“You did?”
“Yes.”
“Was it a nice dream?”
“Honestly? No. It was an evil dream, where you hurt yourself.”
She stiffened.
“Yes?… And what I was doing?”
“Oh… you were walking on dangerous stones. You stumbled on them and fell.”
“That’s so odd… I’ve thought of you since you were here,” she whispered. “I am so glad that you called. It was looking like it would be a tough day. But it doesn’t feel like that any more.”
“Justine,” he said. “Do you have anyone now, any kind of relationship?”
“No…”
“I’ve thought of you too… longed to come here again. But if you have someone, already…”
“No,” she interrupted him. “There’s no one. The last one ended.”
He got up and went around the back of her chair, stroked her shoulders. She reached up and took hold of him. He backed away; she held on, and the chair tilted until it was on two legs. He carefully got down on his knees and gently lowered the chair back until it reached the floor.
They lay next to each other on the floor. They looked each other in the eyes, no shyness, no strangeness.
“As long as the bird doesn’t show up,” he said in a low voice.
“Are you afraid of him?”
“Well, afraid, not really, but I get nervous when he’s around.”
“Don’t be. He won’t bother us.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“I believe he was in the dream, too.”
“He’s my friend. Then he’s your friend, too.”
“I’m going to ask you something, but maybe you’ll slap me; I hope not.”
“I won’t. Try and see.”
“May I take off your clothes?”
Her eyes lit up. He drew the thick sweater over her head and made a pillow for her. Then he moved his hand behind her back and undid her bra. She had small breasts with nipples that turned in. He bent over them, touching them with his lips.
“They’re shy…,” he said. “They don’t want to come out.”
Then he saw her arms.
“My God, Justine! What happened to you! Have you battled a tiger?”
“Almost,” she said. “A cat attacked me last night when I was taking out the garbage. Totally crazy cat.”
“What happened? How did you get rid of it?”
“I had to actually tear it off of me. Maybe it was disturbed by the bird. I was afraid the bird would see it and be scared. As a tiny bird, he was almost eaten by a cat.”
“Unusual that a cat would attack a person like that… what if it had rabies?”
“Nah, there’s no rabies in Sweden.”
“Well, what if you come down with cat-scratch fever or lockjaw?”
“I’m up-to-date on all my vaccinations.”
She nestled into his underarm.
“Kiss my nipples again… bring them out into the light.”
He bent over again and felt how they hardened and began to come out of their hiding places.
Then her fingers were there, agile and searching. They were warm now; they were around his waist, finding the buckle of his belt. The clicking sound when the belt opened. His penis rose into her underarm. He heard a noise around his ears; it seemed to come from inside him. Her hand went around him, held him, measured his strength.
“Wait,” he whispered. “It’s been such a long time, wait… I don’t want to come too soon.”
He drew down her tights and panties. She was strong and round; he gripped her waist and lifted her over himself. As she lay over him, she let her tongue run over his face.
“I like your taste,” she said, and when she spoke, he felt the noise go from her ribcage into his. “I like your smell, and the softness on your chin… right before the stubble starts coming out.”
He stroked her back and ass and the soft skin in the crack right where the legs meet.
“Know what?” he whispered.
“Mmmm.”
“I want you to know that I didn’t come here just to sleep with you.”
“You didn’t?”
“You shouldn’t think that I came here for a quick fuck…”
Justine giggled.
“You didn’t?”
She rolled on her back and took his hand with her, moved it over her stomach. The hair down there was soft and curly. He desired to look at it; he sat up. It was blonde like the hair on her head. His fingers were in all that blondeness; she was wet. Those strong, substantial legs. She was big and swelling with the waving lines of a real woman. She looked like one of the models for one of the old master’s paintings. Venus, the Sabine women, stolen and hanging from the horses, their veils and pale flesh. He drew off his clothes and lay naked beside her on the floor. Then she came up and he saw her stomach from underneath; sitting on both feet, she sank over him. He thought about her foot, he thought about HIV, he thought the hell with everything. She was warm and steaming. Her insides gripped his member, massaged it, those strong, joyful muscles; he saw the fleshy walls, how they embraced and sucked. He grabbed her hips and he came into a cramp that brought tears to his eyes. Somewhere far away, he heard her scream. She was riding him like an animal, pressing her heels into his sides, screaming right at the ceiling.
They were lying in her bed. She had covered them with her blanket; she held him in her embrace, stroked him closely over his head. The bird sat on his tree branch with one foot raised. He would sometimes make a little noise, but he wasn’t paying any attention to them.
“Just hope he’s not jealous,” whispered Hans Peter.
“No, he wants me to be happy. If I like someone, so does he. He feels what my feelings radiate.”
“And if you don’t like someone?”
She chuckled.
“Well, then really bad things can happen.”
“Justine,” he said, and he realized that he wanted to say her name again and again, say her name to make it a part of himself.
Her lips against his neck, against his spine.
“Justine, you were so wonderful… You made it so good for me.”
“You, too.”
“How much of your life do you want to keep for yourself?”
“What do you mean?”
