Monika Fagerholm: The Glitter Scene

Well. Not now. Going through events in advance. Being here.

Doris Flinkenberg in the yard outside the cousin’s house during the dart throwing, which she takes part in in her childish way laughs when the cousin’s papa explains the finer points of playing poker to Rita. In her special Dorisway, which undeniably pulls you along, and then she tells her own childish contextless Doris-story that becomes funny mostly because of the way she tells it.

And the cousin’s papa laughs suddenly, a friendly laugh about the story too—or just laughs, friendly, at small smart Doris Flinkenberg, in general. It isn’t that he doesn’t like her. Doesn’t really think anything about Doris Flinkenberg. Just “knocked-about kid,” another clan. And in turn that means that he doesn’t have anything to do with Doris’s terrible circumstances in the Outer Marsh, in general so to speak.

The cousin’s papa laughs along with Doris Flinkenberg. You can of course if you’re from someplace else allow yourself to be duped by that laugh, take it for something other than what it is: a temporary happy flaming laugh after you have gotten to explain to Rita about playing poker. But the cousin’s mama doesn’t understand the finer points of card playing, she just sees that the cousin’s papa is, if not “kind,” then leaning in that direction, and in a sober state of mind for once, and yes, well, happy. Is that why the cousin’s mama has been singing more than usual today?

I have as I said not been there, throwing darts, but scrubbing the kitchen floor and washing the windows in the parlor and been able to cast a glance out in the yard now and then and hear a bit of what is being said.

And Doris, about her then: this is what I remember most about Doris from that day, the last day we were at least wholeheartedly able to imagine that everything was normal: Doris who was joking with the cousin’s papa without me knowing what they were joking about, the cousin’s papa who was laughing. Just Doris’s way of being, with the cousin’s papa. On her guard but at the same time open, fearless. But the whole time with that kind of a nonchalance lying underneath: “I don’t care about you, old man.”

And just as fearless then and yelled, “Hey, cousin’s mama!” to the cousin’s mama who has been busy with her rugs, pisk-pisk on the rack, sung and waved and sung even more loudly just from having seen Doris.

Doris not from a landscape, or another one. Doris from all landscapes at once. Something invincible about it. Doris, a bit like the joker in poker, in other words.

I hate Doris. But it doesn’t mean anything. I’m not going to do anything about my hate. I’m going to be sad when she shoots herself and think that it’s unnecessary. There were reasons. Her friend Sandra from the house in the darker part whom she started hanging out with a lot not long after coming to the cousin’s house—who didn’t want to be friends with her any longer, they were in love. She was at a loss, confused, suddenly not a child any longer and didn’t know which foot to stand on, who she was. And all of those experiences in her from the Outer Marsh, they hadn’t left her, they were still there.

But first much later, I will be able to understand why Doris really took her own life. Why Rita in some way understood, she heard the shot, and ran, ran out into the woods, but it was too late. Blood on Lore Cliff, blood everywhere on Rita. Then in that moment, right afterward, I thought it was over for Rita.

But it wasn’t. It’s never, ever over for Rita. I know who Rita is, I’m like her, we’re twins, I am, could be Rita. So alike.

Rita doesn’t tell me that Doris has asked about something that causes Doris to realize something else. Which she had certainly known the entire time, in some way, but due to all sorts of things, also her light, her love, for everyone, mama, the new world, the cousin’s house, everything everything, wanted to keep hidden.

And Rita never planned on telling her the truth. But she, Doris, that last fall asks her. And Rita replies, in some way, which makes it so that Doris understands anyway.

And then things fall apart for Doris Flinkenberg for real.

When I find out about this, I am already deep into my own life, have had a child, am living in Torpesonia at Bule Marsh, everything has already happened. I’m in the cousin’s house, the cousin’s papa is in the yard, I’m organizing things. “Good” girl, but with him it’s just a façade. A pile of old newspapers, in an old cabinet, otherwise just filled with disgusting things. A lot of old crosswords there. Doris and the cousin’s mama liked doing crosswords together, of course, in the cousin’s kitchen, during the time when Björn was no longer there and Doris had moved into the room upstairs. But Doris never really had the patience for solving crossword puzzles properly, she got bored and started filling in her own silly words inside the squares. Too long, too many letters in each square, several squares where there was only supposed to be one. The cousin’s mama didn’t get angry at her about that either, just the opposite, it was just a Dorisoddity.

Well, I’m going to see one of those old magazines, one of those old crosswords with Doris’s own letters in it: a newspaper dated from exactly that fall, about a week before Doris died.

It will be listed there clearly in the squares. Helter skelter, too many letters, but still.

And when I have seen that I will never be able to return to the cousin’s house again. I mean, when the cousin’s papa is there.

Wait, I’ll explain more later, about the newspaper and what is listed in the crossword puzzle.

I just want to say two things, now. First, Doris. I hate Doris but Doris is a joker and Doris will, in her own way, save life at the cousin’s house. Will make it possible to go on afterward. Move on. Live on. Doris-light. And when Doris moves to the cousin’s house the cousin’s papa calms down too. Doris and the cousin’s papa will never fight with each other. Nor will they be “close” either. When Björn is gone and Bengt has moved out to the barn and Doris is the only one of the cousins left in the house, the cousin’s papa will shut the door to his room next to the kitchen. Coexistence.

And second: those of us who know what happened that night, with the American girl, and I who know about Björn, about everything—will never say anything to Doris about it.

Maybe we don’t do it for Doris, I don’t, in any case. But for the cousin’s mama. But that is no plan either. Nothing uttered. We just know, we three siblings, and what we know we keep quiet about, forever. Others know too. They’re keeping their mouths shut as well. The baroness, countryman Loman, maybe someone else.

But now back to the sunshine day, Doris who’s yelling “Rottenegger” at the cousin’s papa this day in the garden, imitating the cousin’s papa right in front of him when he has sat down in his chair again now and Doris is dancing around it.

He doesn’t get angry, just mutters; when Doris is in a dancing kind of mood it’s impossible for anyone to be angry at her.

The cousin’s mama is running in and out with the rugs. In the midst of all this she comes to me where I’m busy in the kitchen, the counter that needs to shine, whispers in my ear, “It will all work out!”

And winks, and without hesitating even though I don’t know the reason, I wink back. Will work out, in general, so happy.

Then evening falls. Björn who has gone to the Second Cape comes back, is drinking beer in the barn. Bengt whom there has been no sign of, no sign of, is with Eddie de Wire, for sure, in the boathouse on the Second Cape.