First Cycle - Spring Page 8

  To this Viktor replied that a hummingbird had eaten the honey, an answer that caused Helena to roll her eyes and say, “Stop always contradicting me!”

  Viktor decided that he would no longer mention Cristobal and that he had to watch the hummingbird’s eating habits in the future.

  His mother stood in her open robe with a knee-length nightgown underneath. Her hair was quite dishevelled from sleep and so she was not a very pretty sight, those unadorned lips and the bags under her eyes producing a furie-like appearance. All in all she might not have been Cristobal’s Catherine Zeta-Jones, but Viktor noticed for the first time that his mother was beautiful. And that the more she shouted, the more beautiful she became.

  So he said “Fuck the honey!” Then he added, “The stupid jar can go fuck itself!” – A phrase he’d learned from Gerald van den Berg. He’d understood that it was a phrase that could summarise the anger of an adult, especially when things were against them.

  Helena calmed down abruptly. She stood there petrified, staring at him with wide-eyes. Then she took two huge steps with her huge legs toward to him, knelt down in front of him till her nose touched his and he had to squint to look at her. She took his ear between her thumb and forefinger, pinching firmly and pulled him even closer till their two noses were crushed and she whispered, “If I ever hear something like that from you again then I’ll put you under my big sewing machine and sew those lips tight shut. Do you understand me?” She answered her own question by forcing his head up and down in a nod.

  “What’s going to happen if you say something like that again?” She asked in a whisper.

  “You’re going to sew my lips together with a sewing machine,” Viktor whispered back.

  Then she let go of him and said with the most normal voice in the world: “You’d better get ready, you’re late for school.”

  Viktor went with a red ear to school and decided that some of the words in his vocabulary he’d better keep hidden till he was old enough to get the bus by himself.

  Megaspore

  At the end of the following week, Viktor woke up very early in the morning, quickly brushed his teeth, made his bed and then waited for his mother dressed in his Bruce Wayne tuxedo.

  When she came in to wake him he greeted her with a happy grin and she laughed and hugged him. “Yes, my dear, today is your birthday. Congratulations!”

  It was Saturday, and Viktor could not imagine anything more beautiful than to be eight-years old on a Saturday.

  “Come on then, breakfast first, Viktor,” she said as she tied his tie. “And don’t you dare get that suit dirty. Now, who are we? Are you James Bond again?”

  “No. Bruce Wayne,” Viktor replied.

  She made him strawberry pancakes and allowed him to put as much jam on them as he wished. As he ate, she put his birthday cassette on which featured an infinite loop of a men and women’s choir singing “Happy Birthday” upon a background of laughing children’s voices and fanfare. This cassette, which was older than Viktor himself, was such a vital part of his birthday celebrations that he felt he simply couldn’t be a year older without it. In fact, he was sure that it would accompany him throughout his life, marking each and every passing year with the same repeated singing. After all, for Viktor, he felt he was only a year old at the exact moment the tape stopped.

  After he had eaten – Helena also allowed him to lick the plate clean, which normally he was never allowed to even consider – he looked at her expectantly.

  She laughed, reading his desire instantly. “No Viktor, only this afternoon.”

  Although he also had a celebration planned for Monday in school, today was to be his adult birthday. As such there was a party was planned for the afternoon. His father, grandfather Gideon, Gerald van den Berg, Marco, Emilia and the staff from the studio would celebrate with him. Additionally, at the special request of Viktor, the cleaning lady from Bresolino Views, Rocco, Samuel and Linda were also invited.

  After breakfast, the women came up from the studio to help Helena clean the big house as Oded was given a shopping list and had to take Viktor along.

  In the beverage store Oded drove him around in the big cart. Apart from the usual boring drinks, Viktor was allowed to choose his own drink and so Oded heaved a whole box of ‘Crazy Cherry Fizzo’ into the cart.

  No one knew where Oded came from, nor what he had done before he arrived in Hedera Helix. In fact it was as if he had just appeared one day four years ago when, at the door to the studio, he’d asked Helena if she had any work for him. She had asked him if he could sew, and when he said no and she was about to turn around and walk away, he pleaded with her: “I’m desperate, I need the money! I have a driving license, I can clean, cook, make coffee. I’m fast and reliable and able to lift heavy boxes. Please!”

