The Birds (23 page)

But it won’t be my decision.

But it’s difficult, he thought.

When the oars were finished and shining white, he went to bed. Now that everything was ready, a strange feeling crept over him. Only one thing left to do.

But not tomorrow, he thought.

Why not? a voice seemed to ask, impatient and persistent.

Well, it’s just the way things are, he answered. And that would have to do.

He was lying on his bench, looking up at the window. A faint light came in from the night outside.

Hege and Jørgen hadn’t been about when he came in in the evening, but he had heard subdued voices coming from the attic. Happy voices most likely – saying the kind of things he longed so much to hear. But talking about him as well, no doubt, and not so happy then – they must feel he was a terrible burden, after all.

But now the oars are ready, so I’ll soon know what’s to happen.

He brushed the thought aside, didn’t want to face it. A moment later he said to himself: I suppose it’s no different from facing up to a thunderstorm.

Above him the voices were still murmuring away. There was a peal of laughter, too, which was stopped as abruptly as a marble rolling across the floor. So that was how Hege could laugh when she was happy. Hadn’t he known this before?

But now they were probably talking about him again. There was no more laughter.

“Gosh, listen to that!” he said suddenly, in a loud and happy voice, sitting up on the bench.

A gust of wind outside.

A sudden autumn wind.

The house moaned softly as the wind penetrated its ramshackle old walls, and a sigh from afar ran through the trees; the waves would be getting up on the lake.

Wonderful.

He relaxed, filled with a sense of peace.

Now it’s bound to be windy tomorrow. And that means I won’t be able to do anything. It’s got to be calm when I row out. Now I can sleep.

He fell asleep at once; it had been a tense and tiring day.

A CALM DAY, no wind on the water – these were the only conditions he’d made. The lake must be like a mirror when he started his test, or it wouldn’t count. Then it remained to be seen whether the wind would come.

It was an obvious condition, he thought.

The wind kept up for days on end.

The oars were ready and so was the boat – and Mattis himself got up every morning with an uneasy, thumping heart: Was the lake smooth?

But every morning there was a wind. The tightness in his chest relaxed when he saw it.

One more day, he thought. And no one knows! Isn’t it strange.

A little later he suddenly thought: That’s the way it is with everything.

He ambled about. Jørgen made no further reference to the ferrying, nor did he ask Mattis to work in the forest.

The fiery red toadstools were still everywhere, but they didn’t frighten Mattis now. They couldn’t change anything.

And no one knows anything. Hege and Jørgen see a new pair of oars that are much too big, and don’t realize a thing. They just think I can’t make them any smaller.

Am I really clever now?

It’s not a day too soon, he thought.

Another morning dawned. He was trying to brace himself against the shock of hearing Hege say to Jørgen out in the kitchen: “The lake’s like a mirror today.”

But it was likely to be a nasty moment, when it finally came.

He thought of other ways in which she might say it: “Not a breath of wind today,” she could well say. “So quiet there must be some reason for it,” she might say that, too.

Hege didn’t say any of these things. No doubt she had more important matters to discuss with Jørgen than the weather. The weather didn’t make much difference to either of them. Jørgen felled trees, come rain, come shine.

So the lake maybe as calm as a mill pond, even though Hege hasn’t said anything, he thought as he lay on his bench. And when he got up his body felt twice its normal weight. He had to go out and see.

Thank God—

Still windy, the lake was covered with dark blue waves beneath a clear sky. It was strange looking at it, now it meant too much. Another day’s delay.

While he was eating he noticed that Hege was watching him. He lost his appetite at once and went out. Does it show, after all? He got out some tools, reappeared in the doorway, and said he was going down to mend the boat.

“That’s right, you go and mend the boat,” said Hege, pleased. “Then I’ll know where you are.”

“Yes, then you can sit by the window keeping an eye on me,” said Mattis provokingly.

“Why should I?”

“Well, don’t you?”

He went off, fumbled around and patched up the boat a bit. At the same time he discovered a really rotten piece on the bottom, underneath the loose planks he was treading on. It wouldn’t be difficult to send his foot crashing through it, if he gave it a really heavy kick. And he certainly felt he had enough strength at the moment, more than enough.

