“Maybe. What’s your line of work?”
“I’m in the publishing business. Or was, I have to soon say. He’s going to fire us all. I’m dead certain about that.”
“Any hints about it?”
“Hard times, you know. I’m not worth much on the job market nowadays. Too old.”
“Naaah.”
“Seriously, I’m forty-five, Justine. So are you for that matter. I don’t know anything else except working with manuscripts. What am I supposed to do if I can’t do it any longer?”
“Can’t you start your own publishing company? People always like books?”
“Yeah, right, do you know how easy that is?”
“Your husband?”
“I don’t want to live off his income. No, no. Freedom is the most important thing that a person owns. You know that yourself. Maybe that’s why you didn’t get married.”
“You don’t have to be married to feel imprisoned.”
“Hmmm.”
The bird cawed up on the bookcase, and then flew down like a big black veil. He landed on the floor and hopped over to Justine. Berit screamed and pulled her feet back on the chair.
“Oh yes, he loves to eat the toes of former classmates.”
Justine tickled him on his neck; he fluffed himself up and looked thick.
“I’m sorry… but aren’t they a bit disgusting?”
“Different tastes.”
“He’s like your child, isn’t he.”
“Probably even more than that.”
“Animals never let you down. Isn’t that true, Justine? People always say so, is it true?”
“It depends on what one expects from one’s pet.”
“Once… the boys… they’re practically the same age. Jorgen and Jens. The police called… we had to go get them at the hospital. They had drunk so much that they couldn’t make it home. You can die of it, you know, alcohol poisoning. It was worse for Jens, he was so small; he was lying in the embryo position when I arrived. I wanted to just scream, Justine, my little baby. Why can’t they stay with you forever?”
Chapter ELEVEN
She bought herself a car, a Volvo. It was so new that no one had owned it before, but it didn’t lack personality. It stood, red and elegant, in the dealership window, and Justine stepped inside and opened the front door. Even the smell was new. It was warm, comfortable, and had automatic transmission. Of course she could bargain, but she didn’t feel like it.
She took out the money and returned the following day.
The salesman said, “This is one great car. It has a lot of power. You’re not going to regret it.”
“I know.”
“Fast as a silver bullet. If you’re going to drive in old Deutschland, you’re even going to pass the Porches.”
“I’m not planning to drive there,” she said. “But thanks for the tip.”
It was snowing. Thin, light flakes which swirled in the wind and made it difficult to see. The snow tires were in the trunk. The salesman said that he could put them on for her, but she would have to wait one more day.
“But you can feel safe on these tires. They are stable, yearround tires, made for the Scandinavian climate.”
In the Vallingby roundabout she skidded. She corrected the skid without any difficulty.
A strange, funny name came to her mind.
The High-Wire-Artist. Well, why not?
Flora sat in the armchair next to the window. They had supported her with pillows and tied her to the back with a restraint.
Justine had run up the stairs. Now she was standing in the room and clumps of snow were melting next to her boots.
“Great! You’re awake,” she said. “I’m going to take you out.”
The woman’s lip moved, a string of thin saliva.
The door slid open, a nurse pushing a wheelchair. A strange woman sitting in it, her long veined hands picking at something on her knee.
The nurse said, “Look Flora! You have a visitor. Isn’t it wonderful that your daughter has come.”
“I’ve bought a new car,” said Justine.
The radio was on; someone was crying in the hallway.
“I can only dream of that!”
“Why do you say so?”
“Me, buy a car! How much do you think nurses earn?”
“Take my old one then. It’s all right, for the most part. If it’s acting up, just spray it with some 5-56. Then it works like a dream. I don’t need it. An Opel Rekord, take it and say it’s a long-term loan, drive it till it falls apart.”
The nurse turned red.
“I didn’t mean to…”
“Well, I’m not going to use it any longer. One car is good enough for me. It’s at my place; you can pick it up whenever you get around to it. It’s just in the way.”
“I couldn’t really…”
“Otherwise it goes to the junkyard.”
“It runs?”
“Certainly it runs.”
“I don’t get it… Why did you buy a new one then?”
“You only live once. I can so I did.”
“Well, that’s one way to look at things.”
“Or how you see yourself.”
“Excuse me?”
“Oh, nothing.”
Justine gestured.
“How’s she doing?”
“Same as usual.”
“I’m thinking of taking her for a test drive.”
“Isn’t it a bit cold?”
“And what of it?”
“Well… well, why not? Didn’t you say if you can do something, you should?”
“Exactly.”
“It’s just… Can you get her dressed yourself? We are a little short today. I have to take care of Marta here. She is Flora’s new roommate, by the way.”
She was as thin as a paper doll, no control over her arms and legs. If you bent them back and forth, they’d break at the fold.
Justine carried her to the bed. She hardly weighed more than the bird. She put on socks, flannel pants, a cardigan and a jacket. Also plaid cloth slippers and a shawl for her head.
She called to the nurse.
“Is this enough, do you think?”
“Sure. But it’s easier to get them dressed when they’re sitting.”
Justine took her step-mother in her arms. She could tell how the emaciated body trembled. She got a strange
