It was a fortnight before Bo said it was okay for him to visit. When Søren arrived, he had rehearsed his speech so many times, he was no longer nervous.
“I’ve decided that I want to be her dad.”
Bo and Katrine had offered him coffee. Bo’s cup froze in mid-air. He gave Søren an outraged look.
“You’ve what? You’ve no right to do that.”
He slammed the cup down on the table. The noise startled Maja.
“Bo,” Katrine began, cautiously. “Let’s just hear Søren out.” She looked up at Søren and smiled an almost imperceptible smile. Bo got up and went to the window, his back shaking.
“I know I can’t be with her every day,” Søren continued. “Probably not even every week, but I want to be in her life and not just as a last resort you call when you’ve got no one else. I’m in this for good. Bo is your boyfriend,” he said, looking at Katrine, “and I realize that he will probably be Maja’s dad in her heart. The one she plays with when she comes home from nursery, the one who reads her bedtime stories, the one she’ll hate when she becomes a teenager.” Katrine smiled. “And also the one who, on some level, will mean the most to her.” Bo’s back started to calm down. “But I want to be involved, and if you won’t let me…” he took a deep breath, “then I will go to court.” A deadly silence descended on the room.
Bo stayed where he was with his back to them, but Katrine said, “Okay, Søren. It’s okay.”
Bo didn’t turn around, not even when Søren left.
From then on, Søren visited them every week. Maja was becoming increasingly alert and Bo less frosty. Søren made an effort when he was there. He asked Bo questions and listened attentively when Bo told him about a particularly bad diapering incident, a sleepless night, or an expression that might have been a smile. What he really felt like doing was bundling Bo up and hurling him out the window.
One November afternoon he found Katrine and Maja home alone. Katrine was breastfeeding, so Søren put the kettle on. When Maja had been fed, Katrine made coffee while Søren changed Maja’s diaper and put clean clothes on her. From the kitchen, Katrine called out with a question about Vibe. Until now they had avoided talking about personal issues completely, primarily because Bo was always hovering by the front door in the hope that Søren might be overcome by a sudden urge to leave. Not surprisingly, this rather put a damper on their intimacy. Søren’s reply was evasive, but when she had sat down again and Maja was lying between them, the whole story spilled out of him. His relationship with Vibe, which had started when they were teenagers, had to end because Vibe so fervently wanted to have a baby, and he didn’t; Elvira, who had died never knowing that Vibe and he were no longer a couple though they still saw each other, and now Knud, who tried to carry on the traditional family Sunday lunch ignorant of the fact that Vibe and Søren lived separate lives and pretended to be a couple purely to shield him from further pain. When Søren had finished, he picked up the little girl. They stood by the window and watched the cars. Maja opened and closed her mouth, and Søren told her that a blue Ford Fiesta had just run a red light. “He’s lucky your daddy is busy holding you,” he whispered, “or he would have given him a ticket.” Katrine, still sitting on the sofa, asked if Vibe even knew about Maja. Søren didn’t reply for a long time. Then he shook his head.
When he left Maja and Katrine an hour later, he had made up his mind. Katrine had given him a photograph of Maja, which he had put in his wallet, behind his driving license, and the time had come. Knud would learn that Vibe and Søren were no longer together, and Knud and Vibe would learn of Maja’s existence. He dreaded Vibe’s reaction, there was no denying that, but he suddenly yearned to tell the old man that he was a great-grandfather. He started by calling Vibe to check that she was free this Sunday—she was, she had no plans apart from their usual lunch at Snerlevej. Then he called Knud. No one answered the telephone. He called back later the same day, but still nothing. In the evening, he grew increasingly worried and drove to his childhood home. He had called Knud fifteen times at least, and there had been no reply.
Søren found Knud in the kitchen, sitting on a chair facing the garden. His hand, resting in his lap, held a framed photograph of Elvira. On the kitchen table were two bags of groceries. Knud appeared incapable of summoning the energy to put them away. Søren hugged him tenderly.
“Is it very bad today?” he asked, carefully taking the photograph from Knud. In the picture Elvira was old and wrinkled and yet irresistibly alive. Knud turned his head and stared blankly at Søren.
“I’ve got cancer,” he said, smiling weakly. “That’s how bad it is.”
That Sunday, they had lunch in Snerlevej as usual. Vibe had offered to make lasagna and salad. It was bizarre. Knud had bowel cancer, which had spread to his liver. There was nothing the doctors could do.
“And here was I thinking cancer wasn’t infectious,” Knud remarked dryly. He seemed neither scared nor sad; on the contrary, he praised the food and had second helpings. Afterward he suggested they have a cigarette.
“But you don’t smoke.” Søren was taken aback.
“Oh, yes,” he said. “I do now.”
They lit cigarettes and flicked the ashes onto their plates. It had been ten years since Vibe and Søren had quit smoking, and the three of them coughed and spluttered like teenagers. They all started to laugh and that was when Vibe suddenly exclaimed:
“Wasn’t there something you wanted to talk to us about, Søren?” She gave him a searching look. “It certainly sounded like it the other day.”
Now Knud was looking at him, too.
“Nah,” Søren said. “You must have misunderstood. Everything’s fine.”
On December 18, when Maja was just over three months old, Bo, Maja, and Katrine flew to Thailand for Christmas. Søren loathed the idea. Thailand was far away, they would be staying at some hotel on an island, and he was convinced that Maja would have forgotten all about him by the next time she saw him. Katrine was busy packing when he came to wish them Merry Christmas. Bo, fortunately, was out. He gave Maja the world’s tiniest bracelet with a four-leaf clover pendant.
“She really is far too young for jewelry,” Katrine smiled. Søren watched her while she folded Maja’s tiny onesies and placed them in the suitcase.
“Why can’t you stay here?” he blurted out. Katrine laughed. Then she asked him if he had told his family about Maja yet. Søren was just about to lie, but he hesitated a fraction of a second. Katrine shook her head.
“How long are you going to keep your daughter a secret?”
Søren went to the window with Maja in his arms. This time, it was a Nissan Altima that ran a red light.
“I’ll tell my grandfather on Christmas,” he said. “When I’ve got some time off and everything has calmed down a bit.”
“I would like to meet him,” Katrine said.
His eyes widened. “Are you serious?”
“Yes,” Katrine replied. “I really would. If you ever have the guts to tell him.” Katrine winked at Søren. “Perhaps we could have lunch together, when we’re back, all of us.”
“Including Bo?” Søren winked back at her.
“Yes, of course,” Katrine smiled.
Søren nodded. Then he laid Maja on the fleece blanket on the floor. She waved her arms, kicked her legs, and stuck out her tongue. She was starting to lose her hair, and her deep blue eyes studied Søren with curiosity. For the next half hour they drank coffee and chatted before Søren left. He kissed Maja’s soft forehead and squeezed her tiny foot, warm and wriggling, inside her footed pajamas.