“Tell me honestly, did you know? Did your mom ever say anything?” Anna looked at Karen.
The light in Karen’s eyes changed, then she cupped Anna’s face in her hands and gently pulled her toward her.
“Anna,” she said, tenderly. “I promise you, I knew nothing about it. Absolutely nothing. I don’t know if my mom knew. But I didn’t. Why on earth did they keep it a secret?”
Anna withdrew from Karen’s protective embrace.
“To protect Cecilie,” she said blankly. “In our family it has always been very important to protect Cecilie.”
They sat in silence for a long time.
“What a stupid thing to do,” Karen declared.
They drank wine. Anna rested the back of her head against the sofa and closed her eyes.
“Troels,” Karen suddenly exclaimed. “You haven’t had second thoughts, have you?”
“We had a deal. I always keep my promises.” Anna smiled, her eyes still shut. Now she opened them.
“Incidentally, you could say he has indeed decided to return to the land of the living,” Anna remarked. “He visited Jens last Wednesday, and if I were to call Cecilie now, he’ll probably be there, wrapped in a blanket, having milk and cookies.” She let out a noise that was supposed to be laughter.
“I think he’s scared, Anna.”
“Scared of what?”
“Of you.”
“Why?”
“Because you have dragon’s teeth and a sting in your tail.”
Anna looked annoyed and was about to defend herself when Karen continued.
“. . . and if you happen to be a wimp, well, then someone like you might be a tad intimidating.”
“That’s the second time you’ve suggested that. Do you think I’m a monster?” Anna asked quietly.
“No, I think it’s liberating to be with you. Your excesses and mine cancel each other out, and when we’re together I don’t need to spend all my time wondering how I come across. I can just be me. That’s why I don’t understand why we haven’t seen each other for ten years.”
“You got so angry with me that night.”
“Yes, I did. And what of it? Can’t you handle a taste of your own medicine?”
Anna shrugged.
“That night,” Karen said. “We were high. And Troels had come out of the closet. Maybe not to the world, but to us. We knew he was gay. And yet we come up with the insane idea we should all have sex . . .”
“The two of you came up with it.” Anna corrected her.
“Whatever.” Karen tucked her legs up under her. “He and I started kissing while you had gone to the bathroom. I had a massive crush on him. He was divine.” She looked dreamily into the distance. “And I wouldn’t accept that he was gay. I was nineteen years old, and I suppose I thought I could turn him or something.” She laughed. “Anyway, we started kissing and I remember thinking that him being gay was all an act because he got an erection! Gays aren’t meant to be turned on by girls, and there was Troels with a massive hard-on! And everything was going really well until you gave him that Kung Fu kick and he landed on the floor. And then you went mental. You screamed and shouted, you attacked him. He just stood there with his now limp, gay dick, while you beat the hell out of him.” Karen couldn’t stop herself from laughing.
Anna was stonefaced.
“It’s not funny,” she snarled.
Karen winked.
“Given how many Molotov cocktails you’ve thrown in your time, you’re incredibly touchy,” she observed.
“That night . . . what did I say to him?” Anna wanted to know.
“You don’t remember?”
“Not really. I just remember being angry. I opened my mouth and I saw red.”
“You humiliated him,” Karen said, calmly. “You said—”
“Actually, I don’t want to know,” Anna interrupted her. She held up her hand and turned away.
“And it doesn’t matter now,” Karen said, in a conciliatory voice.
“I was high on coke.”
“I didn’t understand it then, but the other day, he told me he left because he was this close to punching you. Beating you up, just like he beat up his dad.” Karen gave Anna an uncertain look. “Come on, we all knew what went on in Troels’s house. His dad humiliated him. But what we didn’t know was that the abuse got physical when Troels became a teenager. His dad would goad him until Troels lashed out. And then his dad would hit him back. They never stopped fighting. He told me so the other day. His dad was in the oncology ward at Odense Hospital, dying from cancer, thin as a skeleton, with tubes coming out of him, but he still attacked him verbally, mocked him. Troels hit him and his dad retaliated. We ended up laughing about it because it was so grotesque! His dad managed to rip the drawer out of his bedside table and hurl it at Troels. Troels had to go straight from his dad’s deathbed to the ER!” She chuckled briefly.