The Unwanted - 2. Part 2 The Freeze Up of Silence

Karasjoki, Finnmark, September 2013

 

Even two full months of glorious summer holidays end and school started as usual in mid-August. They were back in the same routine they had ended mid-June. But both could look back at the most marvelous holiday they ever had.

They had repeated their erotic excursions to the small beach a number of times. And each time had been a thrill for both of them. Vaguely Eidno started to consider to expand their explorations in the alluring realm of sexual activities, but he had to admit he had no idea how that should look like. Oh yes, he had some unclear notions of it, but he was seriously doubting if he would have the courage to do that.

Mihkkel was less reserved in his dreams. When he was in bed at night, he imagined that Eidno would enter him, a thought that excited him to the extreme and always gave him a huge erection. But he wasn’t that liberal that he had the guts to bluntly ask his love to do so and it only stayed part of his erotic and wet dreams, which he mostly concluded with a softly whispered:

“Maybe later!”

No matter what their hopes and dreams were, for the time being the days were filled again with mathematics, Norwegian, Sami language, English and all the other subjects that apparently someone found necessary to learn by every young Norwegian boy or girl.

Mihkkel felt somewhat unhappy, because they saw each other mostly at school. But Eidno had set him at ease, when he told he would be pretty occupied with training himself and the dogs for his racing debut in a little under six months. Occasionally they met up during the weekend, mostly in the dog shed, far away from prying eyes that could observe them while kissing.

Initially nobody at school noticed the change in relationship between the two of them. Everybody chatted with them or made fun with them, as they chatted and made fun, just as they had done before the summer holidays. But they seemed to be always together: they were together during breaks between classes, they sat together when they were in the same class, exchanging loving glances instead of paying attention. They stole some secretive kisses, preferably in the boy’s room or in the bicycle storage, always stealthily checking out if someone was around before doing so. The rest of their school mates didn’t seem to notice the change.

Maybe their school mates were a bit insensitive for subtle changes in Eidno’s and Mihkkel’s behavior, but they most certainly weren’t fools. Around mid-September things started to change for the worse. Especially after some “anonymous source” spread the gossip he (or she) had seen them walking hand in hand. After that life at school became very unpleasant very rapidly.

Mihkkel noticed it as first. He had made a mistake in the notes he made during class, actually a mistake that was that enormous, that he couldn’t understand what he had written once he read them back. He decided to ask a class mate if he could compare these faulty notes with his.

While walking through the corridor he noticed Bjørn, a boy he had some kind of loose friendship with. It was the ideal choice to ask for a note comparison.

“Hei, Bjørn, can I see your notes from Geography. Somehow, I made a mistake and….”

Bjørn just kept walking without even turning his head, as if he hadn’t heard it.

“Bjørn.., wait a minute”, Mihkkel tried again, “I wanted to ask you something”.

The boy just continued his way. Mihkkel ran after him and in an attempt to draw his attention grabbed him by the shoulder, saying:

“Wow, Bjørn, why the hurry? Just wanted to ask you something”.

This time the boy reacted: he looked around with ice cold eyes and shrugged Mihkkel’s hand off his shoulder. Without saying a word, he just resumed his pace, leaving Mihkkel in a confused state of amazement.

“What has gotten into him?” he wondered softly.

He looked around. Some other students passed, all without saying a single word but just looking at him with cold, hostile and scornful looks.

“What is going on over here?” he asked out loud.

There were no answers, only disdain. It didn’t matter who passed him in that corridor: they all reacted the same way the second they saw him!

 

Things went from bad to worse to worst fast; maybe it is better to say things got out of hand with the speed of an Arctic storm, coming in from the Barents Sea.

No matter where they were in school, no matter what they did, everybody reacted hostile. The second one or the two of them entered a class room all talking stopped. The only thing left were cold, silent eyes, maybe at best here and there a mocking grin. And wherever they walked through the building, it appeared as if they were causing a buzzing trail of malicious gossip.

Then the harassment started. Boys were spoiling coffee or soup over them “accidentally”, the grin on their face and the laughter around them making perfectly clear that it was anything but an accident, especially when a sarcastic apology was made with words like “Sorry about that, fag!”

With winter approaching and weather deteriorating at a rapid pace, they were more or less obliged to spend their midday break in the large auditorium of the school. Here things got beyond control and it almost ended in disaster.

It all started when the two of them were having their lunch, sitting as only ones on a table, whose other seats remained empty. Nobody felt the inclination to have lunch at the same table with two queers.

A large, older boy, one of a higher class, started to make mock noises of sexual arousal, while his mates were grinning. In the end he sneered:

“When I think of what the two of you do with each other, I could almost cum!”

There was louder laughter at his table so he added:

“Or puke!”

There was roaring laughter now.

Eidno looked coldly at him and said:

“Piss off and fuck yourself!”

The boy rose. He stretched to his full length of almost two meters and looked at Eidno with disgust. Mihkkel kept a close eye on Eidno. He knew him long enough to recognize the signs of bottled-up anger and frustration: the slightly pinched eyes spitting fire, the lips tightly pressed together, even his muscles visibly tensing under his sweat shirt.

“For a small sissy you’ve got a pretty large mouth, you know”, the boy growled, “Be careful before I beat your brains out of you!”

Eidno just looked at him with clear contempt and hissed:

“Sorry, can’t return the favor. When I crack your skull, I’ll find only thin air in it!”

That did it: the boy almost jumped on him, but cooler minds at his own table intervened and drew him back. Mihkkel jumped up and grabbed Eidno by an arm, dragging him into the corridor. Actually: it didn’t mind where he dragged him, as long as it was out of the auditorium.

“Don’t do it, Eidno”, he almost yelled, “He’s not worth it! It’ll bring you only a lot of trouble with the principal, ending up with three or four days of suspension. And if the old man really gets pissed off, he might kick you out of school. And how did you want to go to university then, huh?”

Eidno slumped against the wall, his head low. He knew Mihkkel was right. He took a deep breath and tried to calm down.

“I’m so fed up with all this, dear”, he whispered, tears coming in his eyes.

Mihkkel took him in his arms and said:

“So am I. But what can we do about it? No matter what, it is no use to get into trouble big time, as you have almost done”.

Eidno nodded, looked up and said:

“Is this wise, what you’re doing now? Taking me in your arms here in the corridor?”

Mihkkel shrugged and said with a deep sigh:

“Does it matter? We’re already branded Public Enemy Number One at this school. Can’t get more worse than it is! Now, you just calm down, my love”.

Eidno nodded, took another number of deep breaths and then whispered:

“I’m fine now. Thanks for bailing me out”.

