See You Tomorrow Read Online Free

to be had? Is there the merest hint of a smile? The smallest, kindly word?
    Cecilie continues staring out the window while she takes out a pack of cigarettes. Fantastic. Now she’s going to punish him. She knows all too well he can’t bear anyone smoking in the Volvo. And she knows he’s just quit. And she knows how hard it is to kick the habit. Fantastic.
    Rudi makes a show of rolling down the window.
    They’re up and down, these moods of hers. You haven’t got a hope in hell of keeping track of them. Yesterday? Yesterday it was super smooth. Movie night in Hillevåg, good old
I Spit on Your Grave and Nightmare in a Damaged Brain.
Lo-fi classic night, said Jani, and put out crisps and coke.
Classic Night.
Jani has a way with words. They watched movies, good times and blood and gore it was, even Chessi was in a pretty good mood, lying there in an old pair of jogging bottoms, cuddled up in the crook of his arm. And then, next day? In a rotten mood. Everything’s shitty, pissy and crappy. When he’s the one, not her, who’s had a rough night. He hugged her, but her body was as stiff as a board. He tried to make eye-contact, but her eyes were yellow and fiery. And eventually he lets her know, that she needs to get a fucking grip and be a bit nicer. That was when the storm broke.
    But, you got to go to work. No matter how menstrual the weather.
    Rudi leans towards the open window, breathes in and out. Chessi sits in the back seat puffing away as if it were the last cigarette she was ever going to have, won’t be able to make out her head soon for all the smoke.
    He drives through Auglend and takes a left at the southern end of Mosvannet lake, putting the car in a low gear, to get a bit of traction on the uphill climb at Ullandhaugsbakken.
    Nicest place on Earth, as Granny used to say. God rest the old bag of bones, as Granddad said when cancer got her. She lay in her sickbed like a crumpled leaf. It was hard seeing her like that. Hi Granny, are you in there? Ah, Rudi, my boy, there’s not much left of me, you’ll have a slice of cake, won’t you? Come to visit your grandmother and get a slice of cake? It was always good to visit Granny. Shoot over to Stokka. He could drive there at any time, pull the Volvo up in front of the house, toot the horn, while it still worked, get inside the house and she would totter into the room wearing that blue dress, radiant as a wrinkly sun. Swiss roll and caffeine-free instant coffee. Yeah, you can laugh, be my bloody guest, but it was one thousand per cent genuine. If there were more people like Granny in the world, you’d hear a lot less about arguments, or the internet or war, that’s for sure.
    Afeckingworldoffeckinglove.
    That’s old times for you. They can really take hold.
    Sometimes it’s a pleasure. Other times it’s a pain and they refuse to let you sleep. And you can’t do anything but curl up into a ball and wait for it to end, and as for a hug from your girl, well, you can forget about that.
    The Volvo hauls itself up the hill in low gear. Rudi feels the hairs on the back of his head crackle as they near the top, as he sees cows grazing in the fields, sees the Ullandhaug Tower stretching up into the sky, and as he gets to the summit: the world opens up to the fjord below. He feels his stomach plummet and his head soar.
    Rudi´s brown eyes warm up and soften as he drives into his old stomping ground. He feels likes a fag, but if you’ve quit, then it’sall about standing firm. Stay clean, Lemmy. Metal, Motörhead and the old haunts forever.
    This landscape, Granny.
    You couldn’t describe it.
    It’s true what they say at travel agents, you’ve got to experience it, you’ve got to see it with your own two eyes.
    Rudi speeds up. He feels his head fizz and shuts his eyes for a few seconds, takes a deep breath, opens them again and goes for it: ‘Hey Chessi. You there?’ He tries to infuse his voice with as much lightness as possible. ‘Eh? You looking? Nicest