The Drowned Boy (17 page)

Carmen burst out laughing. “No, I’m sure we can find something else. But it can’t be too big or strong, because then I won’t be able to deal with it. We can buy a dog book when we get home and I’m sure we’ll find one we agree on. But OK, not a poodle. What have you got against them anyway?”

“Poodles are for old ladies,” Nicolai said. He took out another cigarette and lit it.

“I don’t get you, to start smoking like that, for no reason,” Carmen complained.

In the evening, they sat on the balcony and stared out into the dark. Nicolai took drags on a cigarette and released long curling ribbons of smoke. She couldn’t understand why he was smoking and what he was thinking, but she didn’t want to get into an argument. Not now, when she was dreaming about their puppy. She needed to keep him sweet, and she knew how to do that.

“It’s a lot of work keeping a dog,” Nicolai said and took a sip of whiskey.

“But no more tiring than it was looking after Tommy,” she said, “and we managed that fine, didn’t we? Just think of all the energy it gave us. You never complained; you were wonderful.”

He didn’t answer. It had been tiring with Tommy, but it had given him nothing but pleasure from start to finish. Carmen drank some of her Coke, which was pretty flat now. She thought of Nicolai as clay, a mass that she could form as she wanted. Well, that’s certainly how it had been for a long time. But now, since Tommy’s death, he had become more obstinate. His new opposition annoyed her immensely. Latin American rhythms and happy sounds could be heard from the hotel garden: the tinkling laughter of women, the monotone rumble of men’s voices, and the clinking of glasses. Carmen wanted to go downstairs and join in, but Nicolai wasn’t interested. He couldn’t dance either, so there was no point. He poured himself another whiskey and put the bottle down again with a thump.

“Make sure you don’t drink too much now,” she commanded. “I don’t want to have to drag you around when you’re drunk.”

He didn’t say anything, just lifted his glass. Part of him wanted to be left alone, but the other part was boiling, looking for a fight. There was so much he wanted to say to her, if only he dared. He felt a coward for not confronting her, but he knew from experience that she quickly got the upper hand. And when she ran out of arguments, she just started crying. And he couldn’t cope with her crying now. He couldn’t face an argument. Dog or no dog, it was all irrelevant. When I can’t cope anymore, I give up, he thought, and I don’t give a toss what other people think. Carmen will win this round too. I always knew she would. I’m pathetic. I play second violin. Dammit.

“Let’s take the bus into Palma tomorrow,” she said enthusiastically. “Then we can look at the shops.”

“Yes, why not?” he said in a tired voice. He was clutching the glass, only thinking of one thing now, and that was getting drunk.

“And we can go to the cathedral,” she continued. “Maybe we could light a candle there for Tommy.”

Yes, it would be good to light a candle for Tommy. But it wouldn’t ease the pain. His grief was like a millstone around his neck, pulling him down deeper and deeper. He felt the whiskey soothing him. He was floating away from reality. He thought, it’s not true that he drowned. This is just a nightmare. And tomorrow I’ll wake up and be happy in a new world.

“What do you think it’s like here in autumn and winter?” Carmen asked.

“Dead,” Nicolai replied. “Closed shops and empty beaches, cloudy and wet. People wandering around without any real purpose.”

“Oh, come on, stop being silly. What do you think they live off?”

“Some of them probably have other jobs. And some probably live off what they earn in the summer. Think of all the tips you’d get in just one day. You’re too generous with your tips, by the way, Carmen. You have to stop because we can’t afford it.”

The band down in the hotel garden had taken a break. All they could hear were the cicadas and the odd burst of laughter rolling out into the dense Mediterranean night. A horse-drawn carriage trotted past and they heard the horseshoes ringing out on the narrow cobbled street.

“I don’t like greyhounds,” she said out of the blue. “They’re so thin. I don’t like Alsatians because they always look so aggressive. And I don’t like bulldogs because they’re ugly. I can’t see how they manage to eat with their teeth the way they are. And you don’t want a poodle. And I don’t want one either. And Chihuahuas are too small; there are limits. St. Bernards are too big and setters are too nervous. And dachshunds have such short legs that they just look weird. I say we get a terrier. You know, one of those small ones. Come on,” she said enticingly, “let’s go to bed, it’s late. I suggest a Jack Russell, a boy. They’re the right kind of size and they look cool. You can’t drink any more whiskey now; otherwise you’ll feel like garbage. Remember we’re going into Palma tomorrow, so you have to be in reasonable shape.”

