Hell Fire

34

“One day, I’m going to die,” Mass said seriously. “The house will be too big for you on your own. Perhaps we should move into a small apartment?”

“Die?” Eddie said and rolled his eyes. “But that won’t be for ages! So we can at least wait until you’re old.”

Mass looked at her son’s brown curls. His big white hands and double chin. If only he had a brother or sister, but that had never happened and it was too late now. She wanted to go out for a drive with him, sit close to him in the car, enjoy the good weather. They drove out to Tangen and Frydenlund. Mass pointed at the blocks of apartments and residential complexes and said how nice they were. Look at the big balconies. I could have flower boxes there. And you wouldn’t need to clear the snow. They drove across the river and up the hillside. There were lots of big detached houses here, but they were just out for a run in the car and Mass liked driving. Eddie had bought himself a Coke at a store and sat beside her, burping every time he took a sip. It had always irritated her before but not anymore. He was the son she had been given, and she had always been patient with him.

She was overcome by waves of angst and then struggled to breathe. Eddie drank from his Coke bottle and looked out at the scenery; everything was shiny and nice in the golden spring sunshine.

“The crocuses will be out soon,” he said happily. “And the tulips. You’ll have plenty to do.”

Mass thought about all the flowers she would see for the last time. Everything was for the last time. The last spring, the last summer. She had told Dr. Bromann that she would like to die in her own bed. But the more she thought about it, the clearer it became that that simply would not be possible. Eddie wouldn’t cope at all. Take one day at a time, she told herself, as long as the pain isn’t too bad. She thought about her final days, lying in a hospital bed screaming, with a terrified Eddie sitting beside her. Suddenly she wanted to go home. The angst overwhelmed her; she wanted to make supper for him, something nice. Everything had to be kept as normal as possible.

In the evening, they sat and watched television. She had been to the store and bought a big bag of Twist chocolates, which her son was now guzzling. The colorful empty wrappers lay in a pile on the table. Eddie picked up the newspaper, leafed through to the crossword, and then grabbed a pencil.

“I’m so glad that you’ve got hobbies,” Mass said. “The crossword. Your computer. You’re a whiz.”

“I know,” Eddie said proudly. “I’ve always known that. And you’re a whiz in the kitchen.”

Yes, Mass thought, we have to remember to say nice things to each other while we can. He needs self-confidence, as much as he can get. But deep down she was afraid that he would not cope. That the world would come tumbling down and he would hide somewhere in the dark and not reach out to other people. And then anything could happen.

“Buy an apartment,” Eddie said. “Crazy idea. You must be losing it.”

Mass balled her fists in desperation because it was true. The disease was like a blow from a hammer and she felt dizzy. And soon, soon enough, the pain would take over.