Read Online Let the Northern Lights Erase Your Name by Vendela Vida - Free Book Online
Authors: Vendela Vida
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view of snowmobile tracks on the lake, and toward the Sami museum. When the cold had come into my coat, I returned to the restaurant and, along with the old men, watched an episode of a home-improvement show devoted to renovating saunas.
At ten to five, I moved outside. I wiped the snow from a bench, and, before sitting, pulled my jacket down to cover the seat of my pants. A bus stopped in front of me, and I sat up straight, but no one got off; the bus driver had opened the door on my account. The door closed, and the bus continued down the road.
Across the street, a woman with a cane shuffled by and, two minutes later, passed again. She was out exercising. I alone seemed affected by the cold.
As I was checking my watch, I heard a man’s voice. I looked up, and it was my father.
“Olivia’s daughter?” he said. “Yes.”
“Eero,” he said. It rhymed with hero . I almost laughed. “Clarissa,” I said. I stood and extended my hand. His gloved
palm enveloped three of my fingers, the way adults hold the hands of small children.
“The car is this way,” he said. “I think we go back to the house and talk?”
He didn’t move until I took a step in the direction he’d pointed. I had to remind myself to walk, to breathe. I felt like I was on a first date with someone I had loved from afar.
“My English is a little rusted. You excuse me?” he said. “You are the woman who comes into church today.”
“Yes.” We were both looking at the ground, making sure we didn’t slip. The snow beneath my feet sparkled like sunlit cement.
He opened the car door for me and got in on his side. When he turned on the engine, the radio came on so loud I jumped in my seat. Eero made no indication that he was going to turn down the volume, so I did.
“Where do you live in America?” he asked. “New York.”
“Oh, New York!” he said.
I asked if he had ever been there.
“No,” he said. “I go to Santa Fe once, and to California?” “With my mother?”
“No. When I was looking for her?” He gave a sideways glance in my direction. I decided I’d ask about that later. I had to pace things.
“How long have you lived here?”
“I am born here?” he said. Kari spoke in accusations, Eero in questions.
We slowed as we turned onto a street lined with one-story A-frame houses. “This is our street,” he said. All the houses but one had a single strand of white Christmas lights border-ing a garage door, or running along a roof.
“Everyone is very upset with that house,” Eero said, gesturing at a house with blue lights outlining the front door. “Those people really took it too far.”
2.
He opened the door, and two dogs rushed to greet me. “Pia and Emma,” he announced.
“Are they huskies?” I said, tentatively petting Pia. “Yes, for hunting elk,” he said.
He took off his boots, and I took off mine. I placed them underneath a bench in the hallway, next to a pair of clogs, the heels of which were drastically worn down. The woman who replaced my mother. Based on the heels, I decided she had a funny walk.
“Is your wife home?” I asked.
“No, she directs the choir at the church. She works with them to get ready the Christmas service,” he said.
“She has a beautiful voice,” he said, and I said, “Oh, that’s too bad,” at the same time.
It was already apparent to me what a good home my mother would have had here, what a good husband Eero would have made.
“Would you like coffee?” Eero offered. Now in proximity, and in the light, I could study him. He had two skin tags on his forehead. They were so narrow at their point of attachment, they could have been cut off with a pair of small scissors.
I said I’d have coffee if he was having some, and followed him into the kitchen. I had assumed my father would be short, that his lack of height would explain mine, but Eero was tall, especially for a Sami. Every detail seemed extraordinary. His slow walk, his mended socks, the loop he
At ten to five, I moved outside. I wiped the snow from a bench, and, before sitting, pulled my jacket down to cover the seat of my pants. A bus stopped in front of me, and I sat up straight, but no one got off; the bus driver had opened the door on my account. The door closed, and the bus continued down the road.
Across the street, a woman with a cane shuffled by and, two minutes later, passed again. She was out exercising. I alone seemed affected by the cold.
As I was checking my watch, I heard a man’s voice. I looked up, and it was my father.
“Olivia’s daughter?” he said. “Yes.”
“Eero,” he said. It rhymed with hero . I almost laughed. “Clarissa,” I said. I stood and extended my hand. His gloved
palm enveloped three of my fingers, the way adults hold the hands of small children.
“The car is this way,” he said. “I think we go back to the house and talk?”
He didn’t move until I took a step in the direction he’d pointed. I had to remind myself to walk, to breathe. I felt like I was on a first date with someone I had loved from afar.
“My English is a little rusted. You excuse me?” he said. “You are the woman who comes into church today.”
“Yes.” We were both looking at the ground, making sure we didn’t slip. The snow beneath my feet sparkled like sunlit cement.
He opened the car door for me and got in on his side. When he turned on the engine, the radio came on so loud I jumped in my seat. Eero made no indication that he was going to turn down the volume, so I did.
“Where do you live in America?” he asked. “New York.”
“Oh, New York!” he said.
I asked if he had ever been there.
“No,” he said. “I go to Santa Fe once, and to California?” “With my mother?”
“No. When I was looking for her?” He gave a sideways glance in my direction. I decided I’d ask about that later. I had to pace things.
“How long have you lived here?”
“I am born here?” he said. Kari spoke in accusations, Eero in questions.
We slowed as we turned onto a street lined with one-story A-frame houses. “This is our street,” he said. All the houses but one had a single strand of white Christmas lights border-ing a garage door, or running along a roof.
“Everyone is very upset with that house,” Eero said, gesturing at a house with blue lights outlining the front door. “Those people really took it too far.”
2.
He opened the door, and two dogs rushed to greet me. “Pia and Emma,” he announced.
“Are they huskies?” I said, tentatively petting Pia. “Yes, for hunting elk,” he said.
He took off his boots, and I took off mine. I placed them underneath a bench in the hallway, next to a pair of clogs, the heels of which were drastically worn down. The woman who replaced my mother. Based on the heels, I decided she had a funny walk.
“Is your wife home?” I asked.
“No, she directs the choir at the church. She works with them to get ready the Christmas service,” he said.
“She has a beautiful voice,” he said, and I said, “Oh, that’s too bad,” at the same time.
It was already apparent to me what a good home my mother would have had here, what a good husband Eero would have made.
“Would you like coffee?” Eero offered. Now in proximity, and in the light, I could study him. He had two skin tags on his forehead. They were so narrow at their point of attachment, they could have been cut off with a pair of small scissors.
I said I’d have coffee if he was having some, and followed him into the kitchen. I had assumed my father would be short, that his lack of height would explain mine, but Eero was tall, especially for a Sami. Every detail seemed extraordinary. His slow walk, his mended socks, the loop he
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