Wild Duck revisited

by John Fajo

  Chapter 3: Intermezzo

  Saturday night fever set in. Gina got dressed; she was wearing a mottled, tight dress. He watched her as she looked at herself in the mirror. He sat on the sofa, saw her put vibrant red lipstick on, comb her dense hair. He looked at her tight thighs, inviting breasts and luscious hips. She was la femme fatal for him, the woman he desired but couldn’t really have. There were contradictory thoughts in him. On the one hand, he liked her independence, he liked that she could take care of herself. He didn’t admire subservient women or those who couldn’t stand their ground in an argument. In fact, he liked vociferous women. On the other hand, he was angry that he couldn’t really possess Gina; he couldn’t say that she really belonged to him. She was living with him, sharing a large part of her life with him, but not everything. And he wanted everything. Strangely though, he couldn’t trace these thoughts back to his social self or to the abyss, there was no reason why the memories wouldn’t support an independent, self-supportive companion. As a matter of fact, it would have made more sense if they did so, as this would have insured a better survival rate in the past.

  “So, how do I look?” Gina asked as she turned towards him, and smiled.

  “Great. Absolutely fabulous,” he said using words he otherwise would never utter. “Where are you going tonight?”

  “I was thinking about the new club downtown. They say it’s a hot place. A lot of famous people go there. It’s not easy to get in, but luckily I met the TV producer... you know who... the one who makes those revealing reports... a week ago on the flight... he was really nice.” He had no idea who it could be, and he didn’t care much. “He said I may even get into show business if I really wanted to. Would you like to see me on TV?”

  He hemmed and felt that a negative expression filled his face despite all his efforts to look listless. He couldn’t define his mood, was he envious for Gina’s ostensible success?

  “You are really supportive, Hjalmar. Thanks a lot.” She was silent for a brief moment waiting for his response, but as there was none, she continued. “I always backed you up in whatever you did.” He had to disagree; he thought she had always tried to force him to do things that hadn’t in any way been suited to his character. Her support in other matters had been slack at most. “You always have to think about yourself, your comfort comes first. But I do want a career even if you would like to live like in the Middle Ages. You should have more vigour in you, Hjalmar, now that life offers you the possibility.”

  “You mean Gregers.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “I thought I told you before that I’m not going to use my best friend for such purposes.”

  “Because you are such a decent, law-abiding man,” Gina was so sarcastic that it almost hurt.

  “I think it’s wrong, that’s all.”

  “Open your eyes, Hjalmar. That’s the way the world works. And if you toss away your best opportunities you will never achieve anything.” She held a break in order to catch her breath. “Your best friend?! You haven’t seen the guy in ages. He didn’t care if you live or die for what... 15 years. Go and get the promotion that you deserve. Don’t be such a pussy.”

  He nodded, but not in agreement, rather in despair. He stared in front of himself, and felt absolutely useless, a man who couldn’t support his family, who couldn’t live up to the expectations. A man who always had to follow the dreams of others, who could only afford used cars and the sort. There were so many things he wanted to give, to Gina, to his family, to society. But nothing he ever did seemed good enough, and worst of all, his thoughts were regarded as inferior.

  “I will get going now,” she said, “but think it over.” She put on a slender fur coat hardly protective of the northern wind. He knew it wouldn’t matter though; she would take a taxi as usual. He wanted to give her a good-bye kiss, but couldn’t offer such a profound sign of love after being rebuked to such extent. He sat there and listened to the knocking of her high heels on the stairs, then heard the sound of the entrance door shutting. He was relieved that he could be alone, his father was in some pub, Hedvig went out with some friends. Gina’s tantalising perfume lingered in the air, it was a mind easing odour. He was calm, his tension gone. He dreamed about the world of the Vikings. He dreamed about freedom, although he couldn’t pinpoint what he meant by freedom, there was only a vague notion in his head. There were only a few things certain: the Werles, the used cars, the useless presentations were all left out. In fact, most things were missing from his dream; the duck, the computers, the virtual hunting game had no place in it. He sailed to the south, married a simple woman who would die for him if required, lived in a hut. The sun never stopped shining. They ate what nature had to offer. He had very little material possessions, yet he was entirely content. And happy.

  “Sleeping so early?” Gregers forced him back to reality. For a moment he was perplexed.

  “How... how did you get in?” he asked. He heard his voice from the distance, it sounded strange, almost surreal. Almost like it wasn’t his.

