Christian Jungersen - The Exception

‘OK. That sounds good. It should take me about twenty minutes.’

Malene picks up the cushions and the wet paper towels, wipes spilt juice off the coffee table and puts back the candlestick and the books that have fallen to the ground. She opens the windows wide to air the room and changes into a rather revealing dress. She knows she should behave properly, although just thinking about Gunnar makes her excited. Maybe it’s the combination of the alcohol and the painkillers.

When she opens the door to him, he glances quickly at her dress. A look of surprise crosses his face. Gunnar is tanned, which makes his eyes appear lighter. He has brought a bottle of wine. Smiling broadly, he hugs her and asks how things are.

Malene is about to start telling him, but realises it could ruin the evening. ‘Oh, you’ll get the whole story, but not now. I want to hear about your trip.’

Sitting on the sofa, he doesn’t begin to talk about his travels — instead he just looks at Malene with a certain amount of surprise. Does she seem drunk? She hopes not. He’s been laying siege to these walls for so long and now she is letting the gate swing open with only the gentlest of knocks. He pretends to reach for his wineglass, letting his wrist touch her arm. She meets his gaze. It could be the expression on her face that makes him kiss her.

He’s good at it. His body feels warmer than Rasmus’s.

She has never been with a man over forty, but Gunnar is more in shape than she thought and surprisingly seems to know her body better than Rasmus ever did. When her breathing deepens, she remembers when she was once far out at sea in a sailing boat and had jumped naked into the ocean. The underwater sensation comes back to her now, the light pressure of the water all over her body, her hair streaming out and up around her. She comes up for air, gasping.

She and Rasmus used to swim naked and then surface together, spluttering, spitting salt water and laughing at each other.

She bursts into tears.

Gunnar holds her tight and lets her cry. ‘Does this feel wrong for you?’

‘No. No.’

‘I know that you must … you know, miss him. You must. But I thought that …’

‘Gunnar, it’s all right. We’ve known each other for years and I’m so glad that you’re here tonight. I’m very fond of you.’

Gunnar gets the wine and their glasses. They start to talk about Rasmus and Afghanistan. But their attention soon wanders back to each other’s bodies.

It’s almost three in the morning. They discover how hungry they are and move to the kitchen. Malene takes out olives, bread, a couple of different cheeses, fruit preserves, and slips off to the bathroom for another pill. The first one is still doing its job; the second one is just in case.

Gunnar begins to reminisce about when he was younger than Malene is now. He was determined to make a difference in the world, to make it a more just society and improve conditions in the Third World.

‘We all know that the bottle of wine we’ve drunk tonight could have paid for vaccinating twenty kids and saving the life of at least one. We’re no different from the Germans during World War Two. They knew that Jews were being killed, but they ignored what it meant.’

Malene is massaging the knuckles on her right hand. ‘But it isn’t quite the same, is it? The state killed them back then. You’re talking about aid for the poor.’

‘I believe, in essence, it is the same. We put on shoes produced by a child who is being crippled by work. We drink coffee bought at starvation prices.’

Gunnar leans across the table, takes her aching hand and warms it between his hands.

‘I very much hope that the world will become a better place. And if it does, our grandchildren may look at us the way young people today regard the generation who collaborated with the Nazis. They’ll say, “I do not understand you.” We will explain that life simply was the way it was. “Famines came and went and no one did anything about it. People died of hunger to provide us with cheaper coffee.” We’ll have to admit that we knew, but chose to do nothing about it.’

Malene feels uneasy but can’t figure out why. She wants to pull her hand back, but doesn’t. She has an impulse to say, ‘You old socialist,’ and tease him, but knows she shouldn’t.

‘The kids will hate us because they have never been in our situation. They will turn on us and say, “You must’ve been so different back then. How could you watch a film or eat in a restaurant when you knew that the money you spent might have saved a child’s life?” They will say, “I don’t get it. I could never do anything like that.”’

Gunnar looks expectant, waiting for her response. Malene realises what’s making her feel uncomfortable. It’s his manner of speaking: the manic rhythm of his words, and his complete absorption in his subject. He reminds her of Iben.

Malene feigns exhaustion, but Gunnar’s energy is undiminished. She asks him if he slept on the plane.

‘Not much,’ he says vaguely and begins on a subject that has fascinated Iben these last few months: the psychology of evil.

‘Ignoring the small flash of doubt in yourself — that is what evil is. Nobody thinks of himself as evil, but that deception is part of evil’s nature. And you can’t lie to yourself all the time. Once in a while, there’s that moment when you question if you are doing the right thing. And that’s your only chance to choose what is good, to do the right thing. And the moment lasts maybe fifteen minutes every other month, maybe less.

‘Most people will immediately decide not to act. The implications of having to change their lifestyles are just too over-whelming, and then it doesn’t take long before they forget that there is another option. They’re stuck in their old ways — good or bad.’

Malene wonders about Gunnar. ‘Why do you feel so strongly about this?’

‘Because I know what it’s like to be caught up in evil. Quite a long time ago, I was a hardcore member of the Communist Workers’ Party. I spent years fighting for the ideology of people who were responsible for more mass killings and genocides than the Nazis. In effect, we were sustaining those dictatorships. I knew the truth — of course I did. At least, every once in a while.’

Malene has never heard Gunnar speak so openly about his early life.

He interrupts her thoughts. ‘But I have no more to regret than today’s neo-liberals. Socialists aren’t responsible for as many people dying as those who support the policies of the US and Europe, policies that reinforce poverty and economic dependency. And it is happening here and now.’

It is pitch black outside the kitchen windows. Malene begins to put the food away. She sees how Gunnar loves to turn arguments on their heads. Iben, too. For years now Malene has enjoyed listening to him and to Iben.

The true source of her discomfort is the thought of how well Iben and Gunnar would get along together.

In the morning Malene is tired. Gunnar set the alarm for six because he has an early meeting. She would have loved to call in sick, but doesn’t dare to — not when the office is in such a state of flux. Instead she sleeps until nine, calls the office with a story about a dental appointment and says she’ll be in by eleven.

Camilla, who answers the phone, begins to apologise. She goes on and on. ‘I know I shouldn’t have left like that, without a word, but I … you know, being in a classroom brought back things that happened to me at school. And I felt terrible about Dragan Jelisic.’

Malene is lying on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket. ‘You really didn’t know what kind of a person he was then?’

‘No, I didn’t. But, Malene, I’ve been so stupid. I should have told you about him straight away. I do realise that. It was wrong and I’m annoyed at myself. Please forgive me. I hope you’re not too angry?’