Chapter 25
When I come downstairs for breakfast, Dad is flipping absentmindedly through the newspaper.
“Where’s Mom?” I ask, sitting down in my usual spot. There are two pieces of crispbread, topped with cheese and cucumber, waiting on a plate.
“She took an extra shift at the clinic.” Dad puts down the newspaper and folds it carefully. “Tuva, I think we need to have a little talk.”
He looks like he hasn’t shaved in days. His stubble is flecked with gray, and it makes a rasping sound when he scratches it.
Neither of them said anything on Saturday, or yesterday.
When I got home, Dad just asked if I had moored the boat properly.
They didn’t mention the police, the phone call from Runmaro, or the fact that Rasmus and I were out in the woods on our own.
I was expecting lectures and scolding, not silence. Weird.
Mom didn’t ask me to go with her when she went to see Grandma Gerd yesterday. And she came home looking even paler and sadder than before.
“Mom and I are worried about you.”
“There’s nothing to worry about, Dad,” I mutter. I’m not sure he even hears me.
“What were you really doing on Runmaro on Saturday?” He has one elbow on the newspaper. His light-colored shirt will probably get an ink stain.
“I told you. Rasmus and I are working on a project together. For school.”
Dad shakes his head. “In the middle of the woods?”
I want to say yes, but I know how it will sound. I stay silent instead, picking at my crispbread.
Dad sighs and runs his hand through his hair.
I wonder if he and Mom talked about this yesterday. If they agreed in advance that he should talk to me or if he decided to just now.
“Tuva,” he says, “I know that all this stuff with Axel is difficult for you. It’s only natural to feel upset and confused when something like this happens. It’s terrible that he’s still missing. Mom and I think it’s awful too.”
This almost sounds rehearsed.
“But maybe you should try talking to someone about it. You can always talk to me. It’s not easy being a teenager, but I was young once, too, you know.”
He reaches out to hold my hand. His fingers are warm. Mine are always cold, even at the height of summer.
“I’m sure you think that your mother and I don’t understand, but we just want what’s best for you, honey. It can be dangerous out in the woods without an adult. Especially when something like this has happened.”
I nod but don’t know what to say. I don’t want to be here.
“Were you and your classmate trying to look for him?”
I look down at the table without answering. He waits.
“We just want you to be careful,” he says eventually with a heavy sigh. “We love you, Tuva.”
The words come out awkwardly, as if he isn’t sure how to pronounce them.
I pick up a piece of crispbread and take a bite. It doesn’t taste of anything.
While Dad drinks the last of his black coffee, I chew and swallow, thinking about how I’ve tried talking to him and Mom.
All those times I’ve tried telling them about strange encounters, those little creatures in the woods that nobody else could see.
I learned long ago that they didn’t want to hear it.