My aunt began to visit more frequently, which softened my mother’s mood and gave me more freedom. She lost interest in calling me inside from my nightly embraces. My mechanic’s name was Kurt, and I started to visit his parents, who were very friendly toward me. We exchanged rings at their house, so we were engaged for real, and I began to feel awkward about never inviting him to my home. I didn’t know what I should do. My mother never wanted us to be close to people outside our family. She never wanted us to grow up. Above all, she didn’t want us to team up with a member of the opposite sex. Perhaps she never wanted to have children, and perhaps nothing ever happened to her in this world that she really wanted. I couldn’t explain something as strange as that to Kurt. I could have asked Aunt Anna to talk some sense into my mother, if I had some way of contacting her that didn’t involve my mother. My aunt was childless, though she loved my brother and me. But my mother had always made sure we had no direct contact with her. When we were young, we were never allowed to visit because of her drunken husband. I didn’t even know exactly where she lived.

While I was speculating over this problem, my mother came by one day to fetch me from work. I could see on her face that something terrible had happened. As we were walking home, she told me that my aunt was in the hospital. She had started bleeding, and by my mother’s hints I understood that she was too old for that. ‘So it has to be cancer,’ decided my mother with a wavering voice. ‘If she dies, I will have no reason to go on living.’ On the corner of Valdemarsgade and Enghavevej, Kurt was straddling his motorcycle, and he revved it in anticipation. He always waited for me there. I shook my head as a sign that he shouldn’t make himself known, furious at my mother, who was now leaning heavily on my arm, as if she suddenly had grown old and would fall down if I let go. I was also furious at myself for being a head taller than her. I was furious at my entire childhood. It was as if it would never end, and my strides felt stiff and awkward as we walked past my fiancé, whose red motorcycle and shiny leather jacket were gleaming in the autumn sunshine. My engagement ring, which was bought on installment, was in my shoulder bag. I didn’t have the nerve to wear it at home.