by Samuel Bjork
“Any idea why?”
“Why he jumped?” Charlie heaved a sigh. “No idea. It’s a tough world out there, that’s all I can say. It’s hard enough to be normal. It’s even tougher when society wants you to be one person while your body tells you something else.”
“No one is more normal than you,” Mia said, and raised her beer glass from the counter.
Charlie chuckled. “Me? Christ, I gave all that up thirty years ago, but not everybody is like me, you know. Some are riddled with guilt, shame, and a bad conscience. We can get the Internet on our cell phones and send rockets to Mars, but mentally and emotionally we still live as we did back in the Dark Ages. Then again, you would know all about that.”
“Would I?” Mia said.
“Yes, because you’re smart, and that’s why I like you so much. And pretty—that helps obviously—but smart. I don’t need to explain everything to you. Why don’t you become prime minister, Mia? Teach this country a thing or two?”
“Oh, I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
“You may be right. You’re far too nice.”
Charlie laughed and poured them each another Jäger.
“Did she always come here alone?” Mia asked.
“Who? Randi?”
“Yes.”
“Mostly. She brought a female friend a couple of times, but I never spoke to her.”
“A man?”
“No, a woman.”
“What did she look like?”
“Strict. Straight-backed. Dark hair pulled tightly into a ponytail. Rather odd eyes.”
“What do you mean by odd eyes?”
“They were different colors.”
“Really?”
“Really. One was blue and one was brown. She looked a bit freaky. Callous. Serious. I was quite pleased when he stopped bringing her, to be frank. She gave me the creeps.”
“When was this?”
“Oh, I can’t remember.” Charlie found a cloth and started wiping off the bar again. “Some months after you stopped coming here, I guess. By the way, where have you been?”
“I left the world for a while.”
“Well, it’s good to have you back. I’ve missed you.” Charlie raised her shot glass. “Do you want me to throw out the other guests? Then we can have a proper drink like we used to in the old days?”
“Some other time, Charlie.” Mia put on her jacket. “Too much to do right now.”
She found a pen in her pocket and scribbled her number on a napkin.
“Call me if you remember anything else, will you?”
Charlie leaned over the counter and kissed her good-bye on both cheeks. “Don’t be a stranger.”
“I promise.” Mia smiled.
She pulled her cap well over her head and stepped out into the rainy Oslo evening. She scouted for a taxi but saw none. Never mind. She wasn’t in a hurry. It was not as if anyone were waiting for her back at the hotel. She’d pulled the hood of her jacket over her cap and had started walking back to the city center just as her phone rang. It was Gabriel Mørk.
“Hi,” Mia said.
“Hi, it’s Gabriel. Is now a good time?”
“Absolutely,” she replied. “Are you still at the office?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t actually have to be there 24/7—you are allowed to go home, you know. Has Holger told you that?”
“No, I know that, but there’s quite a lot to learn.” Gabriel sounded a little weary.
“So any news for me?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, there is. It occurred to me that there must be a way to retrieve deleted text messages, so I called a buddy of mine, an Apple freak.”
“And?”
“Simple. I found them.”
“Everything that was on Roger’s cell phone?”
“Yep.”
“Wow, that’s brilliant!” Mia said. “So what have we got?”
“Good news and bad. I found the deleted messages, but there weren’t many of them. His phone must have been quite new. I’m starting to get cross-eyed, and I don’t have the energy to read them all out loud. Do you think you could look at them tomorrow?”
“Sure. Am I right in thinking there was no sender this time either?”
“No, I have a number.”
“Whose is it?”
“It’s not listed. That’s why I’m calling. I’m going to have to hack several databases to find out who owns it.”
“How many are we talking about?”
For a moment there was silence from Gabriel’s end. “As many as I have to.”
“And?”
“Er, it’s illegal. We should really get a court order first. What do you think?”
“Have you spoken to Holger?”
“He’s not answering his phone.”
