Baboon

TORBEN AND MARIA

What can you say about Maria? That her hair is blonde and dark at the roots? That she loves roast pork with cracklings? That as a child she loved to look out at the flat fields at dusk in February? Her eyes rested there, under the low sky, in the gray gray light, until it got so dark that she could see only her face reflected on the window, the green lamp on the table behind her, and all the way back to her mother, leaning against the door smoking.

The window, a black mirror.

Maria.

She hits her small child, until the screaming stops. It's a boy and his name is Torben. Not many people call their sons that any more. Ah, Maria! You can say this about her: "She gave her son the name Torben."

Soon he'll be two. He's a little weakling, and there's nothing special about him.

* * *

They're walking down the pedestrian street. Torben and Maria. They're holding hands. They stop at the fountain. Maria sits down on a bench and Torben runs under the chestnut trees. They're in bloom now and very beautiful. He scares up a flock of pigeons, then finds a little black rock. He takes his time with a piece of gum that has been trampled in the grass.

Meanwhile, Maria's phone rings. It's Bjørn.

"We're waiting for you, where the fuck are you, asshole?" Bjørn is held up. Maria sighs and turns to look for Torben. He's in the middle of a conversation with two young women. They smile and gesticulate. Torben shows them something. They bend down to get a closer look, and both laugh. One pats him on the head. Then they wave good-bye and cut across the lawn. Torben watches them until they disappear. A fly crawls across his forehead.

Maria lights a cigarette and calls him over. He darts back to his mother.

"What a good boy," says an older man who's sitting beside Maria on the bench. "Nowadays kids never do what they're told."

Maria pulls Torben up onto her lap. He shows her the black rock. The man smiles and says, "Hello there little friend." Torben hides his face in Maria's neck.

Then Bjørn arrives out of breath. Maria shakes her head with defeat and starts walking. Bjørn puts Torben on his shoulders.

Bjørn is Maria's brother. They're all going to eat at the restaurant in the train station where you can get roast pork. Bjørn carries Torben the whole way through town.

"Why are you so late, you asshole?"

"Business."

"Business, my ass."

"Really. Cell phones. We made a killing."

"Who's we?"

"Me and Rock."

"You better stay away from Rock."

"Chill the fuck out."

"Stay away from him."

"But he has connections."

"Like hell he does!"

"Chill out. He doesn't give a damn about seeing Torben. You know Rock."

Maria shoots him a furious look. Torben sings, "Bah, bah, black sheep," as well as he can.

"Stop SINGING, Torben!"

"Why can't the kid sing?"

"Because he can't."

Bjørn shrugs.

"You're insane," he says and sings along. He doesn't know the song, and sings both out of tune and way too loud. Torben looks frightened and keeps silent. Meanwhile, Maria crosses to the other sidewalk. Bjørn takes Torben under his arm and cuts to the other side.

"Get your shit together," he yells. "What the hell's wrong with you?"

* * *

They eat roast pork and drink Diet Coke. Torben has a hotdog and french fries. He barely reaches the table. They eat in silence. Then Maria notices the chewing gum stuck to Torben's left palm.

"You pig," she hisses, trying to peel it off.

It won't come off. She turns red and grabs Torben's wrist, squeezing it. Torben stares off into the distance. Maria yanks his arm so hard he bangs his head on the corner of the table.

"Leave the boy alone," Bjørn says with food in his mouth. "Maria!"

She lets him go. Torben continues to stare off into the distance.

"Do you beat him?" Bjørn asks, cleaning the meat and red cabbage off his teeth with his tongue. Maria narrows her eyes and looks at him.

"Stay away from Rock, okay?"

She pushes her plate away. She's eaten everything, even the little sprig of parsley decorating the potatoes. There's almost no trace of sauce left. Torben accidentally knocks over his Coke. Bjørn wipes it up with a napkin.

"Chill the fuck out Maria, he's just a kid."

"He's going to be two in a month."

"That's pretty fucking young."

"Retard."

* * *

Then they leave. Delicate pink clouds drift through the sky. Torben and Maria hold hands. They walk up the pedestrian street. Bjørn stops. He needs to go the other way. He's going to meet Rock to buy some weed and talk business.

"Fuck you, Bjørn," Maria says, marching off with Torben.

Bjørn stands there a moment watching them. That stout young woman in black pants and a white top. The blonde hair that's dark at the roots. The boy in the red shorts and T-shirt. He shakes his head and turns around. He sticks his hands in his pockets and walks back around City Hall. He decides to walk all the way to the north end of the city where Rock lives since it's such a fine spring evening. The light is amazing, almost blue and milky now; a black bird sings nearby.

* * *

Maria hits her little child. Her son, Torben. She beats him. She hurls him into the wall. She kicks him when he crawls under the dining table. She slaps his face if he picks his nose. She shakes him when he falls asleep on the couch. She ties him to the bars of the crib. Though there's no need to. He always lies there without moving.

