Free Encircling by Carl Frode Tiller Page B

driving a fishmonger’s van isn’t good enough for me,” I say. “I believe I’m better than that, you see,” I add,sneering at her and seeing how hard my sarcasm hits her, seeing how angry it makes her.
    “Now, now,” Eskil says quietly, speaking now as if he thinks we should just forget all about it. He’s still playing the big man, taking the lead as it were, urging us to rise above this, relishing the fact that Mum and I are arguing, but acting as if he wants us to be friends. He knows it raises him even higher in Mum’s eyes.
    “Jon only has himself to think about, you know, he’s not as dependent on a regular income as so many of us are,” he says, as though he’s defending me now. He’s so bloody calculating, belittling my rejection of his offer, so Mum will disagree with him and say again how stupid she thinks I’m being.
    “Yes, but he still needs a roof over his head,” Mum sighs, doing exactly what Eskil wants her to do, continuing to criticize me. “He still has to eat,” she says, “and there are bills to be paid,” she says, “electricity, phone and I don’t know what else,” she goes on. She eyes Eskil helplessly. It’s me she’s talking about, but she’s acting as if I’m not even there, ignoring me, treating me like a child, that’s just what she’s damn well doing, it’s so fucking patronizing, so fucking arrogant. “He still needs to have an income, even if he doesn’t have a family to support,” she says. “I mean, you and Hilde, you only have yourselves to think about, too, but you both still have good steady jobs.”
    “Well, till now we have,” Eskil says, looks down, fiddles with his sunglasses, then smiles slyly.
    Silence.
    Hilde turns to him, flashes him a look that says he has brought up a subject she’d rather he didn’t mention. But Eskil doesn’t look at her, he looks up at Mum and smiles.
    “What do you mean: ‘till now?’”
    “Hilde and I, only having ourselves to think about,” Eskil says and then he turns to Hilde, smiles at her, too. “Oh, come on, Hilde,” he says, almost imploringly. “That’s why we’re here,” he adds.
    “What are you talking about?” Mum asks.
    “We’re going to adopt,” Eskil says. “We didn’t want to say anything until it was all arranged, but now it is. A month and a half from now we’ll be going to collect our little boy.”
    Silence.
    Then Mum puts her hands to her face, claps them to her cheeks and opens her mouth, but no words come out, she just sits there gaping. And Eskil starts to laugh, he sees how happy Mum is and he can’t help but laugh, only moments ago she was feeling bitter and depressed and now he has sent her into raptures.
    “Oh, my God, Eskil!” Mum cries, and she stands up and reaches across the table to hug him. And Eskil laughs and stands up as well and puts his arms around her. They rock from side to side. And then Mum starts to cry, stands there with her eyes shut, weeping. I watch as the tears stream down her cheeks, tears of joy, I ought to be happy too, I suppose, but I’m not, I can’t find it in me to feel happy for them, not right now at any rate, not after all that’s been said. I try to force a little smile, but it’s no use, all I can manage is a grim, tortured grin. And there’s Hilde, looking at me with pity in her eyes, as if she can see right through me, I feel a wave of embarrassment wash over me and promptly look away, the smile fixed on my face.
    “Oh, my,” Mum says, sniffing and wiping away her tears. She turns to Hilde. “Oh, Hilde,” she says, reachingout her arms and hugging Hilde, too, resting her chin on her shoulder and squeezing her tight. And Eskil just sits there beaming, observing them, touched by this scene, and suddenly he turns to me, smiles as he places his hands on the arms of his chair. Looks as if he’s about to get up and shake my hand or something, probably assumes I’ll want to shake his hand and congratulate him. But I don’t. I