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Authors: Carl Frode Tiller
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believed such things ought to be discussed, but only a minute later she seemed happier and chirpier than I had seen her in a long time. All of a sudden she could see herself having grandchildren to spoil, after all, as well as a daughter-in-law to train up and a son she could tell her women friends about without having to lie or blush. The second and third of these my brother Eskil could be said to have given her, but to Mum’s great sorrow in his teens he had caught mumps and this had left him sterile, so it was up to me to provide grandchildren and pass on the family name, as she had given me to understand on more than one occasion.
I was as unsure then as to whether I was gay, straight, or bisexual as I am now, but it was no less painful to hear her talk and carry on the way she did. You thought she was just a joke and there were times when you had to bite your lip to save laughing out loud when she sat there sounding us out. But even though I agreed with you, and even though a lot of what she said was so stupid that it was hard to believe it could be hurtful, these conversations always left me feeling depressed. At the time I didn’t know why, but now I can seethat it was the fact that she set conditions for loving me that left me with what I remember as a vague sense of shame.
Unlike Mum, I don’t think either Berit or Arvid suspected that we were anything other than friends at that point. But then Arvid thought and acted as if he were living in the heaven that he sometimes believed in, and since there definitely can’t have been such a thing as homosexuality in that heaven, I don’t think it ever occurred to him that anything of that sort could be going on between us. Berit was much more down-to-earth and under normal circumstances she might have been able to spot what Mum had spotted, but the silent, stiff, almost cold manner you had adopted when you were at home had become more and more marked during ’88 and ’89 and this made you all but impossible to read or to fathom, not only for Arvid, but also for her. On one occasion, for example, when we popped in to your house to pick up a camera we needed for one of our endless art projects and you needed to eat something to boost your blood sugar levels before we headed out again, I remember you asking Arvid if you might “be allowed” to take a couple of slices of bread. Silje and I thought you were kidding, but when we saw that Arvid wasn’t smiling, but reacted by sighing heavily and walking out of the kitchen without replying, we realized that this was pretty much par for the course.
One might have thought that Berit would be worried about you when you acted like this, and maybe she was, but she also seemed to admire this side of you. I think she interpreted your defiance and all your little acts of rebellion as signs of inner strength and courage, and on several occasions I saw her smother a little smile when you behaved in ways that would probably have troubled other mothers.
Namsos, July 5th 2006. Darkie
I pluck a dry white stick off the ground, put it over my knee and imagine that it’s Eskil’s arm, then I snap the stick in two and toss both halves into the sea. I attempt a triumphant grin, but can’t quite pull it off, all I can manage is a grim, bitter sneer. I lean forward, prop my elbows on my knees, sit there gazing at the blue sea sparkling in the bright sunlight. After a few moments I smack my hands down on my knees and get up off the rock. Got to be getting back. There’s no way round it. I’d better head off again as soon as I’ve eaten. Don’t know where to, but no matter what, I have to go, just go somewhere. I start to walk, walk through the forest and out onto the dusty, dirt track, yellow dirt track. Stride out smartly to begin with, slowing down as I get closer to the house. It’s as if my body doesn’t want to go back there, my legs grow heavier and heavier, my feet harder to lift and I have to push them into the garden,
I was as unsure then as to whether I was gay, straight, or bisexual as I am now, but it was no less painful to hear her talk and carry on the way she did. You thought she was just a joke and there were times when you had to bite your lip to save laughing out loud when she sat there sounding us out. But even though I agreed with you, and even though a lot of what she said was so stupid that it was hard to believe it could be hurtful, these conversations always left me feeling depressed. At the time I didn’t know why, but now I can seethat it was the fact that she set conditions for loving me that left me with what I remember as a vague sense of shame.
Unlike Mum, I don’t think either Berit or Arvid suspected that we were anything other than friends at that point. But then Arvid thought and acted as if he were living in the heaven that he sometimes believed in, and since there definitely can’t have been such a thing as homosexuality in that heaven, I don’t think it ever occurred to him that anything of that sort could be going on between us. Berit was much more down-to-earth and under normal circumstances she might have been able to spot what Mum had spotted, but the silent, stiff, almost cold manner you had adopted when you were at home had become more and more marked during ’88 and ’89 and this made you all but impossible to read or to fathom, not only for Arvid, but also for her. On one occasion, for example, when we popped in to your house to pick up a camera we needed for one of our endless art projects and you needed to eat something to boost your blood sugar levels before we headed out again, I remember you asking Arvid if you might “be allowed” to take a couple of slices of bread. Silje and I thought you were kidding, but when we saw that Arvid wasn’t smiling, but reacted by sighing heavily and walking out of the kitchen without replying, we realized that this was pretty much par for the course.
One might have thought that Berit would be worried about you when you acted like this, and maybe she was, but she also seemed to admire this side of you. I think she interpreted your defiance and all your little acts of rebellion as signs of inner strength and courage, and on several occasions I saw her smother a little smile when you behaved in ways that would probably have troubled other mothers.
Namsos, July 5th 2006. Darkie
I pluck a dry white stick off the ground, put it over my knee and imagine that it’s Eskil’s arm, then I snap the stick in two and toss both halves into the sea. I attempt a triumphant grin, but can’t quite pull it off, all I can manage is a grim, bitter sneer. I lean forward, prop my elbows on my knees, sit there gazing at the blue sea sparkling in the bright sunlight. After a few moments I smack my hands down on my knees and get up off the rock. Got to be getting back. There’s no way round it. I’d better head off again as soon as I’ve eaten. Don’t know where to, but no matter what, I have to go, just go somewhere. I start to walk, walk through the forest and out onto the dusty, dirt track, yellow dirt track. Stride out smartly to begin with, slowing down as I get closer to the house. It’s as if my body doesn’t want to go back there, my legs grow heavier and heavier, my feet harder to lift and I have to push them into the garden,
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