"Do they have good soup? I'm sorry, I forgot your
name, son."
"It okay about that. Call me Sander. And the soup
is very good. It come in a bowl make from..."
I quickly shook my head and gave him the stop
look, even pretended slicing my neck. The soup tureens
look like miniature witches' cauldrons. He took the cue.
"...I can't explain so good but I think you will like
it," Sander said, shooting me a wink.
"Good afternoon my guests, I want to welcome
you," the waiter said in perfect English. "What may I start
you with today?"
Sander ordered up a table full of good grub and we
settled in for a nice lunch together. She gave us some
church blather, acted like Sander was a seat-warmer and
totally ignored his existence, and quickly painted a
negative picture of everyone in the family, and all of her
friends. What they don't do, and how they do it badly, and
how they somehow let the church down; what a pal!
Following the very excellent food and service at the
passive-aggressive luncheon, we were off to our beautiful
island of Fyn, and our tiny hamlet known as Gelsted. The
whole way we—Sander mostly—fielded her loaded
questions. You know the kind: "Do they have
supermarkets over here like we do at home, Johnnie?"
"Yes, Mom. We have supermarkets, and this is my
home," I said. "Someday I hope we'll get toilets, and if
we're good Hitler-lovin' communists we might even get to
see what a television looks like someday."
"When did you become so hostile? You need Jesus."
"Probably the day you threw out all my CD's
because that freak at your church said they were of the
devil. I think that was when. That, and the time I was
twelve and I trusted you enough to tell you that I was in
love with Cameron Daniels, and you beat me. That's when
I got a little hostile," I said, as dispassionately as I possibly
could.
"That was so long ago, and I have the right to
discipline you when you do something wrong, Johnnie,"
she said.
"It was ten years. Just ten years ago. And I was
doing nothing more than being alive. I was being who I
am, and I was just sharing that with my
mother. And it wasn't discipline; it was a beating. The kind
that puts kids into foster homes," I told her.
"Do you hate me? Is that what this is all about?"
"No. Not at all. I just wish you'd meet me halfway. I
have an incredible job, I'm happier than I've ever been, and
I don't feel comfortable sharing any of that with you
because I don't trust you. And I'm scared to death that the
twins might buy into your church crap and it'll end up
ruining their lives too," I explained.
"Don't worry about Benny and Maisey, they're
doing just fine. It's you that I worry about, Johnnie."
"There's nothing to worry about. Okay?" I said.
"And we'll leave it at that."
INGRID DIDN'T RECOGNIZE the phone number at first,
but when she answered, it clicked with her that it was the
houseline at Sander and Johnnie's.
"Hi, it's Ingrid."
"Ingrid, it's Torben. Can you help me, please?"
"What's the problem?" she asked him, not
unkindly.
"I feel so awful. I'm a little dizzy, and my side
hurts. I'm so tired of this," Torben said.
"I'll see you in a little while, okay? Will you be okay
for about an hour, Torben?"
He told her that he would be, but she could tell by
the catch in his voice that he wasn't doing so well. There
are good days and bad days. This was a bad one.
"THAT'S THE TOWN TO THE LEFT. See Mom, a real, live
supermarket! Has a deli, and everything!" She didn't
respond to my jab. "We'll be home in about five minutes,
and you can meet the cats, the wolf puppies, and..."
"Wolves? You have wolves?" she asked.
"Yes, Mrs. Cooper. The mother have them in a den
she make behind the house, and one of the pups get almost
kill. But my brother find him and fix him up so the mother
like us," Sander explained.
"I'll say she does! You would too if you got fed
hamburger and didn't have to go all the way to the river
know," I teased. "They even named them!" I told my
mother.
"Will they turn on you and eat you? I always heard
wolves were mean. You'd better be careful," she said.
"I think they're almost domesticated by now. She
could have left with them months ago and she didn't. We
don't bother them, and they do the same. Kind of a mutual
respect thing," I said.
"There's coming the house!" Sander said, pointing
to the white, 1848-built thatched roof farmhouse that we
bought soon after that business in Belgium. It taught us
that every day is precious, and that we should waste no
time getting on with our lives. The first big step was
buying this beautiful place and starting our lives together
inside it, with its cozy rooms and old stove fireplaces.
"Wow, that's really nice, Johnnie. It's so beautiful. It
must have been so expensive!" Mom exclaimed. "How
much property is it on?"
"The equivalent of twenty-something acres."
"Well you're a regular landowner!" she chuckled.
"This is really nice."
"Thanks. We really like it a lot," I said.
"Yeah? Who's 'we'?" she asked.
