Between the Stacks

D

deleted363616

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great story!
love your language and your love for language :)
 

Crataegus

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Part VII:
Uusialku ja Uusimaa

Chapter Nineteen: Part I


The morning rolled around, much as it does on any day, and with it came the sun pouring into the small window of the apartment. The television, still playing British documentaries, was washed out by the light to illegibility, and the small crystal ornaments in the window shattered the light into hundreds of little rainbow slivers scattered around the room. Of course, no one was in the apartment when the sun came up because we were pulling into the parking lot of the hospital at the time.

Niels’ father was in the seat in front of me while Niels drove us. The trip wasn’t long, and the sleepy silence in the car didn’t need to be broken by any one of us, so it stayed around until we’d arrived.

Niels’ father spoke in rapid Danish to Niels, which Niels in turn translated for me. ‘She’s in the main building on the seventh floor. They’re getting ready to take her into the presurgical bay in just over an hour, so we have to hurry.’

I followed the two men into the hospital, trusting them to know where to go. Along the way, we passed a large and mostly-empty cafeteria. Inside, people in black smocks bustled around, putting what looked to be giant steaming pans of what looked to be boiled eggs and mounds of cold cuts, ready for breakfast. My stomach grumbled in its appreciation for the food it wasn’t going to get.

After one elevator ride, briefly interrupted by us having to get off three stops too early to make room for a nurse wheeling around a man on a stretcher, we arrived on the seventh floor and went into bay 3.

At the nursing station, Niels spoke to a very efficient-looking man whose name-tag read ‘Ulrik Havngaard -- Sygeplejerske/Nurse’ and we were off again, this time to stop outside a room labelled simply ‘7 - Hamalainen’ on a small whiteboard on the door. Niels’ father pushed the door open delicately, trying to stay quiet, leaving Niels and I standing on the threshold.

The big man smiled at me ‘Here we go…. My mother doesn’t speak any English, but I’m sure she’ll be asking all about you. When I came yesterday she was sleeping, so I didn’t get to see her properly until now, so I’m sorry if I ignore you a bit.’ he trailed off apologetically.

I waved my hand dismissing the thought, ‘She’s your mother, Niels. I’m not going to begrudge you time spent with her! Now get in there before I have to push you in.’

At the same time as I was speaking, I heard a thin, female voice from inside the room calling out, ‘Niels? Kom her! Mene tähän!’ We stepped in the brightly lit room.

Niels’ mother was on the bed with a wide smile on her creased and wrinkled face. ‘Niels! Niels! Kom her!’ she said again. The room was small but clean and bright. The windows were shaded by a thin gauzy yellow fabric tied back on one side with a blue ribbon, and the sheets on the bed were a similar butter-yellow colour. Along the wall opposite the bed was a television and to Niels’ mother’s right was a dresser with a small red radio on it, along with a huge vaseful of sweetpeas and white daisies.

Niels and his mother talked animatedly back and forth for a while before he turned to me, stepping out of her line of sight, and said ‘Og Äiti, det er Malcolm. Han er min kæreste. Han kom fra Canada.’

I smiled and waved slightly. Niels’ mother was a small woman with long grey hair. She had probably been pretty when she was younger, and if everything turned out right, would probably be so again. Even though her gaze was unfocused as it went between Niels and I, her eyes were clear and she said immediately ‘Han har rødhår! Jeg ikke kendte!’ she laughed, a high happy sound.

Niels laughed too, turning to me. ‘She didn’t know you would be a redhead. You’re the only person I’ve dated who wasn’t blond.’

I blushed, running a hand through my hair. ‘Ja, jeg har rødhår.’ I said, stumbling over every word in my first attempt at Danish. I had woken up before Niels, so I had spent some time looking up some key things to know in Danish. Even if I couldn’t say them properly, I at least could maybe spell them. Maybe.

