by Alex Dahl
‘No!’ She flips the seal and rips the box’s lid open. Before I reach her, she grabs one of the other boxes and does the same.
‘Kaia!’
‘You are so mean! Why are you always so mean to me?’ I feel tears stinging my eyes. I’m tired, and I just don’t feel like dealing with a tantrum.
‘Just be quiet. Put all this stuff back in the bags, right now! Come on!’
‘No,’ screams Kaia, face red and twisted. ‘Why are you so mean to me! You never give me nice things! I hate you! I wish… I wish Alison was my mother! She loves me much more than you do!’
‘Shut up, Kaia,’ I say, through gritted teeth, turning away from her so she won’t see the tears in my eyes.
‘It’s true,’ she continues, still shouting, and I think of Hanne Vikdal upstairs, pressing her ear to the floor to make out Kaia’s words, nodding her head at her husband, listening, judging. I allow myself the thought I have had so many times over the years, but never let myself linger on. I want to walk away from this ugly apartment, from my child, even. I want to be free. I’ve done it once before. I think of Svartberget, how I got away; I proved to myself that it was possible to get out of a shit life and build another one. I was free, really free, for a short while, and then I went and fucked it all up. ‘You just want me to be sad! I hate you! I want another mother! We’re not even a real family!’
‘Fine,’ I whisper. ‘Fine. Just shut up. Please, please shut up. Keep the stuff, do whatever you want. And you’re right, Kaia. We’re not even a real family.’ Our words hang nasty and cold in the air between us, and we both look away, to the floor covered in chunks of cardboard, and torn plastic shards. I leave Kaia in the living room and slam the door shut behind me – to hell with Hanne Vikdal and her twitching curtain and her fucking neighborly concern.
Only when the soothing warm water washes over me in the shower, do I let all the tears loose.
*
My heart is pounding hard, and though Kaia is sleeping peacefully, nothing remaining of the furious red-faced monster she was earlier, I can’t sleep. A new job at Speilet. The new friendship with Alison, all the help she has offered. And now this. My first thought was that we couldn’t possibly accept all those gifts from Alison. It wouldn’t be right. But then, thinking about it, and the consistent kindness and generosity she has shown me and Kaia, I wonder whether I am overreacting. Does it have to be so hard, to just accept someone’s kindness toward us? I let myself imagine for one delicious moment what it would be like to leave Kaia with Alison, just for a couple of days, and return to Paris. What might it be like, to just walk down those streets again, feeling the warm spring sun on my face, being totally free, if only for a weekend? Considering the disastrous evening we have just had, it might do us good to have a couple of days apart.
A flight to Paris, use it whenever you want. Happy to watch Kaia.
I message Alison.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Alison
I pull away from Iselin and Kaia’s house, and glance at Oliver, who is staring at the house, as though Kaia might reappear. He’s calmed down now, but when I reach out to him, he moves away and glares at me. My mind is exhausted after the day I’ve just had. Oliver’s face… I keep seeing Oliver’s face when he walked in and saw Kaia. It went from shock, to horror, to disbelief and disappointment. How can I fix this?
‘What happened to your face? And your hands?’
‘I fell.’
‘You fell?’
‘Yes. Right. Let’s get you home,’ I say, heading toward the ring road.
‘How could you do this to us?’ he says, his lip trembling. ‘You should have told me.’ I drive fast; I just want him out of the car, away from me. Thanks to Oliver, the magic of celebrating Amalie’s birthday has entirely faded. I am so angry I can barely see straight.
‘And you should have told me you were coming home. It’s Monica’s week.’
‘But… But I live there.’
‘Half the time, yeah.’ Oliver goes quiet and when I stop at a red light, I glance at him again, and his face is awash with tears. They drop onto his dove-gray sweater and I feel the stirrings of empathy for him, but only for a brief moment.
‘You can’t tell Sindre,’ I say.
‘Is that all you care about? Being found out? Don’t you understand how serious this is? You could… You could go to prison! You don’t care about us!’
