by Alex Dahl
‘Look. I’m your friend. This is what friends do.’
‘I… Thank you.’ I feel tears stinging in my eyes and have to look away. I’m overwhelmed by gratitude for everything Alison is doing for me and Kaia. I am also feeling something else, something unsettling, and then I realize what it reminds me of: the atmosphere at home in Svartberget, when my father hadn’t been drinking and was in a good mood; I knew, deep down, that it wasn’t real, that it wouldn’t last, that it could even be dangerous.
‘What happened to your face?’ I whisper, watching Alison carefully. Her expression doesn’t change; her face is open and calm.
‘Oh, that,’ she says, turning right onto our street. ‘I was getting in the car the other day and managed to literally slam the door in my own face. So ridiculous.’
‘And your wrists?’ Alison is silent as she pulls up in front of our house, and Kaia makes a soft mewling noise in the back, but doesn’t wake up. She switches the ignition off and looks me in the eyes, but her expression is different, her eyes harder. Like my father’s, when he was struggling to maintain his pleasant demeanor. I want to get out of the car, but immediately feel silly. Alison is the kindest person I have ever met.
‘My stepson was very angry with me the other day. I took his phone away as he had broken the rules, again. He… He lunged at me trying to get it back. Completely unacceptable, of course. My husband was furious. It looks worse than it is, though. I bruise easily. Always have.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘It’s none of my business. I… I’m just worried about you.’
‘Don’t apologize, sweetie. You can ask me anything you want.’ I feel stupid for trying to second-guess Alison after everything she has done for us. I’m just exhausted, mentally and physically. I touch her hand, which is resting on the automatic gear shift, gently, and give her my best, reassuring smile. ‘Want me to help you get her inside?’
‘No, it’s okay. I’m used to hauling this little munchkin around.’
We exchange another smile as I step out of the car and pick Kaia carefully up off the back seat. She slumps against me, nestling her face in my neck, murmuring. Inside, I place her gently down on the bed, and pour myself a glass of red wine before I even take my jacket off. I got a job. An actual, well-paid job. Combined with the income from the drawings, Kaia and I could possibly move. We might go on holiday, for the first time. We could order sushi on any old Tuesday, without having to check the bank balance first. I wipe at a couple of tears running down the sides of my face, when my phone bleeps in my pocket.
Congratulations again, sweet Iselin, it reads. It won’t be easy, but it will be wonderful. A little celebration gift. Ali xx And underneath – YXB88N
Thank you, Alison. And thank you for your help today. Not sure I understand the last part of your message?
It’s a reference number. For a flight to Paris, use it whenever you want. You deserve a treat. Happy to watch Kaia.
Chapter Fifty-One
Alison, a week later
When I wake, it’s still dark outside and according to the alarm clock, it is 5.22 a.m. The room shimmers in the light of the moon and I contemplate getting up, perhaps even sitting outside at the edge of the forest with a mug of coffee; I know I won’t be able to sleep anymore. It’s strange I slept at all – a murky, empty sleep void of any lingering trace of dreams or memories; but perhaps not so strange considering I took a double dose of Temazepam last night.
I’ve been waiting for this day all week, and when I think about what’s going to happen, my stomach clenches. I very carefully get up from the bed, as though I wasn’t here alone. Downstairs in the kitchen, at the back of the cutlery drawer, wrapped in soft pink polka-dot tissue paper, I find the candle I bought especially. I slip it into the pocket of my dressing gown alongside a lighter and go back upstairs, avoiding my gaze in the mirror. I take extra care as I pass Oliver’s room – he’s always been a light sleeper, but then I remember that, of course, he isn’t here. None of them are. I imagine him in his room at Monica’s, tossing and turning, whiling out long hours scrolling aimlessly on his phone, writing on his grief forums, sitting a while on his windowsill.
In Amalie’s room, a flame flickers to life. Most days I find it hard to get out of bed, but she told me exactly what she wanted us to do on this day, and so we’re going to do it. This week has been hard, but today won’t be. It won’t be bleak, even. It’s her day, and we are going to celebrate.
