The Drowned Boy

14

Fifteenth of August. Afternoon at Granfoss.

Carmen walked around with a large garbage bag and picked up toys from all the nooks and crannies: a teddy bear, a pacifier, a teething ring, a yellow plastic tractor, and a red fire engine. Things that boys like to play with. Wind-up toys and soft toys, Lego blocks and Playmobil animals. Then she went to the chest of drawers in the bedroom. She pulled out the drawers and started to put the baby clothes in the bag. Her movements were quick and efficient; she did not hesitate for a moment. The clothes were folded and put away.

“We can take it to the Salvation Army shop,” she said in a very practical manner. Nicolai stood in the doorway and watched her wide-eyed. Repugnance and rage churned inside him. He couldn’t believe what was happening — that she was tidying Tommy out of the house and getting rid of every single little thing before he was even in the ground.

“Surely you could wait with that,” he objected.

But Carmen wouldn’t listen. She continued with what she was doing.

“The funeral people will be coming soon,” she said, “and everything’s such a mess. And I don’t like being reminded. His things are everywhere. And he’s never coming back.”

“You said we could have another baby,” he remarked. “You said we could maybe have a girl. Have you changed your mind? We could use his clothes then, and the toys would come in handy. The carriage, the crib, everything. What are you thinking?”

She carried on putting the clothes in the bag. Most of them were blue or white, trousers, tops and overalls, mittens and hats. She said nothing in reply to his comment, just gritted her teeth and completely ignored him. I am the mother, she thought furiously; I am the one who decides.

Nicolai tried to pull himself together. He felt like a coward, because he couldn’t confront her with all his feelings raging inside. Deep down he felt an inexplicable fear, roaring in the depths of his being, that something was wrong. He wasn’t sure about what had actually happened on August 10 and his imagination was running wild. Tommy, he thought, my little man. We’ll meet again in a better world. He allowed himself these thoughts, even though he wasn’t a believer. Because the alternative, that he was gone forever, was simply unbearable. For sixteen months, he had been a devoted father. He had lifted the boy up and thrown him in the air so he screeched with delight, thrown balls and sung songs for him at night. He had felt the warmth of his body against his cheek, the soft, soapy smell of a freshly bathed baby. In his eyes, Tommy was the best little boy in the world, full of joy and delight, despite the Down syndrome.

“Maybe we could sell the carriage,” Carmen said and glanced over at him. “I’m sure we’d get quite a bit for it, since it’s as good as new.”

“But the carriage was a present from your parents,” he said, horrified. “Get a grip, Carmen; what do you think they’d say?”

“Cross that bridge when we get to it,” was her reply. “And Dad will understand. And in any case, it’s blue. And next time we might have a little girl.” She bent down over the garbage bag again and continued to fill it with clothes. It was almost full. Before, when she stood like that with her neat little bum in the air, it produced an explosion of burning desire. Now he felt nothing except deep antipathy. She straightened up and paused. She brushed the platinum hair away from her eyes and put her hands on her hips with that elegant tilt to her hips that he normally liked.

“Maybe we should cremate him,” she said. “Then we’ll get an urn and we could maybe take it home with us. Then he’d be here with us; what do you think?”

Nicolai looked at her in disbelief. He felt himself wobbling and had to lean against the door frame. Burn poor little Tommy to ash? No, there was no way he’d allow that.

“He’s going to be buried,” he said in desperation. “Don’t say things like that.”

Up went her bum again and she carried on with the bottom drawer.

“Oh well, just thought I’d mention it,” she said. “I don’t think we should cremate him either. I just wanted to know what you thought. I mean, God, we have to talk about things, don’t we? Don’t be so sensitive!”

“You don’t care what I think in any case,” he said. Tears welled up and stung his eyes.

“I don’t understand you,” he said after a while. “Put the bag down, we’re going out. Let’s go to Stranda. I need a swim.”

She continued emptying the bottom drawer, wanting to get it finished. But the thought of going to Stranda appealed to her, although first she had to go to the bathroom. They might run into someone and she wanted to look her best. She was concerned about that. And now, especially when things were so hard, she had to keep up appearances.

