Eddie couldn’t speak anymore. His father had left him and now his mother was about to do the same. “To be honest, Mom,” he whispered, “I don’t think it’s going to work.”
“Don’t say that,” she said in anguish. “That’s not what I need to hear when I’m dying. You went to Copenhagen on your own. Just remember that.”
“Maybe there’s something after,” he said, trying to be hopeful. “We don’t know for certain.”
“That’s one thing I know for sure,” she said firmly. “I will not live on, neither here nor there. Only in your thoughts,” she added, to soften it. “You will have to manage alone.”
They ate their eggs and bacon in silence. Eddie dipped his bread into the egg yolk, his feet fidgeting under the table. After they’d eaten, he went back to the computer and started to search. He got lots of hits. He sat for a long time reading about pancreatic cancer and how it spread to the bones and marrow. The symptoms were described in detail, and he recognized them. Some people could be operated on but not everyone. And often it went unnoticed until it was too late. The last thing he read terrified him. Among doctors, this form of cancer was known as “The Silent Killer.”
39
June 2005
He got up, put on some clothes, and then opened the door to his mother’s room. He asked if she wanted a yogurt for breakfast. She could have strawberry or melon and he could take the top off and find a spoon. She said no. She managed to get herself out of bed and tottered across the floor. He could see her sick body through the fabric of her nightie. The evening before, they had packed some things into a bag that was now standing ready by the door. While his mother was in the bathroom getting dressed, he sat in a chair and waited. He thought about trying to find a doctor other than Bromann — someone who was better. They could go to China, for example, because he’d heard that the Chinese knew everything about medicine. Then he pulled himself together. Don’t be a fool, Eddie. China’s too far away and too expensive. She wouldn’t be able to cope with it because she’s too weak.
Eventually she emerged from the bathroom and they went out to the car. She didn’t even look back at the house; her eyes were trained on the road ahead.
An hour later, Eddie said goodbye. He found the car in the parking lot and drove carefully out of the gates. He stopped by the mailbox when he got home to pick up the papers. Ansgar appeared with Kennedy at his heels.
“Been out driving, Eddie?” he asked, bursting with curiosity.
“Yes,” was Eddie’s curt reply.
“Yes,” Ansgar continued. “A lot to be getting on with now that summer’s around the corner.”
He already had his mail, but he stood studying Eddie.
“It’s been a while since I’ve seen your mother,” he said. “Is everything all right? She’s not ill, is she?”
Eddie glared at Ansgar — he had always hated him. His dark, nearly black eyes and that loathsome grin. His skin had a yellow tinge. Eddie knew that he’d done service in Afghanistan and was ridiculously proud of it.
“Yes,” he said. “Mom is ill.”
“Oh dear,” Ansgar stammered. “Is she in the hospital?”
“Yes, I took her there this morning.”
“I hope it’s nothing serious,” he responded, looking somber.
Eddie clutched the newspaper in his hand. “It’s very serious. She’s dying.”
For once, Ansgar said nothing. He picked Kennedy up and looked at Eddie, dumbfounded. Then he turned and hurried back to the house to tell his wife the shocking news.
Eddie let himself in. He put the mail down on the kitchen table and walked into the living room. The house was horribly silent. He thought he could hear a low ominous humming, as if some great machine had started up. There was gurgling in the pipes, banging at the windows, and heavy doors slammed shut, never to be opened again.
June was cold and blustery. Simon still wore a thin hat when he went to daycare. There was a lot of rain and he had to wear rubber boots as well. He had stopped asking about the money; in fact, he had almost lost hope. In the evenings, he sat glumly in front of the television while Bonnie tried to cheer him up as best she could. But that was the nature of children: they couldn’t wait. Not for Christmas, not for birthdays, not for summer vacations. So she took him to a travel agent, where they each sat down in a chair. Bonnie explained that they needed help to plan a trip to Africa.
“We’re not actually traveling quite yet,” she said, “because we’re waiting for some money, and I don’t know when it’s going to come. Sometime soon, anyway. But what kind of price are we looking at? For the two of us? A fortnight’s safari?”
The consultant clicked on his computer. “I would recommend Tanzania or Kenya,” he said. “Then you’ll only have to change at Heathrow for a direct flight to Nairobi. You’d have the first week on safari with an excellent guide. And for the second week, you would be left to your own devices but would stay in a very good hotel in Mombasa. Which is by the Indian Ocean.”
“That all sounds very expensive,” Bonnie said and laughed, feeling extravagant. “How much should we reckon on spending?”
“Around fifty thousand, I should think. But everything is included. Food, everything.”
“Will we be camping?” Simon asked hopefully.
“No, you’ll stay in small huts, which are very nice. They’ve got straw roofs and you have to go up a ladder to get in. So the animals can’t get in too. And you mustn’t feed the apes,” he said in a stern voice. “It’s forbidden.”
“Why — do they bite?”
“They bite and they steal food. And they can make you ill. Remember, if you go to Kenya, you have to do a lot of things beforehand, like vaccinations, et cetera. And there are some places where you’re not allowed to take photos, but the guide will let you know about things like that. She’ll be with you all the time.”
He gave them a thick catalogue and that evening they sat on the sofa together looking through it. Bonnie pointed and explained. Simon was full of hope once more that the inheritance money would soon come; he could just imagine Falck the lawyer staggering to the bank with a big bag of money. He was so excited that he didn’t want to go to bed, and Bonnie had to read him several stories before he calmed down. Bonnie was also excited. I must be mad, she thought, traveling so far away with a five-year-old. But then she reminded herself that they would be part of a bigger group. Every step would be planned.
Before going to bed, she called Britt and they talked for a long time about the summer. Britt and Jens were going to go to Crete. They had been there many times before and Britt was always tanned when they came back.
For Bonnie, the days just raced by. She drove from client to client and listened to the weather forecast, hoping that the warm weather would come soon. The meteorologists promised a fantastic July; there was even the prospect of some tropical nights. She told Simon that everything would be better in July, especially as it was his birthday, on Sunday the tenth.
“And you’re going to be five,” she said, “and that’s halfway to ten. To think that you’re that big already. This winter you’ll have to help me clear the snow; I’m sure you can manage that now. I think your muscles are growing bigger already.”
She squeezed his upper arm. Yes, he was very strong. Granny Henny had once said that he was the man of the house and he had to help Mommy with whatever he could. So he strutted around the house, like a man, while he waited for the African heat.
One evening, when Eddie came home from sitting by his mother’s bed, something happened that terrified him. He stood in the doorway to his bedroom and saw something odd hanging from the curtain rod. It was dark in the room because the blinds were always down. He turned on the light, but he still couldn’t understand what the thing was. It was totally unknown and alien to him. It made him think of rotten fruit or a dead bird. He thought he could make out a pair of legs and some big ears. It hung there immobile, and he reversed back out into the living room and slammed the door. He realized that the windows in several rooms had been open all day, and the hideous thing must have come in through one of them. He had no idea what to do. Should he sleep in his mother’s bed and just wait until it disappeared by itself? But what if it didn’t disappear and just hung there like a bad omen?