The Winter War Read Free Page A

drinking song. Risto was a notorious boozer, tall and solidly built, with a circle of grey hair around his head. He could drink ten shots of vodka at one sitting and still show no signs of intoxication. He loved to take control of a room. Max wondered if this was a characteristic of psychiatrists. During the week they were forced to sit in silence and listen, so they became hypersocial when the weekend finally arrived.
    The mood at the dinner table gradually grew more intense and boisterous. Everybody was laughing at a long, drawn-out story that Stefan was telling at the other end of the table, but those guests who were seated near Max couldn’t hear anything, which caused Wivan to keep asking the person on her left to repeat what Stefan had said. It was obvious that the story lost much of its impact in the few metres from Stefan’s seat to Wivan’s. The longer the story went on, the more bewildered she looked. Max glanced at Katriina. She was listening to Stefan, but he could see she had that glassy look in her eyes that she often had by this time of the evening. It meant that she wasn’t really paying attention.
    When the dinner was over, Katriina went out on the balcony to have a smoke with Tuula. It was still raining. Max went over to a corner of the living room and glanced at his watch. We should be getting home, he thought. As soon as Katriina came back inside, he’d ask her to get her things.
    Until then, all he could do was stand in the corner and pretend to be enjoying himself. The other guests were now scattered about the flat, some still sitting at the table while others occupied the sofa.
    Max was leafing through a book when Stefan suddenly appeared at his side. They had known each other since the seventies. Stefan had worked as a journalist and travelled a lot, to anti-nuclear power conferences in Japan and Geneva, covering them for Fredsposten and Ny Tid – writing articles that Max had never felt the urge to read – and he’d been involved in protests against NATO and European missiles in the early eighties. But these days he talked mostly about the small islands that he visited in Southeast Asia, places with names like Koh Phangan and Pulau Pinang. Max barely even had a chance to say hello before Stefan launched into a monologue about yoga.
    â€˜It’s more than just yoga, you know, it has to do with a way of looking at life. I mean, I’ve always been involved in moral questions, just like you are, but at the end of the day – ever since I learned to breathe properly – I realised that the journey has to start from within. Don’t you agree?’
    Max nodded. ‘Absolutely.’
    â€˜Just let me know if you want to join us and give it a try sometime. I can offer you a simple course in the basics. Free of charge, of course.’
    Max promised to think about it, and Stefan looked pleased.
    â€˜I’ll just tell you one thing: flexibility. You have no idea what the human body is capable of with a little training. Even at our age.’
    Max didn’t care to be reminded of his age.
    â€˜You mean that you get more agile?’
    â€˜Not only that. You learn to breathe, and your blood circulation improves. You learn to feel every movement in your body. You get more sensual – it’s as simple as that.’
    â€˜Sounds amazing,’ said Max.
    â€˜You’re damn right,’ said Stefan, nodding towards Gun-Maj, who was standing a few metres away. She gave him a wave that Max considered excessively flirtatious. Max wondered how often they had sex. Probably more often than he and …
    He left the thought unfinished when he noticed Katriina coming back inside.
    She was listening to Wivan, and it looked like they were talking shop, since Katriina kept nodding impatiently, as if the whole discussion was something she wanted to put aside as quickly as possible. Max saw Risto appear, bringing new glasses for both of them, which he