Tore Renberg - See You Tomorrow

What a night, he thinks. Cold, clear, so bloody beautiful.

Hey Granny! Should have been around to see this, old hen.

Rudi peers through the windscreen, they’re by the forest. ‘Okay,’ he says, looking at the clock. 20:58. ‘Nearly time.’

‘Tomorrow,’ says Cecilie, kissing the five hundred note with dry lips.

Rudi grins, thinks everything’s rosy, wouldn’t mind if they played Coldplay on the radio one more time. But what’s the song about? Saint Peter, Roman Catholics and bells that ring?

Time to concentrate. That’s the thing about love, takes hold of your brain, and if you’re not on the ball, it can gobble up the whole world.

Ow! Ow! Stop it!

The phone, Jani’s ringtone. He picks it up. 20:59

‘Ye yo, brother?’

‘Cut that English crap out,’ he hears on the other end of the line.

‘It’s Americano, brother,’ he answers, laughing.

‘Whatever, it’s stupid, you’re from Norway, from Rogaland, from Stavanger, from Tjensvoll. Don’t put on an act. Now listen, I’ve just been doing some thinking about this venture of ours,’ says Jan Inge.

‘Thoughts are free, what were you thinking?’

‘Well,’ Jan Inge says, wavering. ‘There’s something foggy about it.’

‘Foggy?’

‘Yeah, foggy.’

‘Okay?’

‘I’m dubious. I’ve got a nose for this kind of thing. We’re not exactly in a risk-free line of business.’

‘Okay. Will we call it off? Callitaday and pull out? I haven’t met him yet—’

‘Listen. Working in a risky business means taking risks. You go and meet the guy. But keep your eyes and ears open. Your objective has to be to clarify what’s foggy.’

‘That was nicely put,’ says Rudi.

‘That thing you said about remembering the guy, or wondering if you remembered him. What was that?’

‘Dunno, just the feeling I got when he called. Or the feeling he got. I don’t know. There was something old about it.’

‘Old?’ Jan Inge’s tone is sharp.

‘Yeah, old, as in the past.’

‘Hm. Old can be good and old can be a mess. Is there anyone who’s got something on you?’

‘Naah…’

‘Stay on your toes. Keep Chessi out of it. She can wait in the Volv—’

Shit!

What was that?

‘Hey Chessi, what the fu—’

‘Rudi?’

‘Yeah, yeah, I’m here, it’s just, hold on — bollocks — did we hit something? Chessi?’

Cecilie peers out the back window, Rudi slows down and Jani Inge shouts down the end of the line about how he needs to take it easy, he can’t be going around attracting attention, Jesus, can’t he do anything right, hello, what’s happening?

‘A cat!’ Cecilie cries.

Rudi gulps and breathes easier.

‘Just a cat,’ he says into the phone.

‘Just a cat?!’ he hears from the back seat. Rudi glances in the rear-view mirror and sees that she’s crying again, and he wonders when this is going to end. Is he going to have to live with this until he’s six feet under, is she going to be so difficunt for the rest of her life?

‘Sorry, Jani,’ he says, ‘it was just a cat.’

He can hear Jan Inge breathing heavily.

‘You sit yourself down again now,’ says Rudi calmly.

‘Right, will do,’ says Jan Inge. ‘Okay, talk to you later, get things sorted out. Keep your eyes open. Ears. Fog and clarity.’

Rudi nods, hears the sound of his best friend putting his inhaler to his mouth, pressing down and sucking in the acrid air. He can picture that fat boy so well it almost hurts.

‘Okay, brother, talk soon. You sit down, okay? Pick a classic and open a packet of crisps. The Hills Have Eyes? ’

Rudi hangs up and indicates a left turn. He swings in by the little shop at the bottom of the hill that’s been there as long as he can remember. He pilfered that place empty throughout the entire eighties. Remembers the time he and J-J-Janne D-D-Dobro sauntered out with so many packs of cigarettes in the pockets of their bubble jackets they thought they’d keel over with the weight. Janne Dobro had such black eyes she’d put you in mind of a bird. She’s probably selling Asfalt magazine now. Liked her heroin, Janne. She was called J-J-Janne D-D-Dobro because of Mini from Haugtussa, he was so small his father took offence every time he clapped eyes on him. Mini was so in love with Janne Dobro he started to stutter every time he saw her.

Used to be called Gosen Grocery Store, now it’s part of a chain, Spar. Everything’s going to the dogs. The socialists have won. An impersonal society. It’s true what Jani says, nobody dares run their own business any more. We’re the only ones. The last bastion of independent entreprenuers. But Rudi doesn’t park outside the shop, it’s too visible. He drives a little further on towards the woods, up a small back road, and brings the car to a halt in a little grove.

‘Chessi,’ he says, killing the ignition. ‘Come on. It was a cat. A cat, okay? We can’t do anything about it.’

She’s sniffling in the back seat. He recognises the level. It’s not disaster sniffling, it’s demonstrative sniffling.

‘Do you hear me? I’m sorry, but there’s nothing we can do about it. Youandme, baby. Mariero Beauty. It’s going to be okay. Right? Come on, be a doll now, lie down on the seat, and just keep calm until I get back. And don’t smoke, okay? People get all flustered, you know, if they walk past a car filled with smoke and nobody inside. They get suspicious, ring home to the wife, tell her they’ve come across a car filled with fucking smoke. You can manage without one for a while, right?’

She sniffles again.

‘Is this what Jani meant when he said I should go out and get some air?’ she says. ‘It could have been a kitten, Rudi!’

‘No, no, it was a fully-grown cat, didn’t you feel the bump? No kitten would have made the car jolt like that. Listen. Chessi. Afterwards,’ he says softly, ‘afterwards we can drive someplace and sit and look at something. The sea or something. You like looking at the sea. You can teach me that. How to look at the sea.’

Cecilie folds her arms. Doesn’t reply.

He recognises the signs. It’s all about being smart now. Not making a big deal out of things. He tries to sound as warm as he possibly can: ‘Great, baby, so cool of you to take it that way, no one wants to be together with a chick who’s high-maintenance. Five minutes, okay, ten tops, then I’m back, who knows, I might come back with a million bucks in my pocket. Then you’ll have one million five hundred. Remember, tomorrow, Mariero Beauty!’

No reaction.

Rudi takes a deep breath. Okay, he thinks, all right. He really needs to dig deep here. He looks at her, as directly as he can, he smiles, with as much charm as he can muster, sucks his cheeks in and sings: ‘ Don’t want to close my eyes, I don’t want to fall asleep, cause I’d miss you babe and I don’t want to miss a thing .’

She gulps.

Yesss .

She looks at him.

Laughs a little.

Yesss .

The Aerosmith Trick.

Never fails. Not once since he first did it, standing in front of her, sucking in his cheeks and imitating Steven Tyler, has it failed. The woman just falls apart.

‘Baby! Youandme! Daddy has to do a little bit of work now, then I’ll be back. Come on, down in the seat with you.’

Rudi gives her a wink. To say she smiles would be an exaggeration, but she wriggles down into the seat in any case.

He opens the door and feels the cold prickle of the September air on the back of his neck. He looks around. The old forest. It’s strange being back here. It was Granny’s forest in a lot of ways. She spoke about it so much, and all the things she did there when she was little. The flowers she picked and how much better things were before, in the good old days. Rudi has never got that out of his head. He often thinks about it, thinks how right Granny was, it was better in the good old days . More peace. More style.