Christian Jungersen - The Exception

Iben thinks back to the moment when she turned to her teacher and told him it was all over between them. They were sitting on a stony beach at the far end of Amager Island. The beach was one of their special places, somewhere no one they knew would ever come. He protested, but it was as if a repair man had told him to buy a new fridge. ‘Iben, are you sure? There’s nothing I can say to change your mind? Well, OK. I guess that’s it.’ He had listened to Iben, agreed, and then gone home.

Iben stopped going to his classes. It was tricky to find enough courses to fill the days when he was not in the department. He never contacted her again, but she couldn’t avoid hearing on the student grapevine that he had married and had a little boy.

Iben looks around. Her sitting room strikes her again as ugly, almost repulsive. She hates her old furniture and unframed posters. Hates the cold overhead light.

Later, when Malene is crying a little less, Iben gets up and goes to the kitchen. She makes a fresh pot of tea and puts four frozen rolls into the microwave. While they thaw, she slices cheese for the two of them.

From now on Iben will look after Malene when she has her arthritis attacks. There is no one else, unless a smart, new admirer carries Malene off. And if the illness worsens and the admirers vanish, Iben will be on duty for a long time ahead.

Still fragile, Malene has kicked off her shoes and put her stockinged feet up, warming her toes under Iben’s thigh. She can’t stop tormenting herself.

‘I wonder what he’s doing now? They must be so pleased. I bet they’ve been fucking ever since he turned up at her door.’

‘Malene, don’t you think—’

‘I bet he’s in her arms now. They’re naked. And I bet she’s happy too because he’s taken the plunge.’

Very late that night, Iben finally brings a cloth, a bucket of water and a roll of paper towels to the bookshelf. She starts cleaning up the ice cream.

Malene sits up. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Something made me fling my ice cream at the bookcase when you phoned this evening.’

They exchange faint, miserable smiles.

‘Iben! That’s not like you at all.’

‘Nope.’

‘That’s really sweet of you. And to let me come here, just like that …’

‘Don’t think about it.’

‘And you don’t mind if I sleep here?’

‘No problem. This will be a tough night for you. I’m glad I am here for you.’

‘I’m glad too. Where were you earlier?’

‘Never mind. It doesn’t matter now.’

Iben is on her way upstairs to Malene’s flat. It is in an old building with stained-glass windows on each landing that run from floor to ceiling. With time, some of the panes have fallen out of their lead calms and the property manager has replaced them with cheap, plain glass. Iben has always thought the stairway rather beautiful, even though the blank fields of glass break up the images.

It is late on Saturday morning. Rasmus has said he will come to collect his belongings from the flat but Malene doesn’t want to be there. She is holed up in Iben’s flat, so Iben has promised to go and keep an eye on him instead. Rasmus mustn’t be allowed to carry off the wrong things or take more than he’s entitled to. Iben has a pretty good idea of what belongs to whom, and besides, she can always phone Malene if in doubt.

It will be strange to meet Rasmus now that their relationship has changed. Iben knows that she should be angry with him, but she can’t force herself.

Only four days have passed since Malene thought Rasmus loved her. Malene has since tried to persuade him that it’s all been a mistake, but now he’s certain that it’s ‘the right thing’ to stay with his new girlfriend.

Malene speaks about the way he shut her out completely. It was done in a day. He decided to be cold towards her and, straight away, he was. Rasmus’s behaviour towards Malene has made Iben question whether men’s feelings are as strong as women’s. There’s no way of telling. But there is one major difference: men seem to be able to postpone their emotional reactions until it suits them. Even men you think you know well can turn their backs on you in an instant, acting more distant than you ever thought possible.

The flat is on the fifth floor and when Iben finally reaches the landing she can hear Rasmus rummaging around inside. She is just about to press the doorbell when she realises that Rasmus doesn’t live here any more. This is Malene’s place and by now Iben, the owner’s best friend, has more right to be here than he has. She’s certain that Malene would prefer her to make a point of this and considers using her key, but then she decides against it and presses the doorbell.

Rasmus lets her in. His hair is all over the place. He must have run his fingers through it several times.

She has never heard him speak in such a serious tone. ‘Iben! We have to talk. Come inside and have a seat. There, on the sofa.’

She follows him into the sitting room. Many items are already in boxes: a few small pictures, some books and CDs. The music centre and the loudspeakers are dismantled and about to be packed, together with the large TV and the folding dining-table chairs.

‘Would you like coffee? Or something?’

‘Rasmus, I’m not sure … Maybe we shouldn’t … I think Malene …’

She settles down all the same. She has no idea what he wants to tell her.

Characteristically, he begins to talk about a computer program he’s written. Apparently he’s devised a long and complex piece of spyware, which he had intended to use in order to trace the sender of the emails.

What is he really saying? Is this technical stuff meant to prove how much Malene meant to him, even though he’s been unfaithful to her? Whatever the message, he spends such a long time on the details of the programming that her mind begins to wander.

Later on she helps him take his things down to the white van he has borrowed. She does several rounds with bags of clothes, CDs and boxes full of bits and pieces. She has always liked Rasmus. He’s a nice guy; simply not the right one for Malene. His parents, who live in Svendborg, are schoolteachers with a shared enthusiasm for sailing. The pair seem to confirm the argument that people with a background in education are best equipped to bring up happy, stable children.

Malene and Rasmus have given a few parties that their parents have attended, and Iben has never met anyone who didn’t immediately warm to Rasmus’s mum and dad. Malene used to look forward to the summer holidays in Svendborg, unlike the few days she would spend with her own family.

While Iben helps Rasmus, she tries to think of something pleasant to say to him now that they aren’t likely to meet again. She would like to say that she’s pleased to have got to know him and that he was very good for Malene … for a time. Maybe she ought to say that she wishes him well, but that somehow seems disloyal. On her way back upstairs, Iben decides to keep the good wishes until Rasmus is all packed and ready to drive off.

She clutches an armful of posters and calls back to him from the landing: ‘I’m taking these down now!’

‘Iben, wait! Just a moment!’

She goes back in.

‘The heavy things should go in first. I’ll start with the table.’

‘Let me help.’

‘Don’t worry. It’s actually easier to do it by myself.’ He walks out, rather unsteadily, carrying the large birch-wood table.

Iben looks around to see if there’s anything useful for her to do. She goes to put away some of Malene’s glasses that are on the drying rack. While she’s at it, she decides to wash up some of the dishes that are still on the kitchen table.