Authors: Tina Lindegaard
The smell in the underground parking lot hits him in the face and he feels an overwhelming need to cough. He is badly shaken after the scene at the doctor, and he feels a small amount of relief when he leans against the car. He bends his head and looks at the oil stains of many shapes and colors on the concrete floor below him. Then he lets his hand slide down over his face and takes a deep breath. He puts his hands against the car and sways a little before putting all his weight back on his legs. Slowly he gets into the car. He looks at the leather seat beside him.
”No one has ever sat in that seat.”
He looks up, moving his hands back and forth over the leather steering wheel. His eyes can’t find any focus as the minutes go by one by one. The sounds of people and cars coming and going soon get tedious and the darkness outside has become massive and ruthless. The figure of a woman slides by his window with smooth movements and the door of the car next to him is opened. She gets in and as she closes the door she looks at him. Her face lights up in a polite smile, before she turns her head and looks at the man in the driver’s seat next to her. The sigh that now fills Nathan’s car is sad and heartfelt. It’s as if it holds all the pain and confusion of what has happened today. In the rear view mirror he watches the car drive off silently. His body seems to slowly wake up from being in the same position for so long. He puts the car in reverse and quickly steps on the gas. For a moment, the car is moving, but then he’s thrown forward when it suddenly stops.
"Oh, why did I have to buy a car with stick shift?!"
His body is tense as he turns the key again. The engine starts and he slowly backs out and leaves the parking lot in high speed. He looks at the dimly lit clock on the dashboard.
"Hmm, I’m late. Very late."
He makes a face.
”They’ve always waited for me in court… but this is not court...”
The traffic is with him and he finds a parking spot close to the elevator. He turns and looks at the backseat, but suddenly remembers that he hasn’t brought anything with him. He stares at the backseat – lost – before getting out with difficulty. He has trouble breathing and this time he gives in to the cough.
"Are you OK?"
He feels a hand being placed gently on his shoulder and jumps.
"Oh, I didn’t mean to scare you. I was afraid you were having an asthmatic attack. My oldest son has asthma, so I always notice when I hear someone breathing with difficulty. But are you OK?"
Nathan nods and feels a wave of gratitude. Then he smiles sincerely.
"Yes, thank you. I was just struggling with a difficult decision."
She nods.
"Yes, I know how that feels, but I have realized that…"
She turns and walks over to the elevator. Without thinking, Nathan follows her. Then he understands why he didn’t hear her coming. She’s wearing sneakers. A very faint smell of sweat follows her. Nathan sniffs and finds the smell pleasant. Not bad and pungent but faint and feminine.
"…that the first impulse, for me anyway, has almost always turned out to be the right one. When I have changed it, it has often been changed into something that shouldn’t have been."
Nathan listens to her absentmindedly, but still her words get through to him. He looks at her face as he nods and smiles.
"We had actually decided not to have another baby because of the asthma in the family, but it just happened and my first thought was, that of course we were going to have that baby, and my intuitive answer was: Of course! We have never regretted that decision."
"Do you have any kids?"
Her face and her movements reveal how well-groomed she is. She has no make-up on but has dark eyelashes, either from color or mascara, just the way Denize preferred it. Nathan is surprised. In this city, you don’t often see women without make-up. She looks at him and asks again:
"Do you have kids?"
Nathan smiles.
"No, unfortunately we never had any. We met late in life."
They stop in front of the elevator and before Nathan can reach out and press the button, she has already done it.
"And none of you had any kids from previous relationships?"
Nathan studies her face and suddenly he wants so much to tell her his story. Then there’s a small sound and the elevator doors open. He just shakes his head.
"You look like someone who likes kids."
She turns and walks into the elevator. In the mirror, Nathan can see how tired he looks. His body is slightly bent and his eyes are dull. He twitches at the thought of the mirror in the apartment where he now knows that Evy lives, and trembles a little when he sees the images before him. There’s a firm grip on his arm.
"Are you sure you’re OK. You don’t seem OK."
Her brown eyes are warm and sincere and contradict how he already sees her, as a modern woman who’s a business woman at day and a mother at night. He has always thought that those women were faking their maternal feelings and judged them to be pretty hard on both their children and their husbands. Actually, the men in their lives were just something that came with the package, but now he’s not so sure. He nods.
"I’m OK."
He tries to smile.
"That must be a tough decision, not to have kids. Which floor?"
Nathan seems surprised, and she nods at the elevator buttons.
"Oh, yes, of course. Hang on."
He pulls himself together and starts to read the little signs next to the buttons. He spots Walter, Walter & Walter’s sign. Actually, their brass sign stands out from the rest because their name is longer than the others. He smiles.
”Clever, that way they’re sure to get noticed.”
"Oh, here it is."
He presses the button and waits for the red plastic circle around it to light up so he’s sure it’s activated. The woman looks at the button and the sign for a while and then looks directly at him. She is a classic beauty and the low light in the elevator does her face justice. He finally stops looking at his mirror image and looks straight at her. She looks away, puts her key in the lock, and presses the penthouse button. They drive up in silence. They are both looking down at the floor. When the elevator stops and Nathan steps out, he feels her hand on his arm again.
"It must be an important decision if you’re here to see them at this hour. Choose with your heart. It sees better. Good luck."
Another ping sound and she pulls back her hand and smiles as the elevator doors start to close.
"Nathan Wilkins?"