“I want to get to know you. I long to find out about you. I am so light and happy. I can’t remember ever feeling like this before.”
“Sure you have,” she said. “You certainly have.”
Inside himself, he would have chosen that she would have answered differently, that she also had never felt like this for another man. He remembered what she said about a relationship that ended.
“To be here at the very beginning…,” he whispered. “To have everything still in front of us… wishes, desires.”
She didn’t answer. He was lying in her arms, but she didn’t change position. He got loose so that he could contemplate her. Those blonde eyebrows, the line of freckles over her cheeks and nose, those small, childlike breasts. His hand slid down her ribcage; her skin was damp with both his and her sweat.
“Justine, dearest… am I being too hasty? Taking things for granted?”
“No,” she mumbled. “I don’t think so.”
He kept talking.
“This desire, this craving… not just that. There’s something else, a sense of belonging that I never felt with anyone before, not even my ex… certainly not with her. From the minute I saw you in the snow, already then I knew that there was something about you that I couldn’t let slip away from me. Could you let me into you, into that essence of you, and I don’t mean just physically.”
But even while he was speaking, he felt how his muscles were getting ready, how his flabby penis was now beginning to fill with blood again. She felt it too, and she looked down and smiled carefully. Her hand placed in the right spot, he grew against her palm. Do it like that, yes… do it… again.
She said that they
had to eat. He borrowed her robe; she put on her long, green, knit dress and nothing else. In the kitchen, she fried some bacon and eggs.
“You get hungry after a hangover,” she said. “Of course, I try and diet, but right now I am so hungry, I can’t help myself.”
“Don’t diet,” he said. “You are exactly how you need to be.” The bird flew down with them. She gave him the same food they were eating, and he swallowed it with greedy bites. She poured some beer for them. They sat at the little kitchen table and looked out at the hill. It had stopped raining. He heard himself say something about the weather. It sounded so banal, but he couldn’t help himself.
“It looks like winter is over for this year,” he said. “Even though there’s still some ice, it’s going to break up soon. The papers said a man had drowned in Lake Mälar.”
“They were looking for him yesterday. They must have found him.”
“I don’t get how people can take risks like that.”
“Me neither.”
“I’m just wondering… did you live here with that man? With the one that you’ve broken up with?”
“No,” she said. “No, I didn’t. He had an apartment in the city.”
“Were you together long?”
“More than a year.”
“Why did it end?”
She poked at some crumbs, drew them together into a small heap on the table.
“Hmmm… something happened to him… we went to the rainforest together, to the jungle. He had so many ideas, he wanted to start adventure trips for Europeans, you know, with long stays in the jungle. You were supposed to eat and live out there, great hardship. I went with him. He was going to create the trip route and make contact with the people living there who could be helpful and maybe work with the hikes and things. But then… something happened… Actually, I don’t really want to talk about it.”
part two
Chapter ONE
A noise woke her. A knock. She was wide awake right away. She had slept stiffly and straightly, arms down her sides. Sweat covered her body, gave her goose bumps.
She looked around in the room. Nathan wasn’t there. Another knock, then the door opened.
A woman stood next to her bed. She wore a scarf which covered her forehead and even her shoulders. She stared at Justine.
“Cleaning!” she said, loudly in English.
“Cleaning? No, you don’t have to clean up; it is not necessary,” Justine replied in English. She sat up, leaning against the wall, with the sheet up to her chin. The aroma of curry swept in through the doorway. From the street, she could hear the sound of motors, and a thumping sound, as if a huge jackhammer was attempting to beat something into the bedrock.
The woman grimaced, turned, and disappeared. The door shut.
Justine carefully got up. She felt dizzy. She went into the shower room. Her head felt like exploding. A piece of paper was on the floor and while she was sitting on the toilet, she saw a gecko creep in underneath it and hide itself. Something was written on the paper. She read while she was still sitting: Out and about a few hours. See you this afternoon. Kisses.
She didn’t dare touch the paper. She took off her panties and laid them on the bed, afraid that the geckos would creep into them and make themselves at home. There was only one towel. Nathan had used it; it was hanging on the chair. Between the walls and the ceiling, there was a gap. She heard shrieking female voices speaking a foreign language.
She washed herself carefully in the lukewarm shower water. She felt tender and aching all over. The trip had taken over thirty hours. In London, they had to wait in a crowded, smoke-filled lounge, whiny children, not enough seats. She had to go to the bathroom, but was afraid to leave the lounge, fearing that their flight would be called while she was gone. When she said this to Nathan, she noticed that he was irritable.
Then they had to run across the entire large terminal to find the right gate. Nathan did not like losing control of the situation. He didn’t like asking directions.
Once in the airplane, their seats were far apart. Nathan ended up among the smokers. She ended up next to an elegant Belgian couple wearing fine clothes. She felt big and bloated. She turned and looked for Nathan, but couldn’t see him. She stopped one of the young flight attendants, all of whom were gliding around in beautiful dresses. In halting English, she requested to change places. The flight attendant was named Hana; her name was on a small brass nameplate over her breast. Hana moved her lips; they had been carefully painted. Hana’s lips told her that if she wanted to change places, sorry, she had to work that out for herself.
