Inger Frimansson - Good Night, My Darling

“Maybe I should come with you when you visit her in the nursing home?”

“No,” she said hastily, as if the old witch woman would arise from her sickbed, as if she would become strong again and begin to threaten them.

“Eventually I went upstairs. There was a draft from the upper level. I looked out and saw her sitting there in a somewhat distorted position. It looked so macabre, that dry old woman stomach and that bikini… She’d had a stroke. I tried to get her going, but she was slurring her speech and was strange. Later, they found that she was completely paralyzed and couldn’t even speak. Well, then I sent her off to the hospital and she never came back.”

He took both of her hands.

“You seem to be a bit grim to me, my darling.”

“She had me in her power for so many years.”

“Please pardon me in advance, but it sounds a bit exaggerated when you say that.”

“It’s not exaggerated.”

“It was surely not easy for her to become the step-mother of a spoiled child like you.”

“If you had met her, you wouldn’t think so.”

“Oh yes, you probably deserved a whipping or two!”

“Nathan!”

But the conversation had turned into play. He had that ability, to get her to forget that evil and hurtful past; he loved wrestling with her and taking off her clothes piece by piece, as if they were trophies. Then he placed himself between her legs. He kissed her and manipulated her until she was taken over by spasm upon spasm of orgasms. He enjoyed her amazement and her gratitude. A woman of her age so completely without experience.

But still she had carried a child.

When she explained more about that to him, he said that he had already surmised it. She was wider, not closed in the same way much younger women were. He was careful to say that it didn’t make her less attractive. It was one of the contrasts that made her so fascinating to him: so grown and wonderful but without any dissemblance.

He thought owning the bird was complete craziness. He came home with her once and the bird came flying, and he had to shout out in surprise. She had hoped that he would feel friendly. She had to close the door to the attic while Nathan was in the house. The bird did not like that. She heard him screech and fly around up there.

“I’m going to let him go into the wild,” said Nathan. “This is animal cruelty.”

“Do that and he’ll die. The others will attack him out there; they’ll hack him to death.”

“Isn’t it better to die a quick, albeit cruel, death rather than be forced to live in a house that was made for human beings?”

“You don’t get it. He likes this house, and I am his friend.”

“It can’t be all that hygienic, either.”

“People are always going on about cleanliness. Do you think that my house looks messy?”

“No, but…”

“Let’s forget about the bird. Come on, I’ll show you something else.”

She showed him photos of herself when she was little, pictures of her mother and the wedding photo of her father and Flora.

“Ah… so this is the notorious Flora.”

“Yes.”

“Such a skeleton.”

“She has always been thin and beautiful.”

“She probably rattled when she walked. No, Justine, you’re the beautiful one; you’re round and plump, something for a guy to sink his teeth into.”

And he pressed his mouth against her underarm and gave her a large, dark-red hickey.

When he saw her post horn, he lifted it from its hook and tried to blow it. Not a single sound came from it. He blew until he turned red.

“It doesn’t work, does it?” he said.

She took it from him. She had composed a few melodies when she was a child, but they were simple and easy to remember. Now she played them for him.

He wanted to try again. He blew and snorted, and finally managed a hoarse, deep sound.

“I’ve always been able to play it,” she said quietly. “My Pappa gave it to me. He said it was made for me.” Even Nathan thought she should sell the house.

“Do it before the bird has destroyed it and left bird shit everywhere.”

“You don’t get it. I want to live here. My mother chose this house. I have lived here my entire life.”

“That’s why you should sell it. How many houses do you think I’ve lived in? I don’t even know myself. You have to move around a bit, get a new perspective. You get stunted by the same damn view each and every day. Don’t you get it? You have to keep growing, Justine. Try a little adventure.”

They all got together at Ben’s office. The two Norwegian men were already there when Justine and Nathan arrived. They were just under thirty; they were named Ole and Steinn. A little while later, the Icelander and the three Germans appeared: Heinrich, Stephan and Katrine. Heinrich was the oldest in the group, just over sixty. The Icelander’s name was Gudmundur.

Then Martina arrived. She just opened the door and walked right in. Sat down as if she already knew them all, as if she’d just been gone a few minutes to run some errands.

“Hi, guys. Have you been waiting long?”

She was wearing thin cotton trousers, so thin than one could see her panties under the cloth. Her hair was knotted up, and she carried a camera on a wide strap, a large, advanced model.

One of the Norwegians whistled.

“A Nikon? Is it an F4?”

“Yeah,” said Martina. “It’s my work camera.”

“You’re a photographer?”

“No, a freelance journalist, actually. But then you have to do the photos yourself.”

“That must weigh a ton. Are you really going to schlep it through the jungle?”

“I’ve schlepped it over half the world this past year, so I don’t see why not.”

She was going to be the youngest participant. She was twenty-five years old, and used to traveling by herself. “Martina has promised to write up a piece about our excursion,” said Nathan. “She is going to help with marketing for my new firm, and you all are the pioneer group. Everything will depend on you…”

Everyone laughed.

Ben went through a few of the things that they had to know about. He was the one who decided that everyone should speak English at all times.

“That way, no one will feel like an outsider. You need to think about one thing, all of you in this room, and that is you belong to the few lucky people who will be able to visit one of the most beautiful places on the planet, the rain forest with all its animals and exotic plants. The rain forest, which presently still exists, but is shrinking greatly. I also want you to be ready for what this expedition will mean… A few of you will think in the beginning that things are getting really heavy; we also have to carry our stuff. There are no roads or paths in the jungle. We will have to crawl, climb, and keep our balance. We will have to cut our way through with these parangas , these jungle knives that we are going to buy tomorrow as part of our equipment. We are going to be crossing land that no white man or woman has ever set foot on before. You still have the chance to back out. You have all night to think about it.”

In the evening, Ben took them to a Chinese restaurant where there was beer. Justine would rather have had wine, but it appeared to be impossible to procure in this country. She ended up next to Heinrich, one of the Germans, with whom she felt an affinity right away. He and his wife had planned to start traveling once he had retired, but she got cancer and died less than a year ago.

“I stopped working when she died; now I travel for both her and me,” he revealed to her. “Sometimes it feels as if she were with me the whole time. I talk to her in the evenings; I tell her what I’ve been up to. Having someone to share experiences with is half of the enjoyment.”