Tore Renberg - See You Tomorrow

‘Stavanger Station?’

‘Yeah, Stavanger Station.’

‘The train station, you mean.’

‘No, or rather, yes, by the train station, yes. You could say that.’

‘Listen, Jani! We either need to take the number 3 to Tjensvollkrysset, or the number 1 into town, write that down! And then … hold on a sec … then take the number 7 from town, at the train station?’

‘Yes, from Stavanger Station.’

‘Jani! From town. Down by the train station. The number 7 to Gosen! Whoops, shit! What? No, no. We’re just out for a drive, hands-free! Heh heh. Okay. Next question, Miss Bus. If we want to be at … what the hell’s the name of … Madlavoll school and—’

‘Then you must get off at Gosen Kindergarten. At the turnaround there.’

‘The turnaround, right! Okay, if we need to be there at ten o’clock then what time do we take the bus from town? And what time should we catch the bus at Tjensvollkrysset? Assuming we choose that alternative.’

‘Ten o’clock…’

‘Yeah, ten o’clock. Now we’re talking.’

‘Yes, then that would be … no, I seem to have read that wrong…’

‘It happens.’

‘The best thing for you to do would be take the number 2 from Hillevåg to—’

‘So it’s the number 2 now?’

‘The 2, yes, the 2 from Hillevåg to—’

‘Hey, Jani, cross out the 3 and 10 there. It’s the number 2 to—’

‘Yes, so it’s the number 2 from Hillevåg, departing 21:01—’

‘And when you say Hillevåg, just so we’re clear, you mean—’

‘The stop on the main road, just after Baneveien, travelling into the city—’

‘ Kein Problem, you’re talking to a local here — so that’s the number 2 from Hillevåg at 21:01 — hey, you writing this down, Jani? Yeah I know it’s bumpy, that’s why they call them speed bumps. The number 2 from Hillevåg at 21:01 — right, and then?’

‘And that’ll drop you off in the city, by—’

‘Hey! Girl! We’re not talking by the cathedral here, are we? The Nokas building?’

‘No, you must go to the other side of Breiavannet Lake, you’ll arrive at stop fourteen, which is close to what you refer to as the train station—’

‘I see! We’re back there again!’

‘Then you walk a few metres to stop … nineteen, and you wait there until 21:15—’ ‘Jani, write this down, get off at stop fourteen, walk to stop nineteen, wait until 21:15 — okay, we wait a while?’

‘Yeah, and then you take the 7—’

‘Heh heh! There she comes! The 7! I’d say the 7 has been going to Gosen for more years than anyone can remember, the bus never goes out of fashion — heh heh, I could tell you, girl, a thing or two about what doesn’t go out of style! Fishcakes, to give you a little clue! The good, old number 7, a stalwart — and then Ludvig Nilsen and his friend Albert Jensen will be at Gosen Kindergarten at what time exactly?’

‘21:25. In ten minutes.’

‘Do you get that, Jani? Ha. Ten minutes. Eh? Not bad. Public transport.’

‘Oops, oh no, I’m afraid I’ve given you—’

‘No need to apologise, Fräulein ! Don’t stand with your cap in your hand! Don’t bow and scrape like you were a Romanian beggar! It’s fine — we’re all only human. Now let’s take it smooooooothly one more time — was it the 3? The 6? The 1? Do you want it up where your number two comes from? Heh heh!’

‘Eh, it doesn’t go right up to the kindergarten. You must get off in Madlamarkveien, and from there you make your way to the kindergarten. It will take you ten minutes by foot.’

‘By foot? Do you know what Granny called that? The Apostles’ horses. That’s from the Bible. Deuteronmomy. Or Acts of the Apostles! Oh yes, The Good Book. There wasn’t too much bussing back then, so to speak, Fräulein ! It was all camels and sandals! But now that I’ve got you on the line, do I detect a slight accent? And the thing you keep saying about what Nilsen and Jensen must do?’

‘Heh heh.’

‘Heh heh, your Norwegian is flawless, I’m guessing you’ve lived here for quite a while … Might we be talking Germany, Mädchen?

‘Hannover.’

‘Hannover, to be exact. And who else is from Hannover?’

‘What do you mean? I’m from Hannover…’

‘Yess, baby, you and Scorpions.’

‘Ha ha!’

‘Heh heh, you got a little laugh out of that, Gerda!’

‘My name isn’t Gerda…’

‘No, that’s just something we say. Oh! Gerda! Ja! Bitte !’

‘Ulrike, my name’s Ulrike.’

‘Okay, okay, no names, honey, no names.’

‘Well, have a gute trip to Gosen Woods then.’

‘The same to you, Ulrike! And now you could say that Nilsen and Jensen are back home; now the light of this bright September day is shining down on us all; now the whole of society is heading home for dinner, and I’ve had a chance to employ my fists, you’ve had an opportunity to employ your expertise and Jensen here, he’s had occasion to put that big brain of his to a little use. And if that doesn’t make for a good day, then we may as well bang it all intoouterspace — trip, Gerda? Did you say trip? This whole life’s a trip! Ich habe eine grosse in die Hose ! Rock you like a hurricane!’

Malene walks into the bathroom. She locks the door and takes a step towards the mirror. She fixes her gaze on its surface and focuses on the reflection of her own eyes. ‘Am I pretty?’ she whispers to the face she sees, and the face mouths back. ‘Am I beautiful?’ She narrows her eyes, squints. She sucks in her cheeks, sees her cheekbones become even more prominent and she pouts tentatively. ‘Am I sexy?’ Malene takes her hand to the back of her head, takes hold of her hair and lifts it. A boy said that to her once: You should always wear your hair like that, looks well cute . Oliver in 10B. Cockwad. Gamer. He goes to LAN parties and stays up all night. He won some endurance contest recently, played for hours on end in a big hall, fell asleep and was woken up by the laptop burning the side of his face like a hotplate. Retard. But even idiots have eyes in their heads and maybe he’s right?

Malene can see what he’s talking about. She does have nice hair, always has had, shiny and strong. It takes on a whole other look when she tousles it, takes it up and avoids letting it just hang straight down. And a nice body, she knows she has that. A gymnast’s body. But unlike a lot of the other girls she’s always found it hard to relate to that sort of thing … nice body, yeah, so? It’s like the cheekbones; should she go round trying to show them off all the time? Or draw attention to them? What if you don’t feel comfortable with that, sticking your tits out, being so much about your body all the time. What do you do then?

Quit biting her nails, she’ll have to do that in any case.

Aunt Ingrid has no problem with it; she walks around in extremely tight tops and pants, she has the deepest cleavage in Rogaland, and she’s loud and brash. The girl is such a hussy, Gran always says, and then she’ll explain what it means: hussy, that’s what we used to call girls like that. They’re so full of themselves and into themselves, all flirty and shameless — and my daughter, she’s like that. Ah, give it a rest, Aunt Ingrid says, I’ve been listening to that since 1980. I’m a woman and I choose how I look and how I dress, Mummy.

Is it Gran who’s right or is it Aunt Ingrid who’s right?

Sandra: I love him.

Tiril: The next time you say a fucking word about my sister, about Sandra…

She planted her fist right in Bunny’s little brother’s face. She’s always been like that. She’s always gone that little bit further than the rest, always been a bit extreme. What is it Mum says: Tiril can be a little over the top sometimes . Then again she could just as well be describing herself, couldn’t she?