Fair Play by Tove Jansson Read Free Book Online Page B

glasses and shouted, “But I’ve changed the whole ending! I told you! Do you want to know what I’ve done? The woman he’s calling doesn’t exist. She doesn’t exist! Anton’s calling his own number! Calling himself, you see? Isn’t that better?”
    â€œYes,” Jonna said.
    â€œOkay. You agree that makes it better. Now he comes back to the table, and Bosse and Kalle can see that something has happened. I’ll read ...”
    â€œWait a second,” Jonna said. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
    â€œI’m killing her,” Mari explained. “That is to say, Anton’s killing her. So he doesn’t have to go on phoning. Bosse and Kalle are upset, of course, and they order more drinks to comfort him ...”
    â€œI don’t think you should use more drinks,” Jonna said. “But that’s a good idea with the woman. What about doing away with George as well? I mean, it’s just a thought.”
    â€œBut you like him,” Mari said. “You said he was good.” She stood up and gathered her papers. “This isn’t going to work.”
    â€œYes it will,” Jonna said. “You just need to rewrite it another way. Shall we have some coffee?”
    â€œNo. I don’t think I want any coffee.”
    â€œMari. We’ve got Kalle’s melancholy conclusion that nothing matters. We’ve got George who just goes around in circles and doesn’t know it’s hopeless. But then we’ve got Anton who dares to kill a lie. It’s Anton who might be interesting, and you don’t care about him at all. Forget George and think about Anton. Why is he behaving this way? Your engine’s idling and you need to add a little fresh insanity, and now I’m going to make coffee.”
    Jonna filled the teakettle in the bathroom. Looking in the mirror, looking at her own face, she thought with sudden bitterness that it couldn’t go on like this, these short stories that were never finished and just went on and on getting rewritten and discarded and picked up again, all those words that got changed and changed places and I can’t remember how they were yesterday and what’s happened to them today! I’m tired! I’ll go in and tell her, now, right now ... For example, I wonder if she could describe me well enough to give people a quick, convincing picture. What could she say? A broad, inhospitable face, lots of wrinkles, brown hair going gray, large nose?
    Jonna took in the coffee and said, “Try to describe what I look like.”
    â€œSeriously?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œJust half a cup,” Mari said. “I think I’ll head home.” After a while, she said, “I’d try to describe a kind of patience. And stubbornness. Somehow bring out the fact that you don’t want anything except ... well, except what you want. Wait a moment ... Your hair has an unusual hint of bronze, especially against the light. Your profile and your short neck make one think of, you know, old Roman emperors who thought they were God himself ... Wait. It’s the way you move and the way you walk. And when you slowly turn your face toward me. Your eyes ...”
    â€œOne of them’s gray and the other one’s blue,” Jonna said. “And now drink your coffee because you need to stay alert. We’ll take the whole thing from the beginning. Read slowly, we’ve got time. Concentrate on Anton, always Anton. He has to come alive. You can sacrifice even George if you have to. Read slowly. Kalle says, ‘Miss, another round.’ Real slow. We need to pay attention. Every time it seems wrong, we stop. Every time we get something like an idea, we’ll stop. Are you ready? Read.”

TRAVELS WITH A KONICA
    J ONNA made movies. She’d acquired an 8mm Konica, and she loved the small device and took it with her everywhere they traveled.
    â€œMari,” she said,