Part 35 (1/2)

When Iben gets home that evening she tries not to think about the project with Anne-Lise. She checks her e-mail and answering machine, and wonders for the umpteenth time if it would be right to phone Gunnar.

She slices a handful of vegetables, pours olive oil on top, and adds some spices. After microwaving the mixture she eats it with pieces of Rye-Krisp while watching TV. She could say that she wants to hear Gunnars thoughts on the meeting today. Shes just a dedicated employee nothing wrong with that, is there? Thats what she could tell Malene, if she asks her.

Standing next to the heavy wine-colored armchair she inherited from her grandmother, she dials his number. He answers the phone.

Gunnar, I hope this isnt a bad time?

No. Not at all. Its good to hear from you.

But Iben doesnt learn much about the meeting because Gunnar says that hes in a hurry, hes on his way out.

Iben feels suddenly deflated. But then she thinks its just as well to know that hes not interested in her. No need for any more arguments with Malene.

Gunnar explains that he has promised an old friend to go to a showing of the friends doc.u.mentary about a development project in Uganda. The filmmaker is going to give a brief talk about his work and afterward the audience will join in a debate about both the film and the project. Would Iben like to come along?

The answer seems to stick in her throat. One of her hands is scratching at the back of the old armchair, her body tense. She feels a familiar s.h.i.+ver, almost like fear. She covers the mouthpiece and breathes a huge sigh. No criminal this time, but she looks around her all the same.

They agree to meet in half an hour at the Nrrebro Street office of the development organization Ibis. When Iben arrives, Gunnar is waiting for her. He looks happy to see her and introduces her to his friend.

The noise of the crowd milling around in the lecture theater is quite different from the earnest atmosphere of the DCIG. The aid activists, and the audience in general, are colorfully dressed, talk in loud voices, laugh, and call out greetings to people they last met on field projects abroad. Almost everyone is tanned.

A few older men wander about, working the crowd. Like Gunnar, these men seem to have many friends and acquaintances in the audience, the majority of whom are young, female, and often strikingly attractive. Three women chatting near a window catch sight of Gunnar and wave. He looks delighted and waves back.

Iben keeps wondering how many of these people have slept with each other. In a hut in Zimbabwe, for instance, or in a shack in El Salvador. Or in someones apartment, late one night after a party. It follows that some of them might have been with Gunnar. She cant let go of that thought either. She regrets putting on a prim cream-colored blouse, which had seemed so perfect. Still, she cant think what else she might have chosen to wear.

Gunnar introduces her to another old friend even though she looks quite young. The woman leans into Gunnar as they talk. Iben cant figure out why this girls turquoise dress is somehow provocative, given that it is high-necked and not at all figure hugging.

Fortunately Iben hits it off with many of the people she meets. They still remember her from the media coverage six months ago a Kenyan hostage crisis is especially likely to stick in the minds of Africa activists, of course.

Gunnar has reserved two good seats in the middle of the theater. After a very brief lecture, the film starts up.

Iben and Gunnar are sitting side by side in the dark on the hard wooden seats. They do not touch. Iben leaves one hand resting on her thigh. Its the hand closest to him, only a couple of inches away. Her hand senses the warmth of his body, but neither of them moves. Even the air between them is still.

When the film ends, four people carrying gla.s.ses of water and writing pads sit down at a couple of tables at one end of the room. They are introduced as the panel this evening. Twice they refer questions to Gunnar, saying, Gunnar, you know all about this issue. Gunnars answers are lucid and well delivered. He doesnt exploit the opportunity and avoids sounding overly academic. He comes across so well that Iben half suspects that he had it in mind when he invited her here. It makes her happy to think her opinion might matter to him.

Afterward, in the throng of people, Gunnar invites her to the nearby Cafe Sebastopol. Outside in the night air Iben and Gunnar walk, pus.h.i.+ng their bicycles along as they chat about the film. Once inside the cafe Iben tries to be relaxed but also to maintain a slight distance. Strictly speaking, this isnt a date, she tells herself, and she is definitely not trying to seduce her best friends would-be lover.

They talk a little about Gunnars meeting with Paul that morning. When Gunnar and Paul said goodbye, Paul put his left hand over their clasped hands and told him that he would keep Gunnar informed whenever the situation opened up. Iben and Gunnar have a good laugh about this.

