far, she has surpassed all of my expectations health-wise. ‘Mamma, Alison and I played tea party! And then we played doctor and patient!’
‘Fun,’ I say and kiss her forehead. Alison is sitting in the old armchair by the window, looking more like her usual self than the glamorous version we saw last night. Her hair is swept back in a high, tight ponytail and her make-up is more natural, though she has clearly attempted to cover her bruises.
‘You okay?’ I say and she smiles in Kaia’s direction and nods.
‘Yeah. Gosh, these little ones are energetic, even when they’re feeling peaky. This little madam has bossed me around from her sick bed all afternoon.’ We laugh a little and Kaia pulls a goofy face. ‘So… when do you think you’ll hear about the job?’
‘Well…’ I begin, enjoying the drawn-out moment and the anticipating look on Alison’s face. ‘I got it, actually.’
‘What!’
‘Yes!’
‘Oh, my God! Iselin, this is huge! They offered it to you there and then?’
‘Yes!’ I didn’t think they would – I thought they would run a long series of interviews, gradually narrowing it down. I didn’t dare hope for more than a possible call-back. I liked it there, in the airy, open-plan office on the third floor, the views every bit as spectacular as I imagined. The people were lovely too, and the hour I spent with Frans, the editor, and his colleague, Mina, felt more like a chat between old friends than a job interview. I felt that they liked me, but still I couldn’t have anticipated what they said at the end of our talk. We want you.
Alison jumps up off the chair and hugs me tight. For a brief but sharp moment, I miss Noa so much – I can’t believe it isn’t her that’s here with me and Kaia now. Kaia reaches her arms out for me and when I hold her close, pressing my face into the little space between her shoulder and neck, I feel how hot she really is. I pull back, alarmed.
‘I’m just going to give her consultant a quick call,’ I say. ‘They say to call immediately if she gets sick, even if it’s just a cold or whatever.’ Alison nods, and her face is etched with worry. Ther
e’s something else, too, in her expression: a deep sadness I’ve noticed before. Sometimes Alison’s face goes from calm to anguished for a brief moment, before it returns to normal, as if she mentally has to force herself to keep a neutral expression.
‘Are you okay?’ I ask, again.
‘Yes,’ she says, smiling, but this time, her smile doesn’t reach her eyes, and she seems to realize because she drops her gaze and stares out the window, her hand absentmindedly stroking her arm.
*
Alison drives us to the hospital. Fast, down a series of residential back roads, trying to avoid the heavy traffic that has built up around Røa. Dr Harari and her team of angels are waiting for us when we arrive, and Kaia and I go up to the pediatric ward while Alison parks the car. She waits outside the room while Dr Harari runs a series of tests on Kaia, listening to her heart, taking her blood pressure, shining a light into her eyes, taking her temperature with a laser thermometer which makes Kaia laugh, checking for a rash, drawing a blood sample to make sure her white blood cells are at the right level. Kaia doesn’t complain or resist at any point, she just sits there in her pink Minnie Mouse underpants, her narrow shoulders trembling slightly, though the air is nice and warm.
‘It’s just a mild cold,’ says Dr Harari, handing the stethoscope to Michelle, an older nurse who has also known Kaia since she was a baby. ‘Nothing to suggest cell imbalance or rejection. Keep her home from school for a full week, keep an eye on the temperature and call me straight away if it goes above 39. Kaia, you need to listen to Mamma, okay? No mountain climbing or scuba diving or parachuting this week, do you hear me?’ Kaia smiles tiredly and nods.
Back in the car, Kaia falls asleep, slumped over on the back seat. Alison drives slowly now, worry still stamped on her face.
‘I don’t know how I’ll manage a job, and her…’ I say, close to tears.
‘You will,’ says Alison. ‘And I will help you.’
‘But… But Alison, why do you help me so much?’ Alison takes her eyes off the road for a moment and looks in the rearview mirror at Kaia sleeping, then at me.