Tore Renberg - See You Tomorrow

Tiril turns. Not in her pottiest dreams would she have believed that she would be together with him. She turned, looking super cute — fuck, Bunny, you should have seen that — when she said: ‘For Shauny.’

Bunny is gay.

No one else knows.

Just Shaun.

And he doesn’t give a shit.

If he wants to stick his cock up guys’ asses it’s no business of Shaun’s. Bunny’s not the one in the family there’s something wrong with; Kenny’s the psycho. Kenny and Mom, she doesn’t even have eyes for fuck’s sake. Shaun has never seen any, just eyelids falling down over pupils that swim; it’s all the pills she stuffs down her throat — fo sho, honey , is all she says, fo sho, precious. Soon that’s all she’ll be able to say. That’s what she’ll say when she’s dying, thinks Shaun, when he’s standing over her, and she’s breathing with a rattling sound, on her way out and he asks if she’s all right, then she’ll say fo sho, precious and then she’ll throw up or something and die, and it won’t be too different from how it is now, fo sho, honey. But there’s nothing in those words. She just longs for her dope and for the United States of Shit, as Dad calls it. Bet you he regrets picking up Cindy Wilder from North Dakota and trying to make a Norwegian out of her, yessir. Like he says, beware of the titties, they’re pointing right at you, but they’re loaded.

Heh heh.

For Shauny.

Gonna be fine, this here, Shaun feels, as they near the school. That one Sandra is going to come around and everything will be okay. Heh heh. It’s the first time he’s actually been happy about heading to school. It’s the first time Shaun has felt as though this tarmac is a friend and not an enemy. The first time he notices houses and fields and doesn’t just see a shithole all around him. He was all right, Tiril’s father. Nice guy, no hassle, no fuss, pizza man.

He looks at the girls. Seems like Tiril has got it together now. Straightened up a bit. Her sister has got her back on track. Yeah. This is going to be fine too — there’s that Thea one running out of the gym hall, heh heh, people are a little wired now, whoa, Thea is totally stressed out, calm down, girl, no biggie.

‘Tiril, seriously, I was starting to get worried.’

Tiril smiles. Yeah. She’s all set.

‘Chill out,’ Tiril says, ‘relax, just got a little delayed. Heard anything about Sandra?’

Thea shakes her head. ‘No,’ she says, ‘but Frida and the headmaster are saying we’re all still going on, that we’re doing it for her.’

Tiril nods.

Heh heh. Tiril’s taking care of business.

‘Svein Arne is shitting it,’ Thea says, motioning for Thea to follow her to the gym hall, ‘he’s been asking for you, plus we sent you heaps of texts and—’

Heh heh. Look at Tiril. Heh heh. Hands on her hips. Feet apart.

‘Thea. Please. Enough. Jesus.’

Heh heh. Now she’s found her voice.

‘What do you think? That I can’t handle a rough day? Got any gum?’

Heh heh. Way to go.

‘Shaun, Malene,’ she says, gathering them around. That’s sort of how it is with these sisters, Shaun notices; while Malene is the one who steps up and holds the fort when a typhoon is blowing, Tiril gets the plaudits. Her eyes are all steel and flowers now, thinks Shaun. She is so ready to go and it’s no wonder she rocks my world.

‘Shaun, Malene,’ she repeats. ‘Go in and find a seat, Thea and me have about eight minutes to get changed backstage before we go on. For Sandra. Okay?’

Heh heh. Tiril. Niiiiiice, girl.

Kinda looks like a way out, like Dad said once when it was completely quiet in the living room, which it isn’t so very often. Bunny was out, probably round at that guy Stegas’ place, and Kenny wasn’t home either — he was beating up some Chechens in Sandnes. Mum was strung out on something in her room, him and Dad were watching that movie, can’t remember what it was called, but it was about a guy who takes his kid and goes to another country after he kills his wife with sleeping pills and buries her in the garden. Kinda looks like a way out, said Dad, giving Shaun a thump on the arm.

‘Okay,’ Shaun says, giving Tiril a hug, ‘sing like a fucking star. We’re on your side.’

Malene smiles. A really confident smile. And says: ‘Go on, get going. We’ll keep a seat for Dad.’

Shaun tilts his head back and looks up at the sky.

It’s just something he needs to do now and again.

At some point, although he can’t remember when exactly, Pål realised that life wasn’t one ever brighter journey, the way he often pictured it when he was young, but was composed instead of phases. Different phases that arrived with age, circumstances and settings. He realised at the same time, at some point after Christine left, that neither is life some marvellous path onward towards ever increasing maturity, as he had also imagined when he was young and observed those around him with curiosity; his parents, uncles, aunts, grown-ups on TV, teachers and football coaches. He can’t remember when it sank in, that everything happens in phases, and maturity is not a reality but a cultural ideal, yet as he sees Christine again, as she alights from the taxi in front of the house he once shared with her, when he witnesses that outrageous alertness of hers that seems to fill the whole driveway, he is emphatically reminded of it. Once she meant everything to him. Once he was so in love with her that he trembled when he woke up in the morning. That was that phase. Then they lived together for a few years, not beneath the roof of the first flush of love, but under the roof of routine; school lunch boxes, washing machine, MOT. That was that phase. Then she left him and Pål experienced hate for the first time. That was that phase. And now? What is it he feels as she approaches him? A black, waist-length jacket, a tight, dark skirt, a white blouse, those high cheekbones and healthy-looking hair. It’s not forgiveness, and certainly not a rekindling of love, although his feelings of hate are long extinguished; so what is it then? Some sort of … sufferance? He’s unable to put his feelings into words as she sallies towards him, like she’s always done towards the whole world, but there’s a surprising measure of kindness in his feelings, even on such an unprecedented and downright dangerous day as today.

‘Pål!’

She’s so stunning, Christine. She really is quite beautiful, maybe even more beautiful than before. She’s one of those women who look better with age, even when it arrives with an extra few inches around the waist, even when it arrives with wrinkles — everything looks gorgeous on her.

‘Pål, Pål, Pål,’ she says, throwing her arms around him, firm, warm and friendly, and he’s surprised at experiencing the same sensation, the one he underwent on a daily basis so many years ago, of feeling that no matter how unreasonable this woman is, she still possesses an incredible ability to make him feel safe, in the sense that being in proximity to her makes it seem as though nothing troubling can occur. It is of course erroneous, but the feeling is real.

She pulls back and looks him up and down. Presses her lips together and nods twice with one eyebrow raised in an expression that combines both sincerity and jest: ‘You’re skin and bone, man! Are you eating at all? I’ll have to have a chat with those girls of ours — what are their names again?’

Her sense of humour, always bordering on indelicate. The words couldn’t come from someone else’s mouth without sounding cheeky; from hers they sound fine.

He laughs, just like he used to; for her.