Stutter Boys

By Leif Esper Andersen

  The whole house reeked of onion, because mum was cooking homemade burgers, which made my stomach rumble and my mouth water. I always get famished when I smell onions. And then the old man came home. At first I thought it was Kurt, my younger brother, you know, because my dad usually always whistled when he got home. He’s a lousy whistler, but he whistles loudly and even though it sounded excruciating I quite liked it really. But maybe I didn’t notice it until he stopped doing it. But anyway, that day he wasn’t whistling and so I thought it was Kurt. But then I could tell it was dad from the sound his feet made in the hallway. He’s a bricklayer and wears clogs, and we live in a little house, so it couldn’t have been anyone else really.

  He usually called out Hello…I’m home! and then he’d push his way into the bathroom to get cleaned up, but he didn’t do that either. He went out to the old lady and the onions in the kitchen, and I could hear them talking. So I just carried on reading the Batman or whatever it was I’d got hold of.

  A bit later Kurt came in and plonked down in a chair and said: “Watcha! Ace whiff of onions. Can you smell it, man?” – and quite frankly I couldn’t be bothered to answer because the smell was so thick you could cut it with a knife, and my stomach was rumbling enough to drive me crazy.

  After several light years my mother came in and began to set the table. I got up and gave a hand, to speed things up a bit, because I was really looking forward to the burgers. When I went into the kitchen to fetch the potatoes the old man was just sitting slumped on a stool – in his work clothes and everything.

  “Come on,” I said, “time to get scrubbed up. Burgers being served in the lounge any minute.” But he just grunted, and then I noticed he had that expression on his face that meant you’d be well advised to keep your lip buttoned and preferably sink out of sight. It wasn’t so often he wore that expression, but when he did it was best for your health to take it seriously, so I grabbed the potatoes and nipped back to the sitting room.

  When I came in I could see that my mother wasn’t about to die from laughing either, so I decided that I’d just keep quiet and see if it would all blow over. I can’t stand hassle. But I’d forgotten about Kurt.

  You’ve got to understand. Kurt’s all right, really, even though he’s childish. But he’s got this fantastic ability to open his mouth when there are any number of reasons to keep it shut. And of course he had to chip in on just that very day. He did it when the old man came and sat down at the table in his work clothes.

  I admit he didn’t usually do that, and he’s often said that you should look the part at your work but you don’t have to drag it along to the dinner table. But he could have had his eyes open. Kurt, I mean. Then he’d have seen what was happening on the old man’s face. But he didn’t, end of story. The minute we’d sat down and I was just about to help myself to one of those burgers, out it came:

  “Listen here, man, couldn’t you at least dust yourself off before we eat?”

  He might as well have thrown a flaming match into a firework factory. The old man’s face went gas-blue before he exploded. I only had time to notice the blood drain from my mother’s face before he began.

  I don’t know how long it lasted or what he said. I just know that I got lukewarm burgers and lukewarm gravy that evening. And it was afterwards, when he had finished his tirade and was raking over his food as if he didn’t like it, that my mother said he’d been fired.

  I have to admit it crossed my mind that it was hardly anything to get so damned steamed up about. I mean, he’s a really good bricklayer, so he could just get a job somewhere else. People have to have a roof built over their heads, don’t they?

  Well, anyway, I didn’t say anything, which was probably lucky.

  You see, I got wiser, much wiser.

Translated by Gaye Kynoch