nose – then the others will run. Dance and hit, dance and hit! You wear him out, and when he’s confused and scared you hit him again. You can defeat a bear, as long as you know how to dance and hit!’
Felix is waiting for Mamma to close the door, but instead she steps into the warm, musty room.
‘Ivan – what do you think you’re up to?’
‘I told you to leave.’
‘I see his face. I do. But this …’
‘He needs to learn how to fight.’
Mamma has a different kind of voice than Pappa, thinks Felix. When she screams it cuts through you.
‘You can’t do it like this! Leo isn’t you. You of all people should know best where this will lead!’
‘Damn it! He needs to learn how to protect himself!’
‘Let’s go into the bedroom. You and me. Now, Ivan! And talk about this!’
Pappa is silent for a moment. Even though it looks like he’s going to scream back.
He goes over to Mamma and shoves her out of the room.
‘And what are we going to talk about, Britt-Marie? How he should lie down the next time he takes a beating? Which side of his body he should turn up so they can hit him even harder? He has to be able to protect himself! Or should he be a fucking … Axelsson?’
Mamma doesn’t answer.
And when Pappa closes the door, Felix squeezes her hand.
13
FELIX’S FOOT TREMBLES a little as he stretches up towards the cabinet and Mamma’s green medical box on top of it. He sits down on the lid of the toilet seat and opens the box up, taking out bandages and surgical tape. With these items in hand, Felix runs across the brown carpet of the hallway, into the living room and across its wooden floor that’s always cold and creaks when Pappa walks on it.
That damn Finn in his stupid denim jacket.
He’d heard what Hasse and Kekkonen did to their prisoners, how they scraped sharp stones against their armpits until they bled and then poured salt into the wound. And what they did to Buddha who lives on the third floor, who was scared to death of spiders and was taken prisoner during the estate war. They bound him and then gathered daddy longlegs from all over the cellar and put them all in a cardboard box. Then they opened the bottom of the box, and Hasse pushed it over Buddha’s head, and Kekkonen taped the open flaps around Buddha’s neck. The daddy longlegs crawled over his face and into his hair and got caught in his ears and nose and mouth. Felix had seen Buddha afterwards, how he’d walked slowly back to his own street, a prisoner of war who didn’t know where he was or who he was.
He and Leo had been lucky.
Felix steps out onto the balcony, cold air in his face. He passes the elastic bandages and surgical tape to Pappa, leans over the edge of the railing, looking at the asphalt of Skogås. Leo sits in one of the striped camping chairs, his cheeks a little red.
‘Your knuckles will toughen up, but for now we’ll have to do this instead, protect them. You have to be able to practise more often and for longer.’
Pappa takes Leo’s hands, stretches them out, and winds the bandage around his knuckles.
‘When your knuckles make contact, follow through, continue the movement with your
whole
body – and it’s
then
, at that moment, you go through him.’
The gauze is wound over his knuckles and down between his thumbs and index finger and then diagonally over the wrist, round and round.
‘Make a fist.’
Leo clenches his bandaged right hand and then waits until his pappa hits it with the palm of his hand.
‘How does it feel?’
‘Good.’
The same thing with the left hand, then Leo punches the air several times in front of Felix, hopping and running through the living room and the hall, punching at nothing again and again. Pappa follows him back into the room and gets down on his knees again, and boxes the mattress so that it thuds and shifts.
‘What are their names?’
‘Hasse.’
‘And?’
‘Kekkonen.’
Pappa punches at the swaying mattress, then punches at his own
Felix is waiting for Mamma to close the door, but instead she steps into the warm, musty room.
‘Ivan – what do you think you’re up to?’
‘I told you to leave.’
‘I see his face. I do. But this …’
‘He needs to learn how to fight.’
Mamma has a different kind of voice than Pappa, thinks Felix. When she screams it cuts through you.
‘You can’t do it like this! Leo isn’t you. You of all people should know best where this will lead!’
‘Damn it! He needs to learn how to protect himself!’
‘Let’s go into the bedroom. You and me. Now, Ivan! And talk about this!’
Pappa is silent for a moment. Even though it looks like he’s going to scream back.
He goes over to Mamma and shoves her out of the room.
‘And what are we going to talk about, Britt-Marie? How he should lie down the next time he takes a beating? Which side of his body he should turn up so they can hit him even harder? He has to be able to protect himself! Or should he be a fucking … Axelsson?’
Mamma doesn’t answer.
And when Pappa closes the door, Felix squeezes her hand.
13
FELIX’S FOOT TREMBLES a little as he stretches up towards the cabinet and Mamma’s green medical box on top of it. He sits down on the lid of the toilet seat and opens the box up, taking out bandages and surgical tape. With these items in hand, Felix runs across the brown carpet of the hallway, into the living room and across its wooden floor that’s always cold and creaks when Pappa walks on it.
That damn Finn in his stupid denim jacket.
He’d heard what Hasse and Kekkonen did to their prisoners, how they scraped sharp stones against their armpits until they bled and then poured salt into the wound. And what they did to Buddha who lives on the third floor, who was scared to death of spiders and was taken prisoner during the estate war. They bound him and then gathered daddy longlegs from all over the cellar and put them all in a cardboard box. Then they opened the bottom of the box, and Hasse pushed it over Buddha’s head, and Kekkonen taped the open flaps around Buddha’s neck. The daddy longlegs crawled over his face and into his hair and got caught in his ears and nose and mouth. Felix had seen Buddha afterwards, how he’d walked slowly back to his own street, a prisoner of war who didn’t know where he was or who he was.
He and Leo had been lucky.
Felix steps out onto the balcony, cold air in his face. He passes the elastic bandages and surgical tape to Pappa, leans over the edge of the railing, looking at the asphalt of Skogås. Leo sits in one of the striped camping chairs, his cheeks a little red.
‘Your knuckles will toughen up, but for now we’ll have to do this instead, protect them. You have to be able to practise more often and for longer.’
Pappa takes Leo’s hands, stretches them out, and winds the bandage around his knuckles.
‘When your knuckles make contact, follow through, continue the movement with your
whole
body – and it’s
then
, at that moment, you go through him.’
The gauze is wound over his knuckles and down between his thumbs and index finger and then diagonally over the wrist, round and round.
‘Make a fist.’
Leo clenches his bandaged right hand and then waits until his pappa hits it with the palm of his hand.
‘How does it feel?’
‘Good.’
The same thing with the left hand, then Leo punches the air several times in front of Felix, hopping and running through the living room and the hall, punching at nothing again and again. Pappa follows him back into the room and gets down on his knees again, and boxes the mattress so that it thuds and shifts.
‘What are their names?’
‘Hasse.’
‘And?’
‘Kekkonen.’
Pappa punches at the swaying mattress, then punches at his own
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