“What else could I do?” Mihkkel said with a weak smile, “Come on, let’s go and find a place where we can spend the rest of our lunch break!”

It all ended up with the two of them having their lunch breaks separately from the rest of the school, somewhere on a stairs or outside. They chatted, they even laughed with each other, but neither of them were happy with the situation. It was as if they were becoming loners or better, expelled lepers! It felt as twoliness. Yeah, it’s a dumb word, probably not even existing in English. But what other word would be more suitable when you feel lonely together?

It looked as if the cold waters of ignorance and prejudice were freezing into the ice of hate, enclosing them more and more.

 

For a while they were able to stand up against all the scorn and disgust, that were aimed against them. But two young boys are never able to survive a struggle, in which the two of them are up against a whole school. The ice crept closer and closer with not much polyarnyys left, the Russian word for “open water in the pack ice”. So, they had to create their own polyarny to escape the daily hell.

Smart as they were, they shrewdly coordinated it in a way that would enable them to be together. They also had to take the working schedule of Mihkkel’s mother into consideration, so that they had a place to stay without someone barging in, posing the awkward question:

“Why aren’t you at school?”

And with some occasional, additional information it even fitted to get together in Eidno’s dog shed, just to chat, to laugh, to kiss, to play with the dogs and in general to be able to live in freedom, without the hellish humiliations they had to endure at school. In other words: Eidno and Mihkkel headed for the method, that so many kids all over the world, who felt unhappy at school, resorted to: they started to skip school!

It all began with a few hours so every now and then, but it rapidly deteriorated into full days of absence. Their results slipped downhill, their backlog grew! But they felt pretty content with being together without being ridiculed and detested. They liked being partners in love and in crime as well and they felt secure in doing so: they had planned it pretty thoroughly, didn’t they?

 

Karasjoki, Finnmark, October 2013

 

One Thursday afternoon Eidno came home, coincidentally after a long, strenuous and hair-raising school day. He dropped his school bag on the floor and went to his dogs in the shed.

He patted and fed them, cleaning out their kennels more or less at the same time.

When he was ready with his chores he went out, looking around. With satisfaction he saw, that first snow had already fallen, offering him the opportunity to put the dogs through their paces in their real element at short notice.

Before starting doing his homework, he wanted a hot cocoa first, so he went to the kitchen and put a kettle of water on the stove. When the cocoa was ready, he put the mug on the kitchen table and was just about to sit down, when his mother entered the kitchen.

Without saying a word, she walked through the kitchen and sat down at the table, directly opposite him, throwing a piece of paper on the wood.

“Can you tell me what this is?” she said harshly.

He looked at the paper, his face becoming red with shame.

“It looks like a letter from school”, he tried to bluff his way out. He was well aware he had a problem on his hands right now, to put it more precisely: he had a huge problem!

“Don’t act like a smart ass”, his mother snarled, “Or do I have to tell you what the letter says?”

He shook his head. He had a pretty good idea of what the letter said.

“So”, his mother continued, still angry, “Maybe you will be so kind to tell me why you are skipping school and why you are throwing your future in the garbage can?”

He didn’t know what to answer, simply because he didn’t know what he could say. He couldn’t tell her he was fed up with the isolation, the intimidations and humiliations, the verbal abuse and the harassment. He couldn’t tell her he was unable to stand it any longer! He couldn’t answer that he just wanted to flee from all that. Because he knew full well that her next, logical question would be:

“But why are they doing that to you?”

How should he answer that question? That they did it because he loved Mihkkel? That the rest of the school presumed they had that moral right, because he was a homosexual, a gay, a queer, a fag…a piece of shit?

“I expect an answer, Eidno!” he heard his mother say.

Or should he take the aggressive and cynical stance? That they did it because they considered themselves the young guardians of the true morality and the self-imposed judges and executioners, who simply had to punish him for his grievous misbehavior of loving a boy?

“Eidno, for the second time: I demand an answer!” he heard his mother say.

“What is wrong with love that I have to endure all this?” he muttered under his breath.

“What was that?” his mother asked, still not in an exactly friendly manner.

He knew he had to give an answer. Only problem was, he didn’t know which answer he had to give. He looked at his mother with sad eyes, that pleaded for understanding…or maybe begged for mercy.

“They have turned life into hell for me”, he said hesitantly, “So I only tried to escape that”.

“What have they done then?” his mother asked. Now that was a question he didn’t anticipate, but it could be answered in a way. He told her of what had happened the last month, the devastating ignominious way he had been treated. Maybe she would leave it for what it was and would start to discuss the option of another school or a good, long talk with the principal. That would get him off the hook.

But it wasn’t to be; the anticipated question came:

“Why did they do that?”

“It’s no use to feel fear any longer”, it flashed through his mind, “I’ll have to spit it out, no matter how you look at it!”

He sighed and whispered:

“Because I’m in love with Mihkkel!”.

He saw an intense shock in his mother’s eyes, so intense that it made him actually feel sorry for her. But it was out now, there was no way back.

“Say that again”, his mother stammered.

“Because I’m in love with Mihkkel. I’m gay”, he repeated, adding the last part of information completely voluntarily, assuming it was a clear-cut case anyway.

His mother sat paralyzed, as if she was struck by a disaster beyond imagination on the spot. Her lower jaw dropped and she looked at him with open mouth. Eidno was a child of his mother and she reacted exactly the same way: she pinched her eyes until only small slits were left between the eyelids, but through these slits a curious mix of furious anger and heartbroken grieve could be seen.

“Shut up!” she cried out, “I don’t want to hear about it!”

Eidno shrugged and dejected he said:

“Then you shouldn’t have asked”.

“Shut up!” she yelled again.

Abruptly she rose and walked to the counter, where she stood with her shoulders slightly sagged, her hands idle on the top and her back towards Eidno. The body language made it perfectly clear, that all normal contact was a thing of the past.

“You will no longer see this boy Mihkkel”, she said with an almost robotic voice.

Eidno looked at her back. This went too far, as far as he was concerned and he felt it was about time for some spirited, aggressive defense, so he said:

“You can forget that. You may have given birth to me, mum, but that doesn’t give you the right to determine how I live until my eightieth birthday and neither it gives you the right to rule who I love or not”.

He heard her sigh deeply and prepared for the worst as far as her reaction was concerned. It was beyond his worst expectations when she said:

“In that case I no longer consider you as my son. You’re just a child that I happened to give birth to, not knowing in advance which terrible pain you would bring. However: I will not tolerate this Mihkkel in my house any longer. Now get out of my eyes and go to your room!”