‘Please don’t tell Sindre. Please. I know you’ve told him about the article and that I’d go look for the family. And I know you told him about the drawings.’ He is weighing up his options, I can tell. Do the right thing, as he doubtlessly sees it – Oliver has a strong moral compass – and tell his father, or live with this big, ugly secret? Oliver doesn’t know about Sindre’s woman, or the fact that he and I are falling apart. Oliver will worry that Sindre will leave me if he found out that I had gone behind everyone’s backs to establish contact with the recipient of Amalie’s heart. For Oliver, that would mean spending every other week with Sindre on his own, no doubt eating instant noodles out of plastic cups, silently whiling away night after night in front of NRK’s documentaries. It would mean losing me. Or… Or he can keep quiet…
‘I want to meet her properly,’ he says after a long while. ‘Kaia. So I can decide.’
‘Oliver. Look. It… It’s complicated. I’m going to have to cut off contact with her. As you said yourself it absolutely isn’t appropriate, and it’s probably illegal.’
‘Why?’ he says. ‘Why didn’t you tell me? I found her first. You should have told me.’
‘Oliver… I… I never planned for this to happen. I just wanted to see her one time. Just once. You know? To know that she’s real.’
‘You should have told me.’
‘I’m sorry.’ He stares at me coolly for a long moment, then refuses to speak for the rest of the car ride to Vinderen. I pull up outside Monica’s house.
‘Why did you come up to the house?’ I ask, softly.
‘Because… Because it is my sister’s birthday. I brought her something.’
‘What did you bring her?’
‘A present.’
‘What is it?’
‘It’s on her bed.’
‘Have… Have you spoken with Pappa?’
‘Yes.’
‘Today?’
‘No… Yesterday.’
‘You know he’s in Reykjavik, right? Thing is, when he comes back, he’s going to stay in the apartment in Skovveien for a couple of days. Nothing to worry about, okay. Just… Just we’re… Things are a little… We just need a few days to ourselves. But if you come here as usual on Friday, Kaia will be at the house. She’s going to be staying for a little while.’
‘Staying? Why? I don’t understand…’
‘Her mother is going away, that’s all. Listen, Oliver. You cannot tell Pappa, no matter what. Okay? I need to know that you won’t. I trust you now.’ Slight nod. ‘If you’re smart about this, you can come and meet her, and you will realize what I’ve come to understand. You were right, all along. About cell memory.’
‘What?’
‘Amalie’s still with us, Oli. She’s there. In Kaia… It’s incredible. It really is.’
Oliver looks afraid, and when I have to stop for a moment to wipe at my tears, he looks toward the house, as if hoping his mother will spot the car in the driveway and come for him.
‘But… What do you mean?’
‘She’s there, in Kaia. She’s not gone, sweetie. Not anymore. We can have her back.’
Oliver looks at me, and then opens the door. ‘I’ll, uh, see you on Friday.’
*
At home, I go into the kitchen and put the untouched red velvet cake into a plastic bag, tie it shut and place it in the bin. I pour myself a tequila and top it up with just a dash of gin, then orange juice. Oliver’s face… I see it in my mind. Can I trust him to keep his mouth shut? I know my stepson and he has a solid head on his shoulders. When he gets to proper
ly meet Kaia, he will know what I know. He will love her like I love her, I know it. And so what happened tonight is a good thing; when Oliver fully understands what has been going on, he will also understand why I have to do what I am about to do, that it’s the only way to bring Amalie back. Maybe one day he will be able to convince Sindre, too, and then it can all go back to the way it was before. We’ll live here together again, all of us; Sindre, me, Oliver and Amalie.
Though it’s all crystal clear to me in this moment, I realize that it could all be seen differently. Someone else could think that I’m delusional, crazy, desperate, clutching at straws, playing a dangerous game where there can be no winners. I stand by the window, watching a full blue moon, its face bruised by dark shadows like mine, feeling more alone than I have in all my life. I look toward Østerås; Kaia is down there sleeping the sweet sleep of a child who has just celebrated her birthday, little newly painted nails glinting in the moonlight, face calm, dreaming happy dreams this time. Amalie’s heart sluicing her unique DNA throughout her host’s body. What mother wouldn’t believe what I have come to believe?
