‘No, what about it?’
‘The interesting thing about this turtle is that it’s the last of its kind, Galapagos or something. He’s the absolute last one of his particular turtle species, and after him there are no more.’
‘I’ll be damned,’ said Bosse.
‘Yes. And he walks in a circle, around and around, searching.’
‘How do they know he walks in a circle?’
‘They have him in a cage,’ Kalle explained. ‘He’s under constant observation. George. He’s searching for a female, you see.’
‘And how do they know that?’
‘They’re pretty sure about it. Scientists, you know.’
‘Okay,’ said Bosse. ‘And your point of course is that Anton’s doing the same thing, phoning and phoning and no one ever answers. Should we go look for him?’
“Wait a minute,” Jonna said. “This Anton. He’s forever going out to use the phone. The woman never answers. Why does he have to keep calling her? I mean, if she doesn’t answer, she’s just not home. And I think your parallel with the turtle is far-fetched, although you know I have nothing against turtles…”
“Exactly,” Mari burst out. “Good. You like the turtle, but you don’t like the rest of it! But I told you, I’ve changed the whole ending, totally!”
“Read on,” Jonna said.
‘You know, Bosse, sometimes I get so damned depressed.’
‘You do?’
‘Yes, it’s all so pointless.’
‘But what can you do about it? That George… How can they know there’s not another one, how can they be sure?’
‘They just know,’ Kalle said. ‘They’ve looked everywhere.’
‘But I don’t think they’ve searched enough. They can’t have had time to search the whole earth, every damned little place, and then try to tell us that… Look, I’m tired of your George.’
‘Fine, forget it. I’m sorry I brought him up. Miss, another round.’
“Stop,” Jonna said. “Are you sure you haven’t made these men a little too simple?”
“They are simple,” Mari answered. “Now Anton comes in:
‘Look,’ said Kalle, ‘we saved your drinks. Now you’ve got two.’
‘Nice of you,’ said Anton.
Bosse said, ‘No answer?’
‘No. But I mean to keep trying.’
“How many times does he call, this Anton?” Jonna asked. “And what does he look like? What does he do, who is he? Never mind. Jump to ‘I don’t know if it’s dreadful or a comfort.’ I like that.”
Mari read.
When Anton had gone, Kalle looked Bosse in the eye and said, ‘But anyway, those scientists are really fantastic, aren’t they? I mean, they don’t give up trying to find George a wife. Even though she doesn’t exist. For that matter, wouldn’t it be worse if she did exist but they never found her?’ He emptied his glass gravely and added, ‘I don’t know if it’s dreadful or a comfort.’
“Here I cut half a page.”
‘Bosse, do you know what makes me so tired, so very unhappy? It’s that nothing fits. Listen to me. It’s as if nothing mattered. Like, secretly. You never know why and how things have happened. Nothing fits together. Do you know what I mean?’
“Bosse said, ‘And why should it fit together? In what way? What did you expect?’
‘Some sort of meaning to it all.’
“Stop,” Jonna said. “You said that earlier. You’re going on and on about it. What is it you’re after? As far as I remember…”
Mari ripped off her glasses and shouted, “But I’ve changed the whole ending! I told you! Do you want to know what I’ve done? The woman he’s calling doesn’t exist. She doesn’t exist! Anton’s calling his own number! Calling himself, you see? Isn’t that better?”
“Yes,” Jonna said.
“Okay. You agree that makes it better. Now he comes back to the table, and Bosse and Kalle can see that something has happened. I’ll read…”
“Wait a second,” Jonna said. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“I’m killing her,” Mari explained. “That is to say, Anton’s killing her. So he doesn’t have to go on phoning. Bosse and Kalle are upset, of course, and they order more drinks to comfort him…”
“I don’t think you should use more drinks,” Jonna said. “But that’s a good idea with the woman. What about doing away with George as well? I mean, it’s just a thought.”
“But you like him,” Mari said. “You said he was good.” She stood up and gathered her papers. “This isn’t going to work.”
“Yes it will,” Jonna said. “You just need to rewrite it another way. Shall we have some coffee?”
“No. I don’t think I want any coffee.”
“Mari. We’ve got Kalle’s melancholy conclusion that nothing matters. We’ve got George who just goes around in circles and doesn’t know it’s hopeless. But then we’ve got Anton who dares to kill a lie. It’s Anton who might be interesting, and you don’t care about him at all. Forget George and think about Anton. Why is he behaving this way? Your engine’s idling and you need to add a little fresh insanity, and now I’m going to make coffee.”
Jonna filled the teakettle in the bathroom. Looking in the mirror, looking at her own face, she thought with sudden bitterness that it couldn’t go on like this, these short stories that were never finished and just went on and on getting rewritten and discarded and picked up again, all those words that got changed and changed places and I can’t remember how they were yesterday and what’s happened to them today! I’m tired! I’ll go in and tell her, now, right now… For example, I wonder if she could describe me well enough to give people a quick, convincing picture. What could she say? A broad, inhospitable face, lots of wrinkles, brown hair going grey, large nose?
Jonna took in the coffee and said, “Try to describe what I look like.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“Just half a cup,” Mari said. “I think I’ll head home.” After a while, she said, “I’d try to describe a kind of patience. And stubbornness. Somehow bring out the fact that you don’t want anything except… well, except what you want. Wait a moment… Your hair has an unusual hint of bronze, especially against the light. Your profile and your short neck make one think of, you know, old Roman emperors who thought they were God himself… Wait. It’s the way you move and the way you walk. And when you slowly turn your face toward me. Your eyes…”
“One of them’s grey and the other one’s blue,” Jonna said. “And now drink your coffee because you need to stay alert. We’ll take the whole thing from the beginning. Read slowly, we’ve got time. Concentrate on Anton, always Anton. He has to come alive. You can sacrifice even George if you have to. Read slowly. Kalle says, ‘Miss, another round.’ Real slow. We need to pay attention. Every time it seems wrong, we stop. Every time we get something like an idea, we’ll stop. Are you ready? Read.”
Travels with a Konica
JONNA MADE MOVIES. She’d acquired an 8mm Konica, and she loved the small device and took it with her everywhere they traveled.
“Mari,” she said, “I’m tired of static pictures. I want to make pictures that are alive. I want motion, change. You know what I mean: everything happens just once and right now… My film is my sketchbook. Look at that! There comes the commedia dell’arte!”