  “Gina let me in,” Gregers said. “I thought I would sneak up on you. Where did she go by the way?”

  “To a new club.”

  Gregers looked at him with inquisitive eyes. “Why didn’t you go with her? You had a fight or something?”

  He tried to pull himself together and stood up. “No, not at all. She usually goes out on Saturdays if she’s off work.” He yawned. “The secret of a long, balanced relationship,” he added. “We don’t possess the other.”

  Gregers frowned, then his face lighted. “Then she should have nothing against us going out.”

  He shook his head. ”I don’t really feel like it. I would rather watch television and go early to bed.”

  “It’s out of the question,” Gregers said. “We are going out to find some hot mama for you.”

  “I’m married, what kind of a...?”

  “Get dressed, man,” Gregers allowed no insubordination.

  He did as told nagging silently. He wished Gregers would leave him to his dream world. He had no desire to go out. He remembered that in their youth they had gone out many times, and the night always ended in a similar fashion. First they popped by some clubs, spent a couple of minutes inside, ascertained it had been a bore and therefore left. This had gone so until even the couple of minutes was enough for some chick to get hold of Gregers; then Gregers left with the girl and he felt doubly stupid and lonely. He didn’t need such affirmation of his inability to win women’s hearts. It had only increased his desperation back then.

  “Where should we go? Do you know a good club with willing chicks?” Gregers asked as they got seated in the red sports car of his. His silence was the answer. It wasn’t easy to change Gregers’ mind or mood. “Then we’ll just cruise around until we find a cosy place.” Gregers gave ignition to the rocket engine; it was all the more masculine as they could hardly hear anything else than the throttling. Then with a burst of gasoline the car jumped to the middle of the street, he fell forward, only the belt kept him from hitting his head on the windshield. They raced through familiar streets that looked different at such speed, and from the ground level. If he was in the mood to get excited he sure would have, but he felt nausea instead as they slid in the puddles left behind the rain. Soon they reached the city centre though and Gregers decreased their velocity. They peered out and watched the nightlife slowly taking over the streets. There were many bars and pubs and restaurants, but they always had some dislike with them. One was too empty, the other was too full, the next had too loud music, and the next after was too cheap looking. He didn’t care, he leaned back comfortably in the leather seat, let Gregers do the talking and qualifying. It was almost as good as home, he thought. But after some time Gregers got restless.

  “Okay, this is it; we have to find a place. I give ourselves five more minutes.” Seconds later they came to a breaking halt and he fell forward again. Gregers ejaculated: “Look at those chicks.” He thrust his
head up and saw two very seductive women, like they stepped down from the cover of a magazine. One of them was blonde, the other a dark brunette. Gregers pulled down the window and navigated the car close to them.

  “Hello ladies,” his friend told them. “Be so kind to tell me the place where I can find women of your calibre.”

  The chicks looked at the car, looked at Gregers and laughed. This was an inviting laugh. “We’re going to the Le Club,” they said. “It’s a pretty hot place, though it’s not easy to get in.”

  Gregers winked at the women. “Do we look like beginners? We’ll get in. So, where is it?”

  “Just around the next corner. It also has a parking lot,” the blonde said and pointed to the club.

  “Then it would be no point giving you a lift,” Gregers played the macho man. “But see you inside, maybe.” He was enviously bitter; they weren’t even inside and Gregers had already succeeded in finding the best chicks in town. His friend was just simply a lucky smug. He tried to sugar his bitterness with the fact that he was a family man, but he only got more bitter. After all his wife was masquerading lightly dressed in God knows where. He thought this world was the world of the Gregers type, and he was left with no other choice than to accept it. Rebelling against it was futile and very painful.

  They had no problems getting in; the prominence of the red sports car and some cash dispersed the security mob quickly. The first thing he noticed about the place was its splendour, everything showed class. He felt awkward at such places of high society. He knew he could never belong to such a club, even if he wanted to. But he didn’t want to, he wasn’t attracted. Was this because he was aware that no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t, or for some other reason?

  He looked around and noticed the blonde and the brunette at the bar drinking cocktails. The dance floor was empty at such an early hour. Something was strange to him. At first he didn’t know what it was, but then realised that it must have been the age of the people. The men were of his age, the women usually in their late twenties. He couldn’t remember anything like this from his youth. At that time people in their thirties had stayed at home, raised kids, went to church, whatever. They certainly hadn’t gone to parties, changed partners or allowed their kids to go out at the age of 15. He thought people of his generation and the following ones could never grow up. In many respects they remained teenagers, and it seemed they didn’t care. They associated their behaviour with freedom, with finding themselves; their place in the world. But they never really succeeded. And the kids had kids who had kids; the devil’s circle was complete. He just didn’t know what he had to do with all this. He wasn’t a teenager either in mind or body.