Flat stones are for sitting on, he mumbled as he worked. It was well put, but the girl hadn’t appreciated it. Oh well, is doesn’t bother me, nothing like that does.

He sat down beside the boat and turned his face toward the wind on the lake.

Blow, wind! was his secret wish.

There were far too many things to think about.

A stone over every eye, he said for no particular reason.

Anna and Inger and everything, he said.

Every tree where birds have been sitting, he said.

Every path where my sister Hege’s been walking.

But it was too much for him, he didn’t dare mention anything more.

The boat smelled of tar as usual, and of rotten planks warmed by the sun. Mattis looked at the lake; the wind was digging deep furrows on the surface, waves were gurgling at his feet.

But soon it was bound to be calm. A wind can never last. A calm can never last either. Me and the woodcock, sort of, he said disjointedly.

WHEN NOTHING MORE could be done to the boat, he went back up to Hege.

“Is the boat all ready for ferrying now?” she asked, urging him on as Jørgen had done.

“Yes, everything’s ready now. Tomorrow I’m going to begin ferrying like I did before,” said Mattis.

He didn’t look at his sister.

“Tomorrow? Yes, of course,” said Hege decisively. “Just the thing, Mattis.”

Down on the shore he’d been thinking out what to say. And the conversation was going just the way he wanted.

“That is, if the wind isn’t too strong,” he went on. “But the boat’s completely rotten, so I don’t dare row out when it’s windy anymore. You could easily put your foot through the bottom, if you put it in the wrong place.”

It was hard to say this in a casual tone, but he manages somehow. Hege forgot her own concerns for a moment, and thought only of her brother’s safety. She said: “Then surely it’s dangerous in calm weather, too, isn’t it? In which case I don’t think you should be allowed to use it.”

Mattis snorted.

“I know the boat alright.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to sink to the bottom, you know.”

“Oh, nonsense.”

Inwardly he was in a state of turmoil as he carried out this stage of his plan. But everything worked satisfactorily, he said the right things, the things he realized it was safe to say, and he knew exactly what these were. Isn’t it odd that you only become clever when it’s too late? he thought.

“When it’s calm I can stay out on the lake all day, for that matter,” he said. “You don’t need to worry, Hege, I know what I can and can’t do. And where to put my foot and where not to put it.”

“Well, alright then, but just you be careful,” said Hege, and hurried off. But a moment later she came back and said: “I think I’ll get Jørgen to decide after all—whether the boat’s dangerous or not. Jørgen understands these things. If he says the boat’s no good, you won’t use it anymore.”

“Jørgen!” Mattis exclaimed.

This was one thing Jørgen must be kept out of, a moment that had nothing whatever to do with him. Mattis burst out wildly: “I can manage without Jørgen! Everything! If you bring Jørgen into it, I’ll do something dreadful!”

She stepped back.

“But Mattis—”

“Don’t you dare get Jørgen! I’ll tell him a thing or two if you do!”

“Now stop it,” said Hege. “You don’t need to tell Jørgen anything. Jørgen’s a good man, and he’s done you no harm.”

But Mattis found it hard to stop: “It depends on the weather now!” he said frantically.

“The weather?”

“Yes, do you hear? The wind and the weather. So you suppose I haven’t been thinking?”

The word they normally avoided for Mattis’s sake – and here he was using it himself, carefully and deliberately.

Hege gave way a little.

“I’m sure you’ve been thinking about a lot of things,” she said. “We’ve all got a lot to think about, after what’s happened.”

“After what’s happened” – this was the only thing she seemed aware of. He stood in front of her, sad and dejected. She wasn’t the same. She was a part of Jørgen. Half Jørgen.

“How could you become like this?” he asked.

“How do you mean?”

“Like—like you are, of course! I can hardly recognize you, the way you are now. What’s the matter with you?”

“The matter with me? Well, you know. I’ve told you. I’m happy.”

The certainty of it washed through her like a wave.

“And once I hugged you for it, Mattis, don’t you remember?”

