The Dinosaur Feather(5)

During those first few weeks Anna deliberately kept him at a distance. She went to the cafeteria on her own, even though it would have been normal to ask if he wanted to join her, she gave curt replies to his questions to discourage him from striking up a conversation, and she declined his friendly suggestion that they take turns to bring cakes. Yet Johannes persisted. It was as if he simply failed to register her aloofness. He chatted and told stories, he laughed out loud at his own jokes, he brought in interesting articles she might want to read, he always made tea for both of them and added milk and honey to her cup, just the way she liked it. And, at some point, Anna started to thaw. Johannes was warm and funny, and he made her laugh like she hadn’t laughed in . . . well, years. Johannes was extraordinarily gifted, and she had allowed herself to be put off by his peculiar appearance. Nor were his eyes droopy, as she had first thought, they were open and attentive, as though he were making an effort, as though what she said really mattered.


“You’re wearing makeup!” she exclaimed one spring morning, not long after they had become friends.

Johannes was already behind his desk when Anna arrived. He was wearing leather trousers and a Hawaiian shirt, his hair was smoothed back with wax and his long white fingers were splayed across the keyboard. His glasses magnified his brown eyes by 50 percent, so when he looked at her, there was no way she could miss it.

“I’m a goth,” he said with a mysterious smile.

“You’re a what?” Anna dumped her bag on her chair and gave him a baffled look.

“And things got a bit wild last Friday. I was in drag,” he continued, surprisingly. “I thought I had got all that stuff off.” He waved her closer. “Come on over, I’ve got something for you to look at.”

He showed her some pictures on the web while he talked. The club he had been to was called the Red Mask and events were held the first Friday of every month. The club’s name was inspired by the Edgar Allan Poe short story The Masque Mask of the Red Death, and it was a meeting place for goths from all over Scandinavia. Goths were a subculture, Johannes explained when he saw the blank expression on Anna’s face and pointed to a photograph. Anna failed to recognize the slightly androgynous-looking woman with red hair, black lipstick, and dramatic eyes, wearing a tight black corset, a string vest, leather trousers, and studs. The caption below the photo read Orlando. Anna frowned.

“It’s me,” he said, impatiently.

“You’re kidding!” Anna exclaimed, thinking she really was an idiot. It was obvious: Johannes was gay!

“What does ‘Orlando’ mean?” she asked.

Johannes looked exasperated.

“Orlando is a reference to the eponymous hero of the novel by Virginia Woolf, obviously. Orlando starts off as a man and is later transformed into a woman. Like me, at nightfall.” He laughed. Anna gawked and said: “Okay.”

“But, no, I’m not gay,” he added, as though he had read her mind.

“So what are you then?” Anna asked, before she could stop herself.

“I’m into women.” He winked at her. “And, in addition, I’m a goth. From time to time I go to goth parties in drag; women’s clothing, that is.”

“So do you all have sex with each other or what?” Anna blurted out.

Johannes raised his eyebrows. “Sounds like someone’s interested in going?”

“Shut up.” Anna threw an eraser at him, but she couldn’t help smiling. “That’s not why I’m asking. I was just curious. You look like a . . .” she nodded in the direction of the screen. Johannes followed her gaze.

“Yes, I’m well and truly dolled up,” he said, pleased with himself. He drummed his fingers on the table and looked at Anna as though he was debating with himself whether or not he could be bothered to explain this to her.

“There’s no sex at the Red Mask,” he said eventually. “But quite a few people belong to the goth scene as well as the fetish scene. Me, for instance.” He gave her a probing look. “That club is called Inkognito, and events take place twice a month.” He scratched one eyebrow. “And yes, there we have sex. There are darkrooms, and people arrive dressed in latex and leather. Here you can be hung from the wall and given a damned good thrashing if that’s your thing.”

Anna held up her hand. “Yes, thank you, Johannes. That will do.”

“And prudes are very much in demand on the fetish scene. Very.” Johannes flung out his arms by way of invitation. Anna threw a notebook at him; Johannes parried by rolling his chair backward. He roared with laughter. Anna could restrain herself no longer and joined in. With Johannes, everything seemed so easy.