In the weeks that followed Søren tried to brush aside all thoughts of the baby. There was much to do. A complicated case at work, organizing Elvira’s funeral, and then there was Knud, who was falling apart with grief. When Bo called two and a half weeks later, he screamed furiously into the handset that they should leave him the fuck alone, he hadn’t asked to have a baby, and if Katrine could have been bothered to call him when she found out she was pregnant, he would have told her to get rid of it. Later the same afternoon, Søren called Bo back to apologize. He explained his mother had died and he was under a lot of pressure. To begin with Bo was distant and implacable, but as the conversation progressed, he softened.
“Okay,” he said. “Call us when you’re a bit more on top of things. After all, there’s no hurry. Like we said, we would prefer not to have you hanging around. I’m sorry, but I’m being honest here. We just don’t want to lie to the child. She deserves to know the truth so she can have a secure childhood.”
“It’s a girl?” Søren marveled.
“Yes,” Bo said. “And we’re calling her Maja.”
Søren managed to visit Katrine once before she had her baby, one afternoon when he spontaneously drove past H. C. Ørstedsvej, rang the doorbell, and found her home alone. They didn’t speak much, but she looked undeniably gorgeous on the sofa, big, round, and enigmatic as though she was hatching a golden egg. Suddenly, he heard himself promise to keep his distance, as Bo and Katrine had requested, and that he would be there if the girl wanted to meet her father when she got older.
If.
They sealed the deal with a cup of coffee and, as there was nothing more to say, Søren left.
Maja was born on September 8, 2004. Bo called him after the birth. He was rather monosyllabic and merely informed him the child had been born and that mother and baby were doing well. Then he hung up. Three days later Søren went to Frederiksberg Hospital. He had been racked with doubt, but in the end he had been unable to stay away. He bought a teddy bear for the baby and a bottle of lemon-scented lotion for Katrine. The young clerk in the drugstore helped him choose it. In the hospital corridor he hesitated before he entered the ward. What if they had visitors, what if it was inappropriate? But, for God’s sake,
they
had chosen to involve him, so they had only themselves to blame. And, anyway, he wasn’t some asshole who just stayed away.
To his surprise, the ward was nearly empty. There were no visitors and three empty beds waited for newly delivered mothers and their babies. Only the bed by the window was occupied, by Katrine, who was sitting with a faraway expression on her face. She looked up and smiled, almost as if she didn’t recognize him, then she lowered her eyes. Søren approached her gingerly and placed his presents on one of the empty beds. Then he saw Maja. She was absolutely tiny and swaddled in a white blanket. The bear he had bought for her was five times her size. Maja’s hair was long and black and her face all scrunched up. She was the spitting image of him. Søren was speechless. He looked at Katrine, then he leaned forward and kissed her forehead.
Everything changed. Not because there was a child at Frederiksberg Hospital who happened to share his genes, not because of her remarkable likeness to him, not because he had fathered another human being, technically, at least. No, it was because his brain was swelling to twice its normal size. He started to laugh out loud. Elvira had died, Knud was in mourning, and his relationship with Vibe was characterized by grief and anger, and yet he raced down Jagtvejen in his car, roaring with laughter. He hadn’t wanted a child. He
still
didn’t want a child. He hadn’t wanted to sit down to talk it over with Vibe or Katrine or any other woman. But now that she was here, he wanted Maja. With every fiber of his being. He would never let her out of his sight, he would protect her against all evil. The feeling was like an unbreakable chain anchored in his stomach. That night he made a plan. He would visit Bo and Katrine as soon as possible and make it clear to them that the deal was off.
It was a fortnight before Bo said it was okay for him to visit. When Søren arrived, he had rehearsed his speech so many times, he was no longer nervous.
“I’ve decided that I want to be her dad.”
Bo and Katrine had offered him coffee. Bo’s cup froze in mid-air. He gave Søren an outraged look.
“You’ve what? You’ve no right to do that.”
He slammed the cup down on the table. The noise startled Maja.
“Bo,” Katrine began, cautiously. “Let’s just hear Søren out.” She looked up at Søren and smiled an almost imperceptible smile. Bo got up and went to the window, his back shaking.