  As in the old days, they went around in the club to familiarise themselves with the surroundings. Gregers nodded at the cover girls, the blonde and the brunette, when they reached the edge of the bar, then winked at other women as well. He thought Gregers was very much in his turf, and could be flamboyant and charming, expressing the strongest sides of his character. He, on the other hand, imagined himself as rather bleak, a mere shadow quietly following his master. Unfortunately, the master had always been too good for the disciple, who wasn't able to outmatch or even to come close to the master’s level. So he remained apprentice for life heeling Gregers. He realised that this must have been one of the reasons why he didn’t want to be Gregers’ right hand. He would always be second.

  “Look,” Gregers suddenly said. “Isn’t that your neighbour, the dentist?”

  For a moment he couldn’t see Relling, and then it wasn’t even bald-head he saw first, but Molvik. It seemed they were always together. The dentist appeared as Molvik, the taller one of the two stepped aside. “What are they doing here?” he asked more from himself than from his friend, because he couldn’t associate Relling and Molvik with high society.

  “The same as we are,” Gregers said in a phlegmatic way, then not waiting for him to follow left him behind as he went to greet them. He couldn’t guess what all this hurry was for, it wasn’t Gregers’ style, it was rather the other party that made the first move. He followed hesitantly.

  “The world is sure changing,” Relling exclaimed loudly straying his arms as if anticipating to be embraced. “The family guy is here.” They giggled; he grimaced warding off unwelcome attention from the surroundings. Why did they all have to call him that? Of course, he knew the answer. Because none of them had what one could classify as a normal, regular family. He had an almost normal family. He perceived an unexpected envy from the others for this reason.

  “I thought you wouldn’t like such lofty places,” he told the dentist.

  “No, actually I don’t. But Molvik, the devil likes such clubs; he enjoys the hustle and bustle. What brings you here?”

  He pointed to Gregers who was conducting an intense conversation with Molvik. For the outsider the two devils looked like they would rumble, in reality they were just enjoying each others’ company. He thought they were soulmates, and noticed that bald-head had a grudge for Gregers for this very reason. Molvik seemed focused solely on Gregers, and Relling wasn’t important for him.

  “I wanted to have a quiet night tonight,” he said. He read the countenance of the dentist as if the other would have believed him to have only quiet nights. “But Gregers pulled me with himself.”

  “Sometimes you need some change in your life,” Relling said. They stood close to each other to be able to hear the other for the music was quite loud. “Allow me to invite you for a drink.” He thanked the dentist, and shortly thereafter received a glass of booze. “Nice place,” Relling whispered to his ear. He nodded temperately, and watched the lights flash everywhere. Bald-head was speaking to him about some racket of his and Molvik’s, but the words entered his head intermittently mixed with the reverberation of the music, and he couldn’t understand much of it. He pretended to be listening, but was instead in a far away place. He was fishing for shark in a lagoon in the south, it was an even fight. He himself was the bait, his body rubbed with chicken blood that stained the water. He had a spear in his hand. He waited…

  He had to abandon his dream world due to a forming commotion around him. Relling was hugging the man with dark complexion he had met in the pub the other day. It was a small world, he pondered. They all shook hands.

  “Family home sleeping, ha?” the man asked playfully seeing an accomplice in him. He glimpsed at Relling who was reticent and clearly not about to disclose that there was no one at home. He shouldn’t have cared as he had nothing to do with the man with dark complexion, and yet he would have felt humiliated if the dentist revealed him.

  “We are having a macho time,” Relling said. “We are going to drink ourselves to unconsciousness. How is that?”

  “That’s the way to go.” They chuckled and slapped their hands together, and he took a sip of his drink, one long sip in which he devoured the entire contents of his glass. He could feel it rattle down his throat, a certain warmth filling him. He knew it would take much, much more for him to get even slightly drunk. He was a big man after all.

