Once he had sat down opposite her, she announced, “I got a letter from the truancy officer.”

Ralf relaxed. Exhaled.

“He wants us to go in for a meeting,” she continued.

“That’s ridiculous. I’m eighteen—I don’t even have to go to school anymore.”

“This is about last year. They say you were absent for three months without permission. They take that very seriously. The man was even talking about a fine.”

“He can do what he wants. I’m not going. I’ve got better things to do.”

“Oh really?” she asked warily. “Like what?”

“All kinds of things. Class. Work.”

“That’s interesting. Because I didn’t just get a letter from the truancy officer—I also got a phone call from the administration at your new course. It seems you’ve only been in twice. And then I rang up Dennis Faro—you know, the man at the market you told me you do some work for.” She paused for a moment. “He hasn’t seen you since the start of the summer.”

Ralf shrugged. “That fat fuck can kiss my ass. He always gave me the crappiest jobs.”

His mother continued to look him directly in the eye. She scarcely moved. Normally, this was the point where she would leap to her feet and point at him, yelling and calling him a liar. This time, she remained calm, composed. He didn’t know which was worse.

“You aren’t going to school, you aren’t working, yet you have a car, and I always see you wearing new clothes. It doesn’t add up, Ralf. Anyone can see that.”

His phone buzzed. It was Naomi.

You weren’t joking about the driving lesson, were you?

He stuffed it away again. “Well, Mom, thanks for the chat. Sorry for ruining your lives and everything, but I really have to go.”

“No, you’re staying here. I want to know what’s going on.”

He stood up abruptly. The chair wobbled. “That course is shit; they don’t teach you anything there. Half the students don’t show up, so I really don’t know why I should have to.” He walked toward the door, fishing his car keys out of his pocket on the way.

“Yet you still let me buy you hundreds of euros’ worth of goddamn textbooks for the new year!” she hollered after him.

3

3

The dairy farmer hadn’t come out of surgery yet. There were two other patients in the recovery room. One was a Surinamese woman with short gray hair who was complaining of double vision.

Helen tried to reassure her. “It’s because of the anesthetic, ma’am. Your eyesight will go back to normal, but it sometimes takes a little while.”

“How long?”

“Maybe fifteen minutes. Just try to relax a little.”

She scribbled down a note.