They walked hand in hand down the path like a young couple in love. There had been a big thunderstorm in the night and it had rained heavily afterward. The clouds had cleared again and everything felt new and fresh, and the heat they had had for so long had returned. The sun burned down relentlessly from a hazy sky. He held her hand tightly, so hard, in fact, that she whimpered. He had put his trunks on under his jeans and the thought of a long swim worked wonders.

“Do you think they’ll have finished the autopsy by now?” Carmen asked. She gave his hand a little squeeze, as though she wanted to take the edge off this painful question.

“They promised they’d call,” Nicolai replied, “and we haven’t heard anything yet. I don’t know. There’s nothing to find anyway. I wish it wasn’t necessary, but there’s no point in protesting. They’ve got all the power.”

Now it was he who squeezed her hand.

“Sorry,” he said all of a sudden.

Carmen looked up at him and gave him a squeeze back. She was wearing her ring with a red stone in it, and he felt the sharp edge hard against his palm.

“Why are you saying sorry?”

Nicolai had started to walk faster, and she had to trot a little to keep up.

“I know that I’m being difficult and mean,” he said. “I know that I’m complaining. But at the moment I’m just so sad. And I don’t want another child, just so you know. There’s no point in talking about a replacement, because it’s not possible.”

Carmen shook her head in exasperation; now it was her turn to be sad.

“You’ll learn to love another one just as much,” she said. “I know you. You’re so kind. You’re the world’s best dad. And we can wait a bit, anyway, until everything has gone back to normal. We’re in the middle of it all right now and that makes it difficult to think. Maybe after the funeral we’ll be able to move on. Pappa Zita says that the funeral is a kind of turning point. I hope we get a place for him under the birch trees beside Louisa.”

They walked in silence the rest of the way.

When they got to Stranda, Carmen sat down on the warm sand and Nicolai took off his jeans. He walked slowly down to the water, waded out, and then dived in. He was a strong swimmer and kept good speed straight out from the shore, with strong, determined strokes. She followed his progress.

“Don’t go too far,” she called to him. “It’s best to stick to the shore, and I can’t save you if you get cramps.”

She forced a little laughter, but it felt uncomfortable in her mouth. Nicolai didn’t answer; he just kept on swimming with steady strokes. Carmen could see a tanker farther out. The red hull was visible on the horizon. She kept her eye on Nicolai the entire time. He was now so far away that she started to get anxious. And he showed no sign of turning back. Terrible thoughts flooded her mind: maybe he couldn’t face any more, and he was leaving it all behind. She stood up and shaded her eyes, catching sight of his head in the gentle waves, bobbing up and down like a cork. She started to dig in the wet sand, trying to make a sandcastle. But she wasn’t any good at it, and the castle kept collapsing. As a child, she had come here often with her father. He was as strong as an ox and had carried her on his shoulders all the way, and she rocked and felt like she was on a boat. Then he’d lifted her down onto the sand and answered all her questions. Why don’t fish drown? Well, her father told her, they get air through their gills. A fine profusion of tiny bubbles of oxygen. And just think how fast they move in the water. Everything that lives in this world needs air. Yes, her father was always on her side. No matter what happened, he was her mentor and her servant and he made her happy. She looked out at the water again to see if Nicolai had turned. But he hadn’t, so she started to shout.

“Nicolai, you idiot, come back or I’ll go home! I didn’t manage to save Tommy. And I won’t be able to save you!”

Finally he came to his senses, turned back, and swam toward the shore. She sighed with relief. She felt her body relax and started to build her little sandcastle again with eager hands. She managed to build a tower and dig a moat to channel in the water. She was delighted with her work, beaming up at Nicolai when he came out of the water.

“You scared me,” she said later as she took his hand.

“Why?” he asked. “I’m a good swimmer. I’m best in the water and you know that.”

He looked over the small sandcastle but was not particularly impressed, and she was hurt that he didn’t even make a friendly comment. As they walked back, she was silent for a while. She had her turquoise sandals on. One of the straps was beginning to rub; they were not good to walk in. She knew that she would get a blister that would then burst and become a sore so she would have to use a bandage. Stupid damn shoes, she thought and got herself wound up.

“People will think you’ve wet yourself,” she said with a little smile. There were dark patches on Nicolai’s jeans from the wet trunks he still had on underneath. But he didn’t care; he just kept walking. He wanted to get home again. He wanted to go down into the dim cellar where he could be alone.

“Don’t walk so fast,” Carmen complained. “I’ve got a blister.”