With an almost superhuman effort Eidno fought his tears back, not really sure if this was actually happening or that it was just a very bad dream.

“That can be arranged!” he muttered in despair.

He rose and walked out of the kitchen. When he took the first steps of the stairs to go to his room, the tears won the fight and were streaming over his cheeks before he slammed his room’s door. The ice had crept a little closer again!

 

By the time he had cried out his first pain he took his cell phone and pushed the pre-select to call Mihkkel.

“Hei, sweetheart”, a cheerful voice sounded through the small loudspeaker.

“Hei…” Eidno answered sad.

After a very short silence he heard Mihkkel ask worried:

“What’s wrong?”

“Did your mother get a letter from school?” Eidno asked.

“Eeeuuuhhh…not exactly”, Mihkkel said.

“What does that mean?” Eidno inquired surprised.

“Well”, Mihkkel replied, “She wasn’t at home when it came in so I kind of…intercepted it. Why do you ask?”

“My mother got the letter”, Eidno said dispirited.

“Oh shit…”, he heard Mihkkel exclaim, “What happened?”

Eidno told him, including that very last sentence, that his mother didn’t see him as her son any longer.

“She can’t just do that!” Mihkkel cried out indignant.

“Could be”, Eidno sighed, “But she did it anyway”.

“What did your father say?” Mihkkel asked.

“He isn’t at home”, Eidno said, realizing that there was another problem to come, one he hadn’t considered yet, “He’s away for some exercise abroad. He’ll only be back at the end of next week”.

“It gives me a chance to recover from this first frying before I have to sit on glowing nails again”, he thought cynically.

“Shall I come to you?” Mihkkel suggested.

“You can’t”, was Eidno’s reply, “She doesn’t allow you in the house any longer”.

“Oh shit, man”, it sounded as if Mihkkel was close to tears as well, “Can you come to me then?”

“Not today, my love. I feel…I don’t know how I feel, tired to the bone, broken, exhausted… I really don’t know”.

There was a silence again, followed by Mihkkel’s question:

“Sweetheart, do you mind if I talk this over with my grandpa? To get some advice?”

Eidno thought it over very briefly. It sounded as the first positive and bright idea since the whole misery at school and its results had started.

“Yeah, that would be great!” he answered.

“OK…I’ll do that. Stay strong, sweetheart. We’ll get over this”, Mihkkel tried to give him some encouragement, although it didn’t really sound very convincing.

“OK”, Eidno whispered, “See you tomorrow at that nightmare. Kiss!”

“Kiss, my love”, came the reply.

Then the click followed. The connection was gone.

 

Mihkkel was true to his word. Immediately after the connection with Eidno was cut he went to his phone book screen and selected the number of grandfather Eaddji. Within twenty minutes he sat opposite the old man in his small house.

With one look at the boy’s face the old man had seen more than enough when he entered the tiny dwelling: there was trouble! No, there was plenty of trouble!

While his grandfather sat down and stuffed himself a pipe Mihkkel waited. He felt nervous, his feet were scuffing over the wooden floor and he couldn’t ignore the feeling that his hands were shaking a bit.

Only after the old man had lit his pipe and started to suck it vigorously, he began to speak:

“You look sad, my boy, and you look worried. Quite a change from the weeks before. Did…didn’t it work out between you and Eidno?”

Mihkkel looked at him, his eyes questioning. He had no idea what his grandfather meant.

“I mean…”, his grandfather continued in an explanation, “Have you split up again?”

“Oh no, grandpa!” Mihkkel exclaimed, “I wouldn’t know how to live without him. No, it’s something different. It’s something we can’t stand any longer!”

“Tell me about it, my boy”, the man gently insisted.

Reluctantly Mihkkel started telling what had happened in the last weeks, so every now and then wiping some tears away. His grandfather only listened, puffing at his pipe. While progressing through his sad narrative Mihkkel felt as if it got easier to talk about it, as if the smoke, that hovered through the room like incense, and the sweet scent of the tobacco brought him some kind of relief. Only when he came at the subject, that they had skipped school to avoid all the misery, his grandfather raised his hand without speaking, cutting the boy off in mid-sentence.

“Say that again”, the old man said softly, “Did the two of you skip school?”

Mihkkel bit his underlip for a second or two and then answered with shame on his face:

“Yes, grandpa”.

His grandfather’s only reaction was:

“Go on!”

That was exactly what Mihkkel liked about his grandfather: there was no lecture, no thunderstorm of anger, but just this hand stuck up and the short question, as if he only wanted to emphasize the point, triggering the boy to think for himself about what he had actually done.

After talking on and on Mihkkel finally got to the end of the history, including the latest bits of information he just got from Eidno, the fact that his mother did no longer considered him as her son and that he, Mihkkel, was no longer welcome.

After Mihkkel stopped talking the old man sat motionless, staring pensively ahead and puffing at his pipe in a way, that betrayed traces of anger. Then he rose and said cheerfully:

“You must be thirsty after all this talking. I’ll make us some tea”.

It didn’t take long before the man returned with the two steaming mugs, which he placed on the table and then he sat down again, relighting his pipe.

“Mihkkel, do you remember that old saga I told you some time ago?” he asked.

Mihkkel nodded.

“Unfortunately, this saga is from the old days, the days before the men from the south came”, his grandfather continued.

“What do you mean, grandpa?” Mihkkel asked, not knowing where this remark might lead to.

“Our people have changed, my boy”, his grandfather sighed, “Of all this tolerance in the old days nothing is left. I told you, that our culture and religious beliefs were thoroughly destroyed. That is what the two of you are facing in these modern times, sheer intolerance”.

Mihkkel shook his head, as if he didn’t understand what was said.

“When the men from the south came, they brought the missionaries with them, who told our people that our religion was pagan and primitive, that in a good religion there was only one God, a God who had by the way ordained, that good and pure love could only exist between men and women. Now, some centuries later, most of the Sami have accepted this vision. No, even worse: they embraced it. And let’s face it: you and Eidno don’t fit in this set of moral rules”.

“But why are they all silent?” Mihkkel asked in anguish, “Why does nobody talk to us?”

His grandfather chuckled, but it was not a cheerful and happy chuckle. It was more an expression of grim hopelessness.

“That, my dear boy”, the old man answered, “is another typical trait of us Sami. When we encounter something unpleasant, we just ignore it. We don’t speak about it, as if it wasn’t there. It is our way of defense against unpleasant things. But…since we embraced Christianity, we also keep silent to those who break the Christian rules, those who think and are different and are therefore considered unpleasant. First to be able to ignore it, but also as a kind of punishment for breaking these rules”.

