“I couldn’t have my own children, Eddie,” Mass explained. “Anders and I were foster parents, and initially you were supposed to go back to your real mother. But then that didn’t happen. And after a year we formally adopted you. I want you to know that I was over the moon, Eddie. You’ve always made me so happy.”
Eddie stepped closer and bent down over the bed. “But my real mother,” he asked, confused. “Why didn’t she want me?”
“There were lots of reasons. It’s not easy to explain.”
“What was her name? Where does she live? Or don’t you know that either? I have to know, Mom; you have to tell me!”
Mass clawed at the blanket. The blood was barely flowing through her veins and her heart was barely beating. “I’m not so sure that you should try to find her,” she said. “It’s not always such a good idea. Remember Adelina-Susann who went all the way to Lahore.”
“But why wouldn’t it be a good idea? Is she poor?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Why wouldn’t she be pleased to see me, then?”
“She was only fifteen when she became pregnant,” Mass explained, “sixteen when you were born. She gave you away, Eddie; she couldn’t keep you. She was far too young.”
Eddie flared up. For a few mad seconds, he lost control. Mass didn’t recognize his voice; it was hoarse and dark. He leaned down over the bed and put a hand on either side of her head.
“Tell me who she is!” he shouted. “Now!”
Mass died so quietly. One moment she was there, the next she was gone — no fight, no movement. Just a small sigh. Her eyes were open but she no longer saw him.
He contacted Eiker funeral directors and asked for help. He would rather go to their offices because he didn’t want to open the door to strangers at home. They promised they would organize everything, and that all he needed to do was say what he wanted. He sat and looked through the catalogues, and then made a relatively swift decision and ordered the cheapest white coffin, which cost six thousand kroner. And the cheapest gravestone from the stonemasons. He didn’t want any kind of wake after the funeral because it would cost money and he couldn’t afford it. Not many people would come anyway. He didn’t know much about hymns and he didn’t want to follow the coffin to the grave. Someone else could carry her out. He would drive straight home and lick his wounds. They told him that he could apply for financial assistance from social services and said that they would help him fill in the forms and notify all the necessary authorities of his mother’s death. Eddie accepted their help. He asked them to order a simple wreath with no card because there was nothing he wanted to write on it. There was no need for any singers; he just wanted the whole thing over and done with.
In the evening, once everything had been decided, he sat in a chair at home. His cheeks started to burn. When he touched them with his hand, he could feel the heat, and after a while he got up and went to look in the mirror.
His face was red and it was spreading down his neck. What Mass had told him had started to burn him up inside. His real mother had given him away because she didn’t want him. She had given him away like some package, pushed him around like garbage. And no doubt she now had other children whom she loved. He turned off all the lights and sat down again. His cheeks continued to burn and sting. It was an unfamiliar feeling for someone who never went out in the sun. He sat there quietly, alone in the dark, and felt the fire burning.
Ansgar came to the funeral, but he had the good sense to sit at the back. Eddie didn’t so much as look at him. He was having trouble enough looking at the white coffin. He knew that Mass was lying inside, but he still couldn’t comprehend it. As the organ released its sad tones, he felt that the church was closing in and he bowed down as far as he could on the hard pew. He thought the priest was meanly dressed, in a simple cassock with a belt around his waist. You don’t know Mass, he thought; you don’t know what you’re talking about. God has nothing to do with this.
When the service was over, the priest wanted to shake his hand. It was weak and half-hearted and Eddie turned and walked down the aisle and then out. As he stood by the car, Ansgar came over and seemed to want to say a few words. Eddie pursed his lips, opened the car door, and got in. His neighbor bent down and looked into the car.
“How awful for you, Eddie,” he said. “What’s going to happen to you now? Will you manage alone, or will you have to go into care?”
The temperature started to rise at the end of June; people had been waiting for the summer and looking forward to the best time of year. It was what they dreamed of during the long, cold winter months. One day, Bonnie received an important phone call. Christian Falck called to say that the inheritance money had finally been transferred. He wished her all the best and Bonnie lifted Simon up and swung him in the air.
“Finally,” she said and danced around the living room. “Tomorrow we’ll go to the travel agent and book our trip to Africa.”
She opened the doors and windows. She couldn’t resist calling the bank to hear her balance. Then she went into the bathroom and stared at the happy Bonnie in the mirror. She thought that she might even tell Olav — her newfound wealth appeased her, and she could forgive everything. But then she changed her mind. I can manage without you, she thought, just you wait and see.
They booked their trip to Africa for the middle of August, so she only took the first week off in July. She went to the bank and paid off all her debts. She bought a bike for Simon and an expensive dress for herself, which was white with ladybirds on it. In the autumn, she would go to the car dealership and buy a new Opel. She went to the hairdresser and had her long fair hair styled. Olav had always liked her hair, and whenever she wore it in a braid, he would pull off the band so that it tumbled down over her shoulders. Now it was her turn to shine.
Eddie got into the car and drove to Blåkollen. He had been given the exact address when he inquired. A short distance from the house, he pulled over to the side and stopped. It was a small yellow house with green window frames, and it looked old. There were two bikes leaning against the wall and an old Opel parked in the driveway. I’m here, he thought. You didn’t expect this, did you? He didn’t let go of the steering wheel. He could hear his own shallow breathing. As he sat like this, thinking, a little boy came out of the house with a helmet under his arm. He went over to the bikes and put on his helmet. Then a beautiful blond woman appeared in the doorway.
She stood there. Like an angel. She was a harp, she was a flame, she was a jewel. She came down the steps and walked over the gravel, swaying as she went. She put her hand on the boy’s head with the same love and reverence as a priest would bless a baby. It looked as though she was giving the boy instructions on where he could cycle. So he did have a brother, a little brother. Who now had something that was his. Bonnie Hayden.
The two of them, close as close can be; they would always be together. She would never give away that little boy. She went back indoors. The boy pushed his bike out onto the road, and just as he was about to get going, Eddie got out of the car. He walked over and looked him up and down.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Simon.”
“And your mom is named Bonnie?”
“Yes.” The boy looked as though he was about to cycle off, but Eddie put one of his big hands on the handlebar.