“We can’t wait for that,” Mia said. “Go ahead.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Okay,” Gabriel said.
“Are you starting now?”
“I thought I might hit the sheets first.”
“As you wish. I’m sure it can wait until tomorrow morning.”
“Or I could do it now.”
“Now is fine. I’m staying awake.”
“Okay.”
Mia ended the call and continued toward the city center. The streets were practically deserted. She could see people through the windows, the glare from their television screens. Suddenly her hotel seemed even less attractive than it had earlier. There was no reason to go there. She wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway. She might as well have another beer. Try to focus her mind.
Fortunately, Justisen wasn’t busy. Mia ordered a beer and found a table in a quiet corner. She took out pen and paper and sat staring at the blank sheet in front of her. Four girls. Six years old. Pauline. Johanne. Karoline. Andrea. She wrote down their names at the top of the sheet. Pauline. Went missing from her nursery school. Found in Maridalen. Johanne. Went missing from her nursery school. Found by Hadelandsveien. Karoline and Andrea. Taken from their homes. Where would they be found? She could see no pattern. The answer had to be there somewhere. Roger Bakken/Randi. The text messages. It is unwise to fly too near the sun. Who’s there? Bye, bye, birdie.
First message. Icarus. Roger had done something he shouldn’t have. Second message. Who’s there? She seemed to remember a series of jokes that started like this. Knock-knock jokes. Knock, knock. Who’s there? Doris. Doris who? Doris locked, that’s why I’m knocking. It made no sense. Bye, bye, birdie. That was easier. Bye Bye Birdie was a musical popular with gay men. The eagle tattoo. See you later, birdie.
Mia got a foul taste in her mouth and ordered another Jäger to wash it away. The alcohol made her feel good. She was starting to get a little drunk, but that made it easier to think. She found another piece of paper and placed it alongside the first. Backpacks. Books. Paper. The names on the books. Dolls’ dresses. I’m traveling alone. “These go together,” she quickly scribbled. “They add up.” Pig’s blood. Who’s there? “They don’t add up,” she wrote below it. Two from nursery school. Two in their homes. Ten dresses. A woman. Mia ordered another beer. It was happening now. Her head was clearer. The transvestite. A woman. Gender. Playing with gender? Gender confusion? Shame. Guilt. I’m traveling alone. The first symbols were clear proof of intelligence. Backpack. Sign. Dolls’ dresses. The others didn’t fit in with the rest; they were just white noise. Pig’s blood? Who’s there? She tore off another sheet and placed it next to the first two. Knocked back her beer and ordered another beer and chaser. This was it. She was onto something. She wrote “Woman” at the top of the third piece of paper. “Hønefoss. Maternity ward. Washed and got the girls ready. Anesthesia. Care. Nurse? Police sketch. Looks like everyone else. Invisible? How can you hide in p
lain sight?” She left a section of the paper blank and wrote something at the bottom. “Callous. Serious. Different-colored eyes. One brown and one blue. One in Maridalen. One near Hadelandsveien. Forest. Hidden. Have to search. Have to work. Have to hunt. On display and yet hidden. She wants to show us what she has done but not make it so obvious that we don’t have to look. Pig’s blood? Who’s there? Why so clean first? Serious? Why so unclean later?” Mia ordered more alcohol and found another sheet of paper. It was starting to flow now, there was something there. Something was taking shape, but it refused to come into focus. “Pride. Look at me. Look at what I’ve done. Toni J. W. Smith. You’re useless, and I’m going to prove it. It’s me against you. A game. Why so clean first and then so unclean? Blood? Pig’s blood? Staged. So theatrical. Fake. Ignore it.” It was loosening up inside her now. A rush of unstoppable thoughts. That was it. “Fake. Ignore it.” Mia scribbled so furiously that she almost forgot her drinks. “Ignore it. Not everything matters. Not the staged elements. Not the theatricality. It is dishonest. Fake. It does not add up. Look at what does add up. What is true. Which symbols point where? What do we need to address and what can we disregard? Is that the game?”