Everyone else in the room looked at me, smiling, but it was Niels’ mother who spoke first. ‘Hans Dansk er møg!’ she giggled goodnaturedly as both Niels and his father laughed and nodded.

‘She says your Danish is shit.’ Niels explained as I blushed a deeper red. I laughed and had to agree. It probably was shit.

Things turned back to Niels and his father talking to Niels’ mother for a long time. I heard the words ‘Canada’ and ‘Vancouver’ often enough to realise that they were talking about Niels’ life in Canada. It was good seeing his mother so...vibrant and active. From what Niels had told me, she had sounded like she was in much worse shape than this smiling woman appeared to be. Her movements were a bit jerky, a bit uncertain, and her gaze was unfocused, as though from a long way off, but she spoke clearly and only occasionally did she seem to forget something in the middle of speaking.

Niels turned to me while his parents were talking and smiled, ‘They have her on some medication to help keep her lucid until they can operate. It’s like she’s almost better already!’ and he turned back to interject something into the conversation which made them all laugh.

I looked at the clock. Quarter on seven. ‘Niels?’ I tapped him lightly on the shoulder, ‘I’m going to get a coffee from that cafeteria. Do you or your parents want anything?’

Niels looked to them and asked in Danish, turning back after a moment with an answer. ‘Two coffees? Thanks, Scruffy!’

I nodded, double-checking that I had my wallet in my back pocket before leaving the small room. I hadn’t had a chance yet to get cash--speaking of, what currency did they use in Denmark? Surely the euro, right? Either way, I had a Mastercard that I’d kept relatively paid off and a debit card that had the Mastercard logo on it somewhere; they would definitely take that...I hoped.

I took the elevator to the ground floor and followed the signs back to the large cafeteria with its pans of thinly sliced coldcuts, eggs, and now, large pans of dark rye bread in thin slices. I looked up and down the row of food, not particularly hungry, but you never know what might catch your attention, right?

A voice from behind me caught my attention, though I didn’t understand it, ‘Undskyld mig, vi er ikke åben indtil syvtiden. Jeg kan kun give dig kaffe eller te nu.’

It was very odd, even though it looked nothing like English on the page and sounded only slightly similar, every now and then there was a word that sounded close enough that I knew what it meant. I later learnt that it was because English and Danish were close relatives, and that even the name ‘English’ for our tongue comes from the name of a place in Denmark, where, more than a thousand years ago, a tribe of people left southern Denmark and marched all the way across Europe and they crossed over onto the island of my ancestors: Britain.

I turned to her and she repeated herself. I only understood the words ‘åben’, ‘indtil’, ‘kaffe’, ‘te’, and ‘nu’, but it was enough to get a bit of what she meant. The weren’t open until...some time. And they only had coffee and tea now.

I smiled, trying my best to respond in Danish, ‘Tak.’

The woman who had spoken smiled knowingly, ‘Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you were Danish. We’re not open until seven so we only have coffee and tea.’

I blushed, ‘I must be terrible at this if you caught me after only one word.’

She laughed, ‘You looked confused so I made a guess.’

‘Well, you guessed right. And I think I’ll take you up on your tea and coffee offer. And if you might be able to spare one of those eggs, I’d...I have nothing to offer, but I’d pay for it?’

She laughed again. She had an easy laugh, though it was quiet. ‘I’ll see what I can do. The cups are over there and you can take a platter so long as it stays in the hospital.’

I looked where she motioned and thanked her, using my terrible Danish again. ‘Tak!’

The coffee was fresh and the water for the tea was nearly boiling as I poured it in. I took one of the trays she’d mentioned, smiling to myself as I watched the red liqueur of the tea seep out of the bag and into the clear water. There was something magical about making tea. It takes a few minutes, yet you never regret those minutes. It’s one of the few times we get to spend in the day simply waiting for something without feeling the need to rush.

I realised only then that I had no idea what Niels and his father took in their coffee. Oh well, I’d just have to take all the fixings up with me and let it sort itself out. With the three steaming cups, the sugar, and the cream all on my tray, I went over to the tills where I had spoken earlier to the woman.