Happy birthday, baby girl.
*
When Kaia spots me, she half-runs across the playground, waving a gloved hand. It’s only just gone four o’clock but the sky is the pasty purple of wilting violets; daylight never stood a chance against the Norwegian winter.
‘Alison,’ she says and crumbles into my arms, lifting her feet, just like she did with Iselin weeks ago when we came here together that first time. I smile down at her, taking in her healthy, rosy cheeks, the scatter of freckles across her nose, the water-colored eyes.
‘So, I was thinking we’d do something really special today.’
‘Are we going to see the horse?’
‘Not yet. Your mom says we need to be careful about animals for another few weeks.’
‘Because why?’
‘You know why, sweets. Infection risk.’
‘So where are we going?’
*
Sandvika Storsenter is one of Norway’s biggest malls. It spreads out alongside the E18 motorway by the Oslofjord on the western fringes of the city, and I glance at Kaia in the rearview mirror as I take the exit toward it, but she stares at the enormous building, showing no signs of recognition.
‘Have you been here before, Kaia?’ I ask, pulling into a parking space.
‘What is this place?’
‘It’s a shopping center. A mall.’
‘Oh.’
‘You know, where I come from, malls are a big thing. At weekends, that’s what kids do, hang out at the mall.’
‘What’s it like?’
‘They have any kind of shop and restaurant you can imagine, and a cinema and maybe stuff like bowling, too.’
‘No, I mean, what’s it like where you come from?’
‘Oh. Well… It’s not too far from San Francisco. You probably haven’t heard of it, but it’s a big city. And beautiful, too. I grew up an hour or so east, in the hills, near the beach.’
‘What happened?’ asks Kaia, her face serious as we step side by side onto the escalator, as though she anticipates some tragedy.
‘What do you mean, what happened?’
‘Why don’t you live there anymore?’
‘I… I guess I wanted to see the world and do other stuff, you know?’
‘What about your mom?’ Interestingly, it doesn’t seem to occur to Kaia that many people have a mom and a dad.
‘My mom is still there. Or… well, she’s not at the house anymore because she got sick, so now she lives nearby in a home where she can get some help.’ I smile gently at her, and she nods seriously before absentmindedly handing me her hat, letting her eyes roam across the gallery stretching out in front of us.
‘I was thinking we could get our nails done together.’
Blank stare. ‘Get our nails done?’
‘You know. A manicure.’ Kaia’s face is still blank, and I wonder whether it was a mistake to bring her here. Perhaps she doesn’t like the same things Amalie liked at all. ‘Nail polish, glitter, little animals stuck on your nails. Whatever you want.’ At this, she lights up and it occurs to me that Kaia just didn’t know what a manicure is.
‘Really? Can we?’
In the nail parlor, I watch Kaia choose from the tray on the nail technician’s desk. Amalie always chose the same pink base, then added animal stickers and hearts over the top.
‘This one,’ says Kaia, pointing to a ladybird, ‘for my pinkies.’ One of Amalie’s favorites.
‘Good choice,’ says the lady.
‘And the bears for my thumbs and the he
arts for the rest.’ Good girl. We smile at each other as we sit down side by side, and the girls start buffing and filing at our nails. I notice the gaze of my manicurist as she takes in my chewed nails, the cracked cuticles, the raw skin where I obsessively scrub at them. I choose a French manicure, same as I always have, though it’s been almost a year since I last got my nails done. Watching Kaia’s enraptured expression at this new, strange experience, it occurs to me that I was more like Kaia as a child than my own daughter. Growing up, I wasn’t one of the kids who’d hang out at the mall, crisp dollars stuffed into their cute handbags. I was the loner, the dreamer and the tomboy, happier in the surf or playing war in the scraggly heather on the cliffs with the boys.
Amalie had the kind of life where money was never an object when it came to experiences. She had her own pony, she skied most weekends, she traveled from South Africa to Honolulu to Singapore to Cannes, and lived in a room with bespoke furniture, full of expensive toys and gadgets. I’d sometimes worry that we were spoiling her, but now I’m glad if we did. We could give her that life, so why wouldn’t we?