She stood up and went into the bathroom to brush her teeth. Nicolai stayed where he was out in the dark, sipping his whiskey. He didn’t pay attention to Carmen’s commands anymore. He was on a slippery slope. He was losing control. Again, all he felt was indifference. Indifference about the dog, indifference about going into Palma the next day. He sat out there for an hour and listened to the voices down in the garden, which were by now only a faint mumble. Finally he went into the bedroom. A dog, he thought, a little terrier. Why not? Something to pet, he thought, as he crept in under the comforter. Carmen was sleeping heavily. Sweaty and warm and soft, she was like a radiator after a day in the sun. But he didn’t touch her. They hadn’t touched at all since Tommy died.

THEY WALKED HAND
in hand around the cathedral and lit a candle for Tommy. There was something wretched about the whole thing. You put a euro into the slot, like putting money in a piggy bank, and then a little bulb lit up. They stood there, filled with emotion, looking at the weak, energy-saving light.

“Do you think it will stay lit until the evening?” Carmen asked hopefully.

“No, I doubt it will be more than a measly hour,” Nicolai remarked. “Everyone wants to make money. The church is no exception. Tomorrow we’ll have to put another euro in. Come on, it’s nothing more than a little dirty bulb, so let’s not get things out of proportion.”

They sat in a pew and held hands. Carmen gave a little squeeze; she wanted so much to be kind. There were several other tourists in the church talking in hushed voices, a gentle murmur of different languages. Silence, prayer, and respect, for life and death. Their heads and hearts filled with the thought that there was perhaps more than this wretched daily toil with its suffering and grief. Nicolai liked the dim, beautiful interior. The church gave him a sense of peace. He could sit there forever in the hard pew and stare at the weak light from Tommy’s candle.

Time passed and eventually they dragged themselves away and continued to explore the town. They went up to the main square, Plaza Major, where they found a bar. They each ordered a beer and sat and sipped it in the shade of the trees, looking out at the square and the passersby. A fountain splashed ice-cold water in front of the august buildings that lined the plaza. There were stalls selling all manner of things: flowers, fruit and vegetables, baskets and colorful shawls. As Nicolai enjoyed his beer, he thought about Carmen as he observed her surreptitiously over the edge of his glass: her golden skin, her slim hands fidgeting restlessly on the table. He knew that if he left her, if he actually did what he was thinking about, she would grieve for a few weeks and then she would settle into her new situation, adaptable as she was. He would of course have to move out of Granfoss. After all, it was Marian who had bought the house for them. And where would he go? He would also have to find himself another job. He couldn’t carry on working at Zita Quick if he was going to leave Carmen. That would be impossible. Jesus, he thought, I’m trapped. If he was going to leave, he would have to go far away, beyond the reach of all the tears and accusations. People saying that he was a worrier, as Carmen always claimed. A weak and helpless soul who couldn’t move on. He took a sip of beer and looked over at the other tourists; they all looked so happy, wearing shorts and sandals. Children’s laughter, ice cream, pigeons pecking at crumbs in the cobbled square. Meanwhile he was drowning in grief, gasping for air, desperately trying to force his heart to keep a normal speed. Down in the harbor, which they had passed on the way to the cathedral, he could see rows and rows of luxury boats:
Doris,
Fortuna,
and
Paradise.
There were a few for sale. If you had a boat, he thought, you could just sail away from everything, out to the curve of the horizon.

The waiter came over to their table with a bowl of salted pistachio nuts. Nicolai put one in his mouth.

“Are you sad?” he asked suddenly. The words fell out of his mouth before he could think. Carmen raised an eyebrow and stared at him uncertainly.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Don’t be stupid,” he snapped. “Tommy drowned in Damtjern on August 10. And I’m asking if you’re finding it hard. You don’t look like you’re sad. What are you actually thinking?” he asked, banging his beer glass down on the table. Beer splashed over the edges, and a sudden indignation flared up inside him.