Chapter Fifty-Four
Alison
It’s late when she calls, gone ten.
‘Hi, Ali,’ Iselin says.
‘Oh, hi there, Iselin. Everything okay? I hope Kaia was pleased about this afternoon?’ Iselin pauses.
‘She was ecstatic.’
‘Good.’ I laugh a little and refill my gin and tequila concoction. ‘And I’m so pleased you’ve decided to go to Paris. You deserve to be spoiled. And so does Kaia.’
‘Yes. I am so excited. And thankful, I hope you know that.’ She pauses for a long moment and draws a shaky breath before continuing. ‘So, I was wondering if we could talk a little about, you know, today. The gifts and stuff. I am kind of worried you’re going to think I’m being really ungrateful saying this, and I don’t mean that at all, it’s just, I’m not used to… to having things given to me and Kaia isn’t either. I guess I worry that by accepting them, I’m, you know, putting myself in a position of…’
‘Of what? Being beholden to me somehow?’ I keep my voice calm and level, but inside, my heart is lurching. Have I gone too far? Is Iselin pulling back from me, taking Kaia with her? I won’t let her. ‘Iselin, sweetheart. I’m glad you feel able to talk to me about this, because I would never want you to feel like that.’ She’s quiet, thinking, and I picture her in this moment, sitting at her kitchen table, Kaia snoring softly in the next room.
‘I know,’ she says. ‘It’s just—’
‘Look, Issy,’ I begin, making my voice falter slightly. ‘I’ve been lonely. So lonely. Some really bad things have been going on at home. And having you and Kaia in my life has just been such an incredible breath of fresh air. I am so sorry if it felt too intense. I just wanted to show you how important you both have become to me.’
‘What kind of bad things?’ asks Iselin, her voice softer now.
I picture Amalie sleeping softly, holding Dinky Bear, and unleash an anguished sob.
‘Alison? Oh my gosh, are you okay? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you…’
‘It’s okay,’ I whisper, then let myself cry again.
‘Oh, Ali, I’m sorry. I wish I knew what you are going through. I’m here for you like you have been here for us.’
‘I’m ready to tell you everything, Issy—’ I sob, heavy breathing, croaky voice. ‘I’ll tell you when we next meet. I just can’t do this over the phone.’
‘Well… Do you want to come over? I can’t leave the house. Kaia’s sleeping—’
‘Now?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Would that be okay?’
*
My tears were real, and they keep falling as I drive down the hill toward Østerås. The thought of losing Kaia as well rips at my heart, especially now when we are so close – I just can’t afford Iselin pulling back from me.
She opens the door, a worried expression on her face. She holds her arms out to me, and it feels good to be held by her, in spite of everything.
‘Do you want a cup of tea? Or maybe something stronger?’ The look on my face must tell her everything because Iselin pours me a large glass of red wine, and a smaller one for herself. I sit at the kitchen table, leaning my head against the cool glass of the window. In the next room I can make out a pile of torn cardboard boxes, shredded scraps of Sylvanian faces staring at me, from the toys I bought Kaia. I make myself cry again.
‘Talk to me,’ says Iselin.
‘I’m sorry to come here like this.’
‘Please, please don’t apologize, Ali. I’m here for you. That’s what friends are for. Friends.’ She strokes my hand as lightly as if with a feather and looks at me with such warmth that for a moment, I feel bad. For who I am and for what I have to do.
‘My husband has left me. For another woman.’ Iselin’s mouth draws tight in a little ‘o’ and she covers it with her hand.
‘Oh. Oh, my God. I am so sorry. When did this happen?’
‘It’s been bad for a while. He’s…’ I take a deep breath here, keep my mind dark, and cry fresh tears. ‘Sindre has been abusive toward me.’
‘Oh, Alison.’ She strokes my hand gently again, and I pull my sleeves up, revealing the green and purple splotchy bruises. ‘I was afraid that was the case. The other day. When Kaia and I came to your house.’
‘It happened because I found out about the other woman. He went completely crazy.’
