Unformed Landscape by Peter Stamm Page B

if she had made a mistake, and then she thought what’s done is done.
    What are we going to do? That had been her mother’s question in the year that had ended with them having to sell the boat. And her father said, I’m tired, and he had gone off to sleep. That was always the way she saw her father when she thought of him now, lying on the sofa asleep or dozing. The TV stayed on all day. Earlier, when they’d lived in Jukkasjarvi, he had always gone fishing in the streams. The fish are just there, he had said to Kathrine once, not like the reindeer, who all belong tosomeone, even though they run around freely. The fish really are free, they don’t belong to anyone. That was after he’d been caught once, poaching a reindeer. He had cut off its ears, but the police had established that it had belonged to Per-Nils, his uncle. They had left Jukkasjarvi not long after. There wasn’t yet enough money to pay for a boat, and her father had taken out a loan, which eventually ruined him. He didn’t understand about sea fishing. He bought the wrong gear, and he overpaid for the boat. At first he was seasick whenever he went out, and he didn’t catch much, and soon he couldn’t keep up with the payments. They battled on for two or three years. Kathrine’s mother worked in the fish factory, and the catches got gradually better. But then the fish stocks declined, and even the experienced fishermen didn’t catch much anymore. If I can’t catch a cod, I’ll just have to catch a whale, her father said. Moby-Dick, he said, and laughed. He had never read the book. He bought a new sonar system, and some satellite navigation equipment, all on credit. But he didn’t go out anymore. Then he began to drink. First, he went to the Elvekrog. When he no longer had the money for that, he bought black-market vodka from the Russian fishermen, and drank it at home. Sometimes he would get into his old Sami costume. Kathrine’s mother asked him if he would call Per-Nils, his uncle, and ask him for help. I’ll catch you a whale, said her father; that’ll keep us fed for two years. A whale. And then he got sick.
    The train drew into a station, and suddenly the compartment was brightly lit up. Kathrine woke up from her half-sleep. A couple of short-haired young men on the platform stared into the compartment, jeered, and waved their beer bottles. Christian had opened his eyes. He looked alarmed, but Kathrine pulled the blanket over him, and said don’t mind them, they’re just soldiers. When the train set off again, Christian stood up, drew the blind, and lay down on the top bunk. Dortmund, he said.
    Half an hour before Kolding, Christian got up. His travel alarm clock went off, and Kathrine awoke and watched as he got dressed. When he was done, he approached the window. He didn’t speak.
    “We haven’t done anything wrong,” she said with a smile.
    He turned and looked at her. There was a cruelty in his eyes that took her by surprise. He seemed to be furious with her, perhaps his conscience was hurting him, she didn’t know. Like a child, she thought, but she didn’t say anything, and he didn’t say anything either. The train was already slowing down as Christian finally spoke. He spoke softly. His voice sounded as gentle as it always did.
    “We shouldn’t have done that,” he said.
    “Why not?”
    “I don’t know. It wasn’t right.”
    “Were you thinking about your girlfriend?”
    Christian didn’t reply.
    “I’m not asking anything from you.”
    “It’s all so complicated,” he said. “My girlfriend… I’ve got to talk to her, but… I always hoped things would be straightforward. That’s all I ever wanted. But now…”
    “Welcome to the world,” said Kathrine.
    He said he would write her an e-mail, and she repeated that she wasn’t asking for anything from him. He kissed her on the cheeks, and she asked him, and maybe that was a mistake, but she just had to ask, did he like her at all, a little bit at least.