  At the time Oded had been only 17 years old and, with his blond hair and blue eyes and clumsy, scrawny figure, he had looked so lost and desperate that Helena’s resolve had softened immediately and she’d hired him on the condition that he had to first complete a three month unpaid trial period. He had been allowed to live in the attic and eat with the studio staff and, when he had passed the test of time and convinced Helena with his diligence, overflowing energy and warmth, she had asked him a to stay on as a dogsbody: running errands collecting materials, keeping the studio clean and being a janitor, chauffeur and babysitter.

  From that point on the rumours, of course, began to circulate. According to various guesses based on his strange accent and Nordic appearance, people believed he came from either Norway or Sweden and was certainly one, if not all, of the following: on the run for murder; sought by Interpol for robbery; or Helena’s prodigal son from another marriage. Everyone expected that he would one day set fire to the studio, kidnap the children and vanish. Of course, none of this gossip was true, but that didn’t stop the slow evolution of the rumours into more stoic beliefs that he was either a terrorist, spy, agent, psycho killer, Helena’s lover or a crazed rapist.

  The truth was that before Oded planted himself in the Aquifolium Street and became a permanent member of the small population of Hedera Helix, he was a globetrotter. His appearance and the manner of his speech arose from the fact that he came from Åland, the autonomous Finnish archipelago in the Baltic Sea between Finland and Sweden. When he was 14, he’d run away from home due to the monotony of life on those 6757 islands and, along with a few friends, they had set off on a world tour. After falling ill with cholera in Papua New Guinea, spending a few days in jail in South Africa, and blacking out in Ecuador, they had all eventually gone their own separate ways. Two of his comrades returned to Åland, one went on the road in the U.S., and Oded continued his wandering. After hitching a few boat rides, riding a few trains, wandering for a few weeks and thumbing down a few trips, he’d randomly reached Hedera Helix. When his friends had departed Oded had begun to feel travel weariness sink in and as such he’d actually been looking for a place to settle down, somewhere he could get a job and earn a bit of money. All of this had then landed him one day in the Reconquista. Rocco had suspiciously and grumpily served him a slice of apple pie with Russian beer before the foul-mouthed bartender had gone out on the road to yell at someone angrily. The tailor studio two doors down had just received a large shipment of bolts of cloth and as such a big truck was blocking the whole road. Oded had taken his bottle of beer outside to have a look at the source of the noise. A few little kids had been running around as three tiny Asian women and two small Arab-looking men tried to drag the large bolts of cloth into the studio. The whole action was being monitored by a very large, very beautiful and very severe-looking woman who stood with hands on hips, her hair tied strictly to the back of her head, making sure that none of the cloth so much as brushed the ground. On impulse Oded had run to the truck, grabbed a roll of fabric and, before anyone could protest, began carrying it into the tailor shop. He then repeated the process only this time relieving a thin, small woman of a particularly heavy box that almost w
ent tumbling to the ground when he nearly tripped over a small, dark-haired boy who stared wide-eyed at him before darting to grasp hold of the severe woman’s leg, all the while not taking his eyes off Oded. It was after this ordeal, when all the cloth had been carefully taken inside, much of it by Oded, that the teenage traveler had begged Helena for a job.

  On that day, on that glorious Saturday when a little boy was to turn eight, the whole world seemed to sparkle and shine. They stowed the crates in the car and then drove to a large supermarket in the commercial area. Though out of the way, it had all the things they would need for the party that afternoon and the one that was approaching on Monday, as such Oded had his standing purchase instructions from Helena on a shopping list, but Viktor had his own ideas about what food he wanted to have on birthday. Consumed therefore by dilemma, the two of them ended up being stuck in the candy department for two and a half hours as each piece was discussed in detail. Both Oded and Viktor had their own advantages and disadvantages when it came to discussions: Oded was patient, loved children and loved to debate; Viktor was very well behaved and loved to negotiate. Even so, two and a half hours was proving a bit too long even for the patient Oded and, having looked at his watch and noted that he was running late, he had begun to fear Helena’s ire.