‘Where is he now?’
‘He’s staying at an apartment we use for rentals in Skovveien. I’ve changed the locks at the house.’
‘Has this happened before?’
‘Not exactly. Sindre’s not a bad man. But he suffers with trauma. He was in the army; he’s seen bad stuff. Really, really bad stuff. And sometimes, his mind turns dark. He’s always been gentle with me and Oliver; I just can’t believe this is happening to me. I honestly thought we were happy, you know?’
‘I’m so sorry you’re going through this. I wish there was something I could do.’
‘You are doing something, though. Listening, being here. Thank you.’
‘You don’t have to thank me.’
‘I just feel so alone.’
‘You’re not alone. You have us now.’
You have us now. But I only want Kaia. I can give her everything, and she can give me everything in return; the whole world and all its joys, held within one little girl.
We remain at the table for a while longer, discussing the logistics of the weekend, me absolutely insisting that it would, in fact, make me feel better to have Kaia around.
‘She makes me feel less alone,’ I say. Iselin nods sympathetically, like I hoped she would.
‘Crash here, on the sofa. Not like you can drive home after that,’ says Iselin, indicating the huge, empty wine glass. Not like I don’t routinely drive with significantly higher alcohol levels, but I don’t say that, I just nod miserably. It’s past 1 a.m. and Iselin is rubbing her eyes. She gets up and comes back with a towel and a spare toothbrush, still in its plastic packaging.
‘Thank you,’ I say, and give Iselin a light hug. I find it hard to meet her eye. I slip into the sofa bed which Iselin has unfolded for me and close my eyes. It’s strange, to be here, in this cramped apartment, on an uncomfortable sofa bed, the metal springs underneath the mattress digging into my back. I wish I was Iselin in this moment, sleeping closely curled around Kaia on the alcove bed.
I lie awake a long while, my thoughts drifting, and I’m finally growing tired when I notice something strange. A shaft of light falls from the streetlight outside onto the kitchen wall. At first, I think I’m imagining it, but as my eyes fully adjust to the darkness, a long line of bears – Amalie’s bears – becomes clear, penciled along the skirting board. I get up and creep back into the kitchen. I squat down next to the drawings and they really are hers – I would know them anywhere. I run my finger along each darling little bear: another sign. Any sliver of bad
conscience I may have had evaporates – Kaia doesn’t belong to Iselin. Not anymore.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Alison, two days later
I wait in the parking lot at the KIWI store until I see Iselin and Kaia leave the house and watch as they walk up the long, gentle hill toward the school. When they have gone, I wait another ten minutes before switching the engine on. It isn’t hard to pass the time; I feel like I’m drifting through a dream, as though what is happening couldn’t possibly be real. But it is. I put the car into drive and it takes me less than two minutes to pull up opposite Iselin and Kaia’s house. I wait a moment in the car, steeling myself, staring at the basement flat where Iselin and precious Kaia spend their lives. No child should have to live in a cramped, damp flat with a mother who seems more than a little resentful about taking care of her own kid. I just can’t bear the thought of Kaia waking up, day after day, in that windowless space they call a bedroom. Does Amalie’s sweet, pure heart ache at the thought of a comfortable home and a stable family?
Kaia will be at school until two o’clock and Iselin is heading into Speilet today, to sign her contract. Tomorrow, she will fly to Paris for her well-deserved rest, and Kaia will stay with me. Everything is nearly ready for her at home; I just can’t wait to see the look on her face when she takes it all in. I leave the car and cross the street quickly, drawing my coat closer around my chest against the wind. Instead of continuing straight ahead to Iselin and Kaia’s door, I walk around the front of the house and take the steps up to the upper level. The section occupied by the homeowners looks significantly better taken care of than the lower level they rent out to Iselin. It’s recently been painted a chalky white, with dark-red windowsills. I knock on the solid oak door and it opens almost immediately. The woman standing there is around my age, with fine white-blonde hair swept into a severe-looking bun on the top of her head, and a rather angular face. Her lower jaw juts out, but she is clearly aware of it and inclines her head downwards.