  “Let’s see the pussies,” the man with dark complexion turned to him. “Look at that fat mama,” they laughed, and bald-head imitated the way the person in question moved. “One has to be careful with them, you hardly touch them and they’ll get pregnant, and ruin your life.” After a minute pause the man continued: “Look at that ugly bitch. Ugh,” they shivered in unity and giggled. They giggled at everything. “Heard the joke about the blondie and the policemen?” The man with dark complexion stereotyped blonde women as mindless dummies. He thought they were making extremely rude jokes, if the things said could be termed jokes at all, but he couldn’t resist laughing. Tears came to his eyes he laughed so much. Then they had another drink and another.

  “I can see the future,” the man with dark complexion said. “It’s like this. You have long sex with a woman, and you think you did a good job as you finish and want to turn to your side, but then the woman tells you
that it’s her turn to fuck. You have no idea what she could mean, but then she puts a dildo on, grabs you and puts it in you. And she fucks you as long as you fucked her. This will be the ultimate achievement of emancipation.”

  Relling mimicked the future not at all resembling the way one would imagine a dentist. He remembered a body-builder he had known who was a psychologist. He had a preconception of the people of this profession, and pictured them as lean and slender looking most likely wearing spectacles. Gentle-man like. He had discussed with friends the probable outcome of a visit at the body-builder shrink: instead of quietly listening to the patient and giving advice, the psycho would batter the sick-minded with his fists to a better state of understanding, thereby ensuring complete recovery. A very novel and fast way of healing it would have been indeed. He had this same feeling with bald-head, but knew that Relling was a good dentist, who could handle the most difficult patients with ease. So much about preconceptions, he thought.

  By now the club was filled with people, and the dance floor was also densely populated. Despite the state-of-the-art ventilation the odour of sweat and alcohol filled everything, his eyes were irritated, his breathing heavy. They continued shouting things that made no sense into each others ears, until Gregers detached him from this small gathering. He was pulled by his hand to an unknown location. He went willingly, to some degree interested what the outcome would be. Perhaps he had enough to drink not to ask, perhaps it was getting late. He saw Gregers had unbuttoned the top of his shirt letting others get a blink at his furry upper body, and held a glass of booze in his other hand that did not participate in his pulling. Their way was packed with hurdles, it was almost like a jungle, every nook had its fat mama who wanted a chunk of them, or tempting creatures captivated them for seconds. There were also some mean beings who refused to get out of their way, stood their ground as heavy stones, and they had to make a detour. He admitted to himself that he had too much to drink.

  They ended up by the two cover girls nearly opposite to where they had stood before. The women were standing there chasing away possible admirers with the coolness of the northern wind, their posture indicating grace, their eyes reservedness. They were the ice-caps anticipating a guy like Gregers to melt them. And Gregers stormed in on them accordingly.

  “Missed us girls? No need to worry, we are here now.” Gregers smiled, while he thought that no one else could pull a stunt like that. The cover girls would have frozen anyone else daring to say something so dull, making the person regret being alive. But Gregers was different. Gregers was Gregers. His friend could put his not too handsome chest on the ramp, could behave obnoxiously and people would accept this as the most normal thing. In fact a guy like Gregers behaving normally would be abnormal, he thought. Life had proven that if he tried acting in the same way he could only humiliate himself.

  “This nice fellow here is Hjalmar,” Gregers said. “And I’m Gregers.”

  “Lene,” the blonde said, and introduced the brunette. “She’s Mette.”

  After a mutual nice to meet you Gregers divulged in a hair-raising monologue that had no meaning whatsoever, but it certainly made them relaxed and opened the way to their hearts and souls. The frigid expression on the dames’ faces disappeared; he was laughing again, laughing and laughing. It seemed that the opposites attracted each other, Gregers drifted towards reticent Mette, while Lene advanced on him, the boring computer guy. She even showed interest for his work.

  “So you really made an artificial duck?!”

  “We, a dozen or so engineers and me,” he said modestly. “I did a lot of work on it, but it was truly teamwork.”

  “And it looks just like the real thing?! You have to show it to me one of these days.”

  He watched her thick, luscious lips, her evenly shaped, beautiful face and felt a surge of desire. Yes, he would invite her over. He would throw his family out of the house, and have ferocious sex with Lene. Brilliant idea, he thought. Except that it was impossible to undertake. Not because it would have been infeasible to find the time of the day when no one was home. He thought it would be wrong. In his view marriage equalled devotion and trust above all. How could he face Gina if he cheated on her? How could he face Hedvig? His father would never understand. And even worse if they found out...