The man looked up, as if he tried to remember something but then he said:

“Do you know the old saying “He, who is silent, agrees?”.

Mihkkel nodded.

“With us, my boy, it is the other way around: “He, who is silent, disagrees”. So, the fact that everybody keeps silent to the two of you is an expression that they disagree”.

Mihkkel thought it over. It sounded logical, but one thing was unclear to him, so he asked:

“But, grandpa, even Eidno’s mother?”

The old man shrugged and only said:

“Yes, because she is Sami!”

“Wow…that’s stern stuff”, Mihkkel muttered. But Mihkkel wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t ask:

“Grandpa, how can we break this silence?”

The old man chuckled again, but this time it was not grim. It expressed a glimmer of hope.

“Ah, the old family character shows”, he said, “Well, my boy, to be honest: I have thought about that a long time myself, but I haven’t found the answers yet”.

“What do you mean, grandpa?”

“Nothing particular”, the man said, “Forget it. I doubt if the two of you can break the silence. The only thing you can do is love and support each other or maybe go to a place, where there is no silence. But never make the mistake that so many men have made”.

“Which mistake?” Mihkkel asked surprised.

“To marry a girl, not out of love but only to avoid the silence!” his grandfather said earnestly.

But he continued in a more cheerful tone when he said:

“Maybe, somewhere in the future, the warm winds from the south will bring the end of the silence, as if it was ice that melts in the hot breezes. But one other point, my boy”.

Mihkkel was curious about what that might be, but it came as a bit of a shock when his grandfather said:

“Does your mother know you skip school?”

Mihkkel shook his head:

“No, grandpa…well, there was this letter, but…”

The man only looked at him, a gentle but nevertheless demanding look in his eyes.

“Well…grandpa…I eeeuuuhh…I intercepted it”.

“You little rascal”, the man smiled, but he turned serious again when he said:

“I’m not demanding, but I give an advice; talk to her”.

“But grandpa…she will ask why and when I tell that, she will ask why everybody does that to us. And, well…then I come with Eidno. I told you where that can lead to in Eidno’s case”.

“Just talk to her, my boy”, the man kindly insisted, “I know your mother. I know she will react differently. There’s nothing to fear. It is up to you if you take my advice, but I would talk to her, if I were you”.

Mihkkel murmered something non-committal, desperately trying to get away from the subject of skipping school. In his imagination only catastrophes could result from confessing to that crime.

 

Karasjoki, Finnmark, November 2013

 

October slipped into November. The days rapidly shortened and the cold in the air became crisper and more biting. For Eidno it should have its good sides: it was running season with his dogs. But somehow, he had forgotten about the good sides of life since that terrible evening, when his mother had confronted him with his school skipping and which ended by cutting off all normal contact between them.

His mother had started the morning after that unhappy event to make him feel how the new atmosphere would be. Without even saying good morning she told him to get out of bed. During breakfast she had given him a fried egg without saying a word. She and his younger sister were in animated conversation during breakfast, discussing the coming day and its possible highlights, but both ignored him, as if he wasn’t there, as if he was only a bubble of air. He felt deeply unhappy. It seemed as if his life would be filled with total silence, both at school and at home. And then there was still the threat of his father coming home next Saturday.

In the days that followed this icy, silent pattern continued. His mother only said the absolutely necessary things to him, like “Time to get up”, “Time for dinner” and “Bed time”. For the rest not a single word was said between them.

He withdrew more and more to get away from it all. Oh yes, he had stopped skipping school but only because he was more or less forced to do so by a threat with a boarding school. On itself he found it not such a bad idea: maybe other boys around him would treat him normally, as a human being. But the thought of being separated from Mihkkel made the whole thing totally unpalatable for him. So, he just endured the running of gauntlets day in day out, both at school and at home. He did his talking with his dogs, who didn’t care a damn if he was gay or a womanizer. His only contact with human beings was limited to Mihkkel, either during breaks at school or in the evening by phone.

On his Wednesday afternoon off he had given his dogs a good run through the snow, being satisfied with the results. They were in damned good shape. While he fed them, he heard his mother say from the dog shed door:

“Be at home from school punctually tomorrow. We have an appointment!”

“With who?” he asked without thinking.

“You’ll see in due time”, his mother barked. Then she left without saying another word.

“Well boys, that was my daily dose of conversation then”, he muttered to the dogs, choking his tears for another time.

 

That Thursday afternoon his mother opened the right car door. Eidno explained it as an unspoken invitation to jump in, although an unspoken barked order might be more appropriate.

Not a word was spoken during the short drive through the small town. There was no comment about where they were going, nor about the purpose of the visit to whoever it was.

But to Eidno’s surprise they stopped at the parsonage, where his mother stepped out of the car.

Eidno followed her and, despite he knew he would not get an answer, he asked:

“What are we doing over here?”

“You’ll find out”, his mother answered, again as if she was talking to a dog.

The overweight parson opened the door and invited them in. He greeted Eidno’s mother friendly, almost abundantly. He even politely took her parka, but Eidno was left standing in his thick winter-parka, not deemed worthy a look or a word.

He was on the verge of asking “What am I doing here?”, but he decided to swallow it. Instinctively he knew, that he was in a precarious situation and that such a question would not improve his position.

The parson invited his mother into his study, where he offered her a chair. Confused, Eidno still stood in the hall, until his mother called out “Come!”, the same way as he would command one of his dogs a “Heel!”. He entered the study, but not being offered a chair he just stood, until his mother commanded him to sit on the only remaining empty chair.

After he was seated, still in his parka, the parson started to observe him, as if he was studying a loathsome insect. It seemed to take hours, the way the man looked through his thick glasses with intimidating, angry eyes. The stifling heat became unbearable and sweat started to trickle over his skin. Shuffling on his chair Eidno tried to avoid the gaze, but being unsuccessful in doing so, he decided to stare back. Then the man asked in an angry, aggressive tone:

“Are you aware that you broke the rules of our church in an extremely grave way?”

Eidno looked at him but didn’t answer. His refusal to do so didn’t seem to disturb the parson, because the man continued in the same bellicose way:

“In case you have forgotten: the rules of our church were given by God Himself. So, actually, you are violating God’s rules. And besides: you have seriously hurt your mother and your sister. You are endangering the happiness of your whole family”.

“In case you haven’t noticed, parson: nobody seems to care how much I am hurt”, Eidno replied.

“That is not the issue, boy”, the man shouted, “Consider that as God’s punishment. Is there nothing else you have to say in your defense? Apart from attempting to draw the attention to your own pitiful person?”

Eidno just sat, not saying a word, and stared defiantly back into the man’s furious eyes.