She was waiting behind the counter, a small plate with a steaming egg, two pieces of buttered rye bread, and four slices of thin red sausage on it. ‘You got here close enough that we have food, so I made you a Danish breakfast. That will be fifty-four-and-a-half kroner.’

Fifty-four-and-a-half?! At that rate, I’d be out of money within the day! ‘Hang on, fifty-four-and-a-half kroner? Do...you know how much that is in dollars?’

She hummed thoughtfully, ‘About five? Something like that?’

That explained it! I sighed, relieved, ‘You had me worried there. I...I don’t suppose I’d be able to convince you to give me cash back, would you?’

She shook her head, ‘No, I’m sorry, I’m not allowed. But we have a machine just over there, behind that curtain.’

I smiled, ‘Then I’ll be right back with some cash.’

I went over to the machine and put in my bank card. It ran off Mastercard, so it should work, right? Turns out, it did. It also turns out that it’s fairly easy to figure out what an ATM wants without actually being able to read it. It offered me a large selection of different values to take out, so I picked the largest, which was 1000kr, which I guessed from what I’d been told would be about $200. I knew I had at least that much to spare, and if I needed more later, I’d find a bank or something. The machine spat out ten notes, each bright orange and labelled ‘100 Ett hundrede kroner’.

I went back to the counter and handed the lady, whom I now saw was name-tagged ‘Ditte’. She accepted it with a smile, ‘Okay. Our money is easy. We have kroner and øre. There are 100 øre to the krone, but we only have 50 øre coins, nothing smaller. So, you’ll have,’ she tallied off the names while tipping my change into my hand, ‘One 20 kroner coin, two 10 kroner coins, a 5 kroner coin, and this little one is 50 øre. Easy!’

I raised my eyebrow at the 5 kroner coin, a large silver thing with a hole through the middle. I smiled though when I saw the portrait on the 20 kroner coin, ‘This is your Queen, right?’

Ditte nodded, ‘Dronning Margrethe anden. Queen Margrethe the second. On the other coins, those are her initials.’

I dug around in my wallet until I found a few Canadian coins that had been hanging about. ‘Here’s some Canadian money, if you’re interested? It has our Queen on it, Elizabeth the second as well.’

Ditte took the change, looking it over curiously. ‘Thank you! I don’t mean to be rude, but...’ she hesitated, looking at the clock. It was already a couple of minutes past seven now. ‘I should be getting to work. I hope your stay in Denmark is a good one!’ She gave me one last smile and hurried back behind the lunch counter to sort out some more trays of food.

With that, I picked up the now laden tray and headed back upstairs to the room.

As I approached the door, nearly closed behind me as I’d left, I heard something I was very much not expecting. I heard two male voices, both, with an easy beauty, singing.
 

Crataegus

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Chapter Nineteen: Part II

I toed the door open softly and looked in. Niels and his father were both sitting close to his mother, each holding one of her thin hands. They sang simply, Niels’ deep voice providing a strength below his father’s liquid baritone. The words of the song were unfamiliar to me, though I was later told that it was a song titled Aamusumussa, ‘In the Morning Mist’. After, they sang another song, and another, and another. They were all smiling together.

I don’t think they knew I had even returned, and I stayed standing by the door until they paused, the air still thick with their music. I near tip-toed in and placed the tray on the dresser next to the little red radio.

Niels and his father both looked at me and nodded a little. His mother too looked at me, but she wasn’t looking to the tray. She had an earnest look on her face, serious, but not unkind. ‘Laulattehan laulu minulle?’ she asked quietly in what I had to assume was Finnish.

Niels stumbled over his words for a moment, answering back to her with a small shake of his head. ‘Ei, ei, äiti. Hän ei laulukaan.’

She shook her head back, ‘Ei. Kysy häneltä.’

