The Winter War (19 page)

Danilo stopped the car and turned off the engine. Katriina didn't say anything.

‘This is my neighbourhood, Mrs Paul. I grew up here. And I still live nearby. My sister has a restaurant here. If you like, we could go in and have a look. So you could see how the local people live.'

The restaurant didn't resemble any place that Katriina had ever visited, but she felt as if she'd seen it in pictures, maybe in a travel brochure, or in a dream. It was small but packed with people of all ages: women in tight dresses, older men having a drink and young men who were already well on their way to becoming just like them. A waitress wound her way between the tables, and customers shouted their orders. The place smelled of beer, food, sweat and cigarettes. In one corner a small band was playing some kind of salsa music. People turned to look at Danilo and Katriina when they came in.

Danilo went over to the bar and shook hands with the bartender. They exchanged a few words, and he nodded in Katriina's direction. After a moment he came back with two beers, telling her ‘this is on the house'. He seemed happier than when he was driving, more self-confident, at home in his own daily milieu.

They sat at a table for a while without saying anything. Danilo looked around the room before fixing his eyes on two big-busted women wearing neon-coloured tops. They were standing near the jukebox in a corner of the room, watching the band. Danilo noticed that Katriina saw what he was looking at, but that didn't seem to faze him. Unperturbed, he continued to stare at the women.

‘So this is your sister's place?'

‘Yes,' he said. ‘She is in the kitchen. Working. She might come out in a little while.'

They each drank a beer as they waited for the food Danilo had ordered.

‘Do you have a lot of brothers and sisters?'

‘Five.'

He leaned across the table so she could hear him above all the noise.

A woman who had to be Danilo's sister came over and set plates of food in front of them. She looked like her brother and was about the same height, but twice as wide. She also had childish features but her face was round, which made her look older. She was probably Helen's age, in her thirties, or maybe closer to forty. Katriina ate some of the chicken, which tasted strongly of garlic, and the soup that was flavoured with ginger. She was already very full. Danilo ate as if he hadn't had a meal in a very long time. When he saw that she didn't intend to finish her chicken, he ate that too. After he was done, he excused himself and went out to the kitchen.

Katriina looked around the room. No one seemed to be paying much attention to her. The young women over in the corner were dancing, and two men at the bar had turned their chairs around and were trying to get their attention. There was a hot and sweaty atmosphere, voices came from all directions in a rising and falling cacophony.

When Danilo finally emerged from the back room, Katriina could hear him yelling, his words terse and staccato, exactly the way he normally talked, but angrier. Without understanding what he said, she could tell that he was shouting insults at the kitchen. He slammed his fist on the bar as he walked past. Then he turned around and yelled something else.

‘I am going to drive you home now, Mrs Paul. Now you have seen a little of the real Manila,' he said, sounding almost aggressive.

Katriina nodded, and they went back to the car. It had started to drizzle. As they drove away from the area, she realised she would have to make a real effort to stay awake on the way home.

They left the town behind, and the whole time Danilo kept his eyes fixed on the road, without saying a word. All Katriina wanted now was to get back to her room. She longed for the white sheets on her bed, wanting nothing more than to rest after the heavy meal and the loud music.

They were approaching the sea. Danilo was driving fast. Katriina didn't dare lean forward to look at the speedometer, but she guessed they must be going over 120 kilometres per hour.

It was just as they came over a small hill, in a curve with poor visibility, that she felt the thud. Not enough to stop the car, but strong enough to make Danilo react. A few seconds later he stomped on the brake and slowed down until they came to a halt. He turned off the engine.

A heavy silence settled over them.

‘What was that?'

Danilo didn't answer as he opened the car door and looked back. The only thing Katriina could see in front of them was the small section of road illuminated by the car's headlamps. On one side was the sea, on the other a darkness that could be a forest or a field; it was impossible to tell. Danilo didn't speak as he turned the key in the ignition. The engine coughed, then reluctantly started up again, and he backed up a few metres.

‘What do you think that was? An animal?' asked Katriina.

‘I do not know, Mrs Paul. We hit something.'

He backed up further. Twenty, fifty metres, and then parked the car on the verge.

‘I am just going to see what it was. Will you wait here?'

Katriina was now feeling nervous. Wait in the car? She didn't want to do that. She was in the middle of nowhere in a foreign metropolis, and she didn't know a soul. It was dark and anybody might drive past.

‘I'd rather come with you. Is that all right?'

‘Okay,' he said. She got out of the car and followed him through the beams of the headlamps, which lit up the rain.