That is the game.
Mia smiled to herself but was unaware of it. She was miles away. Deep inside herself. The city did not exist. Justisen did not exist. The table did not exist. Beer did not exist. Jump rope, yes. Satchels, yes. Dolls’ dresses, yes. I’m traveling alone, yes. Anesthesia, yes. Pig’s blood, no, fake. Bye, bye, birdie, no, not important. Fly too near the sun, no, not important. Who’s there?
“Mia?”
Mia was so startled that she leaped from her chair. She looked around, dazed, not knowing where she was.
“Sorry, am I disturbing you?”
Reality slowly returned. Her beer came back. The room came back. And there was Susanne standing next to her table with frizzy hair, her jacket soaked from the rain, looking upset.
“Hi, are you all right?”
“Do you mind if I sit down? I can see that you’re working. I don’t want to intrude.”
Mia didn’t have time to reply. Susanne took off her jacket and collapsed on the chair like a drowned rat.
“Sit down,” Mia said. “No, it’s fine. Is it raining outside?”
“Inside and out.” Susanne heaved a sigh and buried her face in her hands. “I didn’t know where to go. I thought you might be here.”
“And I was,” Mia said. “Do you want a beer?”
Susanne nodded softly. Mia went up to the bar. She came back to the table with two beers and two Jägermeisters.
“Are you writing a novel?” Susanne said, mustering up a feeble smile under her bangs.
“No, it’s just work,” Mia said.
“Good, because that title has already been taken,” Susanne said, pointing to one of the sheets. “‘Who’s there?’”
“What do you mean, taken? Where is it from?”
“It’s the opening line of Hamlet.” Susanne brushed her hair behind her ear and drank some of her beer.
“Are you sure?”
Susanne laughed. “Yes, I should hope so. I mean, I’m the assistant director. I practically know the script by heart.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” Mia said. “Is it really?”
Susanne coughed slightly and suddenly switched to Drama Susanne from Åsgårdstrand. “‘Who’s there? Nay, answer me: stand, and unfold yourself. Long live the king!’”
She took another sip of her beer and suddenly seemed a little embarrassed.
“It’s not original. We can ignore it,” Mia said quietly.
“Ignore what?” Susanne said.
“Oh, nothing. So what has happened? Why are you looking so miserable?”
Susanne sighed again. Pulled out her hair from behind her ear and tried to hide behind it. “The same old story. I’m an idiot.”
It was not until now that Mia realized that her friend had had quite a lot to drink already. She was slurring her words and struggled to steer the beer glass to her lips.
“Actors. Never trust them,” she continued. “One day they tell you they love you, and then the next day they don’t, and then they love you again, and then you believe them, and they sleep with one of the girls from the lighting crew. What’s wrong with them?”
“Two faces,” Mia said. “It’s hard to know which one is real.”
Two faces?
Playing with gender?
An actor?
“Lying bastards,” Susanne said, quite loud.
Mia was starting to feel pretty drunk herself. She drained her beer and watched as Susanne tried to drink the rest of hers.
“I always end up going home alone,” Susanne said, wiping away a tear.
Mia’s cell rang. It was Gabriel Mørk again. “Yes. What have we got?”
“Another dead end.”
“You didn’t find anything?”
“Yes, the number is registered to a Veronica Bache.”
“Excellent, Gabriel. Who is she?”
“The question you should be asking me is who was she? Veronica Bache lived to be ninety-four. She died in 2010.”