"Me! I'm living here too! It have so much rooms
and the like, and we both loving the nature and the pretty
town and all. It's perfect!" Sander said. "Here, I bring your
bag inside and you get in your room and relaxing!"
The thing I like most when coming home is the
fragrance emitted by the wood and varnish when you first
walk in. And because of the thick walls, it holds the heat
really well, so whenever you enter the place you're met
with the ship-like smells and the inviting warmth.
"Well look at this!" Mom said, surveying the great
room. That fireplace is gorgeous. And the furniture! My
Lord, did you win the lottery?"
"No, Mrs. Cooper. We both work very hard, but
nobody works much as Johnnie do," Sander stated with
pride.
"Does. Nobody works as hard as Johnnie does..." she
corrected him. "So where are you sticking your old mom?"
she asked. Again, Sander did his best to please her. Been
trying it for twenty-three years, Pokey. Quit while you can!
"Just here. It's a very nice room and the toilet is
there and you can have your own place for clothes and
television, too." he said, placing her overnight bag on the
bed.
"Thank you, I'd like a little lie-down if I can."
"What a... Lie-down? I'm sorry I don't not sure so
much of what you are meaning," Sander said.
"No problem. I just want to take a nap."
"Oh! Yes! That I know what is. Okay, shall we wake
you for when the dinner time is ready?" he asked.
"Su
re." she replied, giving him less consideration
than a bellhop. After an awkward moment passed, Sander
just left and joined me at the kitchen table.
"So did you say the Sinner's Prayer together?" I
teased. "You guys heading out on a missionary trip to
convert the natives anytime soon?"
"Johnnie Allen, there's a very special hell just for
you, I hope you know that," he joked. "I'm beginning to see
that you weren't exaggerating anything about her," he
said.
"Yeah. She's one thing I really don't joke about," I
told him.
"Did she really beat you? I mean, how did she do
it? With her fists, or..."
"She did it with a belt, and she slapped me on my
head maybe two or three times, and my face, too. Then I
got more when my stepdad came home," I explained.
"No!"
"Yes. Very much yes."
"Because you told her you're gay?" he asked.
"You know, I didn't even say those words. In fact,
I didn't really know the word 'gay' yet. What happened
was, it all started innocently enough."
"Tell me what happened," Sander demanded. "I
really want to know. This is just crazy!"
"Well, she was cooking dinner and I was drawing
pictures of submarines and ships at the table. So she asked
me some stuff about school and then the subject turned to
do I have a girlfriend yet."
"So?"
"So I told her that I didn't. Then she asked if I'd
ever been in love before? I told her that I was in love," I
said. "She pressed it further, real sweet and nice and
everything, and asked if I was still in love. I told her that I
was, and then came the atomic bomb."
"What happened next?"
"I told her that I was in love with Cameron Daniels.
I knew it was over for me when she turned off the stove,
walked over to the phone, and called Bill, my stepdad, at
work and told him to come home," I explained.
"Then what'd she do?" Sander asked.
"She sat by me at the table and asked what I meant
when I told her that I loved Cameron. So I told her. I was
honest with her and said I loved him more than anyone,
and that he loved me too. Then she smiled like it was okay
and asked if me and him ever got up to anything. I didn't
know what she meant at first, but she clarified it. She was
basically wanting to know if we were having sex."
"Were you?"
"Well, we checked each other out and got boners
together and played with 'em. I had given him maybe four
or five blow jobs, and he'd done about the same. And he
really liked poking me in the ass with his fingers, and we'd
tried kissing a little bit..."
"And you told her all this?" Sander asked.
"Yeah. And then it all went to hell. Without any
warning she hit me really hard on my head. One—two—
three! And then she slapped me a couple times across the
face and dragged me into her room. She grabbed a belt and
she was so angry at me that she couldn't even get it folded
right, so she just started hitting me any way she could with
it," I said.
"I was sitting on the end of the bed and she
was facing me, and she would just kind of lash it out in my
direction and it would kind of wrap around me like those
rodeo guys do. So it landed on my back and my sides," I
explained. "And it hurt like a motherfucker!"
Sander got up and pulled the pitcher of spring
water from the fridge and grabbed a couple of glasses.
When he returned to the table I saw the tears streaming
down his face. He softly set the glasses down and poured
us each a glass of the cool water.
Then the sobs began. God, how I hate to see him
cry.
"How can a mother do such a thing?" he asked me.
"I don't understand."
"Why do you think I feel like I do about her? And
I'm serious about my worry for the twins. I mean, what if
they just say the wrong thing to piss her off? Or decide
that the church shit is ridiculous? I know what she's like," I
told him.
