Part 1 (2/2)

Are you positive?

Yes. Sure.

Malene and Rasmuss apartment is in a state of transition. Draped over the backs of two cheap IKEA folding chairs are Indian throws from a fair trade shop. Like the cheap Polynesian figurines on the pine shelves, the blankets are reminders of the time when Malene was studying international development at university. Three years have pa.s.sed since Malene received her graduate degree and a well-paid post at the Danish Center for Information on Genocide. Now their furniture includes a pricey new Italian sofa and two sixties Danish Design armchairs. Both Malene and Rasmus make decent money, and little by little theyve been able to afford more upscale pieces.

Theres little evidence, however, of Rasmuss taste. After receiving a university degree in film studies, he couldnt find a job, so now he sells computer hardware at trade shows all over Europe, requiring him to spend more than half the year on the road.

The telephone rings. Iben answers and recognizes the deep male voice with the Jutland accent. She has listened to Gunnar Hartvig Nielsen so many times on the current affairs program Orientation.

Iben calls Malene, who is presently sporting jeans and a fas.h.i.+onable, colorful silk s.h.i.+rt. It looks like her last bid in the dressing-up stakes, because she has put on some makeup.

Iben hears Malene turn down Gunnars suggestion that they should meet for dinner and invite him to join them at Sophies instead.

When Malene hangs up, Iben wonders aloud: Could he really be bothered to come to Sophies?

Why not?

But whats he going to do there?

Meet people, talk to me. Have a good time. Like we are.

Yeah of course.

Iben switches off the television and follows Malene to the bathroom, where Malene finishes putting on her makeup.

Iben had heard Gunnar Nielsens name for the first time when she was still a student. Everyone in her dorm shared a daily copy of Information, which published Gunnars stream of articles on international politics. They scrutinized every word and particularly admired and debated his reports from Africa.

Like Malene, Gunnar had grown up in rural Denmark. At nineteen, he joined a development project in Tanzania, where he taught himself Swahili, and then stayed on in Africa, traveling around for three and a half years. When he came home, he wrote a book about the continent, The Rhythms of Survival. It not only had become required reading for young backpackers, but also was taken seriously by people concerned with international issues.

By the time he was twenty-five, Gunnar was a well-established journalist. He had gone back to Africa several times. At one point, he had tried to combine university studies with his Information a.s.signments to cover summit meetings and conferences, but the dull world of university life couldnt compete with the excitement of being at the center of things, so he had dropped out of the course after little more than a year.

Iben and Malene were still at university when Gunnars newspaper pieces suddenly stopped. His fame as a star left-wing writer quickly faded.

Four years ago, when she was a student trainee at the DCIG, Malene had found out what had happened. She had managed to get hold of him for an interview about the horrific but at the time unrecognized genocide in the Sudan. Gunnar had taken a job as the editor of Development, a magazine published by Danida, the Danish state organization for international development. He had told her that, after his divorce, he needed a steady income to pay child support and to rent a new apartment with enough s.p.a.ce for his childrens visits. His articles were as good as ever, but they went almost unnoticed by people outside the circle of Danida initiates.

Iben, who was studying comparative literature at the time, felt envious of her friend, who always met such exciting men through her work, and was good-looking enough to attract many of them. Her envy deepened when Gunnar invited Malene out to dinner.

More meals followed. Malene and Gunnar explored restaurants in every corner of the city, but did nothing else. Gunnars stocky frame, his disillusioned Socialist att.i.tude, and, above all, the fact that he was in his midforties meant that Malene thought the chemistry between them wasnt right, much as she loved dining out with him. Now and then she would tell Iben about how weary she felt when she saw the pleading in his large eyes.

Once Iben spoke out. It isnt fair to keep going out with Gunnar and letting him pay for one meal after another. Hes in love with you and you dont even want to sleep with him.

Oh, come on. We always have such a good time together. And hes said that he isnt expecting anything more you know, like love or s.e.x.

But hes got to pay for you all the same?

No, its not like that. Its simple: he enjoys eating in restaurants and so do I, but Im broke. If he couldnt afford it and I could, Id pay for him.

When Malene met the younger, cooler Rasmus and became his girlfriend, he too tried to stop her evenings out with Gunnar. Iben overheard Malene say, Rasmus, theres nothing s.e.xual between Gunnar and me. Were just good friends. Still, Rasmus had insisted that she should pay her share.

