S. Gazan: The Dinosaur Feather

All of a sudden Anna said: “And what’s that thing he’s got in his eye?”

Johannes looked blank.

“He’s got something in his eye,” Anna said, pointing to the corner of her own right eye. “A small hard pouch of some kind. Do you think he’s ill?”

Johannes shrugged. Anna had been unable to figure out if Helland really did have something wrong with his eye, because the only times she ever caught a glimpse of him were when he hurried down the corridor, inevitably leaving mayhem in his wake, roaring “morning!” at the open door to their office before disappearing into the elevator.

Johannes bent over his keyboard again, and Anna decided to drop the subject.

Anna had moved to Copenhagen in 1999 when she was accepted into the biology program at the university. Jens, her father, was already living there, and he had helped her find the apartment in Florsgade. Jens and Cecilie had divorced when Anna was eight. Anna had stayed on the island of Fyn with her mother, in the village of Brænderup, just outside Odense, the largest city on the island. The village consisted of around fifty houses; the community was close-knit, and it was a lovely place to grow up. For years Anna was uncertain as to whether or not her parents had permanently split because Jens, like some hopeful suitor, never stopped visiting them. Anna knew it had been a source of friction to the girlfriends Jens dated after Cecilie; not that Jens and Anna spent much time discussing their feelings, but he had once remarked that it happened to be the case. His girlfriends resented that he would rather spend Christmas with Cecilie (and Anna), would rather go on vacation with Cecilie (and Anna), and never forgot Cecilie’s birthday (but managed, on two occasions, to forget Anna’s). Anna knew her father loved her, but he worshipped Cecilie. Anyone could see that.

Anna had once told her best friend Karen that she thought parents liked each other better than they liked their children. They had both been ten years old at the time. They were building a secret hideaway, and Anna had asked Karen why grownups seemed to like each other more, and why children seemed to come second, and Karen had said that was just not true. Karen’s mom said she loved Karen more than anyone on the planet. That grownups could choose whether or not they wanted to be together, but that you loved children all the time, for as long as you lived, and that you never regretted having them. Karen and Anna had almost ended up having a row. In the middle of it all, Jens called them into the kitchen for toast and chocolate milkshakes. Jens and Cecilie must have been divorced at that point but, nevertheless, Jens was there, in the kitchen, reading the newspaper by the window. And making toast.

The girls came in and Karen said to Jens: “You don’t really like Cecilie more than Anna, do you?” He lowered the newspaper, appearing shocked. Anna was small with dark hair; Karen’s hair was blond and curly.

“Why on earth do you want to know that?” he had replied, and Anna had blushed. She hadn’t wanted Jens to know about this, not at all, she hadn’t wanted Karen to ask him. Anna glared defiantly at the tablecloth. She couldn’t remember what happened next, only that she refused to play with Karen for the rest of that day and that she took back the special stamp she had given her, even though Karen said she couldn’t do that. However, that evening Jens told her something. When Anna had been born, Cecilie had been very ill, back problems of some sort. She was in great pain and had been in and out of hospital, Jens explained, and even though Anna only weighed six pounds, Cecilie hadn’t been allowed to lift her. That had made her feel really sad. Jens tucked Anna into bed and kissed her forehead.

“And that’s why I take good care of Cecilie,” he said. “Special care.”

Anna nodded. Anna, too, always tried really hard to please Cecilie.

“But I love you more than anyone, Anna,” he said, and suddenly looked very serious. “Parents just do. Otherwise something’s wrong.”

The next day Anna gave the stamp back to Karen. Along with a small rubber animal that could walk down the window all by itself.

When Anna told Jens in the spring of 2004 that she was pregnant by Thomas and they had decided to keep the baby, Jens’s response was, “Why?”

They were in a café in Odense and had just bought a luxurious dressing gown as a birthday present for Cecilie. They were having coffee before going to Brænderup where Cecilie was cooking dinner.

Anna gave her father a furious look.

“Do you want me to start with the birds and the bees, or how much do you know already?”

“I didn’t think you and Thomas were getting along very well.”

“It’s better now.”

“How long have you two known each other?”

“Almost five months.”

“How old are you?”

“Have you forgotten how old I am?”

“Twenty-five?”

“Twenty-six.”

“And how many years of your degree do you have left?”

“Three years.”

“Why do you want to keep the baby?” he asked for the second time. “The last time I saw you, you wanted to break up with Thomas because he… how did you put it?… only cared about himself. You weren’t sure you could cope with that. And he was working all the time. Have you forgotten that?”

“You don’t like him.”

“I don’t know him very well.”

“But what you do know, you don’t like.”

Jens sighed. “I do like him, Anna. He’s all right.”

A pause followed. Anna gritted her teeth. Her legs were itching, and she had to make a real effort not to scream out loud. Suddenly Jens hugged her.

“Congratulations,” he mumbled into her hair. “Congratulations, sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

Afterward they had made a beeline for a baby supply store and bought a dark blue stroller for Jens’s grandchild. A dark blue parasol was included, and Anna twirled it while Jens paid. The stroller was a display model and slightly faded on one side, but there was a waiting list to get a brand new one. And Jens didn’t want to wait, no sir. He said “my grandchild” ten times at least, while they were in the store. The cashier glanced furtively at Anna’s stomach, which was as flat as a pancake. Anna giggled.

When they came back to Cecilie, the aroma of roast lamb filled the whole house. Cecilie was standing on the kitchen table hanging a paper chain along the window. Jens rolled the stroller into the kitchen.

“What’s that?” Cecilie said.

“What do you think it is?”

“A stroller.”

“Bingo!”

“I’m menopausal,” Cecilie said, and spat out the pins she had been holding in the corner of her mouth.

Anna started to laugh, and Jens did a round with the pram in the kitchen as he called out to Cecilie:

“Get down, Granny, roll your walker to the fridge and give me your best bottle of champagne. From now on I want to be known as ‘honored Granddad.’”

It wasn’t until then that it hit her. Cecilie dove off like a rock star and hugged Anna. Half an hour later, when they were sitting at the kitchen table and the champagne bottle was empty—Anna hadn’t had any, and Jens and Cecilie were in high spirits—Cecilie suddenly said:

“Who’s the father?”

Anna felt movement under the table and knew Jens had tried to kick Cecilie. Anna looked from one to the other.

“You’ll be the death of me, the pair of you,” she sighed and went up to her old room to watch TV.

The next morning when Anna got up, Jens and Cecilie were looking up something on the Internet.

“I’m moving to Copenhagen,” Cecilie announced. Jens carried on searching while Cecilie got up to toast some bread for Anna.

“You just sit down,” she said and put butter, milk, and cheese on the table, as well as her homemade jam and a cucumber. She made a fresh pot of tea and poured Anna a cup. When she had set down the teapot on the table, she looked at Anna and said, “I’m sorry I asked you who the father was. Of course it’s Thomas. I was just under the impression that things between you two weren’t good. That it was only a question of time before…”