Sander did his best to recover quickly from the
emotions that he felt. But I could tell he was still very
upset.
"I'm gonna do my best to keep my temper while
she's here, but frankly I don't know how you're even able
to talk to her," Sander said.
"It's hard. It's all I can do, ya know?"
He gave me a big hug and a kiss, then we settled
onto the romper couch and listened to some music.
"Hey, guys." It was Torben. He looked tired. Just
whipped. "I heard you down here and I thought I'd see
what you're doing. How's your mum, Johnnie?" he asked.
"We were just talking about her. She's in Jannik's
room, and, I don't know. She's a handful," I told him.
"Oh. Well, anyway, you get to see her. That's
good, right?" he said.
"Yeah. I guess so. Are you gonna have dinner with
us?" I asked him. "Pokey's making it. Right, yes,
Mister Pokes?"
"Yep. Me and my assistant chef, Brugsen!" he joked.
Brugsen is the name of our supermarket in town.
We planned to take it easy and just order up a bunch of
stuff from the deli counter.
"What do you guys want, anyway? I should
probably go get it pretty soon so we don't have to mess
with it later," Sander said.
"Anything's okay with me," Torben said. My
answer was ditto. "Wait a minute," Torben said. "I'll be
right back."
"How about some curry rice if they have it," I
suggested. Sander acted like he was going to barf. "I'm just
kidding. You know what to do." He sat on my lap and
hugged me around the neck, laying his head across my
chest. My favorite hug position after spooning.
"Do you know what I like about you, Johnnie
Bond?" Sander asked. I shrugged my shoulders and
hugged him tighter. "Everything, that's what."
"Even this?" I asked him, releasing a perfectly
timed fart. It was a good one, too. All rip-roaring noisy.
"No. Not that. But you wait. One day I will eat a
whole can of beans and make my revenge," he laughed.
Torben rounded the corner and entered the room.
"Shit! What died in here?" he gasped, which
quickly turned to laughter. "Damn!"
"It's Sander. He's been eating hard boiled eggs and
Mexican beans again. Pokey! Shame on you, amigo!" I
teased.
"I didn't fart, asshole! You did!" he protested.
"Oh, Pokes, that wasn't a fart. It was just my insides
blowing you a kiss!" I grinned.
"Here, Sander, take this please," Torben said,
handing him a thousand kroner note. That's about seventy
bucks U.S. "I want to help with the food tonight, please. I
won't take no."
"Thanks, Torben," Sander said to him, pocketing
the money. "Let me up, Fart Man, I'm getting to the store
before I pass out!"
"Don't be long. I don't want to be alone with you
know who, and poor Torbe
n doesn't deserve it!" I
kidded—well, half kidded. I really didn't want to deal with
her on my own. Sander took off, and Torben and I moved
to the kitchen to get the table set and the drinks figured
out.
"You really don't like your mum very much, do
you?" Torben observed. "I thought I was the only one with
the hell mum.
"Different reasons, but, yeah, I know I feel better
when she's not around. I don't know; I just feel judged, like
I can never please her. Unless I become what she wants,
which is a straight, married, boring-job, Sunday Christian
that's left his brain somewhere else so I won't question the
Lord," I said.
"But you're none of those things, and you never
will be. So I guess just play along and be nice, and she'll go
home, and you and Sander will be married and have a
good life," Torben explained.
"You're right. I need to let it go. It's really my
problem at the end of the day, not hers. Because she is who
she is," I said. "I guess that's why so many people are
happy with talking about the weather, or the big game.
Stick with beige subjects, I guess, and I can't go wrong."
"That's the best way, I think, when somebody's so
different." Torben agreed.
We got everything arranged, made a big pitcher of
tea, mixed up a strawberry and mango fruit drink, and sat
down at the table. I felt such empathy for Torben. And
having spent all these weeks with him, I understood what
Sander once saw in him. They were kids. Yes, he was
massively cruel to Sander, and we all know where that led.
But given a different situation, they would have been good
for each other. I could only imagine the regret that this
young man must be feeling, especially seeing and
experiencing the life that his former lover had built.
"May I ask you something while Sander's not here,
Johnnie?" Torben began.
"Sure. What is it?"
"Do you think when whatever's going to happen,
happens, that both of you could come and say goodbye?"
Torben asked.
"Like... How do you mean?"
"I guess there'll be a funeral. Or something like
that. And, well, could you ask Sander if he'll go when that
day comes?"
"Look, Torben. I know him. There'll be no way he
won't come. Even if you two hadn't met up again, and he
just found out the news somehow, he'd be there. And