Before leaving, as Iben and Malene talk about who theyll see tonight, they wolf down some leftovers. In the hall, Malene quickly changes to another pair of her expensive orthopedic shoes, which she needs because of her arthritis. They drain their mojitos and leave.

Iben and Malene hang up their coats in the narrow pa.s.sage of Sophies apartment. The air is heavy with the smell of fried food, wine, and people.

Sophie comes over to meet them. After the hugs and cries of So good to see you, she notices Malenes clothes and makeup. But Malene, its not that kind of party Some of her other guests are drifting out through the living room door and b.u.mp into her. Distractedly, she finishes the sentence: its just, you know, the same old crowd coming round for a drink. You know Im off tomorrow, dont you?

When she phoned about the party, Sophie, who had lived in the same student housing as Iben and Malene, explained that she was leaving Denmark to join her boyfriend, a biologist working in Canada on a two-year project.

Someone in the living room calls out: Hey, look, theres Iben. The heroine has arrived!

Went back to protect the others instead of just looking after number one, another old college friend adds.

Iben smiles. G.o.d only knows how many times shes explained it all before. I had no idea what I was doing. Everything was so confusing. I just didnt think about the outcome.

But thats precisely what makes what you did heroic, Iben. You had the right instincts. Or whatever it is that kicks in when youve got to make a split-second decision.

Sophie gives Iben another little hug and looks her in the eye. Most people would have run for it.

The living room is full of familiar faces. A few years ago they were all students together, in their early twenties. Iben remembers how they would laze around on the gra.s.s in Flled Park when there was a concert on. Almost all of them have finished with education by now. Some have jobs, but many more live on welfare, full-time or part-time. Despite failing in the job market, they still feel less poor now, because the unemployment payments are quite an improvement on student grants. Individual lives are being pushed in utterly unforeseen directions along career paths, sometimes along straight routes and sometimes up blind alleys. Some of them already have children.

They are everywhere, standing or sitting, drinking beer or red wine, chatting in the low light from a few dim lamps. Three young mothers drift around with babies in their arms. Iben and Malene exchange glances. Obviously, dancing isnt an option.

There are more questions about Nairobi, but Iben only smiles. Ive been asked about all that so often I cant even bring myself to discuss it any longer. Some other time. Look, what about you?

She does the rounds of the room and then tucks herself away in a corner where she can half sit, half lean on a table. A man starts reminiscing about nights spent clubbing. Hes a dentist, fresh from his qualifying exams and already well on his way to becoming an alcoholic.

She looks up and, across the room, sees Gunnar. Malene once spoke of him as such a big guy and Iben got the impression that he was John Goodmansized. Now she realizes that he is more like the young Gerard Depardieu.

Iben sees Malene get up from an inflatable armchair and walk toward Gunnar; the dentist turns to watch.

Iben crushes a chip between her teeth. Some women, she thinks, would be b.l.o.o.d.y irritated if their friend had that sort of effect on every single guy they met. She observes Malene lead Gunnar away to the relative peace of the hallway.

Later, Iben and one of Rasmuss best friends end up side by side on the sofa. He wears a neon blue jacket with contrasting seams and is proudly telling her that he landed a job as a copywriter in an advertising agency. His voice sounds louder than it used to be, and his laughter seems more mechanical.

Human rights and art great stuff, but theres no money in it!

He sees the expression on Ibens face. Sure, its not so bad being more or less broke. But unemployment, thats something else. Its awful. I mean, just look at the way youre treated by your prospective employers. They couldnt give a f.u.c.k. They know perfectly well they can take their pick from thousands of graduates. Some of the people standing nearby are listening in, and he turns to them as well. But in a good agency you get treated differently. The bosses know how few there are who have both the talent and the stamina to put up with that line of work. He smiles. Like, watch the style, f.u.c.k the substance.

He mentions the name of his agency and Iben is obviously meant to recognize it. Weve been on TV. Like you.

Iben pours fruit juice into her plastic cup while keeping an eye on Gunnar, who has come back into the room. He isnt surrounded by any female admirers. Maybe because by now theyre old enough to feel self-conscious or because they think that, in the flesh, he doesnt quite live up to their fantasies. Or maybe because he is just too old.

Rasmuss friend is still working his story. Now hes telling everyone about how his agency paid for him and the rest of the crew to take a three-day Christmas break, partying in Barcelona, and how it was worth it, given the firms investment in their salaries.

<script>