‘Six hundred and forty-three. Six hundred and forty-three! And these were good-looking women. Apart from a few at the beginning before I knew what I could get hold of. Started when I was seventeen. You’ll have to work hard to match your uncle, boy. This woman, does she have a tight cunt?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You don’t know? What happened to that other one?’
‘Other one?’
‘I distinctly remember you had a couple of kids and a little dark-skinned woman with big tits. Did I ever fuck her? Ha ha! I did, I can see it in your face! Why did you turn out as the sort no one could love? Was it those rabbit teeth you got from your mother?’
‘Uncle—’
‘Don’t uncle me, you fucking freak! You were born ugly and stupid, you’re an embarrassment to me, to your mother and to the entire family.’
‘All right. Why did you call me Prim then?’
‘Ah, Prim, yes! Why do you think I did it?’
‘You said it was because I was special. An exception among numbers.’
‘Special, yes, but as in an anomaly. A mistake. The type no one wants to be with, an outcast, one that can only be divided by one and itself. That’s you,
‘Did you know, Uncle, that one day soon I shall be more famous than you and the entire family. Put together.’
His uncle’s face lit up, as though Prim had finally provided him with something that made sense, or was at least entertaining.
‘Let me tell you, the only thing that’s going to happen to you is that one day you’ll be just as demented as me, and you’ll be only too happy to be! You know why? Because then you’ll have forgotten that your life was one long series of humiliating defeats. That there—’ he pointed at the diploma on the wall — ‘is the only thing I want to remember. But I can’t even manage that. And the six hundred and forty-three...’ His voice grew thick, and large tears welled up in his blue eyes. ‘I can’t remember a single fucking one. Not one! So what’s the point?’
His uncle was crying as Prim left. It happened more and more often. Prim had read that when Robin Williams took his own life, it was because he had been diagnosed with Lewy body dementia. That he wished to spare himself and his family the torture. Prim was surprised his uncle had not done the same.
The nursing home was situated in the heart of Vinderen on Oslo’s west side. On his way to the car he passed the jeweller’s he had been into several times recently. As it was Sunday, the shop was closed, but pressing his nose against the window he could see the diamond ring in the glass display case inside. It was not large but it was so beautiful. Perfect for Her. He had to buy it this week, otherwise he risked someone else beating him to it.
He took a detour past his childhood home in Gaustad. The fire-damaged villa ought to have been torn down years ago, but he’d had the demolition postponed time and time again despite the council’s orders and the neighbours’ complaints. On some occasions he had claimed plans were afoot for renovation, on others he had documents to prove that the demolition was booked but had been arranged with firms which later went bankrupt or where business had been suspended. Why exactly he had engaged in these stalling tactics he did not know. After all, he could have sold the plot for a good price. It was only recently that it had dawned on him. And that the plan — what the house would be used for — was something that must have been lying there, like a tiny worm egg in his mind.
Tetris
‘You look good,’ Harry said.
‘You look... tanned,’ Katrine replied.
Both of them laughed, she opened the door fully and they hugged. The smell of mutton and cabbage stew filled the apartment. He handed her the bouquet of flowers he had purchased at the Narvesen kiosk on the way.
‘Have
‘Was mostly to impress your mother-in-law.’
‘Well, the suit certainly will.’
Katrine went into the kitchen to put the flowers in water, and Harry walked towards the living room. He saw the toys on the parquet floor and heard the child’s voice before he saw the boy. He was sitting with his back to Harry, talking sternly to a teddy bear.
‘You have to do wike me, you know. You have to go aweep.’
Harry tiptoed in and crouched down. The boy began to sing in a low voice while tilting his head with airy, fair curls from side to side. ‘Bueman, Bueman, my buck...’
He must have heard something, perhaps a creaking in the floor, because the boy suddenly turned round, a smile already on his face. A child who still thinks all surprises are good surprises, Harry thought.
‘Hi!’ the boy said loudly and warmly, seemingly unalarmed that a large man with a grey beard, who was a complete stranger, had snuck up on him from behind.
‘Hi,’ Harry said, reaching into his suit pocket. Pulled out a teddy bear. ‘This is for you.’
