And then it’s over, the shots from the first floor fall silent, and you’re still lying stretched out on the deck chair. The sun has wandered around the corner and covers your legs like a blanket of light. It feels as if your batteries are being charged. From a distance you think you can hear your father. He talks to you, and although you don’t understand a word, it’s a good feeling that he’s there. You listen, drift off, and feel through the woodwork of the terrace the vibration of footsteps coming toward you.

If it is my father, I’ll ask him if he forgives me.

“Taja?”

You can’t answer, you lie there and can’t even open your eyes. You can’t sleep now, look up.

You look up.

Nessi is standing in the doorway, a hand over her mouth in fright, the other a fist that doesn’t know what to do.

Typical Nessi, you think and attempt a smile. It doesn’t work, your mouth is too tired for a smile. Nessi steps outside, she’s so quick, a moment ago she was still standing in the door and now she’s crouching down beside you. You sigh and make a sound like a baby waking up.

“I’m okay,” you say and can’t see what Nessi sees—the dark puddle spreading under your chair and drenching the dry wood.

“You’re bleeding.”

“I’m okay, Nessi, it feels … good.”

“That can’t feel good. You’ve lost a ton of blood.”

She lays her hand on your forehead. Clammy and wet. You’re in shock, your body’s slowly running down, the system’s saying goodbye. Nessi grips your arm.

“You’ve got to stand up, we’ll get you to a hospital.”

“Nessi, don’t!”

A firmness in your tone startles Nessi.

“I’m staying here.”

“But—”

“There’s no but. I’m staying here. It’s fine. Really.”

“But, sweetie—”

Nessi starts crying. You’re finding it difficult to keep her in focus. Your eyes flicker like reflections of light on the water, now bright, now dark, you could just go to sleep like that with the sun covering you slowly, and Nessi by your side. Her tears do you good. She’s grieving over me. You want to tell her to grab another deck chair and—

“Taja, do you hear me?”

She shakes your shoulder, your head slips to one side, your cheek touches her hand.

Peace.

“… exactly did he hit you?”

“What?”

Nessi touches your injury, you cry out, Nessi pulls her hand away as if she’d burnt herself, her fingers are red. You look at each other, and there’s suddenly a terrifying clarity in your eyes, that stops Nessi crying for a moment.

“I can’t leave you behind, Taja, please, I can’t do it.”

“Nessi, I’m going to jail, you know that.”

“But if no one knows that you—”

“I’m going to jail whether anyone knows or not. My father is dead and I’m going to jail. Can you imagine that? Me and jail?”

“You’re underage.”

“My uncle will see to it that I’m punished. Or else he’ll kill me himself. I’d rather stay here.”

“But—”

“It’s okay, really. I’m glad to be here.”

“But you’re bleeding to death.”

“It’s just a scratch, Nessi. It looks worse than it is. I swear.”

Nessi knows you’re lying, you know you’re lying. You need that, otherwise you’ll never part. And the parting has to be.

“And call him, promise me that.”

Nessi knows immediately who you mean; she promises.

“And tell the girls I love them and that I’m sorry. Please don’t forget, I really love you all.”

Nessi strokes your head, she squats down next to you and you lean against each other, forehead to forehead. It’s warm and safe, and it would be nice if Nessi stayed with you like that forever, because this way you can endure everything, cold, heat, loneliness. You fade away, come to again, thirsty and tired, the sun scratches your thighs and tries to get at your lap like an excited puppy, you sit up, you’d like to drink from the fjord.

Just one sip.

“Give me a farewell kiss,” you say.

Nessi kisses you, her breath enters your mouth, a warm, long kiss. Longing, I’m dying of longing, you think, and hear your father’s voice saying in the distance: If your heart is bound to something, you cannot give it away, for whatever it is, your heart will miss it. He was wrong. You listened to him, you wanted to keep him with you, and chaos broke out. He misunderstood. It’s real love when you let go of something that’s close to your heart.

“It’d be nice if there were a few more chairs here,” says a voice on your left, and Stink sits down on the floor, saying that her sweet little ass won’t stand it for long.

“You don’t look, you don’t find,” says Schnappi from the terrace door. She has three brand-new chairs wedged under her arms, and she winks at you. A moment later your girls are sitting next to you, their legs outstretched, and sighing because the view is so beautiful, and you’re glad your girls are sharing this place with you. It’s quiet, nobody’s talking about guilt, there’s no past, just four girlfriends in the here and now. Everything is as it was always supposed to be. And sometimes you hear your father speaking as if from far away, sometimes you hear the gentle rolling of wheels as your mother begins the next circuit and pushes the stroller through the night, even though it’s day. Time is good to you and your girls are by your side, and it can stay that way. Maybe somebody will bring tea and biscuits, a few blankets wouldn’t be bad for the cold times, then you’d sit here forever and look at the fjord, and there would be no better life than this one.