They talk about literature too. Gunnar subscribes to Granta. It turns out that theyve both read Botho Strauss. Gunnar smiles at a quote that Iben happens to recall: The silent man, who was sitting at the cleared table in the feeble light of the projector, leaned on his forearms with his body suspended like a heavy, wet dress from between his shoulders.

Gunnar has read several of her articles in Genocide News and they talk for a while about the high-ranking n.a.z.is who simulated mental illness in the run-up to the Nuremberg trials. Gunnar tells a story about Karl Donitz, first commander of the German submarine fleet, later commander in chief of the entire navy and Hitlers successor for the final period of the war. Donitz used to wander around in prison with his head hung low, making a kind of engine noise. When asked what he was doing, he answered that he was a submarine. It didnt wash, of course. No one was taken in by his performance as a lunatic. They both laugh at the image of the commander rumbling around in the prison yard. Gunnars hand rests on the table very close to Ibens.

At her front door, Iben fumbles with her bicycle keys. When she tries to s.h.i.+ft the bicycle sideways, a pedal hits the knife fastened to her leg. For the first time, it strikes her that she has forgotten about her fear of being ambushed by a professional killer.

Hurriedly she looks up and down the dark road. Far away a broad-shouldered man is standing, looking in her direction.

As she runs up the stairs, thoughts of Gunnar still absorb her. Malene cant simply keep him for herself. She cant have him on standby, just in case Rasmus packs his bags one day. Hes too old for Malene; she said so herself. But it would be catastrophic for Iben to have to work so closely with Malene if they were no longer great friends.

She cant fall asleep right away. So she switches on the television in her bedroom and piles up cus.h.i.+ons to lean against in bed. Then she goes to the kitchen for marshmallows and a few spoonfuls of ice cream.

Just as she is coming back to the bedroom the phone rings. She runs to the living room and notices that she has several messages on the machine.

Malene is on the phone. Where have you been? Ive been calling you all evening! She is obviously very upset.

Out of habit, Iben thinks it must be Malenes arthritis, only Malene doesnt sound as subdued as she usually does during an attack. Then it hits her. Iben has an eerie feeling that she knows what Malene is about to say.

Rasmus has left! Malene is screaming.

What?

Moved out! Hes moved out!

Oh, no but where to? Why ?

Somehow Iben had known. It fits too well. Of all evenings, it had to be this one.

Without thinking, Iben hurls her bowl of ice cream at the nearest bookshelf. Fragments of the bowl shatter across the floor and some of the ice cream splashes onto the screen of the television.

Malene is talking. She says that Rasmus told her earlier this evening that for the last six weeks he has been having an affair. Someone who works as a bartender in Bopa.

So I threw him out!

You threw him out?

I didnt want him in my apartment for a second longer!

Iben knows she has to support her friend, rea.s.sure her that she has done the right thing, comfort her by telling her how good it is to have the self-a.s.surance to act on your feelings. But somehow she cant make herself begin.

And you werent in, Iben.

No Iben doesnt explain. She holds the receiver to her ear and, with the telephone cord trailing like the lead of a tethered animal, edges over to the bookshelf, where some marshmallows lie among the melting remains of the ice cream. She puts one in her mouth. Then she grabs two more and puts them in her mouth as well.

Malene keeps talking. So I got rid of him. But I dont want to be here I cant bear even to look at the apartment. There is a short pause. Iben, can I stay with you?

Malene, why dont you come here? Iben asks, as if she hadnt heard Malenes question.

When the call is finished, Iben goes to the kitchen, puts the kettle on, and finds Malenes favorite tea. She takes some cleaning fluid out of the cupboard so she can wipe the ice cream off her books and sweep up the bits of broken bowl. And shed better change back into her work clothes as well.

But she doesnt. On the way back to the bedroom, she collapses on the sofa and weeps, the side of her face pressed against the unyielding arm.

The intercom buzzes. Iben jumps up and runs to release the downstairs lock.

Next she must change her clothes and wipe off her smeared makeup. She runs into the bedroom and pulls her blouse off. No time to change her trousers. The bathroom next. She puts cleansing cream on her face.