The Belgian man was listening in.
“Next to husband?” he asked, deciding to take part in the conversation.
“Yes,” she said in English.
The man shook his head.
“Very long journey,” he muttered.
She decided that she did not have the energy to confront all these foreigners, speak English, fall asleep next to them, long for Nathan. She stood in the aisle, and it was extremely narrow. She worked her way toward the back, looking for Nathan. Nathan was wedged into a middle seat. He gave her a pained smile.
“Damned airline,” he said.
“I asked them to help us, and they said we had to work it out ourselves.”
“I’ve asked these people sitting next to me, but they won’t move. They’re smokers.”
An attendant pushed past her, carrying some pillows.
“It’s best you go sit down again,” he said. “You’re in the way.”
They took a taxi to the hotel. The heat was oppressive and surprising. On the wall of a house, she saw an enormous thermometer; it showed 34 degrees Celsius in the shade. She looked in her backpack for her sunglasses but didn’t find them. As they drove through the suburbs, she tried to think that the city was beautiful. She looked at the palms and the bushes with large red blossoms, which were growing along the median strips. She was so tired that she felt ill.
The radio was on in the taxi, music with loud talk in between. It seemed like a heated discussion. She didn’t understand a word. Nathan sat in the front seat. The big backpacks were in the back seat with her. They had bought them at a supply store, Overstock, fifty crowns apiece. They had gotten most of their equipment there. That was part of Nathan’s concept. Advice on where to get equipment for the people joining his groups. These were not supposed to be journeys for rich people.
He had taught her how to put on the backpack, helped her with the buckles, showed her how to fold in the ropes so they could be pulled out in one jerk. A name was written in ballpoint pen on the inside of the backpack’s top: Bo Falk. He was the former owner, a short time in his care. She imagined him as a young man with peach fuzz, not yet had his growth spurt; wondered if he were content with his life, if he was happy.
The evening before they left, Nathan had given her a mascot. It was a shaggy, bear-like animal; she had tied it to one of the straps. The animal was supposed to be with her out in the jungle, and when they returned, she would put it on her bedpost as a constant reminder of what she had endured and successfully accomplished.
“It’s going to be tough, Justine. Are you sure that you really want to come?”
She was sure.
Her eyes were blinded by the sharp white light. Looking like shadows in the front seat, she saw Nathan and the taxi driver, waving their arms around and gesturing. Nathan turned back toward her.
“How’s it going?”
“Fine,” she whispered. “But overwhelming.”
“You know what the taxi guy’s saying? That there’s no such hotel. But I’m going to hold out until he gives in.”
“Maybe it closed.”
“The hell it did.”
Building was going on everywhere. Half-finished skyscrapers pointing straight to the skies, shining windows of glass. Rows of cars and scooters, helmets on fluttering head scarves. Finally, the taxi pulled up to a bit of road between broken sidewalks and heaps of soil. T
he driver pointed.
“Hotel Explorer?” he said irritably.
That was it. Nathan had a look of triumph on his face; he patted the driver on the shoulder. The driver jumped back as if he’d been hit.
A teenage boy was lying on the sidewalk in front of the hotel. At first Justine was afraid that he was dead, but then she saw his ribcage rise and fall. His feet were naked and black. Justine wanted to say something to Nathan about the boy, but he was already carrying their stuff into the hotel. They were given their keys, Room Fifteen, top floor.
She was too tired to notice what the room looked like. It was somewhat dark and that felt nice. Nathan turned on the ceiling fan. It started up with a whine. He pointed to the bed nearest the wall.
“You look like you’re about to fall to pieces. Go lie down.”
“Did you see the boy on the street? He was just lying there, what if he’s sick?”
“Uh-huh.”
“To think he’s just lying there with people all around. And no one seems to care.”
“The world is full of poor people.”
She lay on her back, wearing nothing but her underwear; the fan whirled around. Nathan kissed her on the cheek. His forehead was thick with drops of sweat.
“I’m going to take a shower,” he said. “Take a nap. I’m thinking of going out for a minute or two.”
No, she thought. Don’t leave me. Stay next to me and be with me each and every second.
Nathan had slept for most of the trip. He never had trouble sleeping no matter where. He explained that you learned to sleep standing up if you had to during his time in the military. It was important to save your energy. A few times she had gone past him as she walked up and down the aisle, keeping her blood circulation going. She saw he had his blanket drawn up over his head. Once he moved and she thought he would wake up and look at her. But he kept sleeping.
She wondered what the time was. Maybe the middle of the day, one or two in the afternoon. At home it was early in the morning. She thought of the bird with a tug of worry, but he had his entire attic filled with food; he was going to be all right.
Her long pants were hanging on a hook, wrinkled and somewhat damp. She smelled them. She was sweating again. Her skirt was in the suitcase; it was also wrinkled and it was tight around the waist. She chose to put on a T-shirt and when she saw herself in the mirror, she began to cry.
Good Night, My Darling Page 17