Katriina thought about how she'd tell this story to Tuula once she got home. (‘And then we ended up in the middle of nowhere, and I mean really nowhere, and he could have been a rapist or a psychopath …') But her thoughts were interrupted when she saw Danilo stop. He was looking down at the ground as he lit a cigarette.

‘What is it?' she asked.

When she came up beside him, she saw what it was. They had run over a dog, medium-sized, with grey fur, or at least it looked grey in the dark. The body looked intact, but the snout had been crushed. The animal had been tossed into the air, and it was now lying on the other side of the road. Its tongue, ear and nose were covered in blood. A dead heap of flesh and fur.

‘What bad luck,' said Katriina, and Danilo glanced up at her. ‘But it must have happened fast, don't you think? I wonder if he belongs to anyone.'

Danilo shook his head and continued to smoke his cigarette.

They stood there for a moment, and Katriina thought about something she'd read regarding the functioning of consciousness. If you turned off the light so there was only darkness and silence, the brain still worked just as much as it did in daylight. The consciousness was always active, even in complete darkness. The closest you could come to extinguishing consciousness was by administering anaesthesia. That was a state resembling death.

‘I have a dog,' Katriina said now. The whole situation seemed so absurd, and she decided the only natural thing to do was to start up a light conversation.

‘Dogs are stupid animals,' replied Danilo. ‘Run right into the road. Trust everybody.'

Katriina felt a vague uneasiness, a slight nausea. The food she'd eaten was making her queasy. It occurred to her that no one knew where she was. She hadn't spoken to anyone in her family all week. It seemed unreal that only a few days ago she'd been in wintry Finland. She leaned down and took off her shoes because her feet were aching. The asphalt was still warm, but little streams of water were running along the road towards the culvert.

‘Should we move it somewhere else?' she asked.

‘Not much we can do,' he replied.

The dog didn't seem as repulsive when she looked at it now. She had a sudden urge to bend down to get a closer look. She knelt down and ran her hand over the animal's damp abdomen. It was still warm. She felt a slight movement, as if the dog was breathing.

‘I think it's alive,' she said. A shudder passed through her body.

Danilo leaned down to touch the dog.

‘What should we do?' asked Katriina, looking at the chauffeur.

When they were back in the car, neither of them spoke. Danilo pulled on to the road, and Katriina thought for a moment that he was driving back to the city, but all of a sudden he made a big U-turn, accelerated, and aimed straight for the dog's head. Katriina screamed, but Danilo said nothing.

Half an hour later he dropped her off outside the gate to the building where she was staying.

‘It's awfully late,' she said.

‘Yes. Sleep well, Mrs Paul. I am driving home to my son now.'

‘How old is your son?' she asked.

‘Five.'

‘So he must have gone to bed long ago.'

‘No. He is waiting for me. His mother works at the restaurant at night.'

‘Your son is at home alone?'

‘Yes.'

She thought of saying something, but he seemed to have read her mind.

‘He is fine. He is often alone when we are working.'

She tried to find something to say to conclude the conversation. ‘I have two grandchildren. Amanda is amazing. I miss her. I wish I could spend more time with my grandchildren. I also have a grandson named Lukas. Someday I'll take them travelling with me. Maybe even come here to the Philippines.'

‘That sounds good, Mrs Paul. Good night.'

twenty-one

ON THE DAY AFTER HIS
dinner with Laura, Max bought himself a new shirt and jacket, played tennis and then phoned Stefan to ask him about the breathing techniques he'd mentioned during the dinner party at the Keskinens' place before Christmas. Max was feeling very anxious. What if he took this leap with Laura? And what if he made a fool of himself? What if he failed to measure up to the demands of the day? He felt like a rusty old car, the kind that people drove only for nostalgic reasons, or because they hadn't noticed that these days there were significantly more beautiful, more streamlined and less fussy vehicles on the market.

‘I'm so happy you rang,' said Stefan in his gentle, almost feminine voice, which made Max regret having made the call.

Max didn't know whether he could manage being with a younger woman from a purely physical perspective. The mere thought was somehow paralysing. What if the sheer stress of it all made him impotent? He might not even have a chance, but he imagined pleasures that were greater than the intellectual triumphs he'd experienced in his career, which, if he were completely honest, had occurred much less frequently in the past few years.

‘I promise that Katriina will thank you afterwards. Come over and I'll take you through the basic exercises. Then you can practise on your own at home.'

‘Okay. But, Stefan, would you mind not saying anything to Katriina about this? I don't want her to know.'

‘Ah, so you want to surprise her in bed? Great.'

