Søren unlocked the door, something was clearly very wrong. Vibe followed behind him. They had hugged each other briefly on the garden path, and Søren had asked if she was sure.
“I’m sure I want a child,” she had replied, and looked away. They went inside the house. Søren called out. The hall was cold, there was no smell of food or wine, and the hall light, which was always on when his grandparents were expecting guests, was off. They hung up their coats and exchanged baffled looks before Søren opened the door to the living room. Knud and Elvira were huddled together. Elvira was crying. She was sitting on Knud’s lap, her head resting on his shoulder. Knud had both his arms around her. They stayed like this, even though Vibe and Søren had now entered.
“What’s happened?” Søren exclaimed. Elvira raised her head and looked at him, red-eyed.
“Come here, my love,” she said, patting the sofa. Vibe and Søren stared at them, paralyzed.
“No,” Søren said. “Can’t you just tell me what it is?”
Elvira was ill. She had a tumor in her breast, and the cancer had spread to her lymph nodes. She had been told that very day. It was terminal.
That night they reminisced about Elvira’s life. That was what she wanted. Past summers, the plums, Perle, the goat kid they had bottle-fed in the back garden, about the time Søren had found her wedding ring in a jar of strawberry jam. They laughed and drank wine and ate pizza, which Søren went out to get. They lit candles, and the evening concluded with Vibe and Elvira beating the men so emphatically in Trivial Pursuit that Vibe suggested that Søren and Knud should ask for their school tuition back. At no point did Søren and Vibe tell Knud and Elvira why they had come.
When Katrine telephoned, Søren had almost forgotten her existence. He was at work, it was summer and it was seven months since their one-night stand. The weather had been mild and pleasant, and Vibe and Søren spent all their spare time in the garden in Snerlevej. Elvira was dying. They had installed a hospital bed in the living room for her three weeks prior, and since then she had deteriorated quickly. Vibe and Søren had still not mentioned their split to Knud and Elvira. They couldn’t bear to and had agreed to wait until after Elvira’s death. She deserved to die as happy as possible. Vibe had moved out at the start of April, but when they visited Knud and Elvira, they would catch the same bus or share the car, and when they walked up the garden path, they would hold hands. They still saw each other, both at home in their old apartment and in Vibe’s new one. It felt good, but strange, titillating almost, to make love to Vibe in her new bed, in a bedroom with apple green curtains and wallpaper with tiny flowers, it was almost as if they had only just met. They went to the movies like they used to, went running together every Sunday, and even flew to Paris for a long weekend. A strange calm existed between them; limbo. A few times Vibe had cautiously asked him if his mind was made up, and he had kissed her forehead and said that she deserved better.
“And so does your child,” he had added.
When he realized that it was
that
Katrine who was calling, his palms grew sweaty. His first thought was genital warts, his second, HIV. Tracking him down had been no easy task, she said with a nervous laugh, because she only knew that his name was Søren and that he worked at Bellahøj police station. She had been put through to several different people, and she was relieved she had finally found the right person. She laughed nervously again, and then she said gravely, “But Bo and I agree that I should.”
Søren was baffled, who was Bo? Bo was her boyfriend, she explained, and she had met him shortly after the night Søren had spent with her. They had just moved in together.
“And Bo will be the baby’s father,” she then said.
Everything stopped.
Søren didn’t understand a word.
It was
Sloane Kennedy
Gilbert Morris
Caroline B. Cooney
Sarah Biglow
Sarah Mayberry
Tracy Cooper-Posey
Kallysten
Alton Gansky
Erin McCarthy
Jayne Ann Krentz