I think about how unfair it is that Kaia has to live in that cramped, damp apartment. She doesn’t even have her own bedroom, and God knows if the health and safety conditions in that place might hinder her continued recovery. If she stayed with me more, she’d at least have a respite from that depressing home.
‘Ice cream?’ I ask after we’ve paid and are walking out of the nail parlor. Kaia nods, still staring at her little nails. Ice cream is followed by dress shopping and Kaia chooses three beautiful ones from Enfant Terrible. I worry that the shop girl might recognize me; I used to come in frequently with Amalie, but I needn’t have worried, she barely glances at me. She focuses on Kaia, loudly exclaiming every time she comes out of the dressing room, giving a timid little twirl.
‘Fantastique!’ she says, and I take a picture of Kaia in a navy-blue silk dress, the way any mother might. ‘Is it perhaps your birthday, darling?’ Yes. Yes, it is.
‘No,’ says Kaia.
‘Oh, well, you are a very lucky little mademoiselle,’ says the lady, ringing up the sale. ‘Your mother treats you like une petite princesse!’ I look at Kaia and wait for her to correct the lady, but she doesn’t. She smiles wryly up at me and slips her warm hand into mine.
*
At the toy store, Kaia sits down at a little table with drawing pads and crayons and begins to draw.
‘Kaia, have a look around. I said you could choose a toy.’ She looks a little uncomfortable, but dutifully scans the tall shelves behind her, stacked high with dolls that eat, dolls that sing, dolls that clap their hands.
‘I don’t need anything else today,’ she says.
‘I know you don’t need anything else, sweetie. I just want to treat you. Have a look around, choose whatever you want.’ She gets up slowly, and walks around for a while, aimlessly taking in the vast selection of pastel plastic offerings. Finally she comes back over to me holding a small plastic packet of crayons marked 50% off! in big red letters.
‘Can I please have this?’
I kneel down in front of Kaia and take both of her hands in my hands, but she gently withdraws them. ‘Listen, Kaia. You can have anything you want. Anything at all. Maybe you’d like a really big teddy bear? Or a Baby Born Doll? Or how about a Sylvanians house with a whole family inside?’ At this, she brings her gaze back to meet mine, and it dawns on me that she has simply never been in this situation before and doesn’t know what to do. ‘Come,’ I say, and take her hand, and together we go over to the Sylvanians village.
*
In the car, Kaia’s quiet, and I just enjoy the moment, driving through the cold early evening with a tired and happy little girl in the back seat. The ice is breaking into large sheets on the fjord, as though someone has cut into it and wrenched it apart. It’s almost 7 o’clock and it’s been dark for a little while already.
‘I have one more thing for you, Kaia,’ I say and she turns from the window toward me. Her little face is serene, sweet, partially cast in shadows from outside, and if I squint my eyes just a little bit, she could almost pass for Amalie in this light.
‘One more thing?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Where is it?’
‘It’s at my house.’ Kaia doesn’t answer straight away, but drops her gaze to her hands, resting on her lap. She twirls her thumbs around and around.
‘I want to go home now,’ she whispers. I grab the steering wheel harder, feeling a rush of anger spreading through me from my fingertips to my toes.
‘Soon,’ I say, keeping my voice light and neutral.
‘No, now.’
‘Kaia.’
‘I miss my mamma.’
‘Honey, you’ll see her in just a little while.’
‘I want to go home!’
‘She’s working.’
‘No, it’s the evening now. It’s bedtime soon!’
I messaged Iselin earlier this afternoon to say we’d head to Sandvika to catch a movie and something to eat and that we’d get back around eight, but then I switched my phone off. Partly in case she said no, and partly because I don’t want my husband to call me.
‘We won’t be long, Kaia. I just want to show you something.’ She doesn’t answer, and when I look in the mirror again, I see that her eyes are wide and wet with tears. A fierce empathy for her tears at me – I don’t want to see Kaia upset at any cost; I can’t bear the thought of her heart hurting. I pull off Vækerøveien into a bus lay-by, switch the overhead light on and turn around to face her. She’s dropped her head to her chest and won’t look up, she’ll be embarrassed to show me that she’s crying.