34
The woman with one blue and one brown eye was standing in front of one of the mirrors in her bathroom. She opened the bathroom cabinet and took out the lenses. Blue today. Blue eyes at work. Not different-colored eyes. Not at work. At work she was not her true self. At work nobody knows who I am. And anyway, it wasn’t her real job, was it? It was just a cover. Just for appearance’s sake. She pulled her hair into a tight ponytail and bent forward toward the mirror. Placed the lenses carefully against her eyes and blinked. She put on a fake smile and studied herself. Hi, I’m Malin. Malin Stoltz. I work here. You think you know me, but you have no idea who I really am. Look how good I am at lying. Smiling. Pretending that I care what you’re talking about. Oh, your dog is sick? How awful. I hope it’s feeling better now. A glass of OJ, of course, no problem, Mrs. Olsen. Now, let me change your bedlinen as well, make it more comfortable for you. There’s nothing nicer than fresh linen. The woman with one blue and one brown eye left the bathroom and went to her bedroom, opened her wardrobe, and took out her uniform. Staff wore white, a good rule. When everyone wears the same, we become invisible. Unless our eyes are different colors. And now they aren’t. Now they are blue. As blue as the sea. Norwegian eyes. Beautiful eyes. Normal eyes. Sandwiches in the break room. Totally, I completely agree with you. She should have been kicked off the show, I certainly didn’t vote for her, that woman has two left feet. Dead faces. Empty. Vacant. Empty words. Lips moving below dead eyes. Did he really say that? Your ex-husband? How dare he? Yes, of course I’m on Facebook. Coffee. Eight o’clock. Sometimes I work night shifts. I park in the garage. But it’s not my real job, is it? Not really? No, reality is completely different.
The woman with one blue and one brown eye went out into the hall, picked up her bag and her coat, walked downstairs, and got into her car. She started the engine and turned on the radio. They are missing, but no one will find them, will they? Not everyone is capable of having children. Who gets to decide? Who decides who can have a child? Some people lose a child. Who gets to decide? Who decides who will lose a child? It’s not my real job. Not this. No, no one can say what my real job is. Yes, some people know, but they won’t tell.
The woman with one blue and one brown eye changed radio stations. It was the same everywhere. The girls are still missing, and nobody knows where they are. Where are those girls? Are they still alive? Is someone holding them captive? How many girls do you need? How many children do you have to have? Two point three, isn’t that the norm? Normal? So you are not normal if you don’t have children? What if you can’t have children? The woman with one blue and one brown eye drove slowly out of the city center. It is important to drive slowly if you want to be invis
ible. If someone were to stop your car, he might discover that it isn’t yours. That your name isn’t Malin Stoltz. That it is something completely different. That would not be good. Slow is better. Sometimes you can hide in plain sight—at work, for example. Some people think you need an education in order to get a job. You don’t. You just need papers. Papers are easy to fake. You just need references. References are easy to fake. The woman with one blue and one brown eye turned off Drammensveien and drove up to the white brick building. She parked her car and made her way to the entrance. Ten minutes to eight. If you arrive on time and do your job, nobody asks any questions.
She opened the door and went to the staff changing room. Hung up her coat and left her bag in her locker and looked in the mirror again. I have two blue eyes. I’m a little girl with blue eyes. This is just for fun. My real job is completely different. As long as nobody says anything, everything will be just fine. Sometimes you can hide in plain sight. The woman with one blue and one brown eye tightened her ponytail and went to the nurses’ station.
“Hi, Malin.”
“Hi, Eva.”
“How are you?”
“I’m really good. And you?”
“It was a long night. Helen Olsen felt unwell again. I had to call the ambulance.”
“Oh, dear, I do hope she’s feeling better.”
“It’s fine. She’s coming back today.”
“Good. That’s good. How is your dog?”
“Better. It wasn’t as serious as we first feared.”
I’m not ill. You’re ill.
“Who is on duty today?”
“You and Birgitte and Karen.”
I’m not ill. You’re ill.
“What is this?”
The woman with one blue and one brown eye looked at the notice above the coffee machine.
HØVIKVEIEN NURSING HOME CELEBRATES 10 YEARS!
“Oh, that’ll be nice. Big party on Friday.”
“Yes, it’ll be fun, won’t it?”
“Will you be there?”
“Yes, of course. Of course I’ll be there.”