  Viktor wanted Yummi Teddies, Trolli Spaghettini, Blue Snake Skins, Spiderman lollipops, Sherbet Powder Rods and Atomic Flavor Monster Miracle Balls. As all Oded had on his list was ‘A small box chocolate bars’ and ‘a small box lollies’, he was justifiably hard to persuade. Viktor, however, was quite insistent and so, when he knew that there was going to be no easy way to convince Oded, he turned to the oldest trick in the book, namely adopting the meek disappointment of a broken child and letting a few tears well in his eyes as he whined: “Ok, then I do not want anything any more, let’s go.”

  From the corner of his eye he saw Oded lean his head against a shelf and close his eyes. Oded was in a real dilemma. He did not want to mess with Helena, especially not today of all days, yet nor did he want to disappoint Viktor on his birthday. On top of it all, it was almost noon, they were really late, and the customer service reps were always passing the aisle looking at them suspiciously.

  “Listen, Viktor,” Oded said finally. “I’ll buy you everything.”

  Viktor looked up expectantly.

  “I’ll buy you anything you want, but then I have to leave because your mother will fire me. You know her, you know that if you don’t do what she wants, then she turns on you. So how about we make a deal, I’ll buy you everything, but then you have to help me pack as soon as we get home so I can disappear immediately, especially before your mother kills me. Ok?”

  Viktor stared at him.

  “I’ve got to pop to the bread department over there and get the baguettes. I’ll leave the cart here and so you pack everything that you want into it. But hurry up, we’re late enough as it is,” Oded said before going to get the bread.

  When he came back there was only a small box Spiderman lollies and a small box of Atomic Flavour Monster Miracle Balls in the cart. A bashful Viktor stood nearby.

  “What, is that all?” Said Oded.

  Viktor nodded furiously and pushed the large cumbersome shopping cart away from the candy department.

  Viktor detested change, and if Oded were to go, then that would be a vast change, one in which everything would be confused. Who would drive him to school? Who would pick him up? Who would drive the car and who would help his mother in the studio? Viktor could not justify such a big change and furthermore didn’t want to be riddled with guilt should anything bad happen. On top of it all he liked Oded, and he knew that his mother liked him too. In fact even his father liked him, and he knew that Hala and Gem and the others also liked him and Oded – unlike the other adults – could play and was funny. Viktor, therefore, weighing all this up against his desire for candy, decided that sacrificing Oded just wasn’t worth it.

  Having said all that, Viktor was still angry because he had lost. It was only a slight anger though, as his defeat was tempered somewhat by the box of Yummi Teddies he had not only sneaked into the cart, but that went through the check-out without even so much as a raised eyebrow from Oded. This small victory was further enhanced when, upon reaching home, the teddies were unpacked without any realization from Oded nor his mother.

  Oded, however, found himself requiring a cigarette to calm his nerves once all had been unloaded into Helena’s kitchen, and as such ducked behind a tree in the backyard. The incident at the supermarket had gotten to him. The fact that Viktor, the son of the boss, renounced his heartfelt wishes for him: that he would never have thought of. Of course, he most likely would not have been fired if they’d returned with a basket full of candy, suffering instead only from a severe telling off. But still for Oded, who had a sentimental streak, the fact that Viktor had given up his heart’s desire for no other reason than the fact that he liked him; that in itself was too much for him. Especially when compounded with the fact that, for the first time in years, it gave Oded the feeling of belonging to a family. This incident strengthened his loyalty to Viktor immeasurably.

  None of this even reached Viktor of course, as all the excitement concerning the adult party, his birthday, and the turning of eight years old relegated the incident in the supermarket to a place far beyond care. Viktor, should he have thought about it, no doubt would never have envisioned the scene that was developing outside under the dying whirl of Oded’s cigarette smoke and the partial shade of the tree he was hidden behind. Oded, with the tree acting as witness, swore solidarity, chivalry and undying loyalty to the Abies family. Perhaps it would be prudent here to mention that Oded was a great lover of the Middle Ages, so much so in fact that he always used his vacation time to go to Salix Alba and attend the annual medieval market. Camping among the other recreationists, he wore strange clothes (Helena had made him a Houppelande and a felt hat with pheasant feather), spoke to the others in a strangely twisting language, paid with thalers, and spent most of his time laughing heartily with brotherhoods and sororities. Taking cue from these role playing affairs, he thus wholeheartedly engaged in his new found role of knight and protector to his adopted family and their little prince. Furthermore, that afternoon he donned his Houppelande and plumed hat, a fact that no one even noticed in the presence of the two employees from Bahrain who wore their dishdashas, the women from the Philippines who wore colorful dresses, Viktor running around as Darth Maul, Hala as Minny Mouse and Gem as a Power Ranger.