  Lene leaned very close to him, he could almost hear her heart beating, could smell her sophisticated perfume, and no matter how hard he tried to resist, his desire got hold of him. She was the woman men would die for. She wouldn’t die for anyone though, she knew she was the peak of human desire, he thought. And contrary to what the man with dark complexion had said, she was anything but stupid. Quite on the contrary. He realised that she was well-informed about computers, science and arts and was attentive to what he had to say. That was something for a change.

  She invited him to dance. He couldn’t recall when he had danced last time. It must have been like ages, he mused. He was a bit distressed, because he was so out of practice. He was afraid he would be petrified or would clumsily tread on Lene’s feet. How should he dance to these modern pop songs anyway? Then his fears were obliterated, she made everything easy. He started moving to the rhythm of the music, and noticed as if watching himself from without, that he was good at it. Even for his critical judgement he merited excellent. He wouldn’t call himself king of the dance floor nor strive to be that, but by all means he was one of the best. Gregers, on the other hand, didn’t deny his macho image, and swayed unable to determine whether he wanted to be a Latin lover character or a prehistoric ape-man. He thought the result was hilarious. So did everyone else. Mette, who was supposed to dance in pair with Gregers, grimaced.

  “Your friend is crazy,” Lene whispered to his ears. He didn’t respond, but took this as a compliment, a verification that boosted his self-confidence. She embraced him, he could feel her body. He observed his blood going to his head and lower flesh. He knew that she could perceive the pumping at his lower flesh as she pressed herself even more tightly to him. He thought she couldn’t come any closer. Then their eyes met and they kissed each other. The family man was gone. The dance floor was hot. They were ready. The lights flashed. He couldn’t think about anything, his senses were obscured.

  “Let’s go somewhere else,” Lene said. He nodded compliantly, and they made their way out of the dance floor. They went to Gregers and Mette who had finished dancing earlier, as Mette couldn’t stand Gregers’ attitude. She seemed simply annoyed. Gregers was making dumb gestures in an attempt to exhilarate her in vain. This was flattering for him. How many times he had had to watch Gregers happy, and feel miserable. It was about time for a change. It was about time for his friend to drink the bitter juice of failure. He thought it was selfish and disgusting of him to wish Gregers would be unsuccessful, and wasn’t his true nature, yet his vanity was bolstered. He embraced Lene from behind as she was discussing the continuation of the rest of the night with Mette. She wanted them to go together to a more intimate place where they could speak normally to each other, where the loud music wouldn’t interfere. Gregers was absent minded as far as he could gather. His friend peered emptily in front of himself; there was a complete lack of enthusiasm from his part for the girls. He was surprised. He wondered where Gregers’ zeal had gone to, what happened to the Oksen. He was almost sorry for him now, as his friend stood there leaning to a chair, his countenance depicting profound sorrow. His face reminded him of the Gregers who had just lost his mother, the Gregers who had first wanted to do his father, but then fell into complete lethargy. In daytime his friend had been apathy himself, at nights he had taken the character of Oksen. It was extraordinary to see daytime lethargy instead of Oksen with cover girls around. Of course, now that he thought about it, it started to make more sense. Gregers’ mother had been a cover girl herself in her youth before marrying chief Werle. She hadn’t worked afterwards, had been completely subservient to his father. The girls must have reminded Gregers of his mother, he pondered.

  L
ene turned to him. “Your friend is not very communicative. I don’t think Mette wants to go with him anywhere, besides she’s had a hard week. We should escort her home, and then we could have a drink at my place.” She smiled at him, and he nodded in agreement.

  Mette shook Gregers’s hand. “Good bye,” she said.

  Gregers looked perplexed. “Where are you going?”

  “I’m going home,” she said plainly.

  Gregers was too inactive to complain. Strangely his friend leaned to him instead and whispered in his ears:”Take it in, champ. It’s your time to have fun.” Their eyes met, and he realised that Gregers was making a fool out of himself, because Oksen didn’t want anything from the cover girls. He would have mused on the whys and whats, but Lene pulled him out of the club. He took a last glimpse at the premises from the entrance door, saw that Gregers returned to the company of Molvik, observed that most of the crowd was already doped and swayed half-conscious in hazy apathy, and ascertained that it was better without.

