There was nothing more he could do, and besides, he’d promised to take care of dinner. Lina was again working the night shift at the hospital and wouldn’t be back until the early morning hours. He stopped on his way home to buy pizzas. The children had each requested a pizza topped with fillet of pork and Béarnaise sauce. He shuddered when he ordered the food. How could anyone come up with such a combination? Pretty soon they’ll be serving pizzas with shrimp and sweet-and-sour sauce, he thought. Or a Thai pizza with chicken and red curry. And why not a dessert pizza with saffron in the dough, topped with almonds and raisins?
As soon as he stepped inside, he could tell that something was wrong. The house was dark, with not a single light turned on.
‘Hello,’ he called from the hall. No answer. He set down the pizza boxes and went upstairs.
‘Hello,’ he called again. ‘Anybody home?’
He opened the door to Petra’s room. The only light came from a pair of thick scented candles on a tray on the nightstand. Several sticks of incense in a porcelain jar were spreading a heavy musk fragrance through the air. On the computer screen he saw flickering images of scantily clad teenagers against the Manhattan skyline, while incomprehensible hip hop music thudded through the room. His daughter was lying on the bed with her legs stretched up against the wall, her eyes on the ceiling as she talked on her mobile.
‘Shhh,’ she hushed her father, gesturing with annoyance for him to leave the room.
‘It’s time for dinner and—’
‘Shhh!’
Knutas closed the door. Feeling discouraged, he tried the next room. It was pitch black inside, but he could hear the crashing of hard rock music from his son’s iPod.
‘Hi,’ he said, switching on the ceiling light. ‘What are you doing?’
Nils quickly turned to face the wall, but not before Knutas saw that his eyes were red. It looked as if he’d been crying.
‘What’s wrong?’ He took a few steps towards the bed.
‘Nothing.’
‘But I can see that you’re upset about something.’ Cautiously he sat down on the edge of the bed. Nils had his back turned and pulled away until he was even closer to the wall. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing, I said. Leave me alone. Get out of my room.’
‘But, Nils.’ Knutas gently touched his son’s head. ‘Won’t you tell me what’s going on?’
‘Cut it out.’ He pushed his father’s hand away. ‘Just leave me alone,’ he snarled, his voice cracking.
‘But I bought pizza for dinner.’
‘I’ll be down in a minute,’ said the boy, his tone now much less aggressive.
Feeling powerless, Knutas left the room. Pushed away again. Locked out. There was nothing he could do about it. He couldn’t very well force Nils to open up to him if the boy didn’t want to. That sort of thing had to be based on trust.
Disappointed, Knutas went down to the kitchen and began setting the table. He was so respected and decisive at work, but his teenage children regarded him as a pitiful old man. He really had no clue how to deal with them. At the same time, he felt hurt and sad. Don’t they like me? he thought.
He heard the stairs creaking. Petra came into the kitchen. As if she sensed how he was feeling, she gave him a brief hug.
‘Sorry, Pappa. But I was on the phone, and it was a really sensitive conversation.’
‘Anything you want to tell me about?’ he asked cautiously, encouraged by the meagre gesture of affection that she’d shown him.
‘Alexander died.’
‘What did you say?’ Knutas felt an icy stab in the pit of his stomach. He stared at his daughter, uncomprehending.
Slowly it sank in that what she had said was true. All hope was gone. Then his brain began whirling like a centrifuge filled with questions. He immediately thought about Alexander’s mother, Ingrid, and his sister, Olivia.
‘I was talking to Olivia on the phone,’ said Petra, her eyes brimming with tears. ‘They just found out. She’s completely devastated. I promised to go over to see her after dinner.’
‘I didn’t know you were such good friends.’
‘We are now. After what happened over the past few weeks.’
Again it occurred to Knutas how little he knew about his children these days.
Nils came into the kitchen to join them.
‘Do you know what’s happened?’ Knutas asked. ‘Do you know that Alexander is dead?’
Nils and his sister exchanged glances.
‘Yes,’ said Nils without looking at his father.
They ate dinner in silence. Knutas didn’t know what to say, other than to reiterate how awful it was, and that he felt terrible for Alexander’s mother and sister.
The case had largely been solved, with three sixteen-year-old boys under arrest, charged with aggravated assault. Now the charge would have to be changed. All three of the boys denied involvement, but the evidence was against them. Alexander’s blood was found on their clothes and shoes, and a couple of witnesses among the crowd of kids that had been present at the time had dared to single them out.