Quietly he sat down on the bed and listened to the sounds his daughter was making. Like he had sat so many times when she was small, listening to her playing. He had tried so hard to make it work as a single father, to be everything she needed. And for a while he had succeeded. Her devotion had been complete, her love boundless, and completely without digs. Now there was nothing but.

He heard her cursing under her breath. People should record their children’s voices, he thought. The memories dwell so much more in sounds than images. Carefully he stood up and tiptoed to her room, watching her from the doorway. No longer his little, chubby-cheeked angel, but a lanky, angular teenager with a defiance in her that he couldn’t understand. Maybe even with a boyfriend?

Iben didn’t see him. She was busy throwing clothes into her big sports bag, pulled stacks of T-shirts and jeans randomly out of her dresser and tossed them willy-nilly into the bag. Kasper couldn’t help but smile at the irony of the situation. He had just been going to make her pack her essentials when she got home from school. But he suspected she was packing for something other than their mutual escape.

“Where are you going?”

She jumped at the sound of his voice.

“Dad?! What the hell, you scared me! I didn’t know you were home.”

“You’re packing. Where are you going?” Kasper asked with a smile.

She looked down at her stockinged feet, squirming under his attention.

“Let me guess: some school outing I haven’t heard about?” He knew it was stupid to be snarky with her, but he couldn’t help himself. “A field trip with Greenpeace that you forgot to tell me about?”

“Dad, stop it!”

“Or maybe you’re heading somewhere with your boyfriend? I understand that you’re getting into that kind of thing…”

She marched over and grabbed the door to close it in his face, but he didn’t budge. He held it open with his hand.

“Why do you suddenly care where I’m going? You never do.” Iben crossed her arms in front of her chest.

He almost laughed at how desperate the situation was. Bizarre how the most serious moments in life somehow activate our laughter center.

Kasper took a deep breath, put his hands on his daughter’s cheeks, and spoke seriously.

“Sweetie. Listen to what I’m saying for once: In less than an hour we leave for Zürich, where I have important business tomorrow. From there we fly to Johannesburg. Pack plenty of clothes and bring your schoolbooks, because it’ll be a while before we come back. You can’t tell anyone where we’re going, not a soul! I’ll explain everything later.”