Excerpts from
Sebastian's Love
By Vita Andersen
Masja ran over to the shop window full of toys and stared at her own reflection. Then she painstakingly spelt out the words on the banner across the window:
"NEW TOYS EVERY DAY"
"No," he said again.
Her eyes turned dark and hard as coal.
"Itīs my toothīs birthday," she shouted. "It deserves a present."
She tapped her front teeth with the tips of her fingernails. It made a hard, metallic sound.
"Letīs go home now and make Christmas decorations," he said. "Itīs cold here."
"If you wonīt go into the toy shop with me, Iīll take off all my clothes."
"Come off it Masja."
She laughed as she pulled off her mittens, dropping them onto the ground one after the other. He picked them up. Then she unzipped her jacket and slowly wriggled out of the sleeves, dangling the straps from her finger. She smiled at him as though she were performing in some show. Her teeth were gleaming. Then she carefully put down the porcelain chest of drawers on the pavement, pulled down her leggings, took off her boots, pulled her leggings right off and put her boots back on.
"Lovely cold weather," she said.
She laughed loudly as he tried to put her jacket back on. He had expected her to be freezing cold, but when his hand brushed her bare skin it was boiling hot.
"Leave off," she screamed. "Your fingers are cold. Cold."
"If we go in and have a look, will you promise to get dressed again?"
"I promise," she said, and held her arms out to the side, fingers crossed.
He tried to uncross her fingers. She smiled and raised her arms above her head with her fingers still crossed. The movement and the smile reminded him of the picture of Marilyn Monroe. When he was little he had thought she was an angel. What was enfolding her were wings, not a dress.
"Youīll catch your death," he said. "Please get dressed."
She ran off a few steps and stopped a man.
"Heīs kidnapped me," she said, pointing at Sebastian. "Thatīs me on the front page of the paper."
"I never give to beggars," snarled the man, and walked on.
She stopped several other people. They started looking at them.
"You will catch cold, my dear," said a lady. "Tell your brother that you want your clothes on."
She danced around. She ran from one side of the street to the other, clutching the porcelain dresser. Her legs looked very white in the cold. Her plaits were coming undone and her hair shone like multicoloured electric silk.
He followed her, carrying her clothes. His heart was pounding. He started to put a respectable distance between them. Then she pulled off her jumper as well and dropped it on the street.
"Gosh, I am sweating," she sang.
He picked it up in a flash. Now she was only wearing her underpants, T-shirt and boots. She stopped people and pointed at him. He could not hear what they were saying. Then he turned round and started to walk in the opposite direction.
Suddenly somebody shoved him roughly in the back. It was Masja. She grabbed her clothes from him and spread them all over the street. He promptly gathered thein all up again, whimpering slightly. She grabbed them again and flung them around, chanting: "Iīve been kidnapped, Iīve been kidnapped." Some of the clothes stuck to people as they passed. They peeled them off as though they were contaminated and hurried on with their parcels. A vapour exuded from Masjaīs white body, and the frost had stiffened her hair into a wreath of stars. She resembled a spirit, held down only by the weight of the procelain chest of drawers which she clutched under her left arm.
"Look Sebastian," she screamed. "Now I am going to take my boots off too."
He ran on.
He heard footsteps following fast behind him and he knew that it was the police. He wondered whether it hurt when one was shot.
"Why donīt you wait for me?" shouted Masja.
He ran on quickly. She deserved to be punished. If she came up to the flat, he wouldnīt let her in. And if she went to the police, he would say it was all lies. And he had even stolen pencils and hairbands for her. And he hated stealing. He would make her sorry. He would make her so sorry that she would cry and plead with him. He would make her apologize.
He ran into a doorway and leant up against the wall to catch his breath, whilst he kept a lookout on the street. His heart was pounding and his mouth tasted of iron. Even though the street was full of people, he caught sight of her straight away. Her body was gleaming. She ran ten paces in one direction and then back again. He counted them. She wasnīt talking to people any more, her mouth was not moving. Sometimes she walked backwards. She was looking for him. He was relieved to see that she still had her boots on. Even though he couldnīt care less. Suddenly she was full of smiles and ran after a boy who had the same kind jacket on as him. Serves her right, he thought, when he saw how disappointed she was when she realised it was not him. For of course he was over here.
He started to walk on again. Suddenly, there in front of him lay a naked childīs foot with red nails, made of plastic. A pang of fear shot through him: "She has lost her foot." He was terrified of the thought of blood and slime and bones.
"Pick up your foot, dog," said a manīs voice. A large Alsatian picked up the foot and ran on, wagging his heavy bushy tail.
An icy something caught his hand. Her face was blue with cold. Her arms were blue, her legs were blue. All her plaits had come undone. Her hair stuck out around that tiny, little face with blue lips and light-blue eyes. Snot and tears were running down her face and she was shaking so much that he could hardly hear what she was saying.
"Iīm freezing..."
"Go home to your mother," he said, "Itīs Christmas now."
"Iīm free...zzzing..."
"I donīt want anything to do with you."
"Where are my clothes? Havenīt you got my clothes anymore?"
"I got tired of picking them up again after you had thrown them away twenty times."
That was not harsh enough. He didnīt know what to do.
He took off his jumper and stuck her legs into the arms. He took off his jacket and put it on her. He thumped her on the back and on the shoulders to get her warm again.
"You will have to hold on to the jumper around your waist," he said sharply. "Otherwise itīll fall down."
"I will," she stuttered.
"Where is the chest of drawers?," he asked.
"I dropped it. I was so cold that I couldnīt hold on to it."
"Letīs go into Illumīs," he said. "Itīs warm in there."
She began to melt in the heat coming up from the grating inside the entrance to Illumīs. Her eyes ran, her nose ran, saliva oozed through her blue lips and she began to cry as though she were filled with a thousand hearts beneath her skin which were all beginning to thaw and make her shake all over.
"I would like something warm," she said. "A coke. And somewhere to sit. I am so tired."
Translated by Vivien Andersen
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