Tore Renberg - See You Tomorrow

‘Ha ha.’

‘A wet heart,’ Jan Inge said in a fluty voice, laughing, and tossed the spanner away. ‘And Pål,’ he added, clipping the wings of the laughter he had spread, ‘what about Pål?’

‘I liked that Pål guy,’ Rudi said, promptly. ‘A good heart, I would’ve said.’

Jan Inge nodded in agreement. ‘And Cecilie, if I may ask — what would you say about Mum and Dad, if you’re able to talk about them without upsetting the child in your stomach?’

Cecilie let go of Rudi’s hand and lit up a cigarette. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘you couldn’t say Dad had a cold heart, maybe more of a … I don’t know … a stuff-and-nonsense heart, I think? And Mum … it wasn’t hard, just weak. A fish heart.’

Cecilie turned to Rudi. ‘What about your people?’

‘Who do you mean,’ Rudi knitted his brows, ‘you mean … are you talkin’ about … do you mean my fami … is it my fam—’

‘You don’t need to say anything,’ Cecilie smiled, blowing out smoke before stretching up on her toes to kiss him.

‘Anyway,’ Jan Inge said, seizing the chance to speak as the sky above them grew more and more unsettled, ‘anyway, the way I see it, Tong had a cold heart. And it’s awful for me to have to say these things, because I don’t want to be seen as a racist or anything, and it’s unpleasant that having now broken one of my fundamental principles and shot someone, having taken my place in the murky ranks of the men of violence, it turned out to be an immigrant. It’s horrible for me to have to say these things, because standing here, I have difficulty thinking of anything positive to say about the man lying beneath us.’

It grew quiet in the garden.

‘And it pains me to say,’ Jan Inge said after a while.

Once again there was silence.

‘He had too little love in him,’ Jan Inge whispered, after another pause. ‘And that is the knowledge we can glean from this.’ He added, pensively, ‘That it’s all about love.’

Rudi nodded and looked at Cecilie. ‘That’s what I always say,’ he whispered. ‘He got that from me.’

‘What was that, Rudi?’

‘Nothing,’ Rudi said. ‘Well put, brother,’

It grew quiet around the grave as the first raindrops spattered on washing machines, VCRs and spades. They stood there and let it come down upon them, both the rain and the scary feeling of having buried a person they had, or thought they had, known so well; a person who ate chocolate chip cookies and hardly ever spoke, and when it came down to it — they now understood — had never allowed anyone to get close to him or allowed himself to express too much. A person they had not known at all. About whom they could not think of anything good to say. And in this atmosphere, images began to float through Cecilie’s mind. She pictured the flashing intensity in Tong’s eyes as she sat astride him, the animalistic hunger and snapping of his mouth when she offered him hers to kiss, pictured Tong, smiling, pulling into their driveway years before, with the window rolled down and a cigarette dangling from his lips, proud of coming home with thirty-five thousand after a simple break-in in Eiganes. There was a Tong they were on the point of forgetting, Cecilie felt, and because of this she turned to Rudi, whose shoulder-length hair was damp and lined face wet, and to Jan Inge, and said: ‘But even though he didn’t have enough love inside him, either for us or for anyone else, that doesn’t mean we’re going to be just as bad.’

‘That’s beautifully put, baby,’ Rudi said.

Jan Inge stood beside them, conscious of a tear perched precariously in his eye.

They remained there, all three of them, as the rain grew heavier, in front of Tong’s grave, each wrapped in their own thoughts. Three people dressed in boiler suits by some freshly dug ground, surrounded by old junk. On impulse, Rudi began to stomp on the soil, bringing his large soles down on the grave as he walked, after a fashion. Having gone back and forth like this for a while, he turned and looked into Jan Inge’s tiny blueberry eyes.

‘If Tommy Pogo shows up again,’ Rudi said, ‘I wouldn’t like the thought of him coming out here into the garden.’

‘Calm down,’ Jan Inge said.

‘Easy for you to say,’ Rudi said, ‘you’re the laidback type.’

‘Should Pogo,’ Jan Inge said, ‘turn up, we’ll tell him we know who he is and what he’s trying to do, we’ll tell him we have nothing to hide, and if he, or any other investigators from Lagårdsveien 6, ask where we were on Thursday, we have an alibi, and we’ll make sure to let them know that we think it’s a pretty lousy thing for Lagårdsveien to be harassing ordinary removal people and putting the frighteners on us or whatever it is he thinks he’s up to, and then we’ll point out the garden and the clear-up we’ve carried out—’

Rudi shook his head, flabbergasted.

‘Jesus, you are one hell of a managing director.’

‘And then,’ Jan Inge continued, ‘then we’ll make sure to tell him that from now on there’s going to be some changes out here in Hillevåg. Changes, Rudi, you hear me?’

Rudi clapped Jan Inge on the back. ‘Well said,’ he whispered.

Jan Inge filled his lungs with air and then exhaled.

‘I just don’t want any more grief,’ whispered Jan Inge.

‘There won’t be any more grief,’ Rudi replied, in a soft tone.

The rain grew heavier, turning the ground wet and muddy.

Jan Inge turned to Cecilie. He had broken out in a nervous rash, his eyes were red, the corners of his mouth were quivering and she saw him as she had seen him so many times before so very long ago.

‘Are the two of you moving out?’ he asked, trembling.

Cecilie looked at him askance. ‘Moving out?’

‘Moving?’ Rudi said, looking puzzled. ‘Wherethefuckdidyougetthatideafrom, brother of tears?’

Jan Inge sniffled. ‘I dunno,’ he said in a low voice. ‘Have you thought of any names for the baby yet?’

Cecilie and Rudi looked at one another, the way parents do when they ask each another, wordlessly, if they are going to reveal their secrets to the world, and Cecilie nodded to Rudi.

‘Steven,’ Rudi said, ‘if it’s a boy.’

‘Jambolena,’ Cecilie said, ‘if it’s a girl.’

‘Jambolena?’ Jan Inge whispered and cleared his throat. ‘Isn’t that … a tree?’

There was a sound in the distance.

‘It’s going to be fine,’ Cecilie whispered. ‘Changes, right? There’s a lot that’s going to happen soon and we’re going to be happy together. It begins now, Jani, you hear me?’

‘Yeah,’ Jan Inge said, ‘yeah, you’re right. A nursery. Mariero Moving. Clear-up. We’re going to take everything up a notch. Everything is going to be good.’

The sound grew louder, came within earshot, and their eyes turned in the direction of the source. It was coming from the front of the house. It was the revving of an engine, a motorcycle, or moped perhaps on the street outside. They looked at one another.

‘Hm,’ Jan Inge said.

The sound ceased. Most likely the ignition being turned off.

‘Okay,’ Rudi said.

Cecilie cocked her head to the side. ‘Is that outside our place?’

Jan Inge exchanged looks with the others. They put down the spades and other tools, walked up on to the veranda, signalling silently to one another with seasoned expertise while removing their muddy footwear and slipping out of their boiler suits, before going into the living room. Cecilie gave the boys a quick once-over, fixing Rudi’s hair a little and wiping some dirt off Jan Inge’s face, and then they made their way into the kitchen. Jan Inge gave Cecilie and Rudi one last look before drawing the curtain carefully aside and peeking out.