"You should hit him on the butt so he doesn't get any marks," her mother says. "Otherwise you'll have the daycare people coming after you."

And she's probably right. They're beginning to wonder. Torben is so shy. But he's also violent. He hits the other children when they come near him. He bites. And he often has bumps and bruises on his body and head. They've talked it over with each other. But on the other hand, Maria seems okay. You can't be too quick to judge people. Children at that age are accident-prone, they're always stumbling and falling and hurting themselves.

But actually, Torben isn't a likeable child. He's not cute. He doesn't shine. In fact, he's completely graceless, ugly, and snot-nosed. He's the kind of child you simply want to be rid of, if you're being honest. There's a difference between children, it's just that way. And maybe that's why no one in daycare really notices Torben's bruises. No one really likes him. Maybe that's why.

* * *

Maria locks the door and turns on the light in the hallway. She rummages around for the remote and turns on the TV. The living room is dark. With a sigh, she sinks into the couch. Torben crawls up to her. She strokes his head absentmindedly, he snuggles up to her breast. They watch a program about Africa's coastlines. Torben quickly falls asleep, and Maria carries him into the bedroom. Then she huddles on one end of the large caramel-colored couch with a soda and cigarettes and sits there until long after midnight.

Ah, Maria.

Bjørn is your brother, Torben, your son.

I'm Rock.

Do you remember when we first met? You told me about the flat fields at dusk, and you let me fondle your breasts. We walked up and down the pedestrian street for hours. And you let me touch your hair, while you sat with your back against my stomach on a bench by the fountain. We ate roast pork at the train station restaurant. That was a long time ago. You were so. . fresh! It was the summer you turned 17. And I, well, I'm an older guy now. You were so restless, didn't want to be tied down. Now you've gotten heavy. I know so much about you. And you shouldn't worry about Torben. I don't care. He's nothing special. I never for a moment think he's mine. Because he is yours, Maria. Do with him what you want. Little kids don't really do anything for me. Bjørn says you're mad at me. That's fine. We've had our time together, and now I'm content just to follow along from a distance. Not an obsession, more for amusement. You're going in circles, Maria, and it amuses me to follow you: the pedestrian street, the anger, the beatings you heap on the boy, all the cheap clothes, the drinking sprees at bars, and the one-night stands.

The pedestrian street, the anger, the beatings.

I know where I've got you now. It suits me fine.

* * *

Torben is turning two years old. Maria's mother is there, and Bjørn. They've bought candy and chips and straws for Torben's soda. All four of them are sitting on the couch. The TV is on and Bjørn is helping Torben unwrap the gifts. Then he takes Torben into the bedroom to play with the new car. The women light cigarettes. They hear Bjørn making the sound of an ambulance.

Torben lies on his stomach on the floor and drives the yellow tractor back and forth.

"Torben. Look. I have something else for you."

Bjørn takes a small package from his pocket. It's a snow globe that usually has a Santa inside it. But there's no Santa in this one. There's a little green fir tree. The background is dark blue with stars. Bjørn shows the boy how to make it snow. Torben stares with an open mouth at the fat falling flakes and takes it and tries it himself.

"It's from your father, Torben. Your father."

But Torben isn't listening. He can't get enough of it. He shakes the globe again and again, gaping with wonder at the miracle. Bjørn gets up from the floor and goes into the living room. The mother has made popcorn in the microwave. Bjørn stuffs a handful in his mouth while lighting a cigarette.

"Rock fucking remembered it. I can't believe it."

"What are you talking about?"

"The boy's birthday."

"Oh, piss off."

"He likes the gift."

Maria stops chewing.

"What?"

"The gift from Rock. The kid's crazy about it."

Maria gets up and storms toward Bjørn.

"Stop, Maria," the mother says.

Maria gives Bjørn a hard push when she passes him on her way out of the living room. She yanks the snow globe out of Torben's hand, walks over to the window and opens it. The boy begins bawling. She throws it as hard as she can and watches the little globe smash to pieces when it hits the sidewalk. Torben clings to her pants. She tears herself from him and slams the door to the bedroom on her way back to the living room. She sinks down into the couch next to her mother.

Bjørn gets his jacket and leaves.

The next time Maria and Torben go out to the street, Torben sees the broken snow globe. He wants to pick up the fir tree, but Maria kicks it under a car. Take it easy, Maria, I won't be sending any more gifts to your snot-nosed kid. It was just a little experiment. I wanted to see if I could make you break out of your circle. But that seems impossible. And you walk up and down the pedestrian street, you and Torben, up and down. You sit on the bench by the fountain. Torben runs under the chestnut trees. You talk to Bjørn on the phone. You eat roast pork and fight. At home, you lift up Torben and smash him into the sharp corner of the kitchen counter. The only thing I'm not able to say about you is what you're thinking when you sit on the couch at night.

Maybe you don't even know yourself.