Read Online The Defenceless by Kati Hiekkapelto - Free Book Online Page B

ask how his children were doing. Nobody would look askance at him, hurl abuse, throw stones at him. Nobody would make up fatal lies about him.
    The apartment was empty. Maalik and Farzad had left for work early in the morning. It was already mid-afternoon, but the men wouldn’t be back until late at night. On the kitchen table was a note and beneath it another banknote. Sammy felt spittle oozing from his glands, rinsing his tongue in a constant stream. The sense of self-loathing only returned as he swallowed his spit. He was as far from normal as the outer edge of the solar system was from Earth. The message told him to eat the pizza and salad that the men had left for him in the fridge. Sammy could use the money to buy himself some clean clothes or whatever else he needed. They planned to come home early that evening; they had called in replacements at work. Then they could all discuss what Sammy should do. Perhaps we can appeal against your deportation order, said the final sentence. It felt strange for Sammy to read these familiar, curlicue words, writing he hadn’t seen for such a long time and that to his eyes was so beautiful. Then he looked at the clock; it was already four o’clock. He would have time to pick up a tab before the men got back. He’d used up the eight milligrams yesterday; after all, he had to get to sleep somehow. Today he’d only need a half.
    Sammy left the apartment. The glare of the sun dazzled him. It had clearly been a glorious day. The light breeze felt surprisingly warm against his face. At one of the houses he slowed his step. In the yard outside he saw children skiing, parents in winter jump suits carrying their equipment back into the garage; a half-melted snowman slouched amusingly in the garden. The sight attracted Sammy because it was at once so exotic and yet so ordinary. He felt a powerful desire to join them, to be a part of this strange country and its customs, a part of that happy family. They would probably soon go to the sauna, sit down together and eat something nice, then spend the evening lounging on the sofa, side by side, watching television.
    Sammy felt a sting of envy. His thoughts jumped back home, to the girl that didn’t really exist. They would sit in church, listening to the priest’s gentle sermon, people would be pardoned and, at least for a moment, they would be happy. They would sing a few hymns. After the service he would sit at lunch so that he could watch the girl all the time. Their eyes would meet for a fraction too long, but their parents wouldn’t mind; they would pretend they hadn’t noticed. Give it a year or two; first he would have to graduate, then the priest would marry them and the girl would be his. They would have children; four, perhaps, girls and boys, two of each. The children’s bubbling glee would fill their modest but clean and comfortable house. He would be a good husband and a gentle father. They would never argue. Would he never experience things like this?
    Sammy walked briskly towards Rajapuro. That’s where he’d bought the gear yesterday too. Just then he heard a sound he feared more than any other. He frantically looked around, but there was nowhere to hide. The sound was already too close, there was no way he could run for cover. A police car sped past him, its sirens wailing. It took all his will power to try and walk normally, not to slow down or speed up, not to lower his head or turn away, not to dive into the verge of ploughed snow. Anything like that was sure to have caught the police’s attention; the bastards kept their eyes peeled even when they were racing through the city. Once the sound had disappearedinto the distance, Sammy ran up to the nearest house, gripped the concrete wall the way someone drowning would cling to a lifebuoy, leant his head against its surface and breathed deeply.
    The police were going to the same place as Sammy. There were three squad cars parked in the yard, their blue lights washing