“What do you mean?” she said, still hesitating. “Stop playing around.”

“You know perfectly well what I mean. And what were you thinking when you carried him down to the pond? I can’t believe that you stood there on the jetty and threw him into the water. What if someone had seen you? What if people didn’t believe your crazy explanation?”

She picked up her glass and took a couple of greedy gulps. Again, her cheeks were flushed, as if he had caught her lying.

“I’ve given my explanation,” she said. “I was terrified. I was scared that I would be blamed and I couldn’t face that because it was an accident.”

“An accident. Yes, rather convenient that you have epilepsy.”

She leaned over the table. They sat and glared at each other, neither of them wanting to back down. Nicolai’s stubborn green eyes stared straight into her blue ones. Her defiance grew in the face of his accusation.

“What are you trying to prove?” she asked. “What are you going on about? I’ve told the truth and I’ve got nothing more to say about Tommy’s death. You really are pushing it now. I don’t want any more accusations. I was the one who looked after Tommy. You were at work, and you weren’t there most of the time. I’m the one who had to answer all the questions. About what he could and couldn’t do, about his future, about why he was so slow, why he didn’t understand what we said to him. It hasn’t been easy, you know. I was pretty desperate at times. And you’ve damn well always been on the outside.”

“Yes,” he said. “I was at work. One of us had to keep the money coming in. If you thought looking after him was so difficult, you should have said so. We could have swapped for a while; you could have worked at Zita Quick for as long as you liked. I even said as much, but you didn’t want to listen.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” she said, “because you’re fit and healthy. You don’t need to worry about suddenly keeling over. But let me tell you, it’s not great to live with. And I don’t feel particularly proud of myself either, about what’s happened. I admit that I did try to change my story, because I was terrified of being charged with negligence. It’s not damn easy knowing what the police are going to do. Everyone’s out to get me; you could at least be on my side. I’ve wept buckets too, so there.”

“Yes, you’re certainly good at crying,” he said. “You turn on the waterworks whenever it suits you. But I’ve cried too. And the only comfort I have is some fantastic story about a moment’s confusion. You owe it to me to explain how you could think of doing something like that. Throwing a baby into the water to cover something you claim was an accident is just crazy. Honestly.”

Carmen finished her beer, and then she too banged her glass down on the table. Her mouth was drawn and pale, despite the sun.

“You should be damn grateful that you don’t have epilepsy,” she said in a bitter voice. “You don’t have to lie unconscious on the floor in spasms. And then come to again without being able to remember anything. Everything is just a blind spot in your head. Yes, I know it was stupid. But it’s too late for regret, and Tommy’s death was an accident. So why can’t you just believe me and be done!”

Nicolai sat back and crossed his arms. “Not strange really, that the police keep questioning you,” he said calmly. “You’ve spun them a pretty good story. Think about when you’re in court. How will you get them to believe anything so far-fetched?”

“They’ll believe me because it’s the truth,” she said. “Simple as that.” She finished the last of her beer and looked at him with pleading eyes. “Can we just for once be honest? I didn’t think it was much fun that Tommy turned out the way he did. That I would always have to deal with his problems.”

“What do you mean, problems?”

“Don’t make yourself out to be more stupid than you are. You know perfectly well what I mean. He would never be able to keep up in life. I would always have to explain to other people why my child wouldn’t do what was expected of a child his age. People are nosy and ask so many questions. Yes, I’ve got a son, but unfortunately he’s an idiot. I think you should apologize. I can’t believe you would accuse me of lying. Fuck you for being so self-righteous. I’ve got a lot of stuff going on inside as well. And it’s not as if you don’t have any faults.”

“I don’t trust you,” he said and drank some more beer. Again he banged his glass on the table. “If you’re sitting there hiding a terrible secret, I hope it eats away at you from inside.”

Carmen stood up and put her bag over her shoulder. Then she took her empty glass and threw it down onto the asphalt with all her might, so the glass shattered. “There you go,” she snarled. “You can tidy it up.”

As she walked away across the cobbled square, she shouted over her shoulder to him: “I’m going back to the hotel. And this argument never happened.”