“I know I can’t be with her every day,” Søren continued. “Probably not even every week, but I want to be in her life and not just as a last resort you call when you’ve got no one else. I’m in this for good. Bo is your boyfriend,” he said, looking at Katrine, “and I realize that he will probably be Maja’s dad in her heart. The one she plays with when she comes home from nursery, the one who reads her bedtime stories, the one she’ll hate when she becomes a teenager.” Katrine smiled. “And also the one who, on some level, will mean the most to her.” Bo’s back started to calm down. “But I want to be involved, and if you won’t let me . . .” he took a deep breath, “then I will go to court.” A deadly silence descended on the room.
Bo stayed where he was with his back to them, but Katrine said, “Okay, Søren. It’s okay.”
Bo didn’t turn around, not even when Søren left.
From then on, Søren visited them every week. Maja was becoming increasingly alert and Bo less frosty. Søren made an effort when he was there. He asked Bo questions and listened attentively when Bo told him about a particularly bad diapering incident, a sleepless night, or an expression that might have been a smile. What he really felt like doing was bundling Bo up and hurling him out the window.
One November afternoon he found Katrine and Maja home alone. Katrine was breastfeeding, so Søren put the kettle on. When Maja had been fed, Katrine made coffee while Søren changed Maja’s diaper and put clean clothes on her. From the kitchen, Katrine called out with a question about Vibe. Until now they had avoided talking about personal issues completely, primarily because Bo was always hovering by the front door in the hope that Søren might be overcome by a sudden urge to leave. Not surprisingly, this rather put a damper on their intimacy. Søren’s reply was evasive, but when she had sat down again and Maja was lying between them, the whole story spilled out of him. His relationship with Vibe, which had started when they were teenagers, had to end because Vibe so fervently wanted to have a baby, and he didn’t; Elvira, who had died never knowing that Vibe and he were no longer a couple though they still saw each other, and now Knud, who tried to carry on the traditional family Sunday lunch ignorant of the fact that Vibe and Søren lived separate lives and pretended to be a couple purely to shield him from further pain. When Søren had finished, he picked up the little girl. They stood by the window and watched the cars. Maja opened and closed her mouth, and Søren told her that a blue Ford Fiesta had just run a red light. “He’s lucky your daddy is busy holding you,” he whispered, “or he would have given him a ticket.” Katrine, still sitting on the sofa, asked if Vibe even knew about Maja. Søren didn’t reply for a long time. Then he shook his head.
When he left Maja and Katrine an hour later, he had made up his mind. Katrine had given him a photograph of Maja, which he had put in his wallet, behind his driving license, and the time had come. Knud would learn that Vibe and Søren were no longer together, and Knud and Vibe would learn of Maja’s existence. He dreaded Vibe’s reaction, there was no denying that, but he suddenly yearned to tell the old man that he was a great-grandfather. He started by calling Vibe to check that she was free this Sunday—she was, she had no plans apart from their usual lunch at Snerlevej. Then he called Knud. No one answered the telephone. He called back later the same day, but still nothing. In the evening, he grew increasingly worried and drove to his childhood home. He had called Knud fifteen times at least, and there had been no reply.
Søren found Knud in the kitchen, sitting on a chair facing the garden. His hand, resting in his lap, held a framed photograph of Elvira. On the kitchen table were two bags of groceries. Knud appeared incapable of summoning the energy to put them away. Søren hugged him tenderly.
“Is it very bad today?” he asked, carefully taking the photograph from Knud. In the picture Elvira was old and wrinkled and yet irresistibly alive. Knud turned his head and stared blankly at Søren.
“I’ve got cancer,” he said, smiling weakly. “That’s how bad it is.”
That Sunday, they had lunch in Snerlevej as usual. Vibe had offered to make lasagna and salad. It was bizarre. Knud had bowel cancer, which had spread to his liver. There was nothing the doctors could do.
“And here was I thinking cancer wasn’t infectious,” Knud remarked dryly. He seemed neither scared nor sad; on the contrary, he praised the food and had second helpings. Afterward he suggested they have a cigarette.
“But you don’t smoke.” Søren was taken aback.
“Oh, yes,” he said. “I do now.”
They lit cigarettes and flicked the ashes onto their plates. It had been ten years since Vibe and Søren had quit smoking, and the three of them coughed and spluttered like teenagers. They all started to laugh and that was when Vibe suddenly exclaimed:
“Wasn’t there something you wanted to talk to us about, Søren?” She gave him a searching look. “It certainly sounded like it the other day.”
Now Knud was looking at him, too.
“Nah,” Søren said. “You must have misunderstood. Everything’s fine.”