  Fresh air filled his lungs with a scent of the sea as he stepped outside. He could see the stars in the sky, the weather was quite pleasant. There was a warm breeze. In fact he thought he had no need of his coat it was so pleasantly warm. Or perhaps the booze started working, or a Lene increased his blood pressure. For whichever reason, his cheeks flushed and he felt good. It was a long time since he had perceived himself in such a way, he couldn’t even remember. He felt free and strong with two chicks that would turn any man on. He thought it would be nice if he could have both of them, he doubted not his capability in that respect. Of course, he reminded himself, he shouldn’t have such ideas, he ought to go home and have a good night’s sleep. He wished he wouldn’t have morals and scruples. Because these women were it. The ones he dreamed about like most men. If he threw away such an opportunity he would regret it for the rest of his life as it would be very unlikely that another chance would present itself later. Still, he shouldn’t.

  They got into a taxi; they sat in the back with him in the middle. Mette told Lene that she was recovering herself and that she could just as well accompany them to Lene’s place. He thought this was simply too good to be true. He sensed that they were willing. He wondered if it was just the usual way for them, that is, that they picked up only one man. He had never thought something like this could happen to him; this had been Gregers’ privilege.

  Soon they arrived at Lene’s place. It was in a quite wealthy neighbourhood, trees flanked the street from both sides. He rummaged in his pocket for money, but Lene was quicker paying the cab driver. He uttered something incomprehensible to which she just waved as if saying that he shouldn’t bother. He let the money slip back into his pocket, and didn’t know what to think. He followed them up to Lene’s flat; his steps echoed in an eerie way as he climbed the stairs to the top. They whispered something to each other and giggled. He almost felt left out for a moment.

  It was very cosy inside Lene’s flat. It wasn’t too big, but had an electrical fire place in the living room, where they sat down. The two beautiful women, the hot drink and the fire burning in the background reminded him of his youth up in the woods. They sat like that on cold, snow-lit nights, the three of them, his father and mother and him. He didn’t think often of his mother since she had left after his father was imprisoned. He tried to keep the good memories he had about her, and not think of the way she had abandoned the both of them. He remembered the last fight they had had before his father went to jail; she told him that she had been fed up with him, that she felt like living in a doll’s house, she being the doll who had no say in anything. He knew old Ekdal had undertaken the risky business with Werle, because his father wanted to give her the quality of life she thought she deserved. It had been so unfair of her to leave them when they needed her the most, he pondered.

  “You seem to be far,” Mette said disrupting his thoughts. “Why don’t you come and sit by us? It would be much more comfortable.” Lene patted on the sofa in-between them, and they moved slightly apart to allow space for him. He hesitated a moment, then did as told. After a short while they were on him, Lene rubbed her magnificent thighs to his. Mette licked one of his ears; his heart started pumping real fast. Then Lene kissed him, her tongue was almost in his throat. His body obeyed the desire, his mind disconnected though. As they rolled on the sofa still dressed, he thought about Gina. He was cheating on her big time. He had never cheated on her before; he had always been faithful. He was the kind who was supposed to live with one woman in his whole life; he was completely unprepared for a change in his notions. Of course, nothing could ever be more tempting than a Lene and a Mette, who were now undressing him. They smelled delicious, his senses were saturated. But could he do this?

  No, he couldn’t go through with it. It was only his imagination at play to have considered silly thoughts, like making love to women he hardly knew. He unwrapped himself from their grasp, and put on his shirt. They looked at him questioningly and with disbelief.

  “What are you doing?” Lene asked.

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t do it,” he said. “I have a wife and I do love her.”

  “So?” Mette sounded phlegmatic. “You can return to your dear family in the morning.”

  “No, I have to go now,” he was adamant.

  Mette got irritated. “We have a job to do, you know,” she said before Lene could stop her.

  “What do you mean?” he asked suspiciously.

  “You couldn’t guess?! You are really something different,” Mette went on not bothered by the fact that Lene wanted to suffocate her with a pillow. “We are pros.”

  “I see,” he said trying to hide the disappointment. How else could it be? Did he really believe he could get two cover girls? He, who had always been the lonely one, the one leaving the parties empty handed. Nice landing back to reality, he thought. “Who paid for it?”

  “Your friend,” Mette said.

  He took his coat from the sofa, nodded to them and stormed out of the flat. He quickly reached the street, looked to his right then to his left. For a moment he was hesitant what to do next. Lene ran after him. She caught his sleeve and made him turn around. She was panting.

  “I’m so sorry. You are a really nice guy,” she said.

  He nodded self-loathingly. “Sure I am,” he muttered.

