Last Winter's Snow

by Hans M Hirschi

  Much later that evening, after Casper had managed to get Nilas calmed down, aided by a big glass of a pricey single malt whiskey, they were submerged in their large Jacuzzi upstairs, and Nilas finally managed to tell Casper about the conversation he’d had.

  “It’s so strange, babe. I mean, she practically admitted that we were the first couple to show interest, and that she didn’t throw our letter away because of that. Yet still, they think that a mother and a father are needed to look after foster kids. As if we’re incapable of that, simply because we’re men. I’m no expert in childcare, but I seriously doubt that our ability to raise a child is located in our genitalia.”

  Casper tried to offer an alternative. “No, it’s not, but unfortunately—and this is something we’ve discussed at recent faculty meetings—our gender and the way we’re raised is greatly influenced by our sex. Boys are raised differently from girls. With everything else equal, the only distinction between a newborn boy and girl is his penis and her vagina.

  “That’s also why we choose, as a society, to clothe girls in pink and boys in blue. How else would people know how to address kids? Aside their clothing, you wouldn’t otherwise be able to determine the sex of a newborn baby. And as a linguist, I can tell you, there’s interesting research going on in the area where linguistic science and psychology meet, about how we adjust our language depending on the sex of the child.” Casper had his arms around Nilas, who was resting his head on Casper’s shoulder. “This, beäjvviebájttuo, is how we build gender, based on the premise of there being a penis or not.”

  Nilas was far from convinced. “But how does that determine whether or not we’re good parents?”

  “It doesn’t, but what it does is this. Society has, for the longest time had this division of labor: women look after the offspring, while the men are out gathering food. That’s largely unchanged even though we’ve recently made great strides to get women into the workplace. But still, to this day, women carry the heavy burden of child raising. Not only are they expected to want to do it, they’re expected to know how to do it, and do it well. Girls are brought up to one day be able to meet those expectations. Boys are brought up to go out, get jobs, provide for their families. Still, to this day.”

  “But I love kids, I cook, I clean the house, we both do. Surely, we shouldn’t be able to, if what you say is right.”

  Casper kissed him on the head, squeezing him tightly. “It’s not all black and white, beäjvviebájttuo. And there have always been those who didn’t conform to society’s expectations. There are women who would never want kids, and then there are men who are very good at raising their kids, often because they have no choice, for instance after the mother’s death. Or people like you and me.

  “But, and I think this is the critical point, while a father who’s lost his wife is seen as a hero for raising his kids singlehandedly, when you or I want to do the same, we’re met with suspicion. People have no reason to question the motives of a man who’s already a father, but why would a man want to become a father to raise kids alone? It’s just too big a step from societal norms, and therefore people jump to conclusions, like that of us being sexual predators.”

  “But we’re not single. We’re a couple!”

  “I know, I know. But they don’t see two human beings with different sets of capabilities. They see two men, two gay men indeed, and sadly, they don’t seem to be capable of seeing past their preconceptions. I think the fact that they didn’t toss your letter is a sign of things changing, slowly. Unfortunately, that doesn’t help us in our situation. I’m so sorry, Nilas. I know you wanted a different outcome.”

  “I’ll never be a father, Casper. You and I will never have a child of our own. That hurts.” Nilas began to cry again. “It hurts so badly.”

  “I know, beäjvviebájttuo, I know all too well.” Casper had nothing to say that would take away the pain they felt. All he could hope for was that Nilas’s heart, in time, would stop bleeding. He knew, though, that it would never be quite whole, ever again.

  * * * * *

  A Healing Visit

  “How is he?” Anna asked, when she called and Casper answered the phone.

  “He’s okay, but yeah, not good. This has been so hard on him. I think he had gotten his hopes up, you know? We’re not getting younger, and for some reason he thought this would actually work out.”

