Tore Renberg - See You Tomorrow

‘What is it, Daniel? I don’t understand?’

That hollow, deaf voice of hers; is he going to have to put up with that for the rest of his life? Christ, his throat is dry. He puts his mouth back under the water still running from the tap and drinks; it’s like he’s dehydrated, and now his vision is beginning to flash, no, not this, not now, he sees blood, sees hands being raised in front of a face, hears screams and his body is so dry, his body is so dry it feels as if it’ll crack like parched earth and tiny brown animals will emerge: ‘Shut up!’

He turns to Veronika. He moves swiftly towards her, one hand clenched into a fist while he uses the other to take hold of her hair, pulling her head closer to his, roughly: ‘Can you just shut the fuck up?’

Veronika smiles.

‘Are you going to hit me, Daniel?’

He pulls her head back forcefully, making her yield to his will. Or does he? Is it he who’s won now or is it her?

‘Daniel? Are you going to hit me now?’

He can’t make out what’s what, but Veronika continues smiling at him and he hears her say: ‘Daniel, I’m going to look after you. Listen to me. Breathe in, breathe out. Let go of me. That’s right, yeah. Sit down, listen to me. Daniel, Daniel. Tell me what happened to you.’

Fuck.

Is he going to start crying in front of a girl?

He puts his head against her chest, feels her breasts against his cheek.

It’s part of the fuckplan, Daniel thinks. It’s bigger than you think, that plan. More dangerous than you believe. It’s carrying a whole world of shit along with it and in the end you’ll stand there watching the blood flow.

Daniel sniffles. ‘Jesus,’ he whispers, ‘they’re so perfect, those tits of yours. I’m not really into big tits, but fuck, I like yours.’

Veronika nods.

‘I’m in love with two girls,’ he sighs.

‘I know,’ Veronika says. ‘But it won’t last long.’

He looks up at her, gulping back mucus, his teeth clacking together. His mouth foaming. He says: ‘Come on, we’ll hop on the Suzuki and just leave, okay? We’ll go as far from here as we can and never look back.’

Maybe you were right, maybe DW is a coward. Outside his block of flats now, have no clue what’s going to happen. If I die, I die for love.

Xx S.

Yet another brisk September day. The sun has come up, white and reigning supreme in a sky where not a cloud is to be seen. People have begun going about their morning business, a few early risers have already exited the tower block, mostly adults on their way to work. It’s still too early for any schoolkids to put in an appearance. Fortunately. Sandra doesn’t want anyone to recognise her standing here.

She puts the phone back into her pocket.

If he comes out with that skank of his it makes no difference. If he has that slashed-up slut with him, then the blood will gush from those faulty ears of hers and if he comes out alone, then he better have an answer for her. She doesn’t want to hear any more bullshit, what she wants is a simple yes or no, and the question she’s going to ask is: Am I the one, the only one you want, for all time?

She’s going to be tough. Both she and Jesus are going to be tough.

Sandra brings her finger to the panel with the doorbells. She buzzes. A few seconds pass before a click sounds on the intercom and his voice, metallic and uncertain, can be heard: ‘Yes?’

Sandra doesn’t reply. She takes two steps backwards. Stands there looking at the name below the buzzer.

‘Yes, hello?’

She’s not going to answer. You’re going to have to come down, Daniel, and show who you are.

The line goes dead. She approaches the panel again. Lifts her hand. Rings once more. Longer this time, keeping her finger pressed hard against the button.

The response comes quickly: ‘Yes, hello?’

Not nice, that voice. It has been so warm and deep at times, spoken right to her and she’s trusted it. But this voice, she’s not about to reply to that.

‘Hello? Anyone there?’

Once again, Sandra takes two demonstrative steps back from the panel of buzzers.

‘Listen, enough of the dinging already, yeah?’

The intercom goes silent again. A woman passes behind Sandra, walking a drever on a lead; it makes for her legs but the woman gives the leash a yank and they continue on. Sandra steps up to the buttons for a third time, breath rising in her throat, sweat beading on her hairline. She presses the buzzer.

A couple of seconds. Intercom crackle. A girl’s voice. The skank: ‘Give it a fucking rest, all right?’

The fact that she even dares open her mouth. It sounds so retarded. She talks like a mongoloid. Sandra puts her lips to the intercom, bunches her tongue against her uvula and imitates Veronika: ‘Give it a fucking rest, all right?’

It goes quiet on the other end. That gave them something to think about. Sandra smiles, puts her mouth to the speaker again, makes her tongue thicker, her voice quaver, trying harder to mimic the deaf tone: ‘Huuunnh? Are you able to speak? But you’re not able to hear what I’m saying. Huuunnh? Maybe you’ve got someone there to translate for you, have you?’

The line goes dead again. That should do the trick, thinks Sandra. Now they’ll come down. She hurries round the corner of the tower block, puts her back against the cold brick and her feet on the grass, banking on them not catching sight of her. Now she’ll be able to see how they behave. Before she snares them, she wants to see what happens.

A minute crawls by; she counts the seconds like she’s counted the seconds while waiting for Daniel in the last few weeks, waiting in smitten bliss. That naïve girl seems far away now, as though they had never been the same person. Then she hears the door open. The sound of footsteps emerging. One person. Two people. The footsteps stop.

‘No one here.’ His voice

‘Little shits.’ His voice

‘Fucking cheek of them.’ His voice

‘If I get hold of them I’ll beat their faces to a pulp.’ His voice.

Sandra feels a swelling in her throat and she tries to swallow. Daniel is sticking up for the deaf girl. His voice is clear, deep and warm. The words sound just as real as they were when he spoke to her, in the woods and at the shop. Sandra gulps once more, the tears come; she gasps and presses her tongue against her crooked front tooth. She hears footfall. The sound of a jacket being unzipped. Is he opening her jacket, putting his hands inside, comforting her? Sandra goes as close as possible to the corner of the block: is it her opening his jacket? Putting her arms around him? Are they kissing?

‘Is there anyone who’s got it in for you?’ His voice.

‘Veronika. Answer me. Has this happened before?’ His voice.

‘No.’ Her voice.

‘We won’t give a shit. Okay?’ His voice.

‘Yeah.’ Her voice.

‘Let’s just leave, all right?’ His voice.

‘All right.’ Her voice.

Leave?

‘You and me.’ His voice.

‘Yes, Daniel.’ Her voice.

Leave?

‘Daniel is going to look after you, you know that, right?’ His voice.

‘Yeah.’ Her voice.

Sandra’s knees are giving way; she just about manages to remain standing and has to support herself against the wall. Leave. You and me. She hears the trust implicit in Veronika’s reply; she hears how steady his voice sounds. Sandra feels pulverised; there is no tough Jesus here, just this caustic pain.

‘Right, come on.’

Footsteps. They’re moving. Quickly.

Sandra takes a few small steps towards the corner, puts her head around and sees them. Daniel William and Veronika, jogging along in front of the tower blocks, hand-in-hand, him slightly in front of her.