"About what?" I said, sat down, unscrewed the top, and filled the glass so full that I had to hold it away from my body and let it froth over the flagstones. "What did Mom say?" he asked into the middle distance once again. I didn't answer, just smiled, and when I was sure that my silence hadn't been perceived as a denial, I went back out. Unni wiped a glass dry and passed it to me. I opened the fridge door and took out a bottle. "Dad said there was some Coke in the fridge." The times I had met her she had been happy, almost flushed with happiness. Unni put down the scrub brush when I went in, came over and gave me a hug. So where had Dad's sudden backbiting come from?Īfter all the light in the garden, at first I couldn't see my hand in front of my face in the kitchen. Gunnar was a sensible, fair man, decent and proper in all ways, he always had been, of that there was no doubt. "Would you like something to drink? A Coke? I think we've got some in the fridge. He stared into the middle distance with the glass resting in his hand. "Then he ingratiates himself with your grandparents." "I'm sure he just came to visit you," I said.ĭad didn't answer. "Afterward he goes straight to Grandma and Grandad and tells them what he's seen." "Gunnar's been round, snooping," he said, of my uncle. "Yeah," he said, emptying the glass in one swig. "I've been relaxing with a drop of wine today," he said. They must have been on the ground beside him. Produced a glass and bottle of red wine from nowhere. Turned and came toward me, sat down on a camping chair. "He said he was going to, see how you were doing, but he didn't have time."ĭad stared into the flames, which were lower already. "He dropped by briefly before leaving for Bergen." "Heard anything from Yngve?" he asked, of my older brother. It didn't appear to have any contact with the charcoal at all, it seemed to be floating above it. A low almost transparent flame, blue at the bottom, rose in the grill. He stepped toward me, grabbed the lighter from the table, and lit the charcoal. "She'll be here soon." His eyes were glassy. The kitchen window was open, from inside came the clattering of glasses and crockery. Bare chest, blue swimming shorts, feet thrust into a pair of sloppy sneakers without laces. He was in the back garden pouring lighter fluid over the charcoal in the grill when I arrived. I jumped off the bus after Lundsbroa Bridge and ambled along the drowsy, deserted summer street to the house he was renting, where I had stayed that winter. In order not to feel so utterly naked, as I did when I wore only a shirt, I took a jacket with me, slung it over my shoulder and held it by the hook since it was too hot outside to wear it. I had put on a white shirt, black cotton trousers, and white basketball shoes.
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