Tore Renberg - See You Tomorrow

There have been times Malene has been jealous of Tiril. She’s witnessed her explode and experienced admiration and astonishment in equal measure, but she’s never once wished that she was like that. She wouldn’t be able to handle it, having such a tumult going on inside. No control. The feeling that anything can happen. But now?

She lets go of her hair. Lifts the toilet lid. Unzips the flies of her jeans, pulls down her knickers, sits down and pees.

There’s something creeping around inside her.

Something making her body tingle.

She’s warm.

What is it?

It’s been a day of surprises; Sandra left her flabbergasted, Tiril has gone further than usual, and as for herself … she’s even been taken aback by her own actions. It’s as though — she tears off a sheet of toilet roll, dries herself — as though … she stands up and presses the handle. As though there’s another Malene trying to force her way out. As if something has come loose. Or something is running wild. A little animal … is it a little animal? It’s as though every thought she’s ever had about being careful, about not wanting any change, no longer counts. As if they’re no longer true.

She’s so hot. Something is tingling inside.

She goes back to the sink, lathers the soap and turns on the tap. She lets the water run over her hands while looking in the mirror again. Am I pretty? Am I sexy?

‘Malene? You there? Listen, I’m off to the shops, okay?’

Dad’s standing in the hall. She can picture him. Eyebrows raised a fraction. Head cocked ever so slightly to the side. His kind eyes.

‘Yeah, okay,’ she replies while looking at how flushed her cheeks are.

‘All right! Great! See you!’

The front door slams.

What is going on with Dad? Something’s up. Is he surfing porn on the net? Is he chatting with women? Maybe that’s why he’s so distant. Jesus, as long as it’s not a woman from the Philippines or something.

Malene wipes her forehead. What is she so warm — is she getting sick? The tingling, what is that?

Her mobile rings. The display lights up. Sandra. She answers it: ‘Hello, Malene speaking.’

She hears sniffling on the other end of the line.

‘Hello,’ she says again, as if she doesn’t know who it is, ‘Malene here.’

‘Hi, it’s me,’ Sandra’s voice is meek.

‘Hi, where are you? How are you feeling?’

Sandra sniffs once more. ‘I…’

There’s a sudden loud noise on the line, then a pause.

‘Hold on, such a racket here … they’re digging up the road … just going to … that’s better. You there?’

Malene lets the cold tap run for a while, then places her free hand under it before bringing it to the back of her neck.

‘Yeah.’

‘I’m in town,’ says Sandra.

‘Okay?’ Malene feels the water cool her down, she shuts her eyes.

‘I’m, eh…’

‘But where have you been? Since you left?’

‘Nowhere. All over. I went into town. I—’

Sandra begins to cry.

‘Hey, hey, don’t cry, what is it?’ Malene opens her eyes, looks at the mirror, her cheeks are red.

‘I don’t know … I … Sandra sniffles, ‘I just can’t take this, I don’t know what I’m going to do, he … he—’

‘Who?’

‘Daniel…’

Malene takes her hands to her face. She’s burning up, her cheeks, her forehead, her lips. ‘What about Daniel,’ she asks. ‘Has he done something to you?’

‘No, he just …’ Sandra sniffs again. ‘He’s not here. He’s not even answering his phone. We’re supposed to see each other tonight, but … can you come and meet me?’

‘Where?’

‘In town. I was thinking of buying a headscarf…’

‘Okay. I’ll come. I might be a little while though…’

‘That’s fine. I’ll be sitting outside Kulturhuset . Or I might go to McDonald’s. Just text me.’

‘Okay, Sandra. I’ll be there. Just give me a little time, okay?’

She hangs up. The gymnastics queen, ice queen, silver queen. Malene opens the cabinet above the sink. She takes out the lipstick. Removes the top from the holder. Pouts. Feels a tingling inside.

Malene undresses, runs a bath, steps into the tub and touches herself.

Tiril is standing in Thea’s kitchen, her chin thrust forward and resting on her hands, elbows leaning on the worktop. The light outside assails the window, almost in desperation, as though it’ll fragment into something unknown at any moment. Tiril tries staring at it, but has to give in. She squints, blinking such that her eyelashes quiver in front of her vision, like a jittery fog.

‘Thea, you coming or what?’

They’re always able to hang out at Thea’s after school, never anyone else home until late. Her parents work so much; her dad is part of the management of Schlumberger and her mum works in marketing or advertising — they’ve no problem with Thea having people over. They’re cool, Thea’s folks. The family might be moving to Brussels, actually, something to do with her dad’s job. Thea takes private piano lessons. Her parents like Tiril, even though her dad is always slagging her off, saying there are other colours in the world besides black. No, she says, black isn’t a colour — black is the absence of light. Heh heh. That makes him laugh, he likes those kinds of answers.

‘Thea! Jesus, are you planning to get a move on?’

They have a lot to do. They’re going to go through the plan for tomorrow, discuss all the things they need, what’s left to do, and they’re going to fine tune the choreography before tonight’s dry run.

The radio plays on the windowsill, Thea’s in the bathroom. Tiril traces her nail along the slit in her skirt and glances down at her hands. Can just about make out the faint lettering. She scrubbed off the tattoo — it just felt wrong somehow — after she gave Bunny’s little brother a wallop. Almost as if the act itself had made the letters fall off her fingers.

She’d never hit anyone before. It hurt like hell when her hand made contact with his face, but at the same time it felt great. Right after she landed the punch a taste spread through her mouth, a pleasant taste, like vanilla. Tiril hopes Sandra and Malene realise that she did it for them. Because Malene struck her. Because Sandra needed help. She did it for Dad too, in a way. Shaun? Shaun’s a maggot; it wasn’t about him, that whole family are maggots. If they kick up a stink at school she can say it was about Shaun, that she acted in self-defence, that he’s been pestering and picking at her for about a year, that she had to defend herself.

But it’s not true. She did it for Malene. For Sandra. And for Dad.

Not that Tiril is superstitious. But.

It’s a feeling she has.

Of things being connected.

For instance, if something is up with Dad — and Malene could be right — then her standing up for him might help. Even though the action she carries out may not be directly related to him, that’s what she feels: that when she walloped Bunny’s little brother, it made Dad’s heart stronger.

Malene can sit in his lap. That’s how it’s always been. Tiril can’t. It doesn’t feel right. The few times she’s tried to copy Malene and crawl on to his lap it felt like she was sitting on sharp stones. She can’t do it. But she can do this.

Besides, nobody’s said anything. She hasn’t been told to go to the principal’s office. People stared at her. They whispered and pointed. They were afraid, they didn’t know what to say, they didn’t know what to do. But everyone understood that she had a right to do it.

Tiril runs her nail quickly along the slit in her skirt, as though she were striking a match. She feels like having a smoke now, but there’s no chance. Thea’s parents are complete Nazis when it comes to smoking. If they knew Thea smoked now and again they’d hit the roof, and if they found a cigarette butt outside the house, even some flicked ash, they’d be furious. Once, she was out smoking on Thea’s veranda and Thea was almost in tears; she said they’d smell it when they got home. Smell it? They won’t be home for another three hours. It’ll seep into the house, said Thea.