‘Well, something like that. How long do you think it takes … I mean, to master it?'

‘That's impossible to say. Two weeks, two months. It all depends on you and your attitude. It's ultimately more of a mental thing than physical. It has to do with learning to control your blood flow, relaxing, getting your sexual energy and aura moving.'

‘Is it hard to do?'

‘No, not at all. That's the whole point. It's supposed to be easy.'

Max took the bus out to Kottby, where Stefan and Gun-Maj lived. Fortunately, Gun-Maj wasn't at home. Max took off his jacket in the front hall and hung it on a hook that looked as if it was a souvenir from Africa. He couldn't really tell whether it was meant to be a clothes hook or a decoration, but Stefan didn't protest.

‘Are you planning to do yoga in those clothes?' he asked as they went into the kitchen.

‘Did I wear the wrong thing?'

Max had on a shirt and a pair of brown corduroy trousers. He now realised his attire might not be the best yoga outfit.

‘No worries. I've got clothes you can borrow.'

Max saw no option but to accept the offer. This was not a moment for vanity. Stefan told him to wait while he went to get the clothes.

‘Would you like some tea? Just put on the kettle,' he shouted from the bedroom as Max sat in the kitchen, looking around. The room was filled with plants, but was otherwise surprisingly minimalist. Max had expected a hippie-style flat filled with Indian ornaments. Instead, it was quite plain, with white-painted walls and lamps that emitted a kind of fluorescent light. Max was cold. The temperature had dropped during the week.

Stefan came back to the kitchen with the clothing. ‘This should do. You can change in the bathroom.'

He handed the clothes to Max and showed him the way.

In the bathroom, Max was confronted with a full-length mirror and a wash-basin made of dark imitation wood. He took off his trousers and shirt and draped them neatly over the edge of the tub.

What the hell are you doing? he thought as he looked at himself in the mirror. Max had generally been satisfied with his body, but now he saw it the way a thirty-year-old woman might see it: the drooping stomach, the baggy underpants that hid his hairy groin and shrunken penis. His chest sagged, and his body was slightly pear-shaped, especially when viewed from the side. He stood in front of the mirror and tensed his arm muscles as he sucked in his stomach, which instantly made him look stronger and more fit. He wished he'd done something about his belly when he was in his thirties, or even in his forties, but now it was too late. On the tennis court he'd seen men of his age who had six-pack abs, men with bodies like athletes, some of them even older than Max. It was a mystery to him how they'd managed to keep themselves so fit.

He looked at the clothes Stefan had given him. A grey T-shirt that was luckily big enough. That wasn't the problem. The trousers were made of a soft, white linen, but they were too short, so when he pulled them on, they ended just below his calves, and they also felt tight across his thighs.

‘Stefan?' he called. ‘These trousers are too small.'

‘Can I see?'

Max was startled to hear that Stefan was standing right outside the bathroom. The door was slightly ajar. Had he been there the whole time? Max opened the door.

‘They're fine. Next time you can bring your own clothes.'

Max sighed. Why on earth had he decided to come here? They went into the living room, where Stefan had pushed aside several armchairs and spread two yoga mats on the floor.

‘Normally I'd recommend a proper yoga room. But this will do for today. The point is that you should be able to do this anywhere.'

Stefan sat down on a mat, and Max followed suit.

‘Okay. First we're going to do some simple, basic exercises so you'll get a feeling for things.'

They did that for about fifteen minutes. It was harder and more strenuous than Max had anticipated.

‘So the goal is for you to learn to control your blood flow. Sex has a lot to do with being relaxed. For instance, if you're stressed, you're not going to enjoy sex as much. If the body isn't sufficiently relaxed, the blood collects in the middle of the body instead of in the arms and legs. Relaxation automatically leads to greater arousal, since the arteries carrying blood to the genitals open up, and the blood is pumped directly into the penis.'

Max had always found it comical when anyone talked about ‘the penis' in such a clinical way. He tried not to laugh because Stefan was taking the whole thing so seriously.

‘In women, relaxation causes greater sensitivity around the clitoris, and it makes them wetter.'

Max assumed that Stefan had discussed these things many times, and that was why he could speak with such calm authority. He tried to relax, but couldn't help thinking that he'd been incredibly indiscreet. What if Stefan should mention this session to someone?

‘Where's Gun-Maj?' asked Max.

‘She's out of town. At a conference in Östersund in Sweden. She won't be back until Sunday.'

Max didn't ask any more questions as he tried to imitate what Stefan was doing. It was difficult, not only because his body was going numb, but also because the linen trousers were cutting uncomfortably into his crotch.

