peanut butter, chewed and turned the pages. Just the usual stuff.
'The jobs are in section three,' his mother advised him, watching him from where she stood at the work surface. She had another night shift ahead of her, which meant her whole day was free. That didn't really suit him. He liked it when she wasn't home. She was shrewd, the way mothers are; they could see right through anything.
'I know,' he mumbled, as he kept turning the pages.
'You're looking for something,' she concluded.
'What are you looking for?'
'A disaster,' he replied, shrugging his shoulders.
'Why are you interested in something like that?'
'A little drama in the daily round, I suppose.' He gulped down the first slice of bread as he scanned page after page.
'You're only reading the headlines,' she said.
'Yeah,' he said. 'If I read all the main headlines, I'll be reasonably well-informed.'
She shook her head with annoyance and let
water run into the sink. Zipp has never in his life done the dishes, she thought. Would things have been different if she'd had a daughter? Easier, maybe. A little help around the house? She wasn't sure. Some of her friends had daughters, and they complained all the time about everything being so difficult. They had to explain so much to them. Menstruation. Sex. She shivered. No, it was better to have a son, even if he were unemployed. He was handsome and gentle. Things would turn out well for him, she was sure of that. There were plenty of young people who took a while to figure out what they wanted to do. But it was expensive having him live with her. He always needed something.
'I'm going to call Andreas at work.' He said it out loud. It sounded ordinary enough, and he was convinced Andreas would answer. He went into the living room, punching in the numbers with a practised hand. His mother gazed after him. He gripped the receiver tightly. No, Andreas hadn't come to work today. Hadn't called in sick either. Didn't Zipp know that? His mother was worried about him. Had even been to see the police.
'The police?'
'To report him missing. He didn't come home last night.'
'Is he missing?' Zipp asked. He knew his mother was listening, like a quivering cable reaching him from the kitchen; he had no choice but to play along.
'Didn't you see him yesterday?'
The question caught him off guard. Who in fact knew that they had been together? Someone must have seen them. And just think of everything they'd done! It would be best to stick close to the truth.
'Jesus, yes, we were together yesterday. Went out to the Headline. Watched a video afterwards.'
'Well, it's odd, isn't it? I suppose he'll turn up.'
'Yes. I know Andreas. He does whatever he likes.' He tried to laugh, but it came out as a squeak.
'What's going on?' His mother was standing next to him.
'Andreas,' he said, putting down the phone.
'Didn't show up for work today.'
'He didn't? Why not?' She gave him a hard look. Suspected that something was up and took in every detail. The way his eyes were flickering, the way he put his hand up to push back his unruly hair. He shook his head.
'How would I know? Everything was perfectly normal.'
'What do you mean by normal?' She squinted at him.
'Well, last night, I mean.'
'And why wouldn't it be?'
Silence. He searched for words but found none. Wanted to go back to the kitchen but was stopped by the phone ringing. His mother didn't move to pick it up. He shrugged and picked up the receiver.
'Hello? Zipp? This is Andreas' mother.'
'Uh, yes?' he croaked, his mind churning like crazy, thinking about everything that had happened and what he could say, or rather, what he couldn't say.
'Andreas didn't come home last night. I went into his room at eight this morning to wake him up, and he wasn't there! You and Andreas went into town yesterday, didn't you?'
'Yes,' he said, casting a glance over his shoulder. It dawned on him that whatever answer he gave now was crucial. Crucial to everything that would happen later, because of everything they had done. The baby in the blue pram, the old lady in the white house. Something was badly wrong, but he didn't know what. He didn't understand why the woman was sitting at the table dressed only in her nightgown, why she just kept sitting there. And Andreas, who never came out of that house.
'You were with him. Where did the two of you go?' Her voice was suddenly sharp.
'Here. We came over to my house.' The video was on the table downstairs. Did she think he was standing here and not telling the truth? 'First we went to a bar. Afterwards we watched a film here.
'What do you mean?' Her voice was uncertain.
'He didn't come home last night!' she repeated.
'Do you know where he is?'
'No,' he said, in a firm voice, because that was the truth, and again it was a relief not to lie. 'No, I have no idea where he is. I called him at work and found out that he never showed up.'
'So you heard that? I went to see the police,' she said resolutely. 'He needs to learn to take responsibility. He's an adult now, after all. He ought to start acting like one. But last night . . . When did you last see him? Where were you?'
He thought fast. 'We were hanging out around town. At the square and stuff.'
'Okay, and then what?'
'Nothing. We were just goofing around. We said goodbye around midnight,' he said.
Around midnight. That sounded plausible.
Around midnight. That's when they caught sight of that woman. Near the optician's.
'Where did you last see him?'
'Where?' Shit, did she have to know every last detail? 'Where? On Thornegata, I think.' It slipped out. Why had he said that? Because that's where Andreas had told him to leave the street and sneak through the back gardens in the dark, while he continued following the woman.
'Thornegata? What were you doing out there?'
'Nothing,' he said, feeling more and more annoyed by mothers who wanted to know everything, who felt they had the right to poke around and ask questions.
'But . . . Thornegata . . . Didn't you come home together? Where was he going?'
'Don't know. We were just roaming around,' he repeated.
'Did anything happen?' Her voice was anxious.
'Were you drunk, Zipp?'
'No, no! No, we weren't.'
'Did he meet someone?'
'Not that I know of.'
He wanted to hang up. To be done with all this pressure. 'Tell him to call me when he shows up,' he said. 'Tell him that I'm going to have his guts for garters.'
Speaking of Andreas only reminded Zipp of the night before, of what Andreas had wanted to do to him in the churchyard. He wished he could take the words back, but it was too late. From now on, he thought, everything's going to be difficult.
At last she hung up. His mother was standing with the dishwashing brush in her hand, dripping soap and water on to the floor.
'Well?'
'Mrs Winther,' he said. 'She's reported Andreas missing.'
'And?'
'She just wants to get even. He's an adult, after all.'
