Milk(19)

            —Tommy’s full of shit, Morten said.

            Tommy had told us how his big brother from 10th grade and two of his friends and three girls sometimes went out to the gravel pit. Tommy had snuck down there once and seen his brother’s white ass on top of one of the girls.

            —Just because they’re not here now doesn’t mean they weren’t here, I said.

            —I don’t believe him, Morten said, especially that one about the cowboy boots.

            We drove up to the main road and again away from town.



            We had driven for about fifteen minutes when we spotted Dad’s car rounding a curve and heading toward us. Morten ducked and I leaned on the brake. The car jerked to the side, but Dad was already far beyond us.

            —Did you see if Mom was with him?

            I shook my head.

            I turned the Rover around and followed slowly behind. When we got to town, Dad’s car was parked at the grocery store. Mom sat in the car, but she didn’t see us. Morten shouted,

            —Stop, damn it! Mom’s with him.

            I kept driving. Morten punched my shoulder, but I didn’t stop. Then he sank back in his seat and fell silent, and that’s how he sat the rest of the way home. We cruised into the driveway, and everything looked calm. I parked the car exactly where it had been parked, then we got out and stood there uncertainly, not knowing if we should go in. Morten went first. Grandpa wasn’t in the kitchen. Empty bottles crowded one table leg, and on the table there was an opened newspaper and half-eaten toast. We found him sleeping on the couch in the living room. At that same instant we heard Dad’s car crunching on the gravel. Maybe it was because of the Rover, but Morten wasn’t eager to go outside and greet them. We stood reluctantly in the doorway as they came inside. Dad held Mom’s suitcase, and Mom carried the bag of groceries. She looked tired. First she hugged Morten, then me.

            —Aren’t you glad to see your mother again?

            —Where have you been? Morten asked.

            Her eyes flickered.

            —Now we’ll see how well you’ve looked after the house while I was away. Where is your grandfather? Grandma went home. She’s waiting for him.

            When he saw all the bottles in the kitchen, Dad cursed. Then he went in and woke up Grandpa. As Grandpa went out and saw the Rover, he pointed at Morten and said that he’d made a mess of it. Dad told him he must’ve done it himself while he was drunk.

            After dinner we watched television, and it was good to see that everything was as it used to be. We were allowed to stay up longer and watch a movie, but at 11:00 Dad said it was time for us to go to bed.

            At first we could hear them shouting at each other. But then it grew quiet. We lay in the dark along each wall.

            —Morten, I whispered.

            He didn’t respond.

            —Are you asleep?

            Then I heard him crying; it was hollow and dry, as if he was trying to hide it. For a while I just lay there, waiting.

            —I’m not interested in Rose, I said. If you want her, she’s yours.

            He kept going. It sounded like he could neither cry nor quit. I climbed from the bed and crawled over to him. When I lay down I got his elbow in my stomach. I caught my breath, then crawled back to my own bed.





            X-Ray



            Carl and Sonja huddle together around the small table. The kitchen is warm, and it smells of fresh coffee and toast. Carl sips his coffee; Sonja has drunk most of hers.