“I’ve just started,” Nicolai retorted. “I’m starting right now. The way things are, I don’t see any reason to stay healthy. I might as well enjoy what life’s got to offer. Like you’ve always done, haven’t you?”
His voice was harsh and desperate. He tore the plastic from the pack, fished out a cigarette, and lit it. He took a deep drag, pulled the smoke down into his lungs, and started to cough.
“Jesus Christ, how can you be so stupid?”
“It’s none of your business,” he said, irritated, and coughed again. “It’s my life. If I want to ruin my lungs, I have every right to do so without you interfering.”
“OK,” Carmen said petulantly. “But I’m not going to kiss you when you’ve been smoking. It’s disgusting.”
“Fair enough,” he said and took another drag on the cigarette. “We don’t kiss very much anyway.”
Carmen stood up and walked down to the water, paddled some way out, and then shouted back to him in excitement.
“It’s almost like bathwater! Put that stupid cigarette out and come in!”
Nicolai wanted to finish his cigarette. He remained stubbornly where he was on the towel and took another drag. That’s right, he thought. Let the smoke drown my lungs in tar. From now on, it’s whiskey and cigarettes all day long. He found comfort in the idea of destroying himself. I deserve to be punished, he thought melodramatically. This is for Tommy.
“Come in, come and feel the water,” Carmen encouraged him. “You can’t sit there smoking all day.”
He stubbed out the cigarette in the sand, got up, and waded out into the water. He dived in and then started to swim straight out.
“Don’t go too far!” Carmen cried. “Stay close to the shore. I don’t want to stand here shouting; please do as I say!”
He went a bit farther but then turned and swam back in toward her. He was an excellent swimmer and kept good pace. His swimming shorts stuck to his thighs and he had the taste of saltwater in his mouth. Everything was summer and sun and heat. Everything was never-ending sorrow. He was constantly switching between good and bad. For a while, he lay floating on his back. He enjoyed being cooled by the water, feeling fit and alive. After five minutes he got out again and went to sit on his towel.
“Can you put some sunscreen on my back?” Carmen asked. “It’s in the bag.”
He rummaged around and found the sunscreen. He sprayed it all over her back. Then he started to massage it into her skin. For a long time she lay there enjoying his touch in silence.
“Nicolai,” she said. “I’ve been thinking about something. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time, since before Tommy died, just so you know. And we’ve talked about it before.”
“OK,” Nicolai said patiently. “What is it you want now?”
He massaged the lotion into the small of her back, right down to her bikini. But it gave him no pleasure — just flickering memories of better times, when they wanted each other.
“I’ve been thinking that maybe we should get a dog.”
Nicolai stopped massaging. The idea left him speechless. Tommy was dead, and now she wanted a dog.
“But we have to go to work,” he objected. “Sooner or later. And then the puppy will be left on its own all day. Do you really have the heart to do that? And you know how they are. They chew cables and things like that and have to be looked after all the time. No, we can’t do it, Carmen. Drop it.”
She put her head down on the towel again, determined she would convince him. He could tell she was giving it her all.
“All dogs are on their own during the day,” she said. “Everyone has to go to work, don’t they? We could take it for a little walk in the morning, so it can pee, and then go for a proper, longer work when we get home in the evening. Together, just the two of us. It would be so nice; the house is so empty now. Don’t you think it’s empty too?” she appealed. Her voice was reedy and pleading, a voice that was hard to resist. And he felt the hold she had over him, which made him give in like a helpless child.
He started to massage in the lotion again, slowly over her shoulders in circular movements. Her skin was like silk, golden-brown and smooth, without a blemish. She had a single mole in the small of her back, about the size of a thumbtack.
“A puppy costs thousands of kroner,” he argued. “We can’t afford it. I don’t understand how you can even contemplate it when poor old Marian has to give us money all the time.”
He was finished with the sunscreen, so he put it back in the bag and wiped his hands on the towel.
Carmen sat up again and brushed the sand from her feet. “Of course I can ask Dad,” she said. “Dad will understand.”
“OK,” Nicolai said. “You get your way, as usual. What kind of dog were you thinking of? Please don’t say a poodle. If you buy a poodle, I refuse to take it for walks.”
Carmen burst out laughing. “No, I’m sure we can find something else. But it can’t be too big or strong, because then I won’t be able to deal with it. We can buy a dog book when we get home and I’m sure we’ll find one we agree on. But OK, not a poodle. What have you got against them anyway?”
“Poodles are for old ladies,” Nicolai said. He took out another cigarette and lit it.
“I don’t get you, to start smoking like that, for no reason,” Carmen complained.
In the evening, they sat on the balcony and stared out into the dark. Nicolai took drags on a cigarette and released long curling ribbons of smoke. She couldn’t understand why he was smoking and what he was thinking, but she didn’t want to get into an argument. Not now, when she was dreaming about their puppy. She needed to keep him sweet, and she knew how to do that.
“It’s a lot of work keeping a dog,” Nicolai said and took a sip of whiskey.
“But no more tiring than it was looking after Tommy,” she said, “and we managed that fine, didn’t we? Just think of all the energy it gave us. You never complained; you were wonderful.”
He didn’t answer. It had been tiring with Tommy, but it had given him nothing but pleasure from start to finish. Carmen drank some of her Coke, which was pretty flat now. She thought of Nicolai as clay, a mass that she could form as she wanted. Well, that’s certainly how it had been for a long time. But now, since Tommy’s death, he had become more obstinate. His new opposition annoyed her immensely. Latin American rhythms and happy sounds could be heard from the hotel garden: the tinkling laughter of women, the monotone rumble of men’s voices, and the clinking of glasses. Carmen wanted to go downstairs and join in, but Nicolai wasn’t interested. He couldn’t dance either, so there was no point. He poured himself another whiskey and put the bottle down again with a thump.
“Make sure you don’t drink too much now,” she commanded. “I don’t want to have to drag you around when you’re drunk.”
He didn’t say anything, just lifted his glass. Part of him wanted to be left alone, but the other part was boiling, looking for a fight. There was so much he wanted to say to her, if only he dared. He felt a coward for not confronting her, but he knew from experience that she quickly got the upper hand. And when she ran out of arguments, she just started crying. And he couldn’t cope with her crying now. He couldn’t face an argument. Dog or no dog, it was all irrelevant. When I can’t cope anymore, I give up, he thought, and I don’t give a toss what other people think. Carmen will win this round too. I always knew she would. I’m pathetic. I play second violin. Dammit.
“Let’s take the bus into Palma tomorrow,” she said enthusiastically. “Then we can look at the shops.”
“Yes, why not?” he said in a tired voice. He was clutching the glass, only thinking of one thing now, and that was getting drunk.
“And we can go to the cathedral,” she continued. “Maybe we could light a candle there for Tommy.”