“Give the parson an answer!” his mother snarled.

He looked at her, with eyes as cold as her’s were, and said:

“I’ve got nothing to answer!”.

He noticed how he skipped the word “mum” at the end. Did that mean that the cut in communication and relation was from both sides now? That not only his mother didn’t consider him her son any longer, but that he saw his mother no longer as his mother? It didn’t matter. The only thing he felt himself right now was the defendant in a one-sided trial: two judges, no lawyer and if things went wrong two executioners. But his determination to do his own defense grew by the second. And he had learned that Norwegian law gave the defendant the right to remain silent.

The parson sighed; apparently, he hadn’t expected such spirited resistance. But the man didn’t give up and he said, almost on the verge of actually yelling:

“You are a stubborn boy, you know that? A boy with more brains would admit he had been doing wrong to God, the congregation and his family and would take the consequences. But it seems to me you have a different attitude!”

Eidno stared in the man’s eyes and asked:

“What have I been doing wrong? What is wrong with love?”

“Your love is for the wrong person!” the parson roared.

“Is that for you to determine, …sir?” Eidno wanted to know.

“Yes, it is!” the man screamed, almost losing control.

With difficulty the parson was able to regain his composition and said to Eidno’s mother:

“It seems the boy has very little insight and especially he lacks repentance for what he has done”.

Eidno’s mother just nodded, her face pale.

“What we could do”, the parson continued, “but of course only with your permission: we could send him to the United States to get rid of his…sinful condition. I have some contacts with very good institutions there with excellent therapies, that could cure your son from his misguided wrongdoings. Maybe you ought to consider that”.

Eidno looked in horror at the thick-set man, heard his mother sigh and said, surprised by his own audacity:

“No need to consider anything, because I won’t be going. I will only leave this town out of my own free will. So, since I refuse to go to the States to get rid of it, as you poetically call it, there’s no need to think about it”.

“And if your parents force you, boy?” the parson asked in triumph.

“Then I will report it to the police”, Eidno said matter-of-factly.

It suited him just fine that the parson couldn’t read his mind. Because, when it really came to it, would he file charges against his own parents?

“You really are a very serious and almost incurable sinner”, the parson growled, “Don’t you have the slightest bit of conscience?”

“Yes, I have, parson”, he replied, “Contrary to the people of this village, who call themselves religious. But that’s no problem for them. They don’t need a conscience. They’ve got their God to hide behind!”

The parson’s face flushed red with anger and his eyes were bulging out of their sockets.

“Get out of my study!” he roared, “Get out of my house! And I never want to see you again in my church! Never! Never!”

“Don’t worry about it, parson. I didn’t intend to”, Eidno replied. He rose and left the room.

He heard his mother calling desperately, angry…no, almost hysterically. He ignored it. He stepped out of the parsonage and started walking through the already dark end-afternoon in the direction of Mihkkel’s home. The cold air cooled his sweating body as well as his temper. While his fur-lined winter boots crushed in the fresh snow he thought, that the ice crust was getting dangerously close now. It might crush them, so that they would drown in the cold waters under it.

 

As tidy as Eidno’s room was, so chaotic was Mihkkel’s. It was a typical boy’s room and on top of that the room of a boy who wanted to become an artist. There were stacks of drawing paper in all kinds of sizes everywhere; pencils, charcoal, brushes and paint packings were cluttering the small desk, as well as part of the floor, and in the middle of the room was an easel with an unfinished painting on it.

Eidno told what had happened at the parsonage, stunning Mihkkel with what he heard and filling him with a feeling that was akin to disgust.

“So…”, Mihkkel asked when the whole story was told, “you managed to get kicked out of the church?”

“Yeah, I did”, Eidno sighed.

“Oh well “, Mihkkel chuckled, “Look at it from the bright side!”

“Which is?” Eidno asked astonished.

“You can sleep long every Sunday from now on!” Mihkkel answered with a smile.

He plunged on his bed, inviting Eidno to join him by patting with his hand on the free space beside him.

“Just to talk, to kiss and maybe some cuddling”, he whispered.

Eidno accepted the invitation and lied down as well.

“I sure could use some cuddling”, he whispered, “Life wasn’t exactly full of love and warmth these last days”.

“Then come here, sweetheart!”, Mihkkel said, putting his arms around Eidno’s shoulders and starting to stroke the long blond hair.

“I never regretted it, that we weren’t members of that church”, he said.

“Why not?” Eidno asked.

“I don’t know. You’ll have to ask my mum. It has to do with something, that happened in the past. Mum is really against that church, so I was saved from all their dumb rules”.

“Shit, I’m scared, Mihkkel”, Eidno moaned.

“Why that?” Mihkkel asked.

“My father is coming home tomorrow. I guess it will be the most severe frying I ever had. Let me summarize over the last few days: first: I came out as gay and, second, was caught in skipping school. Third: I was thrown out of the church. What do you think? Will I survive?”

“He won’t beat you up. OK, he will be pissed off but it’ll blow over”, Mihkkel tried to re-assure his friend.

“Or he slips in the same cold, hostile and silent attitude as my mother!” Eidno muttered.

“I don’t think so”, Mihkkel said.

“What makes you think that?” Eidno asked surprised.

Mihkkel shrugged and replied:

“He’s Norwegian”.

“What has that got to do with it?” Eidno asked, not convinced by this argument.

“Remember I asked you if you mind that I discuss it with my grandfather?” Mihkkel inquired.

Eidno nodded, but he still couldn’t discern the connection between his father’s reaction and the fact he was Norwegian. It looked as if his face showed it, because Mihkkel said:

“He told me that this silence we encounter at school...and unfortunately you at home… is something typical Sami. And your mother is Sami, isn’t she?”

Eidno nodded.

“So,” Mihkkel continued, “it could well be that your father reacts differently. Apart from the fact of course, that he will no doubt kick your ass”.

“Oh, thanks!” Eidno said with a tired smile, “You’re a real positive, spiriting soul who knows how to cheer a guy up!”

“Come on, Eidno”, Mihkkel said with a wide grin, “Be honest: skipping school is a good reason for any parent to kick ass! Even my mother would do it, if she knew”.

“I’ll let you know how it went…if I live long enough to tell the story”, Eidno muttered, “What else did your grandfather say?”

“I asked him how we could break the silence”, Mihkkel replied, “Well, he wasn’t very optimistic about that. Maybe go someplace else was one of his suggestions. No problem, I have to go to Tromsø anyway after school”.

“Tromsø?” Eidno cried out in shock.

“Yeah, to the Art Academy”, Mihkkel answered, wondering what caused his friend’s fierce reaction.