  “I’m so sorry for the two of you. I can’t even imagine how it must feel. I’ve got my boys here, and they are so amazing. Don’t get me wrong, they drive me crazy and give me gray hair, but they’re the best thing that’s ever happened to us. I know Anders feels the same. And I remember Nilas always wanted kids. Even when he and I were little, we always played house, with the bunnies or kittens we had.” She laughed at the memory. “I’m sorry for laughing, but those are fond memories.”

  “I can imagine. My sister is older than I am, and we didn’t play much together growing up. She had her circles and I had mine.”

  “Tell me, Casper, is there anything I can do to help? Anything? Name it!”

  Casper had to think about it for a while. “I honestly don’t know, not unless you magically have a baby stashed away somewhere.”

  Anna laughed at that. “Oh, no. I’m not getting pregnant again, thank you very much. Twice was enough. Never again.”

  “Yeah, no, let’s not do that. Why don’t you come by? Visit us? I’m sure he’d appreciate the chance to spend some time with you and the kids.”

  “I wish I could, but I’m swamped at work. I won’t get off until July. But you know what? The boys are getting out of school in a couple of weeks, for the summer. Would you mind looking after them for a while? We’re going to take them on a charter vacation once Anders and I get off for the summer, but June is always bit of a mess—those days between the end of school and until our vacation starts. I was going to ask Mom and Dad, but I’m sure they’d love to come visit their uncles down south.”

  Casper beamed. “That’s a great idea. I think it would be exactly what Nilas needs. I’ll just have to make sure he can get time off. I’m already off, more or less, since the university semester ended a couple of weeks ago, and while I have some stuff to do, postgraduate support and paperwork for the fall, I can work from home. Could you look into flights? I’d gladly spring you the money. Talk again in the morning?”

  “Sounds like a plan. Thanks, Casper.”

  “No, thank you…”

  ***

  A week later, Nilas and Casper stood in the domestic arrivals hall at Landvetter airport, waiting for their nephews to arrive. The two boys had flown to Stockholm and transferred to a flight to Gothenburg. Because they were still relatively young—Jon was twelve and Andreas ten—they were flying as unaccompanied minors, which meant that the airline took extra good care of them and made sure they were accompanied by someone from the airline from the minute they checked in in Umeå until they reached their uncles in Gothenburg. Both had been to Gothenburg before, for the wedding two years earlier, but never alone. They were excited to spend a couple of weeks so far away from home, away from Mom and Dad, away from rules and the regular routine.

  Nilas was stunned when he saw the two boys come down the escalator. Both boys had grown since they had seen them at Christmas, and Jon had literally shot up in height. He must have been a good five feet five already, Nilas thought, giving credit to the boy’s father, Anders, himself a very tall man. Both boys were smiling brightly.

  “Hey, boys!” Nilas said. “Welcome to Gothenburg. How was your flight?” He opened his arms, and Andreas, the younger one, almost flew into his arms. Jon was playing it cool and casually walked a few steps behind his baby brother.

  The airline representative shook hands with Nilas and Casper, and Nilas showed her his ID to verify that the boys were indeed handed over to the right person, before he signed a paper, discharging the kids from the airline’s care into his.

  “Do you have any luggage checked in?” Casper asked after h
ugging them, too.

  “Yes, one suitcase each,” Jon answered.

  “Okay. Let’s go wait by the luggage carousel, then. Shouldn’t be too long. Afterward, we’ll take a cab outside.”

  “You still don’t have a car?” Andreas asked.

  “No. We live so centrally we don’t need one. The cost of the street parking alone is more than we pay for public transport, so really, it makes no sense. If we ever need a car, we can rent one for a day, or a van, if we need to haul things. It’s really quite smooth.”

  “That would never work back home.”

  “No, I understand that. But Umeå isn’t Gothenburg. Even here, if you live in the suburbs, you’ll need a car, but for those of us in the city center, a car only gets in the way.”

  In front of them, the luggage carousel began to move and within seconds, the first bag appeared on it. “Here we go, boys. Which are yours?”

