Harry nodded slowly. “Well. What about: Can I go now?”
“Go?” Katrine threw her hands up. “Really? That’s all you have to say?”
“No, but it would be better if I left before I say it.”
Katrine groaned. She put her elbows on her desk, clasped her hands together and leaned her forehead against them. “Fine. GO.”
—
Harry closed his eyes. He could feel the thick birch trunk against his back and the sharp spring sun warming his face. In front of him was a simple, brown wooden cross. It had Rakel’s name on it, but nothing else, no date. The woman at the funeral parlour had called it a “temporary marker,” something they usually erected while they were waiting for the headstone to be ready, but Harry couldn’t help putting his own interpretation on it: it was only temporary because she was waiting for him.
“I’m still asleep,” Harry said. “I hope that’s OK. Because if I wake up, I’ll fall apart and then I won’t be able to catch him. And I’m going to get him, I swear. Do you remember how frightened you were of the flesh-eating zombies inNight of the Living Dead? Well…” Harry raised his hip flask. “Now I’m one of them.”
Harry took a large swig. Possibly because he was already so tranquillised that the alcohol didn’t seem to offer any further relief, he slid down the trunk until he was sitting against it, feeling the snow beneath his backside and thighs.
“By the way, there’s a rumour that you wanted me back…Was that Old Tjikko? You don’t have to answer.”
He put the flask to his lips again. Removed it. Opened his eyes.
“It’s lonely,” he said. “Before I met you I was alone a lot, but I was never lonely. Loneliness is new, loneliness is…interesting. You weren’t filling any sort of vacuum when we got together, but you left a huge, gaping hole when you went. There’s probably an argument that love is a process of loss. What do you think?”
He closed his eyes again. Listened.
The light beyond his eyelids grew weaker and the temperature dropped. Harry knew it must be a cloud passing in front of the sun, and waited for the warmth to come back as he drifted off to sleep. Until something made him stiffen. Hold his breath. Because he could hear someone else breathing. It wasn’t a cloud; someone or something was standing over him. And Harry hadn’t heard anyone coming, even though there was snow all around him. He opened his eyes.
The sunlight spread out like a halo from the silhouette in front of him.
Harry’s right hand felt inside his jacket.
“I’ve been looking for you,” the silhouette said quietly.
Harry stopped.
“You’ve found me,” Harry said. “What now?”
The silhouette moved aside, and for a moment Harry was blinded by the sun.
“Now we go back to mine,” Kaja Solness said.
—
“Thanks, but do I really need it?” Harry asked, grimacing as he smelled the tea in the bowl Kaja had handed him.
“I don’t know.” Kaja smiled. “How was the shower?”
“Lukewarm.”
“Because you were in there for three-quarters of an hour.”
“Was I?” Harry sat back on the sofa with his hands around the bowl. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine. Do the clothes fit?”
Harry looked down at the trousers and sweater.
“My brother was a bit smaller than you.” She smiled again.
“So you’ve changed your mind and want to help me after all?” Harry tasted the tea. It was bitter, and reminded him of the rosehip tea he used to be given as a child when he had a cold. He could never stand it, but his mum said it strengthened the immune system, and that one cup contained more vitamin C than forty oranges. Maybe those overdoses were the reason why he had hardly ever caught a cold since. And why he never ate oranges.