“But…”, Eidno stammered, “Does that mean we won’t be seeing each other for four years? Or even split up? Please, sweetheart, don’t do that to me!”

“Why that?” Mihkkel reacted, not understanding the panicky stammering, “You want to go to university as well, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, but the only university where I can study to become a vet is in Oslo”, Eidno said.

“Oh”, Mihkkel said with a smile, “Is that all? Hey, Oslo has an Art Academy as well. I can come with you…that is, if you want me to”.

“You bet!” Eidno said relieved, kissing the boy.

“I love you!” Mihkkel whispered.

“Same here”, Eidno said softly.

Mihkkel stared at the ceiling for a few minutes as if he was thinking something over. Then he said:

“But since we have to stay in this hell hole for another two years, I’ve been thinking about ways to break that silence. Maybe even break it by force!”

“How did you want to do that?” Eidno asked, his eyes clearing up, showing surprise and hope.

“I’ve been thinking about that for a few days now. Bear with me!”

Mihkkel started to unfold his plan:

“I think what bugs them, is that they see us as half girls, as sissies… summarized: as weaklings. Now…if we could prove to them in some spectacular way, that we’re men, no…that we are strong, determined men who can achieve their set goals, then maybe the silence is over, because they start to respect us”.

The reasoning confused Eidno a bit. It sounded kind of logical to him, but he still had no idea how they would have to prove that they were men as well, equal to all the other boys at school. Maybe even better, since a fair number of them occupied themselves only with gazing at their smartphones and others were apparently unable to walk to and from school, needing mum to bring and pick them up by car each and every day. But Mihkkel’s reasoning made him curious and it filled him with an urge to fight back and with the hope, that they might have found a way to take things into their own hands instead of only reacting to others and enduring the silence as mere victims.

“But how?” he asked softly.

“You are the key to it all, my love!” Mihkkel said somewhat uncertain.

Eidno looked at him with large, quizzing eyes. That went beyond his thinking and imagination.

“Yeah”, Mihkkel continued, “You’re already registered for the next Junior Finnmark Run. Now, how many of those kids at school you think are capable of doing that? I tell you: none!”

“But that wouldn’t bring you anything!” Eidno objected.

“Not directly”, Mihkkel replied, “But we could form a team. You as musher, me as supporting handler. Yes, you would be doing the actual race, but I would be in support. Hey, do you think you can teach me to be a good handler in let’s say…the remaining three months?”

Eidno considered it, but he saw a large obstruction, an obstruction that had nothing to do with Mihkkel’s capabilities: his father and his chief trainer would only be coming home tomorrow and he just had to wait for the man’s reaction.

“I can tell you the day after tomorrow. If I’m still alive, that is!” he said, rolling his eyes meaningfully, “I have to discuss it with my dad…if there’s anything left to discuss!”

“Hmm, got your point”, Mihkkel agreed, “But do you like the idea?”

Eidno felt his first heartfelt smile in days come on his face when he said:

“Yeah, man…I love it. At last, you found a way to fight back these bastards! But…like I said: I can only decide the day after tomorrow”.

“I know...”, Mihkkel said soberly, “But I’ll be waiting for it!”

He kissed Eidno tenderly on the tip of his nose while he whispered:

“We’re going to win this fight, my love!”

Eidno looked in Mihkkel’s eyes and replied:

“I guess we can win any fight, as long as we are the two of us!”

 

It was already dark when Eidno heard the house door open. He lay on his bed, listening to the cheerful chattering in the hall. It was his father coming home, after two weeks of being away. “Man, and it were stormy weeks!”, Eidno thought gloomy.

He didn’t go down, expecting he wasn’t welcome at the small family happening. He switched on the bed lamp and tried to concentrate on a schoolbook, trying to catch up on the lost time and lessons he had squandered during the days he had been skipping school. But his thoughts continued to wander off, mostly into fear: fear what would happen this very evening and fear for what might happen to him the rest of his life. The determination he had felt the evening before, after Mihkkel had explained his plan, had already dissipated, almost the minute he was on his own again, lacking the support of his dearly loved friend.

After some fruitless attempts to study he threw the book back on the bed, whispering:

“Maybe later!”.

In a way he felt exhausted! It wasn’t from hard training, but it was some kind of mental exhaustion he had never felt before. He turned on his belly, pushed his arms in the pillow and laid his head on them. His tired mind locked out the happy talking downstairs and, without consciously controlling it, he just dozed off.

Suddenly he opened his eyes. He didn’t have the faintest idea of how long he had been sleeping. But he was sure it was some kind of unusual noise, that woke him up. He listened: there was no sound at all, until he heard his father roar in the living room, that was directly under his bed room:

“What did you do, goddamned?”

He heard his mother say something, but he didn’t understand it; it was too weak.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” he heard his father again.

For a second time his mother said something, but again it was unintelligible. It didn’t surprise Eidno: Norwegian Army sergeants are well known for their legendary voices, that are able to reach any point of a parade ground and have the capability to scorch a hapless recruit even at long range. His mother’s voice had not a chance in the world to drown out such force of nature! But Eidno couldn’t remember he had ever heard his father doing that at home.

“This bullshit is over, right now!”, he heard his father, “Do you read me?”

The argument downstairs continued for a while with Eidno only being able to hear his father’s role in it. He felt heartbroken. It seemed the parson was right: he jeopardized the happiness of the whole family. The sounds in the living room made it clear, that a rift was developing between his parents and he was the one who had caused it. What if they decided to divorce? Who would be held responsible for that? Who was to get the blame? He knew the answer right away: he was! He would be the one who caused all that pain to his father, his mother and his sister. His eyes filled with tears and before he knew he was crying with an intensity he had never felt before.

The noises of his parents’ quarrel droned on and on without any sign for a speedy truce. Without warning it happened: something snatched in his mind and heart. Within a second he loathed the silence, the coldness, the disdain, the humiliations and his very recently acquired feeling of guilt for the coming divorce. He jumped out of bed.

Not realizing or even caring that he was only wearing his undies he stormed down the stairs, tears streaming over his cheeks. He threw open the living room door, ran in and looked his father and mother right in the face, yelling out:

“If I’m unwanted, then say so and I’ll go! If you don’t love me any longer, so be it! But goddamned, can you at least respect me for what I am?”

Then he turned around, ran out and slammed the door with such force, that the wooden house shook on its foundations. He ran up the stairs again, still crying uncontrollably, got to his room, causing another tiny earthquake by slamming that door as well, and plopped back on the bed, his shoulders shaking with grieve, his whole body trembling with the fear of insecurity and uncertainty!