  After a few minutes, they had retrieved both bags and they left the terminal building to join the taxi queue. An hour later, they were back at the house, and both boys had chosen a guest room where they’d stay for the duration of their vacation. Last time, they’d had to bunk up, but since they were alone this time, they’d each been given a room of their own, much to their delight.

  Over the next days, the four of them toured the city and the surrounding areas as if they were all tourists. They visited the amusement park, which quickly became the boys’ favorite place. They visited both the zoos in Borås and Nordens Ark in Sotenäs, a park entirely dedicated to the preservation of species threatened by extinction. They took a boat ride out to Vinga, the island lighthouse and the westernmost point of the city of Gothenburg. It was a great place for a swim, and the island and the ride there also offered the boys a unique view of the city and the maritime harbor, where huge container and cargo ships were loading and unloading their goods.

  Yet one of the most interesting day trips was out into the archipelago, reminding both Nilas and Casper of their first ever trip to Gothenburg when they had only managed to reach Saltholmen and the ferry terminal. Since moving to Gothenburg, they’d taken the boat out to the islands more than once. Only recently had the island’s status as a restricted military area been revoked, making it possible for foreigners to visit them as well, heralding a new era for the four thousand plus people living on the islands, in terms of tourists visiting and creating new revenue streams.

  This first summer, there were very few foreign voices on the ship as they embarked for Styrsö, the archipelago’s main island. They had packed a picnic basket and their swim trunks, hopeful they’d get a chance to bathe on the island’s south-western beach. They disembarked the boat at Skäret and began to walk in a south-western direction. The first thing they saw was an unsightly industrial area of sorts, combining small local shipyards and the island’s waste and recycling station, before they found a narrow path leading into the forest.

  “This must be it.” Nilas pointed as he discovered the entry at the far end of a large graveled area, still harboring a few boats that hadn’t been launched for the summer season yet, and several forklifts of various sizes, each one rustier than the last.

  “One thing’s for sure, if they want to turn this into a tourist area, they’ve got their work cut out for them,” Casper remarked drily.

  “Well, don’t judge them too harshly. I’m sure, a few years from now, this will all look different.” Nilas was amused. This was turning out to be quite the adventure.

  The forest was dense, a combination of relatively young oak, ash, birch, spruce, and pines, and a lot of blackberry and rosehip bushes along the pathway. They also found a few apple trees and even two wild cherry trees.

  “You know,” Nilas said to the boys, “when we first moved here, we found out the islands were deforested over a hundred years ago. Can you imagine what it would have looked like with massive oak trees everywhere?”

  “Really?” Jon said.

  “How massive?” Andreas asked.

  “About four times as big as these.” Casper gestured to the trees around them. “And the beach we’re going to? There was a village there back in the fifteenth century.”

  “Maybe there’s ruins,” Jon said.

  Casper nodded. “There may well be. One of my colleagues at the university says there’s lots of stuff out here from the Bronze Age and onward, though back then, the sea level was a lot higher. The beach didn’t even exist 1,500 years ago. It would’ve been submerged.”

  They walked only a few minutes through the weird forest with its combination of trees not usually seen in an older forest, but since it was barely eighty years old, it included many different varieties of trees and bushes. Suddenly, the forest opened up to reveal the small bay, and they stood facing the sea again, and inhaling the tangy, salty scent. There was a beach, although calling it that wasn’t really accurate, as it was only a few feet wide, before a salt meadow began which slowly sloped upward and along a hill, where it morphed into the tree line and the forest.

  “Wow,” Jon said. “This is neat. Look at this bay. I’m sure the water is pretty warm here. Think we can take a swim here?”

  “I sure hope so,” Casper said, smiling. “After all, that’s why we came here. Let’s just find the actual beach. It should only be a few hundred yards farther.” He pointed along the barely beaten track that followed the shore just a couple of feet before the salt meadow abruptly broke off and gave way to the sand and water.

