Chapter 11 - Only Human

They did not go to the halls of residence in Kringsjå, but home to her place on Observatorie Terrasse. She did not know it was supposed to be like this. That it could feel so good in her body she had to scream. That it did not stop. That tears would come. That he would shed some too. That her lips would sting. That he would cry out in her mouth. Now they will not let go of one another. They are naked, neither of them has the upper hand. Now nothing bad can happen, Erik says, his mouth against her throat, no one can get to us here, it’s just you and me.

Mum rings the following day and attempts to rope her into the possible purchase of a Persian rug. I need something beautiful, she says. It is just that she feels so restricted, finds it difficult to change anything in the house when everything found its place so long ago. Besides, Dad won’t hear of it, he doesn’t like splurging, and one of those carpets, it could put you back a few thousand kroners. She really wants it though. And she has her own money, but Dad’s views are holding her back, she doesn’t want to rile him. True, the rug would be for the floor of her study, but still, he is right about the cost, and they do have the constant expense of the upkeep of the house to think of. But, Jesus, on the other hand, they do earn good money after all, her and Dad, there is no question they can afford it.

So what do you think, Beate, Mum says, would you like to inherit a Persian rug some day or not? And then she laughs.

Bea Britt has lots of Persian rugs, Beate says, and that gets Mum going: yes, exactly, have you seen the one in the first-floor living room, it’s lovely, I’d love to have one like that. Bea Britt doesn’t need to ask anyone’s permission, she’s lucky, she can do what she wants in her house, and she has good taste. Mum laughs again. Bea Britt is Mum’s best friend, or at least she was, now they hardly ever see each other. It is Mum’s fault, Beate thinks, she avoids Bea Britt, becomes distant if I bring her name up and does not reply to her text messages. Is Anita very busy, Bea Britt will ask, or has she changed her mobile number? I never get a reply from her any more.

Bea Britt is so serious, Mum says when Beate asks why they have lost touch, I don’t know, I feel kind of stuck with her, and she bores me, she doesn’t have a particularly positive outlook on life.

Beate has been standing in the kitchen looking out at the lawn, but now she is so tired of the talk about the Persian rug that she has to sit down. She has never noticed it before, how the thought of the rooms in Mum and Dad’s place makes her empty and tired. All their things, it is as though they cannot be budged, but stand where they stand. The restrained energy in Mum’s voice. Dad’s resistance. Mum’s thoughts revolving around the same thing, her doing the rounds of shops that stock Persian rugs. Bea Britt’s rooms are different, even though they are also filled with things she seldom moves. Old, worn-out things, giving off a sense of unease, Beate thinks, as though they should not be where they are if they cannot demonstrate having purpose. Is it because Bea Britt does not think about them, does not dust, just leaves them be? Or is it the disquiet in the house, something in the atmosphere, the stories of those who have lived there, or just Bea Britt herself?

Beate believes Bea Britt is unhappy, but she does not quite understand why.

I’d love to inherit a beautiful Persian rug, she says to Mum, feel free to tell Dad that, maybe that’ll convince him.

But I do not want to, she thinks, why did I say that, I do not want to inherit it, why do I give in?

Mum sounds relieved when they hang up, but will probably continue dithering, Beate thinks. She will buy the rug but only after a lot of back and forth, and after buying it she will regret it and be ashamed of her extravagance for ages. Then she will forget both the doubt and the regret.

The purchase of an expensive rug is hardly going to be what I’ll think about on my deathbed, she would say, but maybe I will picture the colours and pattern. You have no idea how much I love that rug, I look at it every day and the joy it gives me, Beate!

There are so many things about Mum like that, Beate thinks, way too many. It is not wrong, and it is not right, but kind of vague, not quite as it should be. Not the way Beate wants it to be.

She and Erik have been a couple for three days. Together at his place, at her place and at the campus at Blindern. During lectures they sit right up close to one another, in the breaks they hold hands. Erik does not joke about as much as usual. They stand in a circle with the others outside the auditorium in the breaks, and every time he says something he will glance at her. Is he afraid she will think he is stupid? But she hardly listens to what he is saying, is only aware of his body, of his breathing, of his wrist brushing against her arm.

She feels she can see right through everything and everyone now, that she can read other people’s minds by the expressions on their faces. Several of the girls are jealous, resentful almost. Sølvi will not talk to her. Some of the boys blush and look away when she says something. She sees the coherence in what the lecturer is saying as intricate patterns in the air, and she draws them more than she writes. Colours seem so strong. Smells. And food, it is almost impossible to eat fish balls in white sauce at Frederikke canteen, the floury taste and pudding-like mass in her mouth makes her nauseous. Erik laughs when she complains about the fish balls, goes to the counter and buys chicken salad and a cake for her instead. Now it is almost seven o’clock and there are not many diners left. They sit by themselves in a corner and Erik feeds her with a white plastic fork. He wears a red and blue checked scarf around his neck and smiles the entire time. She needs to tell Mum and Dad about Erik before Mum runs into them somewhere on the campus. It annoys her that she cannot be in peace here. Mum has had her time, now it is Beate’s turn, she feels Blindern should be hers alone.