Nine, Ten ... Never Sleep Again (5 page)

Julie ran back
outside
and Peter went upstairs to paint while I
pulled out my iPad. The national TV Station TV2's web-page was filled with
yellow blocks stating
Breaking News.
I opened the link to watch it online. The anchor looked serious as she spoke.

"And now we will go live to the hospital in
Aarhus where my colleague is with Henrik Fenger," she said.

Then they clipped to a live interview with some
guy in a hospital bed. "Yes," the journalist on the spot said,
"… and Henrik Fenger, I can understand you're very angry about what
happened to you?"

"Of course I am," the man in the bed
snorted. "Who wouldn't be?"

"Could you explain to us exactly what
happened?" The journalist asked. On the screen the text said
Organ thieves stole man's kidney
.

"Well I … I was trying to fall asleep and,
when I couldn't, I walked into the bathroom at the hotel where I was staying
…"

"The Hotel Kragen in Brabrand," the
journalist interrupted him.

"Hotel Kragen in Brabrand?" I mumbled.
"I think we passed that place on our way here."

The man looked angry for being interrupted and
shot the journalist a look that could kill. "Yes, the Hotel Kragen where I
was staying for the night because I had an important meeting in the town the
next morning."

"When did you realize your kidney was
gone?" The journalist once again interrupted him.

"Well if you'd let me tell my story …"
the man stopped himself. It was obvious he fought to calm himself down. "I
noticed someone was in my room as I went into the bathroom and I think I saw
someone holding a syringe in their hand, an injection needle. That's all I
remember …"

"Were you alone?"

"What?"

"Were you sleeping alone in the hotel
room?"

The man in the bed went quiet. He stared at the
journalist with frozen eyes. "Of course," he said finally, after a
long, slightly embarrassing, pause. "Of course I was alone. My wife and
family were at home in Roskilde. I was away on a business trip."

"So when did you realize your kidney was
missing?" The journalist asked.

"The next morning I woke up in the bathtub,
covered in ice cubes. On the wall was a note telling me not to move and to call
112 right away. So I did. In the hospital, they told me someone had removed one
of my kidneys."

"What did the police say?"

"They have no clue what they're doing, if
you ask me. They say they have never seen this in Denmark before, but what do
you expect me to do with that information? I want those who did this to suffer
big-time. I want them put away for the rest of their lives. So if anyone knows
anything, have them contact me."

The journalist turned and looked into the
camera. "And there you have it, Lisa. An angry and frustrated man looking
to the public for help. Back to you Lisa."

"Thank you Robert," the anchor took
over in the studio. "And Henrik Fenger has put up a reward of 25.000
kroner for anyone who brings him information that can lead to the arrest of the
organ thieves."

I was about to shut off the online broadcast,
when suddenly the anchor started a new story that caught my interest.

"This just in," she said. "Grave
thieves have once again struck in a church. This time it is in Odense Cathedral
where they have stolen the remains of Knud den Hellige, former king of Denmark
from the year 1080 till 1086. The king was murdered by rebels in Odense in a
church where he was kneeling before the altar on July 10th 1086. Last month,
the remains of the former king, Erik Kippling, were stolen from Viborg
Cathedral. Police are looking to the public for help in this case. More to
follow on that story later as it develops during the day."

Then the anchor moved on to another story about
the female prime minister who was now in trouble for constantly showing up in
public with her expensive Louis Vuitton bag which didn't signal her sympathy
for the working class, as she was supposed to, as the leader of the Socialist
party.

I turned off the online broadcast and put the
iPad down. Julie was in the doorway looking at me. "Coming Mom?"

Martin
Damsgaard loved being
on the road. He loved everything
about it. He loved meeting new people, he loved staying in new places, new
hotels and eating at new restaurants. But most of all, he loved that he could
do whatever he pleased without his wife knowing about it.

"So do you come here often?" he said
to the girl next to him in the bar. She turned her head and smiled. She had a
nice smile, he thought to himself. And her hair was gorgeous. How old was she?
Twenty-five? Yeah that was about it. Was she a hooker? He never could tell.
Discretely he leaned back in the bar stool and glanced at her from behind.

Nice piece of ass.

She was wearing a very short, tight dress that
showed how well-shaped her body was. Martin liked that a lot. He ordered another
whiskey and looked at her. "You want another one?" he asked her.