It was as if Jørgen was standing beside her as she spoke, but in
spite of this her words brought Mattis’s violent outburst to an end. He could only say calmly: “Go on up to Jørgen, then.”

Hege didn’t look surprised.

“That’s just where I’m going,” she said, and went.

Mattis was left sitting there. Outside he heard the friendly wind. Twilight fell. He began looking around in a special way. Didn’t want to, but he couldn’t help it. Up in the attic he could hear the endless murmur of Hege’s and Jørgen’s voices.

Now everything’s ready, he thought. I managed to tell her about the boat rather well. Now let it blow or be calm, there’s nothing more I can do.

After his sharp struggle with Hege and all the thinking he’d done that day he felt ready to drop, and he crawled into bed earlier than usual.

Up in the attic the talking had stopped – to Mattis’s delight and sorrow. Outside, the wind was blowing and proclaiming its presence in a hundred different ways, affirming that it would blow tomorrow as well.

BUT NOW THE
wind has stopped
.

Mattis woke up later the same night, and realized this almost before he was actually awake. The wind has stopped, hadn’t told the truth. No rustle in the trees, no whisper. Mattis’s first thought was: Not at night! I never said I was going to try at night.

Tomorrow morning it might be windy again, even if it’s stopped now. The wind often dies down at night.

Bright moonlight shone through the window. A big new moon had appeared since the night he’d been rowing.

Once more he told himself that the wind dies down at night. But it didn’t work; the wind had stopped in a different way from before. Nonsense! How could you tell, lying in bed asleep?

There wasn’t a sound in the house.

Is Hege in her own room? That’s none of my business, he told himself sternly. Surely it’s enough for me that the wind’s stopped.

He couldn’t bear to go on lying there like this for long, he had to go out and have a look. He dressed quietly, in a hushed and silent house. Went.

The moonlight formed its usual streak across the water. And on the lake not a breath of air stirred. The lake was much broader than it had ever been before – Mattis looked at it spellbound.

He saw the forest too, and the grassland, and the stream with
plants along its banks. Just to be able to drink from a stream, he suddenly thought.

He walked through the dew down to the little hollow where the stream ran. It was a tiny stream and said nothing to Mattis, but all the same there was a little pool in it.

Mattis didn’t want to go down to the pool, didn’t want to see his face in it, it felt so stiff and unnatural, and he was sure he’d be able to see it in the bright moonlight.

As he looked at the motionless lake, a clear voice inside him asked: How do you want things to turn out? It’s not at all certain what’ll happen in the boat, no one can tell.

He didn’t want to think about it. Couldn’t, even. With his face turned upward, as if he was addressing the bright moon itself, he said in loud and stern tones: “It has nothing to do with me anymore, it’s in the hands of others. I’ve placed the whole thing in the hands of others.”

These were his words to the moon. Then he stumbled across the clearing, over to the fence and the humps, and toward much that was strange and inexpressible, just as it had always been. All my life, he thought suddenly, but pushed that aside, too. Keep off things like that!

Still, he sat down on one of the humps. There were a lot of them, and they all looked kind and friendly, inviting him to stay there for a while. In the full light of the moon he seemed to become a lifeless
being alongside his own shadow, part of a secret game the moon and shadows were playing.

Before long he started shivering with cold, walked across the clearing, and went in. Crawled back to bed. Sleep was impossible.

The depths, he thought. This was where his restless thoughts had finally led him. But there are so many: Weedy depths, he thought. Sandy depths. Slime. Stony depths. Rocks and boulders. Depths no one has dreamed of.

But then there’s this other thing, too, he thought confusedly, going as far as he dared. Then you rise up again through all the depths.

Is that where I’m going to end? he asked dreamily, clinging to the thought.

Yes, that’s where I’m going, he repeated.

He couldn’t sleep. The wind stood still.

MATTIS MUST HAVE dropped off to sleep after all sometime toward dawn. He hadn’t noticed Hege walking past him on her way out to the kitchen. Hadn’t even noticed Jørgen. They were both in the kitchen when Mattis woke up. He heard the clattering of cups – and then something that jolted him right out of his sleep: “It’s so quiet today, it’s almost—”