Free Stella Descending by Linn Ullmann

got on the plane and squeezed my eyes tight shut. I didn’t sleep, but all the same I had a dream. It happens sometimes. I dreamt I was standing in line on the steps up to the high diving platform at Frogner Baths, the ten-meter one, you know? I was standing behind a whole bunch of naked women, all waiting to go off. And every time the signal sounded—this loud shrill trumpet blast—someone would dive. But there was no water in the pool, and everyone who went off was smashed to bits on the bottom. I knew this, knew it all along, we all knew, and yet we stood there on the steps, each waiting her turn . . . and I watched one woman after another stretch out, push off, and dive. It was a dream, right? But I wasn’t sleeping. I was sitting in my seat on the plane, next to Martin, with my eyes tight shut, almost overwhelmed by these images, and I couldn’t block them out. But I was not sleeping.”
    Stella fell silent for a moment. Her frankness disconcerted me. But I listened. I did not interrupt.
    “But that’s not really what I was going to tell you,” she went on. “What I was going to tell you was that when my turn came to dive from the platform, just as I drew my breath to push off, the plane actually took a dive for real. It felt as if we had heeled over and dropped straight down. All the passengers screamed— I screamed—but Martin grabbed hold of me and whispered, ‘It’s okay, Stella, it’s okay, I’ve got you,’ and of course it was okay. Well, I’m here, aren’t I? Safe and sound, and probably pregnant. It was only a little turbulence. We weren’t in any real danger. But I wonder whether that was the minute I stopped being afraid of flying. Forever. All my life I’ve been afraid, Axel. Afraid of all the terrible things that could happen.”
    “And now you’re not afraid of anything?” I asked, with a hint of irony in my voice.
    “No, no,” she replied, “of course I am.”
    “Did my ears deceive me, or did you say you were pregnant?” I said.
    She nodded.
    “That was quick. How long have you known him, a month?”
    “Five weeks and a couple of days,” she said. “I don’t know for sure that I’m pregnant. I just think I am. I knew the moment Amanda was conceived. Even though that man—Amanda’s father—meant nothing to me. I never want to talk about him! I don’t ever want to talk about Amanda’s father.”
    “No, heaven forbid,” I said. “As far as I’m concerned, you don’t have to talk about any of your lovers. In fact, I’d rather you didn’t.”
    “Oh, I’m babbling on again—I know.”
    “Yes, you are.”
    “It’s just that I wanted you to know about the baby. I can’t be sure . . . but I don’t think I’m mistaken. I know it happened that night.”
    “I see.”
    “It was a cold, white, starlit night, and we were on our way home from the birthday party. It was pretty late, three o’clock, maybe three-thirty, and we had a half-hour walk in the cold night air ahead of us. It had been snowing; the countryside around us was white and still; we were goofing around like a couple of kids, making tracks and snow angels; he stole my hat and threw it up into a fir tree and it got stuck on a branch—and then we came to a lake that had frozen over. We had seen children skating on it earlier in the day, but now all was quiet . . . all was quiet until we heard a faint rumbling far off, coming closer, until suddenly we caught sight of some huge shadows among the trees: massive, weird-looking creatures, heading toward the frozen lake. Martin and I stood perfectly still. Out on the ice the dark shadows began to gather speed; in fact, before we knew it they had broken into a gallop, one after the other. There were a whole lot of them and they didn’t lose their balance, they didn’t slip, they just went on galloping. For a moment I thought they were some sort of strange prehistoric horse, but as my eyes adjusted to the distance and the darkness I saw that they had