Niels sighed, ‘Hän ei laulu, äiti...’

‘No, Niels, what is she saying?’ I said quietly, making Niels turn to look at me.

‘Oh, she was asking you to sing. Don’t worry about it. My far and I will sing some more in a moment.’

I shook my head, ‘I’ll sing. I’m not very good...but I’ll do it. It seems to mean a lot to her.’

Niels sighed, ‘Really, Malcolm, you don’t have to. If you don’t want to, don’t worry, it’s fine.’

I looked sternly at him. ‘No, Niels, I want to. Tell her? And apologise that I’m not good? I’m not a singer.’

Niels looked back to his mother and spoke to her quietly, this time beginning in Finnish, faltering, then ending in Danish.

She smiled at Niels then to me. Then both father and son looked to me too, intently.

I sang the song I always remembered my father singing to me. He, unlike my mother, had grown up on Skye, and had spoken Gaelic before moving to Edinburgh. He taught me very little, and I had only picked up a little more when I went later to rediscover my roots, but I always kept with me the few songs he had sung me. The song I sang went like this.

‘Nuair bhios mi leam fhìn,
Bidh tu tighinn fainear dhomh.
Bidh mi togail fonn,
Air nigh'n donn nam meal-shùil.
Nuair bhios mi leam fhìn,
Bidh tu tighinn fainear dhomh.

'S mise tha fo mhinginn.
'S mise stiùireadh na birlinn.
Ciamar bhios e dìreach,
'S nach i a tha air m'aire?

Nuair bhios mi leam fhìn,
Bidh tu tighinn fainear dhomh.
Bidh mi togail fonn,
Air nigh'n donn nam meal-shùil.
Nuair bhios mi leam fhìn,
Bidh tu tighinn fainear dhomh
.’

‘When I’m alone, you come into my mind,
And I sing for the brown-haired girl with the beautiful eyes.
When I am alone, you come into my mind.

I’m so full of sadness, steering the ship.
How can it be on course when my mind is elsewhere?

When I’m alone, you come into my mind,
And I sing a song for the brown-eyed girl with the beautiful eyes.
When I am alone, you come into my mind.’

My voice was unsure, but none of the three made a sound in complaint. And when I was done, Niels smiled to me, muttering a quiet ‘Thank you.’

I blushed, unsure of what to do now beyond taking a sip of my tea. The quiet sip that I meant to take came out in a loud slurp which had everyone laughing as I turned a nice healthy shade of cherry red.

With that, whatever brief spell was broken and everyone began talking again, sometimes singing, and every now and then Niels would relay a question to me from one or another of his parents. How was my flight, where did I work, what language was that, where was I from, and most importantly, what did I think of their son. That last one was probably the first time I saw Niels properly blushing as he translated to his insistent parents. Both of them seemed to approve of my answers, and neither said a word when Niels’ hand found mine and held it.

Before any of us had noticed, Ulrik was in the room, saying something which made both Niels and his father jump up to give long hugs and kisses to Niels’ mother.

Just as they were wheeling her out of the room for her surgery, Niels’ father began singing one last time, this time only for his wife. As we stood out of the way, Niels whispered the words in my ear in English.

‘Hyvää iltaa, lintuseni, hyvää iltaa, kultaseni,’

‘Good evening, my little bird, good evening my treasure,’

‘Hyvää iltaa nyt, minun oma armahani.’

‘Good evening now, my own dear one.’

‘Tanssi, tanssi, lintuseni, tanssi, tanssi, kultaseni,’

‘Dance, dance, my little bird, dance my treasure. Dance, dance now, my own dear one.

‘Stay, stay, my little bird, stay, my treasure. Stay, stay now, my own dear one.

‘Hold me, hold me my treasure, hold me my own dear one.

‘So farewell, my little bird, my treasure. Farewell and come back to me, my own dear one.’
 

Q12

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Quite the bump, but I would love to read more of this still.