The noises in the living room died down but he didn’t notice it. His mind was pre-occupied with all the feelings of sadness and upheaval, that were swirling around with hurricane force.

Then he heard another, menacing sound: the stairs creaked and he heard the footsteps of his father coming up. Eidno pushed his head as deep in his pillow as was possible and murmured:

“Dear God, I know You have written me off, but could you please help me one last time to get through this? Please?”

The steps came nearer and stopped in front of his door. There was some soft knocking on the wood. In the vain hope it would help Eidno ignored it, guided by the childish thought, that a threat, that knocked the door, might go away if he simply didn’t react.

A second soft knocking fell on the door. Eidno felt paralyzed, unable to answer!

The door opened and Olav Gustaffson came in, an almost exact copy, although larger, of the boy that lied trembling on his bed, failing the courage to even look around.

His father sat on the side of his bed and he felt the big hand gently stroking his long blond hair.

“Hei, Eidno!” his father said softly.

“Hei, dad”, Eidno answered with a trembling voice.

“I missed you when I got home”, his father said.

“I thought I wouldn’t be exactly welcome, dad”, Eidno replied truthful.

“Oh, how come, Eidno?” his father inquired gently.

Eidno shrugged, thought over his answer briefly and said:

“I guess mum has given you a full update on everything that has happened since you went away”.

For a few seconds his father said nothing but then Eidno heard him say:

“Yes, she did. And I guess you heard the results of that!”

For the first time Eidno had the courage to look at his father, his eyes questioning, since he didn’t understand what the man had meant.

“I mean that argument mum and I had”, his father said with a tired smile.

“Dad…” Eidno asked hesitantly, “Mum and you…you aren’t going to divorce, are you?”

His father grinned and said re-assuringly:

“No, son. Married couples have arguments so every now and then, all of them. That is no reason for a divorce. But I admit I prefer a full scale winter field exercise against American Special Forces over a fight with your mother!”

Eidno got confused. He had expected a furious ass-kicking for what others had dubbed his “misbehavior”, but his father was relaxed, easy-going, simply talking to him, as if this whole update from his mother had been forgotten or had never taken place. His father looked at him and seemed to notice it, because he said:

“Eidno, I’m going to be perfectly honest with you! If you ask me: do I mind that you are homosexual…yes, I do. I sure didn’t expect it. In a way it hurts me and I’m not happy with it. But…nobody gave me a carte blanche to determine the life of other people, not even the life of my son. And nobody gave me a power of attorney to determine who he must love. My leading thought is not with whom you are happy, but my leading thought is that you àre happy. In other words: I respect it! And for the rest: I see that as results from your being gay and the resistance it has caused against you and your boyfriend. However, the last thing I accept, is that some zealous, pompous parson wants to send my boy to the United States to get cured without my permission, actually without my even knowing it. So, in case you’re interested…we have Sundays as well for training, since I decided to leave that church as well for exactly that reason”.

Eidno’s only bewildered reaction was:

“Huh?”

His father smiled, pulled his son against his chest and said:

“That is: if you’re still interested in dog training and in the Finnmark Run!”.

“Yeah, dad, of course I am”, he said excitedly. But his sudden high hopes for a happy end sagged when he realized, that there was still a problem left:

“But what about mum?”

“I said I would be honest!”, his father sighed, “Your mum is a tougher and more stubborn case. I really can’t say what she will do. My feeling says she’ll come round in a while, but don’t ask me how long that while will be. As long as you remember, that I will be always your father and will support you in any thinkable way. Is that clear?”

“Yes dad!” Eidno said, with fresh tears in his eyes. But now it were tears of relief, of joy and of emotion.

“OK, so, trooper…any problems: you come and see me”, his father added with a laugh.

“Dad”, Eidno said cautiously, “May I ask something else?”

“Sure!” was the curt answer, “Just open fire!”

Eidno explained the plan Mihkkel had developed to regain some measure of respect at school and fight back the fools. When he had finished his father nodded with an approving smile and asked:

“But, son…what was the question?”

“Well dad, would you be willing to train Mihkkel as a handler, so that we are a team in the race?”

His father considered it briefly and then said:

“Yeah, we could do that!”

Spontaneously Eidno embraced his father with an exuberant “Thank you, dad!”.

Then the thought popped up, that there was much more to thank the man for than only that and he added more quietly:

“And thanks for your understanding and support, dad!”

“You’re welcome, Eidno, you’re always welcome!” his father said. A sad smile was gliding over his face when he moaned:

“Come, I guess I have to go back to my own little Cold War downstairs. See you tomorrow at breakfast, trooper. Sleep well!”

“Sleep well, dad”, Eidno said, seeing his father leave his room.

Relieved he took a deep breath and overthought what had happened. Unexpectedly he had found an ally, even an ally from an unthought direction in the form of a macho and tough sergeant in the Arctic elite unit of the Army. But coincidentally that sergeant was also his father and, as had become clear to him this evening, that father had a heart of gold.

Quickly he took his cell phone and pushed the pre-select for Mihkkel. The phone needed some rings before a sleepy voice answered with a:

“Yeeeaaaahhh?”

“Are you already asleep, sweetheart?” he asked giggling.

“Oh, hei, honey”, Mihkkel reacted, seemingly being awake now, “Sorry, I have been thinking all evening about how you might be doing but somehow I fell asleep. How are things over there?”

The question expressed anxiety but Eidno could re-assure his friend quickly by saying:

“You were right!”

“How that?” Mihkkel asked.

“Like you said: he is Norwegian!”

“Great” Mihkkel cheered, “So, you’re still alive, I suppose?”

“Ever talked to a dead guy?”, Eidno laughed, “But I’m damned tired. Let’s talk it over tomorrow, if you don’t mind”.

“I don’t mind”, Mihkkel said, “Sleep well, my love!”

“Sleep well, my sweetest!”

Eidno cut the connection and looked at the ceiling. Somehow the general impression of pack ice, that it was one solid mass of ice, was wrong. Here and there leads appeared, as became perfectly clear this evening.

 

 

 

 

Karasjoki, Finnmark, December 2013

 

On the first evening of December Mihkkel was in his room, busy painting. Apart from his time together with Eidno this were the moments of greatest happiness for him. All the school stress with the ever-continuing gauntlet running fell off him once he was working. It was strictly between him, his imagination, the paper and the paints!

He could understand, that Eidno felt the same when he got in his dog shed, especially since he had been there for a number of times, actually taking part in the training in his role as handler. He had to admit he liked it as well. But this, what he was doing now, was where he put all of his heart in.

He heard his mother call from downstairs:

“Honey, could you come down for a minute? I want to talk to you!”