On December 18, when Maja was just over three months old, Bo, Maja, and Katrine flew to Thailand for Christmas. Søren loathed the idea. Thailand was far away, they would be staying at some hotel on an island, and he was convinced that Maja would have forgotten all about him by the next time she saw him. Katrine was busy packing when he came to wish them Merry Christmas. Bo, fortunately, was out. He gave Maja the world’s tiniest bracelet with a four-leaf clover pendant.
“She really is far too young for jewelry,” Katrine smiled. Søren watched her while she folded Maja’s tiny onesies and placed them in the suitcase.
“Why can’t you stay here?” he blurted out. Katrine laughed. Then she asked him if he had told his family about Maja yet. Søren was just about to lie, but he hesitated a fraction of a second. Katrine shook her head.
“How long are you going to keep your daughter a secret?”
Søren went to the window with Maja in his arms. This time, it was a Nissan Altima that ran a red light.
“I’ll tell my grandfather on Christmas,” he said. “When I’ve got some time off and everything has calmed down a bit.”
“I would like to meet him,” Katrine said.
His eyes widened. “Are you serious?”
“Yes,” Katrine replied. “I really would. If you ever have the guts to tell him.” Katrine winked at Søren. “Perhaps we could have lunch together, when we’re back, all of us.”
“Including Bo?” Søren winked back at her.
“Yes, of course,” Katrine smiled.
Søren nodded. Then he laid Maja on the fleece blanket on the floor. She waved her arms, kicked her legs, and stuck out her tongue. She was starting to lose her hair, and her deep blue eyes studied Søren with curiosity. For the next half hour they drank coffee and chatted before Søren left. He kissed Maja’s soft forehead and squeezed her tiny foot, warm and wriggling, inside her footed pajamas.
After Christmas, Vibe and Søren spent four days in Sweden where Vibe had borrowed a cottage from her business partner. Søren intended to confess to Vibe while they were there, and when they returned to Copenhagen he would also tell Knud about Maja. The woods behind the cottage seemed endless, and the snow scattered like crystals from the trees when a squirrel leapt or the wind stirred. Søren chopped firewood and gazed at the forest, briefly tempted to swap his life for one that was simpler and more manageable.
They played board games, read books, talked about Elvira, about the first Christmas without her and about Knud, who was putting on a brave face and had insisted they go to Sweden. Søren had rung him twice, but had only gotten the answering machine and he was just starting to worry when he received a voice mail from Knud. Everything was fine. Vibe and Søren spoke conspicuously little about their relationship, as though they had agreed to a truce.
“We’re like brother and sister,” Vibe exclaimed one day and lowered the book she was reading. Søren was standing by the window, looking out at the wild garden; he was thinking about Maja, how he was going to break the news, how he would tell Vibe. Now was an obvious moment. Right now. But Vibe was cuddled up in a blanket, her cheeks flushed with the heat from the wood stove, a pot of tea on the table, and she looked so peaceful. For the first time in a long time.
They made love only once. New Year’s Eve. After a lot of salmon and wine. It felt familiar and comforting. They left early in the morning on January 2. Søren had still not told her about Maja.
They had stopped at a service station to buy milk when Søren saw the newspaper headlines:
ASIAN TSUNAMI DEATH TOLL REACHES 200,000
.
“What’s happened?” Vibe gasped. A strange noise escaped from Søren’s throat. They bought milk and a copy of every newspaper.
“It’s just so awful,” Vibe said, over and over. She was leafing through the newspapers. “It’s unbearable.” With tears streaming down her cheeks, she told him about an Australian mother who had been with her two sons when the tsunami hit and how she hadn’t been strong enough to hold on to them both. She had had to let go of her older son, who was seven. Now he was gone. Vibe dissolved completely. Søren didn’t utter a sound.
“Do you want to come in?” she asked, when Søren had parked in front of her apartment block. Søren shook his head.
Maja, Bo, and Katrine weren’t on the lists of missing persons. Søren checked the homepages of the Danish Foreign Office every thirty minutes every single day. They weren’t there. Why hadn’t they called? He would scream at Katrine when he saw her. Teach her never to be so selfish again. He wondered whom to call. He couldn’t think of anyone. Officially, he had no relationship with the Beck Vestergaard family. He had donated some sperm, and there was no one he could call. Vibe rang him several times, but he could barely breathe and he couldn’t talk to her.