She nodded. "Chardonnay," she said.

"And a Chardonnay for the lovely young
lady."

The bartender brought them their drinks and they
sipped them in silence. Martin had picked many women up in bars all over the
country, even in Thailand when he went there on business every now and then as
well. But this one was better than most he had met. He shook his head and stole
a glimpse down her cleavage. Oh how he loved young breasts. Voluptuous and
plump. That was the way he preferred them. Martin was a breast man. Lots of his
colleagues liked the ass more, but Martin didn't. He liked to take their
breasts in his mouth and suck on the nipples, he liked to just feel them
between his hands and squeeze them. Oh, he was getting a boner just thinking
about it.

His wife Marie had ugly breasts. They were nice
back when they first met, but now after they had the three kids, they were flat
and hanging and … well they simply didn't get him excited anymore the way they
just dangled there. Martin had told Marie that he would happily pay for her to
have them done, but she had refused. Slowly, over the years, the sex had gone
from bad to worse to nothing at all. They simply stopped desiring each other.
Or at least Martin stopped desiring Marie. He couldn't speak for her or even
remotely know what went on in her mind anymore. It seemed that all she did was
to yell at him the moment he set foot in the house. So eventually, he did that
less and less. He kept coming up with excuses for staying away from the house.
Working late, going on a trip, a business meeting downtown that went into a
dinner meeting. Stuff like that. And once he finally stepped inside the house,
he hurried to the bathroom where he sat for an hour or so reading on his phone
or playing Candy Crush, just to avoid Marie and the screaming kids. It had
gotten so bad that there were days when he drove into the driveway and stood
outside the window of the house looking into the living room, then turned around
and decided to go for a drive for a couple of hours, just to avoid them.

The business trips were what kept him going. As
a salesman, he travelled all over the world meeting with potential clients and
it suited him fine to be almost constantly on the road these days.

"So, you never answered my question,"
he said.

"What was that?" The woman asked.

"I asked you if you came here often."

The girl smiled again. "I thought it was
just a pick-up line."

Martin chuckled. "I guess it was. I'll try
something else instead." He leaned over and spoke with a low voice.
"So what do I call you when I want to scream out your name during my
orgasm?"

The girl chuckled. It was a good sign. Not all
girls liked that line. Martin laughed too, then leaned over the bar and drank
from his whiskey, imagining going down on the girl next to him.

"You can call me Barbara," she said,
licking her teeth.

"Well Barbara," he said tasting her
name. "I'm Martin. I have a feeling this is the beginning of a beautiful
friendship."

By dinnertime,
I was
starving after playing outside all day with
Julie. The weather had been great, so we had played hide and seek in the small
forest, then dipped our feet in the lake and looked at all the many fish in the
water. After grabbing lunch, we took out a blanket and some books for Julie to
read and we laid in the sun talking and reading, me on my iPad, Julie in her
books for school. Then Julie suggested we try to walk around the island with
our feet in the water. Afterwards, we played soccer on the big lawn until the
ball landed in the water and I had to go out and get it in the mushy water.

Now I was looking inside the refrigerator to
find the dinner that Peter had told me Mrs. Holm had prepared for us to heat
up. I found a roast and potatoes and a brown sauce in a container. I arranged
it all on three plates, then put it in the microwave.

Peter came down just in time for dinner with
paint on his cheek and fingers.

"Did you have a great time?" I asked
curiously and handed him his plate.

He smiled widely. "The best. There is
nothing like it. I tell you this is what I want to do with the rest of my
life." I guess you can say I have discovered my inner artist. Who would
have thought that I had one, huh?"

"I know," I said and served Julie her
plate. She dug in immediately and very greedily. Fresh air and playing sure
made us both hungry.

I poured some wine for me and Peter and sat
down. "I guess we all had a great day, huh?" I said.

Julie nodded with her mouth full. "Mom and
I had a lot of fun," she said.

"I'm glad to hear that," Peter said.
"I'm so glad to have you both here. I have really missed this. I've missed
us."

He looked at me while he spoke. Somehow it made
me feel guilty. I was so happy that he was doing better and that we were able
to be a family again. It was all I wanted, but at that second, I couldn't help
thinking about Sune. I don't know what it was, but somehow I was just reminded
of how much I had hurt him. And here I was all happy and with my family again,
while he was sitting back there at his apartment in Karrebaeksminde all alone.
And it wasn't just guilt, it was something else too. It was a longing. A desire
to see him again.