‘Now we're going to do a position called the chair pose. Put your arms at your sides, like this.' He showed Max how to place his arms. ‘And lift your chest up as you squeeze your thighs together and hold your arms straight, raising them over your head and pointing your fingers in the air.'

Max did his best. He was surprised how good it felt, even though it was so awkward that he couldn't hold the position for more than thirty seconds.

‘Remember that this is supposed to feel good. If it's uncomfortable, then you're not doing it right,' said Stefan. ‘Does it feel good?'

‘It's fine,' said Max.

They practised a few more times. Then Stefan demonstrated a series of poses: the cobra, cat, camel, the standing fan. There were so many that Max couldn't remember them all.

After a while Stefan went to the kitchen to get them some water. Max was stretched out on the floor, feeling how his whole body ached, but it wasn't entirely unpleasant.

Stefan came back and handed Max a glass of water.

‘When it comes to sex,' he said, drinking some water, ‘there are some areas that men, especially those of us of a certain age, need to pay attention to. Number one is breathing. If you feel like you're about to lose your mojo, there's a lot you can do by breathing properly.'

‘Mojo?'

‘Yeah. You know. If it gets limp. If you notice that happening, you can try to breathe rhythmically with your partner. It might also help to try to increase the blood flow to the penis by tensing and releasing the abdomen.'

‘Got it.'

‘Another problem that men have, especially younger men, is premature ejaculation. This is one of the most important things that yoga can help with. Some people say that you should reach orgasm only about every hundred times you have sex. Touching should be enough. It can be just as powerful as a regular ejaculation.'

Max didn't reply. What was he supposed to say?

‘But if you ask me, I don't really believe in that theory. Have you tried going around for several weeks without getting any release? I've tried it, and it doesn't work. You end up having wet dreams. But there
is
something to that theory. When you feel yourself about to come too soon, you can try to force the energy back into your body. In the best case scenario, you'll have a physical orgasm that is closer to what a woman experiences – in other words, your whole body will come. That's very rewarding, let me tell you. I wish I'd known about that when I was young. On the other hand, it's lucky that this is a secret only old guys like us happen to know. We need to have some way to compete, don't you think? And that's our endurance level.'

Max nodded. ‘So how are we supposed to be able to do that?'

He couldn't believe he'd actually asked that question. Was it even true? Or was it an illusion caused by lots of yoga exercises?

‘It takes a little practice. And it's not something I can teach you. I mean, you have to practise at home. Preferably with Katriina, but you can also try it on your own. You can masturbate if you like, and right before you come, try to slow down and focus on gathering all the energy inside your body instead.'

Max nodded. ‘I'll give it a try.'

He couldn't actually picture himself doing that. This whole session was a mistake, but at least it was over now, and he could go back home.

‘So, are we done for today?'

‘Yes, I suppose we are. If you get confused and can't remember these poses, there are some excellent instruction videos on YouTube. Just try Googling “ustasha yoga” and you'll find lots of the most common poses.'

‘Could you write that down for me?'

‘Sure.'

In the sex study that Max had done in the nineties, the missionary position was still by far the most common among Finnish couples. Clearly a lot had happened since then. Maybe it was time to do a new study.

Stefan got up to write everything down for Max on a scrap of paper. Then Max went to the bathroom to change his clothes. He folded the clothing he'd borrowed and gave them back to Stefan, who smiled with his tanned, leathery face – the way only a man who has frequent and satisfying sex can smile.

‘I'm glad you came over. I have to admit I didn't think you had it in you.'

‘It's good to try everything, don't you think so?'

‘I totally agree.'

‘Do I owe you anything for the session?'

‘Absolutely not. Just consider it a friend helping out another friend. Say hi to Katriina.'

Max thanked him and went out into the winter darkness. He got out his mobile phone and rang Laura.

‘Hi, Max. I was just thinking about you.'

That was more than he'd hoped. She was thinking about him. Max felt a new sense of confidence, as if he definitely could do this.

‘Hi. Listen, I was just wondering about something. Feel free to say no. But would you like to come with me to Österbotten? We could do a little work over there.'

‘When?'

‘Well … I was thinking we could take the bus in the morning. If that's not too short notice, of course. I need to visit my mother. But we have a cottage we could use before we head back home. Maybe we could get some work done.'

‘That sounds like fun. If you like, we could drive my father's car. I can borrow it.'

‘I don't have a driving licence.'

‘You don't?'

‘No. You know … protecting the environment, et cetera.'

‘That's no problem. I can drive.'