  After another ten minutes of walking, they passed a sign explaining the site’s importance to the medieval herring fishing times as well as the Bronze Age, before reaching what undoubtedly must’ve been what Casper’s friend had suggested was the “beach”—a twenty to thirty yard stretch of sand, about ten to fifteen feet wide. They found a nice spot on the salt meadow, where they spread out their blankets and sat down.

  “Can I go swim?” Andreas asked.

  “Sure, but I’d prefer if you didn’t go out there alone,” Nilas said. ”Jon, would you like to go with him?”

  The boy shook his head. “Nah, not yet. I’d rather eat first.”

  Nilas shrugged and began to pull off his jeans. “Oh, well, I’ll go, then.” He quickly changed into his swim trunks, and he and Andreas walked into the water. It was much warmer than he had expected, but then again, it was also incredibly shallow. Just a few feet away from the beach, the sand gave way to a seafloor that was composed of clay or mud, and which was strangely soft to walk on. The farther Nilas walked out into the bay, the more his feet sank into the mud. “Are you okay?” he asked Andreas, who merely nodded.

  “This is disgusting!” Nilas called back to the beach where Casper was watching them. They’d waded about fifty yards into the bay, and Nilas was still barely knee-deep in the water. “No wonder it’s so warm in this bay.” He cursed under his breath. “You know what, Andreas? I don’t think you’ll be able to swim here. It’s just too shallow.”

  “That’s okay, Uncle Nilas. I like the way the seafloor tickles my feet.” The expression the boy had on his face said something else entirely, but Nilas understood. For as soft as it was, and as odd the sensation of the clay seeping up between their toes was, it also felt entirely disgusting to sink five or six inches into the seabed with every step. And since the seafloor didn’t seem to change, they decided to return to the beach. Once clear of the muddy part, they cleaned their feet and legs and then left the water.

  “That was the weirdest experience in a long time.” Nilas chuckled. “The entire bay is only about ten to fifteen inches deep, and the entire seabed is pretty much this muddy clay that you sink into.” He wrinkled his nose at it. “I think we’ve been tricked by your good friend. Either that or he meant that bay over there, on the other side of those little islets.

  “Uncle Nilas,” Andreas asked, “why are all the rocks here so smooth and rounded?”

  Nilas looked at the rocks and the islets surrounding them. The boy was right, there was a rounded shape to them all. />
  “Well,” Nilas began, trying to remember what he’d once read about the formation of the rocks in Scandinavia, “during the last ice age, all of this—” he pointed with his arm in a circular motion around himself “—and all of Sweden and Norway was covered with ice. When those heavy glaciers grew across the land, they ground the rock surface with other rocks that were pushed along the surface, and the force of the ice left these smooth surfaces all over the country. Rounded mountains, hills, islands…”

  “That makes no sense,” Jon said. “I mean, ice is not nearly as hard as rock. How could ice possibly shape the rock face?”

  “I hear you, but as I said, it’s not just the ice itself, it’s a combination of the weight of the entire glacier and the loose rocks and stones caught between the rock face and the ice. Picture a glacier, hundreds and hundreds of feet thick, sometimes even more than a mile thick, just like the big glaciers on, say, Greenland or Iceland. That makes for a lot of weight, pressing down on everything underneath. Do you know the weight of water, Jon?”

  “Of course! One liter of water weighs exactly one kilo,” the boy answered, triumphantly.

  “Excellent. Now, imagine you have one cubic meter of water, what does that weigh?”

  “One hundred kilos.”

  “Are you sure?” Nilas smiled. “A liter of water, how many centimeters is that?”

  “Ten by ten,” Jon answered, wondering where this was going.

  “Right, and a cubic meter is how many times ten centimeters?”

  “Ten times, so ten times ten equals one hundred.” There was a triumphant edge to the boy’s voice.

  “Right, almost, but you forgot that a cubic meter doesn’t just expand in two dimensions, but three. So you’ll have ten times ten times ten.”