I realized I missed him.

"So, what's up for tomorrow?" Peter
asked cheerfully. "Anyone want to go into town?"

"I'd love to," Julie shrieked.
"Can we get ice cream at that place again, Dad? Can we? Please?"

Peter laughed. "Of course. That's
tradition."

"Just you wait, Mom till you taste this ice
cream. It’s soooo good. You won't believe it."

"I guess I'll have to then," I said
smiling. "You don't have to force me to eat ice cream."

"We have to buy some food too and toilet
paper and such," Peter said.

"I thought the good Mrs. Holm took care of
all those kinds of things?" I asked sipping my wine. It was a very expensive
bottle that Peter had found in the wine cellar below the house. Every sip was
like an explosion in my mouth.

"Well she takes care of the more basic
stuff. But for the most part, I'm the only one here, so that's easy, but now
that there's three of us, I believe it's a little too much to demand of the
good old Mrs. Holm."

"Sounds fair. I'd love to see the
town," I said and ate a piece of the roast. The good old Mrs. Holm turned
out to be quite the cook.

"It's really nice down there, Mommy,"
Julie said.

Peter chuckled. "It's not much of a town,
really. But it has what we need. I need gas for the boat as well."

"There's a hotel down there as well isn't
there?" I asked.

"Yes. Hotel Kragen, why?" Peter asked.

"Well there was a story this morning about
a guy …" I paused and looked at Julie, not sure that I wanted her to hear
what had happened. "Well something bad happened to him and he was on TV
talking about it. I thought about checking the place out."

Peter tilted his head. "And maybe write
about it to your newspaper, is that it?" He put his glass down hard on the
table. "Christ, Rebekka. Can't you just be on vacation for once?"

"I just wanted to check it out, Peter.
That's all."

"Don't you think I know you? It doesn't
matter where we go, you’re always working."

"Well I'm sorry if I love my job. At least
I'm playing with my daughter when we're on vacation and not hiding in some
attic all day."

"Please stop fighting?" Julie said and
held both hands to her ears.

Peter sighed and leaned back in his chair.
"That was low, Rebekka and you know it."

"Okay, I didn't mean that, but I can't see
the big deal about this. All I want is to check the place out, that's all. And
so what if I happened to find something interesting to write about? This story
is interesting. It's the first case of organ theft in our country. It's
important."

"Organ theft?" Julie said.
"What's organ theft?"

Peter gesticulated, resignedly. "Now look
what you've done. Do you really want your daughter to know about these kinds of
things? Do you want her to have bad dreams about organ thieves at night?"

"Of course not," I said.

"It's just because you want your newspaper
to have to write the story so you can call your little boyfriend and have him
come up here and take pictures for you, isn't it? You want to be with him
instead of being here with us? Then go ahead."

Peter got up from the table and left the kitchen
slamming the door. I felt so infuriated. Why did I have to ask about that
place? Why couldn't I just keep my big mouth shut? Why did he have to be such a
prick about it?

"Mom, what is dad talking about? Are Sune
and Tobias coming up here?"

"No sweetie. They're not coming. Daddy was
just talking nonsense. He didn't mean any of it. Don't worry. Eat your
dinner."

"Are you and daddy going to be separated
again?"

I smiled and stroked her hair. My beautiful
daughter. The last couple of years had been confusing for her. It was time to
give her some stability. If I wanted to be with Peter, then I would have to be
more sensitive to his jealousy and make sure I didn't hurt him. "No
sweetie. No we're not. We're together now and that's not going to change. You,
dad and I love each other very much. But all couples have a fight now and then.
That's just the way it is. It'll pass. We'll be friends again soon. Just wait
and see."

"So, you'll tell him you're sorry?"
She asked.

I looked into her blue eyes and sighed. "I
guess I have to, don't I?"

"That's what our teacher tells us to do
when we're fighting. The one who says sorry first is the winner."

I laughed out loud. "I guess she's right.
At least she's the bigger person, right? The smart one."

"It's smart to say you're sorry,"
Julie said and finished her food.

I drank my wine thinking about what Peter had
said. Why had it infuriated me so much what he had said about Sune? Could it be
because he was right?

I shook my head and put the glass down. No it
was absurd.