The receptionist is already standing next to him. Nathan looks at her and nods.
"They’re waiting for you."
With a movement of her hand, she shows him down the hall.
"Are the witnesses here as well?"
"Yes, I’m one of them."
She smiles shyly.
"I hope that’s OK."
She adds, clearly feeling embarrassed. She stops talking and smiles again, but it’s obvious to Nathan that her thoughts haven’t stopped.
"Of course, all the other necessary people are here as well."
She says quietly. She makes more hand gestures on their way down the hall, guiding him to the door at the end.
"I’ll be the one doing the writing, so I’ll just get my laptop. That way we can work simultaneously and print directly. I hope that works for you?"
"That sounds just fine. Thank you for staying this late."
She reacts almost as if he had punched her. Nathan holds his breath. The woman in the elevator had touched something inside him and activated something that suddenly felt natural to him. There’s a touch of insecurity about the young woman walking next to him. Maybe this is her first job. And, if he guessed it right, being praised or thanked was not something she was used to in this office. She stops and knocks at the door of one of the corner offices. Then she cautiously sticks her head inside before opening the door and showing Nathan in. For a moment, he looks down at the pale green carpet, pulling himself together. Then he looks up, smiles, and walks in with his hand out.
"Thank you for waiting. I really appreciate it. And I’m very sorry I’m late."
His voice reflects his profession and his experience, which makes the young girl give him an admiring look. He keeps up his routine and continues.
"I have chosen you because your reputation is unblemished, and this matter requires a firm that will follow the law and my wishes to the letter."
The young girl closes the door and hurries down the hall to get her laptop. Her face is beaming.
"Maybe this case will be the one that starts my career."
She whispers while straightening her pencil skirt.
Eric pulls up his collar as he looks around, confused. He stays put, feeling how restless his body is.
”If only James hadn’t seen me.”
He walks back and forth in front of the door a couple of times before stopping.
”Stuart I knew. But I don’t know James, and I don’t know what he’s capable of.”
Eric looks up so the rain hits him in the face, and it’s as if his worries disappear one by one. He feels how the rain gets worse for a while before dying down to a light drizzle. Finally, after a long time, a cab drives by and the driver looks at him with disapproval. The water is dripping from him and he feels uncomfortable in his drenched clothes. The driver looks at him in the mirror.
"Where to?"
The driver’s voice is a little thick.
"Ah. Just drive downtown. I’ll guide you.”
The driver gives a tired shrug.
"Whatever you say."
Eric asks the driver to turn several times and each time he looks out the rear window. After a while, the driver gives up trying to follow Eric’s way of thinking and just obeys his orders. After nearly an hour, Eric is convinced no one is following them.
"Please stop at the corner over there."
The driver nods and pulls up at the curb. Eric looks at the meter and gives him a good tip. The driver nods and Eric is back in the rain which is getting worse again. He waits until the cab is gone. Then he starts to walk back in the direction they came from. The streets are empty, and he feels the rain running down his neck and down his back. He stops outside his front door. He can’t see the doorman anywhere. Eric turns around one last time and looks back. The street is empty. He locks himself into the building and into his apartment. Without turning on the lights, he goes straight through the living room, takes the half empty vodka bottle, and puts it under his arm. Then he continues to the bathroom and picks up the glass of sleeping pills. When he closes the door of the small medicine cabinet, he catches a glimpse of himself. The bald spot on his head is clear against his dark, wet hair. It hurts his vanity. The dark rings around his eyes, his face that looks thin and unhealthy just as the investigator at the hospital had pointed out. He turns around and slams the bathroom door shut behind him. But the noise it makes and the power he uses doesn’t help him get rid of the feeling that’s eating him up. He takes off all of his clothes and drops them on the floor. Naked, he crawls under the covers and gathers the pillows behind him so he can sit up in the bed. Then he picks up the remote and switches on the TV. He sighs, feeling content as the sound of the TV finally drowns out the noise from the rain outside. He shuts out the world and loses himself in a sitcom about two men and a baby. When he has calmed down a little, he opens the vodka bottle and drinks directly from it. His throat burns as the vodka makes its way down and he makes a face when it hits his stomach.
”Ah, I should’ve eaten something on the way home.”
He pushes his thoughts away and puts the bottle to his mouth again. He sees Evy’s face before him, and the small muscles around his mouth twitch. Annoyed, he throws his arm out and the vodka sloshes around in the bottle.
"Damn it! I have to grow up and be a man… a man who takes action and isn’t scared."
After shouting at himself, he drinks from the vodka bottle and almost empties it. He sits in the bed, staring at the TV with empty eyes.
"Maybe it’s time now..."
His voice is getting blurred from the vodka.
"…that I do something."
He looks at the glass of pills. Then he picks it up and holds it in his hand for a while.
"It’s time I call the shots. James has more to lose than me."
He opens the glass and takes out a pill, then he takes another one and almost throws them into his mouth and drinks the rest of the vodka. He stays there, holding the bottle in his hands as it rests in his lap. After a while he looks at it with surprise, dazed from the drinking.
"Oh, well, you were almost empty when we started."
His voice is almost a whisper and he slowly blinks his eyes.
"Or maybe not. Anyway, dear James. Now it’s your turn to be at the other end of the leash. Now I will be the one in charge."
He smacks his lips and tries to focus on the TV. His eyes slowly close and his breathing becomes slow and deep.