‘Hey,’ I say, and place a hand on top of hers, and she doesn’t move away. ‘How cute are your little fingernails, huh?’ Kaia nods slowly, miserably. ‘Hey. I just want to make you happy, okay? We’ll go home real soon.’
*
We leave Kaia’s Sylvanians tree house and school bus and hospital in the car alongside her huge fuchsia Enfant Terrible bag full of dresses, and Kaia looks carefully around, as though she is here for the first time. She has calmed down and her eyes are shining again. There is something about her tonight that I can’t quite put my finger on, something familiar. As she rushes ahead of me into the kitchen, I realize what it is. She’s shuffling her feet in a strange little dance exactly the way Amalie used to. My heart picks up its pace and I’m swallowing hard at the lump in my throat. It’s a very specific gait that Amalie used to do jokingly when excited; I think she started doing it after watching the salsa dancers on the street in Trinidad when we went two years ago, and I’ve never seen Kaia do it before. Stay calm, Ali, I say to myself. Stay calm. She will come back to you.
‘Sit here and close your eyes,’ I say, and Kaia climbs onto the bar stool and obediently clamps her eyes shut, giggling a little. I open the fridge and lift the cake carefully out. Red velvet with pink glitter, your favorite.
‘Can I open my eyes now?’
‘Not yet,’ I say, and take the candle back out from its polka-dot tissue paper in the drawer.
‘Now?’
‘Two seconds.’ I place the candle in the middle of the cake and light it.
‘You can open them now,’ I say and she does, her whole face lighting up at the sight of the beautiful cake, but then she takes in the candle, its shape like the number ‘6’, and her smile fades and she is confused. I close my eyes for a moment, and inside I say, Happy birthday, my love, my angel, my baby bear, my sweet everything, but then a strange voice cuts the air. I open my eyes and in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room stands Oliver, his face frozen in shock and horror.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Iselin
‘Mamma, Mamma, look!’ shouts Kaia as I open the door. Alison has waited on the curb, engine on, but now she pulls away, waving as she goes. Usually, she’d come in for a tea and a quick chat, but she appears to be in a rush. I help Kaia inside – she’s laden down wit
h bags.
‘What’s all this?’
‘Alison took me to the big mall! She bought everything I wanted! Everything! And look!’ Kaia wrenches her gloves off and holds her hands out, tiny fingernails professionally decorated with ladybirds, hearts and glitter.
‘Wow,’ I say. ‘Wow. That is so pretty. Um, did Alison say why she was buying you all this stuff?’
‘She said I deserved a treat. For being so good.’
‘But Kaia, this isn’t like a little treat. This is like Christmas and birthday both at once…’ I feel uneasy, the way you might as a child when adults are talking about something you don’t understand over your head; you know there’s something you’re not getting, but you don’t know what. Kaia seems unperturbed and empties the contents of two huge bags from Brio toy shop onto the floor. There are Sylvanians for thousands of kroner, three Barbies and a pack of thirty fancy glitter pens, the kind I always say no to. ‘Wait, don’t open that,’ I say, taking the Sylvanians school bus from her. ‘We are going to have to return this stuff, honey.’
‘No!’
‘Yes, Kaia. I’m sorry.’
‘Why?’ Kaia’s voice is high-pitched and trembling.
‘Because… Oh, honey, it’s kind of complicated. The thing is… I know that Alison is really kind and just wanted to treat you. But… the problem with accepting gifts like this is that it places us in a weird position with people. Do you understand?’ Kaia glares at me, shiny fingernails poised and ready underneath the sealed cardboard flap of the school bus. She shakes her head defiantly, eyes not leaving mine.
‘I’m not giving it back!’
‘Yes, honey. Yes, you are. Maybe when Mamma has been working at Speilet for a while, we can go and get a couple of new toys. Maybe then, okay?’
‘No!’
‘Kaia, put the box down. I’ve asked you to do something and you need to listen to me. Right now, please.’