shoulder.
‘This is how fucking Hasse and Kekkonen do it. Their punches stay right … here. At the shoulder! All of their movements stop here.’
He raises his right arm to the mattress, turns the right side of his upper body into it and continues the move, following through.
‘And this is how
you
should punch.
You
punch through them.
You
go through, straight through.’
Pappa moves one small step at a time until he’s standing right behind Leo. Felix can’t see much more than two backs, but doesn’t dare go any further into the room. He stretches himself, stands on tiptoe in the middle of the threshold. It seems like Pappa has hold of Leo’s arm.
‘You aim for the nose and it explodes like a huge fucking water balloon! And their brains are in there, floating in liquid like a goldfish in a goldfish bowl! And when you hit the nose first and then the chin … thebrain bounces. Hasse’s and Kekkonen’s fucking little brains sloshing against the walls of the goldfish bowl.’
Leo hits again.
‘Nose! Chin!’
One more time.
‘Nose! Chin!’
One more time.
‘
Nose!
Get your body behind it!
Chin!
Follow straight through!
Nose!
Their fucking brains!
Chin!
They should bounce and splash!’
After a while Felix’s toes start to hurt, so he lies down and watches as Leo’s arm hits the mattress from underneath, and it almost looks funny, as if it’s not happening for real.
He’s still lying there when Pappa steps over him and goes to the kitchen and the stove and the pan for one more glass of Thunder-honey before he has to put on the work clothes that have been hanging a little too long in the hallway – there’s a job that Pappa has to tender for so that in a few days it might be his. Felix watches the feet on their way out through the front door and hears the two quick bangs as the lift opens and closes, then feels the calm that falls over the whole flat whenever Pappa leaves, as if there’s suddenly more room inside.
14
LEO PUNCHES AND punches the blue mattress. He’s wrapped his hands himself, just like Pappa wrapped them before leaving to paint some kitchen all day in a house in the suburbs. Leo knows he can hit harder and more frequently without that annoying pain. He begins each morning with a session before breakfast and school, runs home at lunchtime and punches without eating, then all afternoon and evening, and again if he wakes up in the night and can’t sleep.
He hears the vacuum for the second time this afternoon.
And he stops punching.
Mamma is up. She’s gone past by so many times, peeking in, and he recognises the look on her face – she doesn’t like him practising.
He punches again. Nose and chin. Hasse and that Finnish bastard.They could be waiting for him at any time or anywhere, so he’s been avoiding them, maybe even hiding from them, until he’s ready. Nose and chin, Hasse and the Finnish fucker. It happens almost automatically now. His whole body behind it. Shoulders that rotate, shoot forward, follow through and punch through them.
‘It’s time to take this down.’
Mamma has turned off the vacuum cleaner.
‘That’s a lamp hook. A lamp should be hanging there.’
She fetches a three-legged stool and steps up on it, stretching towards the ceiling and the hook while her son continues punching without looking at her.
‘Can you stop that now?’
Hard punches, much harder than she’d imagined, that force the mattress upwards.
‘Did you hear what I said? Stop hitting it.’
Even harder.
‘Leo?’
‘Nose and chin, Mamma.’
He turns and speaks at the same time, a punch for every syllable, and she grabs the mattress, holds it.
‘Listen to me, Leo! Who did this to your face? What are their names?’
She hugs the mattress, stands in his way so he has to stop punching.
‘Hasse and Kekkonen.’
‘I want their full names.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I’m going to call their parents.’
‘You can’t do that! If you call them … don’t you know what
‘This is how fucking Hasse and Kekkonen do it. Their punches stay right … here. At the shoulder! All of their movements stop here.’
He raises his right arm to the mattress, turns the right side of his upper body into it and continues the move, following through.
‘And this is how
you
should punch.
You
punch through them.
You
go through, straight through.’
Pappa moves one small step at a time until he’s standing right behind Leo. Felix can’t see much more than two backs, but doesn’t dare go any further into the room. He stretches himself, stands on tiptoe in the middle of the threshold. It seems like Pappa has hold of Leo’s arm.
‘You aim for the nose and it explodes like a huge fucking water balloon! And their brains are in there, floating in liquid like a goldfish in a goldfish bowl! And when you hit the nose first and then the chin … thebrain bounces. Hasse’s and Kekkonen’s fucking little brains sloshing against the walls of the goldfish bowl.’
Leo hits again.
‘Nose! Chin!’
One more time.
‘Nose! Chin!’
One more time.
‘
Nose!
Get your body behind it!
Chin!
Follow straight through!
Nose!
Their fucking brains!
Chin!
They should bounce and splash!’
After a while Felix’s toes start to hurt, so he lies down and watches as Leo’s arm hits the mattress from underneath, and it almost looks funny, as if it’s not happening for real.
He’s still lying there when Pappa steps over him and goes to the kitchen and the stove and the pan for one more glass of Thunder-honey before he has to put on the work clothes that have been hanging a little too long in the hallway – there’s a job that Pappa has to tender for so that in a few days it might be his. Felix watches the feet on their way out through the front door and hears the two quick bangs as the lift opens and closes, then feels the calm that falls over the whole flat whenever Pappa leaves, as if there’s suddenly more room inside.
14
LEO PUNCHES AND punches the blue mattress. He’s wrapped his hands himself, just like Pappa wrapped them before leaving to paint some kitchen all day in a house in the suburbs. Leo knows he can hit harder and more frequently without that annoying pain. He begins each morning with a session before breakfast and school, runs home at lunchtime and punches without eating, then all afternoon and evening, and again if he wakes up in the night and can’t sleep.
He hears the vacuum for the second time this afternoon.
And he stops punching.
Mamma is up. She’s gone past by so many times, peeking in, and he recognises the look on her face – she doesn’t like him practising.
He punches again. Nose and chin. Hasse and that Finnish bastard.They could be waiting for him at any time or anywhere, so he’s been avoiding them, maybe even hiding from them, until he’s ready. Nose and chin, Hasse and the Finnish fucker. It happens almost automatically now. His whole body behind it. Shoulders that rotate, shoot forward, follow through and punch through them.
‘It’s time to take this down.’
Mamma has turned off the vacuum cleaner.
‘That’s a lamp hook. A lamp should be hanging there.’
She fetches a three-legged stool and steps up on it, stretching towards the ceiling and the hook while her son continues punching without looking at her.
‘Can you stop that now?’
Hard punches, much harder than she’d imagined, that force the mattress upwards.
‘Did you hear what I said? Stop hitting it.’
Even harder.
‘Leo?’
‘Nose and chin, Mamma.’
He turns and speaks at the same time, a punch for every syllable, and she grabs the mattress, holds it.
‘Listen to me, Leo! Who did this to your face? What are their names?’
She hugs the mattress, stands in his way so he has to stop punching.
‘Hasse and Kekkonen.’
‘I want their full names.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I’m going to call their parents.’
‘You can’t do that! If you call them … don’t you know what
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