  “I would like to go out with you,” Lene whispered. “When I’m not working,” she added. “If you don’t mind.”

  “Oh, no. Why should I?” he asked irritated.

  “Here is my phone number,” she opened the palm of his hand that had been sealed in anger and placed a piece of paper in it. “Call me if you reconsider.” She pulled him to herself. He wanted to resist, but couldn’t. They kissed. He tried to end it, but she was seductively fierce. They stood there embraced for minutes.

  Then finally he tore himself loose, glimpsed at her almost as an infant who was just given the thing he had most desired, but realised he couldn’t accept it. Yet not grabbing the chance made him bitter.

  They looked at each other for a while, he then nodded and started walking backwards not taking his eyes off her. She smiled at him. He watched her until he reached cross-roads, turned around, then increased his pace following the main road to the city centre that he had to cross on his way home. He should have hated Gregers for this scam, but his thoughts barely touched on the subject. He was a mere observer. As if he stepped into this world from the Viking past, blinking in the darkness, too stupefied even to draw conclusions. This thought of not belonging here was soothing; it entailed that there was a place he belonged to. The discomfort would be temporary, and he would return home shortly. Here he was nothing, but there he was the Viking master. He would tell the tales about a society that was technologically so developed and yet morally so corrupt. And no one would believe him. No one would believe that the Viking master was just a slave in this society. No one would dare…

  He was in the centre by now. The clear, star-filled sky he’d se
en earlier had been swept away. It was almost dawning, though he couldn’t tell from the sky, because of the ever-present clouds. But the ground clearly indicated it. There were bottles scattered all around, in some nooks, middle-aged women and younger men were lying in solitude drunk to unconsciousness. By one of them, he stopped for a moment. It must have been Lisa... yes, Lisa Hansen, he thought. She had been his schoolmate in high school. He went closer to take a more thorough look. It was her without a doubt. She had changed a lot, her magnificent face was wrinkled and scarred, and there was an alcohol induced twist on her cheeks. He was almost sorry for her as he stared at her as she lay in her own excretion. She had been the most desired in school, the kind who wouldn’t ever have noticed a hard working, decent guy like him. Of course, he had always had a perfectly repulsive effect on girls like her; he behaved extraordinarily sarcastically in their company. Somehow he felt it would have been unnatural for him to want a girl who had already been with the whole immensely celebrated basketball team. And what has become of her now?

  He continued his walk, observing the silent desperation in the streets. Soon he was back at Le Club and to his surprise Gregers and Molvik were there just in front of the main entrance. They were hugging and kissing each other vehemently. Being a mere observer this neither shocked nor stunned him. He smiled as he passed by and said hello. They disengaged, and looked rather perplexed. He wondered if they were surprised to see him there, or they were simply disturbed in their action. They weren’t shy, that’s for sure. Gregers opened his mouth and whispered something, but it was too weak to be comprehended. He took a glimpse at them from over his shoulders before turning with the main road, and they receded to oblivion. In half an hour’s time he was home.

  There was some depressed green light emanating from Hedvig’s room. He always wondered why colours that looked simply grey in the Nordic sun were preferred by his countrymen. Why not prefer intense light colours like yellow and red? What was this strange compassion with blue and green? It reminded him of the bottom of the sea, where the sun’s rays never reached, so everything was grey. It would have made sense to use these colours in the south, where enough light was present. But not here. Just like spicy food would have made more sense to belong to the north, and not to the south where it could easily lead to stroke or the like. But it was all the opposite to what logic would dictate. This wasn’t a logical world, he mused.

  He stepped into the house, and noticed immediately some peculiar commotion. As if someone was jumping in bed. He shouted: “Hedvig”. Simultaneously the sound ceased. He went upstairs to take a look. The door to Hedvig’s room was closed till the very moment he wanted to knock, when it opened and a guy he had never seen before appeared with a blanket strapped around his shoulders. The guy flushed and looked hesitant when seeing him.

  “It’s your dad, not your mom,” the guy said, and sneaked back closing the door behind himself. He was starting to get angry. He knocked on the door.

  After a while Hedvig emerged. “Hello dad, what do you want?”

  He looked at her with disbelief, and the wisdom of centuries he had attained by his time travel from the Viking ages made him utter: “Nothing, take care.” He turned around and went to his room. He had to get a good night’s sleep. Maybe the next day he would wake in his own home, and his time travel ordeal would be over. Maybe...