  While Oded was swearing semper fidelis in the backyard, Viktor was helping his mother in the kitchen. They were making something that, truth be told, Viktor had no idea about but, seeing as it was his birthday, he was sure would be fantastic. First he was required to wash his hands, then sit down, put on an apron, and reduce three packets of biscuits and two pie crusts to crumbs. It was fun. Viktor put the biscuits in the palm of his hand and made a fist, all while he roared and hissed. He imagined that he was Godzilla, and as such that he was stumping through the streets crushing cars and anything else that got in his way.

  Once there was a pile of crumbled pastry before him, he had to beat egg yolks until they were foamy. Once more using his imagination, he envisioned that the mixer was a drill and that he had just found a vein of molten gold. Once that task was complete, the whole affair was mixed together and turned into dough. Viktor had to wash his hands again before he was able to knead the whole mixture together. He took dough in one hand and, clenching it into a fist, watched as worm-like dough oozed through his fingers. That the point of this whole action was not apparent did not matter, all that mattered was that it was birthday and he had a premonition that this porridge had something to do with that special day. In the midst of such a belief, he cared not when his mother generously poured rum into the mixture and he was required to shape the dough into small balls before rolling them in shredded coconut and pressing into each a little, candied cherry. The end result was indeed pretty, but
reeked of rum and coconut. Viktor did not like rum nor coconut but, as he was now a big boy and eight years old, he thought it was perhaps about time he began to like rum.

  “Viktor, this is not for you,” his mother cried as he tried one. Viktor, grateful for this message but thinking it came a bit too late, was pleased nonetheless as he was further excused from forcing himself to like the foul tasting rum balls.

  Hamid, the tailor from Bahrain, was summoned in order to extend the dining table, change a bulb in the living room lamp and take the presents out of the kitchen to hide them under the now elongated living room table.

  While Viktor was sent to have a bath, Helena made cheese skewers and spread a feta and tapenade mix onto half-cut baguettes. Oded, meanwhile, was sent to Rocco’s in order to pick up the apple pie and Viktor was relishing his new age by attempting to wash his hair himself. Back in the kitchen, Helena took the chocolate cake out of the oven, covered it with chocolate glaze and put eight candles on it, then had to abandon everything to run to the bathroom and rescue a crying Viktor (his attempts to shampoo his hair had ended with most of it going in his eyes and striking him with the fear that, at only eight, he was to be forever blind). Tackling the problem head on, Helena took over the washing of his hair before sending him to his room to finish getting ready himself. As it was 2 o’clock and the guests were due to arrive at 4, she still had a multitude to do and so, sitting at the sewing machine, she exhaled and tried her best to relax.

  The first guest to arrive was Rocco. By then Helena had put on a summer dress and some make-up, doing her hair in a high, open braid rather than the tight bun she favoured. This was all topped off by a generous perfume cloud. Rocco wanted to flee back to his bar when he saw that he was the first guest, but Helena ordered him to come in and directed him to the sofa. Rocco, as fearful of Helena as anyone else, did as he was told and, dressed as he was in his best suit, put up with both Helena’s disapproving glances at his short hems and her insistence, which came every time he saw her, that the hems could easily be extended in her capable hands. All of this was done while she made coffee, filled it in thermoses and reprimanded Rocco for not bringing along his mother. Although Rocco was three years older than Helena, he felt reduced in her presence to nothing more than a little boy. As such he soon got up and went next door to the Reconquista in order to grudgingly force his surprised mother to come along. He had left both his guitar and the wrapped gift for Viktor in the living room as he went and the birthday boy, dressed and scrubbed, sat on the sofa and stared at the package, kept from opening it only by the knowledge that his mother’s eyes were upon him from the kitchen.