*
Adri is standing in her mom’s kitchen. Katia and Gaby are arguing about setting the table, about which bowls to use, which candles to light. When Benji comes into the kitchen, his mother kisses him on the cheek and tells him she loves him and that he’s the light of her life, then she swears at him about his foot again and informs him that he might as well have broken his neck instead, seeing as he clearly doesn’t use his head anyway.
The doorbell rings. The woman outside apologizes for disturbing them so late. Her skin looks too big, her skeleton can barely carry her. She has to spend ten minutes getting Benji’s mother to agree that she really doesn’t need to be invited to dinner, but Benji’s mother still taps Adri on the head and hisses, “Get another plate out,” then Adri nudges Gaby and whispers, “Get a plate,” then Gaby kicks Katia and groans, “Plate!” Katia turns to Benji, but stops midmovement when she sees the expression on his face.
Kevin’s mother stands in the doorway and manages to say in a voice that is weak and unlike her own, “Sorry. I’d just like a word with Benjamin.”
*
Kevin is standing in the garden outside the house. Shooting puck after puck after puck. Bang-bang-bang-bang-bang. Inside the house his dad is sitting with a newly opened bottle of whisky in front of him. They didn’t get everything they wanted this evening, but they haven’t lost either. Tomorrow their lawyer will start to prepare all the arguments why a drunk young man who is in love with the young woman is not a credible witness. Then Kevin will start playing for Hed Ice Hockey, taking his team with him, almost all the sponsors, and all their plans for life will be intact. One day very soon everyone around them will simply pretend that this has never happened. Because this family does not lose. Not even when they do. Bang-bang-bang-bang-bang.
*
Benji is sitting on a bench outside his house. Kevin’s mom is sitting next to him, leaning her head back and looking at the stars.
“I remember that island you used to row out to in summer, you and Kevin,” she says.
Benji doesn’t answer, but he’s also thought about that. They found it when they were little. Not in the big lake behind the rink, where everyone from the town goes swimming in the summer; they could never have any peace there. They had to walk for hours through the forest to reach another, smaller lake. There was no dock there, no people, and in the middle of it was a small cluster of rocks and trees that from the water looked like no more than an overgrown jumble of stone blocks. The boys dragged a boat through the forest, rowed out, and cleared the interior of the little island until they had a space big enough for a tent. And that was their secret place. The first summer they were only there overnight, the second summer a few days. When they became teenagers, several weeks. Every second that hockey didn’t need them, until summer training began. They simply vanished in a puff of smoke and disappeared from town. Swam naked in the lake, dried off in the sun on the rocks, fished for their meals, slept under the starry sky.
Benji looks up at that same sky now. Kevin’s mother looks at him intently.
“Do you know, Benjamin, I find it so odd that so many people in this town seem to believe that it was my family who looked after you when your dad passed away. Because it was actually the reverse. Kevin has spent more time in your mother’s house than you have in ours. I know you used to mess up the house after we’d been away to make it look like Kevin had slept there, but . . .”
“But you knew?” Benji nods.
She smiles.
“I also know that you kick my rugs on purpose to mess up the tassels.”
“Sorry.”
She looks at her hands. Takes a deep breath.
“It was your mom who washed your hockey gear and Kevin’s when you were young, who made meals for you both, and when older boys picked on you at school, it was . . .”
“It was my sisters who showed up and sorted them out.”
“You’ve got good sisters.”
“I’ve got three lunatics for sisters.”
“That’s a blessing, Benjamin.”
He blinks slowly, presses his broken foot to the ground so that that pain becomes worse than the other. The woman bites her lip.
“It’s hard for a mother to admit certain things, Benjamin. I noticed that you didn’t meet us at the police station. I noticed that you didn’t come round to the house. That you didn’t go to the meeting this evening. I . . .”
She very quickly puts her forefinger and thumb to her eyes, swallows hard, whispers. “Ever since you and Kevin were small, every time the two of you caused any trouble, the teachers and other parents always said it was you who started it, and blamed the fact that ‘you have no male role model.’ And I’ve never known what to say to that. Because I’ve never heard anything more stupid in my life.”
Benjamin glances at her in surprise. She opens her eyes, reaches out her hand, and touches his cheek softly with it.
“That hockey team . . . that bloody hockey team . . . I know you all love each other. How loyal you all are. Sometimes I don’t know if that’s a blessing or a curse. I remember when you made catapults when you were nine years old, and Kevin broke the neighbor’s window—do you remember? You got the blame. Because when all the other boys ran away, you stayed where you were, because you realized that someone had to take the blame, and that it would be worse for Kevin if he got the blame than it would be for you.”
Benji wipes his eyes. She’s still holding her hand against his cheek. She pats him and smiles.
“You may not be an angel, Benjamin, I know that much. But, dear God, you haven’t lacked a role model. All your best qualities come from the fact that you’ve been raised in a house full of women.”
She moves closer. The boy’s whole body is shaking. She hugs him tight and says: “My son has never been able to lie to you, Benjamin, has he? Kevin has been able to lie to everyone in the whole world. To his dad. To me. But never to you.”
They sit there, her arms around him, for a single minute of their lives. Then Kevin’s mom stands up and gets back in her car.
*
Benji tries to light a cigarette. His hands are shaking too much to hold the lighter. His tears extinguish the flame.