“Yeah, just a second!”, he yelled back, “I’m coming. One little thing I want to finish”.

It made him a bit annoyed. He was getting along just fine with his idea for this painting and now he had to interrupt it. But he did as was told and went down, where he found his mother in the kitchen.

“I just made me a coffee, honey. You want some too?” she asked with her always kind smile.

“Yeah, great! I’d love to”, he said enthusiastically.

She poured water in a second mug, putting them both on the kitchen table and sat beside him.

“What’s up, mum?” he asked, not knowing what to expect.

“Well, honey”, she said, as if she was thinking it over, “Two peculiar things happened at work today”.

“Such as?” Mihkkel wanted to know, feeling a bit in the dark as far as the subject of the talk was.

“First of all”, his mother explained, “we had a bunch of kids from your school in the cafetaria. They behaved pretty funny. They whispered among one another, giggled, and they were staring at me all the time”.

Mihkkel felt an incredible anger coming up. That they targeted him for their mockery and hassle was to be expected, but they had no right to draw his mother into it.

“How did they look like?” he asked icily.

“Why, honey?” his mother asked with an incredulous smile, “You wanted to fight them? Why should you do that?”

He knew he couldn’t answer; it would betray too much!

“Besides”, she continued, “It would get you in trouble with the principal if you started fighting”.

He looked at her and saw a slightly cheeky and baiting expression in her twinkling eyes.

She sipped at her coffee and said, as if it came up in her mind by pure coincidence:

“Now we’re talking about this principal…, that’s the other funny thing that happened today. He called me at work”.

“Oh shit”, a fearful muse flashed through Mihkkel’s mind, “This is getting messy!”

Undisturbed his mother continued talking:

“He told me, he had sent a letter. Do you know anything about a letter, honey?”

He dropped his eyes and bowed his head, staring at the table and blushing with shame.

“Honey?” his mother gently insisted.

He bit on his lower lip. He knew there was no way out so he nodded soundlessly.

“Oh…” his mother reacted in mock surprise, “What happened with this letter?”

Mihkkel kept staring at the table. He sighed and said softly:

“I...I eeeuuuhhh…I intercepted it”.

“Oh, so I suppose it is still in your room somewhere?” his mother asked, her voice free of anger or even the slightest trace of irritation.

Mihkkel shook his head. Right now, he started to feel really nervous.

“What did you do with it, honey?”

He was no fool: he knew he could have expected this question. Only thing he could do was answer it, because, no matter how kind she remained, she wouldn’t let him off the hook. He knew her well enough by now.

“I burned it”, he whispered.

“What was that, honey?” his mother queried him, “I didn’t get what you said”.

“I burned it”, he said somewhat louder.

“But, honey, was it that explosive? What did it actually say then?” she asked. Yes, she asked and she asked in a gentle way but nevertheless Mihkkel felt what it actually was: an interrogation.

“It said that I had skipped school”, he confessed.

She laid her hand on his and then she asked very gently:

“And was this letter right? Did you skip school?”

He was still staring at the table. By now he knew every grain, scratch and stain in the wood. He couldn’t lie to his mother. She was too kind, too sweet, too caring. He bit on his lower lip another time and then he answered the only thing he could answer: he nodded in confirmation.

He heard his mother sigh. It hurt him to hear it and it made him feel deeply ashamed. However, her hand remained on his and patiently and very gently she asked:

“Why did you do that?”

In fits and starts he told the story of what had begun in September and had been going on until the present day. He included how Eidno’s mother had denounced him as her son and how she had tried to get him to America to “get cured”, as the parson had called it. This part of the story caused a scowl on his mother’s face, but she said nothing, not interrupting the faltering stream of words. When he finished she just asked:

“Why all that? You and Eidno never had problems at school”.

Mihkkel’s eyes concentrated on that one slightly darker brown stain on the table, knowing full well he had to give an answer, fearing that all hell would be loose after he had given it. But in a way he wanted to give that answer, get it all off his chest. He looked up in his mother’s eyes, saw that they were still looking at him with their usual warm expression and stammered:

“Because…because we love each other!”

It surprised and confused him: nothing changed! His mother’s hand was still on his, her eyes didn’t change their expression and the only thing she said, was:

“So what?”

“But…”, he almost objected, “Every Sami thinks that is something awful, something horrible!”

“You seem surprised, honey?” his mother asked with a teasing and provocative smile.

He said nothing, but his eyes made her perfectly clear he was.

She just shrugged and said quietly:

“I’m not any Sami, honey. I’m the daughter of your grandfather”.

“What does that have to do with it?” he blurted out.

“You’ll have to ask him. It’s not my place to tell you that”, was her only reaction. She took another sip of coffee and said:

“How would you feel about going to another school? One where they don’t harass you?”

He considered it: it was an enticing idea, a school where he could breathe freely, have no problems and where he could concentrate on graduation and then to university. But he shook his head, rejecting it:

“No!”

“Why not, honey?” his mother wanted to know.

“Well, mum,” he answered thoughtfully, “First of all I would miss my Sami classes. But more important: I would abandon Eidno. He would have to cope with all hostility all by himself. At least we can support one another now”.

Smiling his mother nodded in understanding. Then she suggested:

“But…a good talk with the principal? The two of us?”

He nodded. He saw no harm in that.

His mother stared for a short while like she was thinking. Then she said:

“Remember one thing, honey: most of the hassling is caused, because these other kids have to hide some weaknesses themselves”.

“Are you saying they’re all gay?” he asked in utter astonishment.

She smiled and replied:

“No, that’s not what I meant. But, you know, kids of around your age have so many fears, anxieties and uncertainties in their head. Especially the meanest hasslers usually have. They use the hassling to distract unwelcome attention to their own weaknesses, thereby avoiding that they will be harassed themselves. And any target will do to serve that purpose, especially two gay boys…or two lesbian girls or whatever. For the rest of them…they’re just dumb reindeers, following the head of the herd. I mean: they only consider it cool to join the effort. And which school kid doesn’t want to be cool?”

Mihkkel considered it. That was a way of looking at it he had never thought of before.

“What are you implying?” he asked, almost excited.

“Well…”, his mother smiled, “I’m not saying it is a kind way of dealing with it. But assuming the two of you have used all friendly and decent ways of defense fruitlessly, maybe it is time to start a little meaner approach: try to find out the weaknesses of these ring leaders and use them against them”.

“But…”, Mihkkel objected, “That’s cruel!”

His mother nodded:

“Yes, it is. But they are cruel to the two of you”.

She smiled and softly said:

“And, honey, in love and war everything is allowed!”