The Chronos Project

His grandmother beckoned him to her room, chanting in slurry Norwegian. Andries hung up the call with his father back in the states and raced to his frail Gran’s bedside.

“Anngrin,” She called touching the top of his young hand with her wrinkled digits. “Anngrin, Jeg har savnet deg.”

Andries smiled at his resting Gran. “Gran, Anngrin is in Wales, remember, with Molly. Gran, it’s Andries.”

“Andries!” She leaned her head forward as if to sit up, but clenched her eyes and then returned to a lying position. “Andries, of course!” Her English was crumby, but better than his Nordic.

“Are you feeling alright Gran?” He touched the back of his hand to her forehead.

“Magen.” She said looking down. Stomach, something with her stomach.

“I’ll phone the nurse, she’ll be here soon.” He spoke slowly, but still the woman looked confused at his foreign words. He held up his pointer finger to insinuate his being back readily.

He grabbed the landline phone and dialed for the house up the street where the nurse made her rounds.

“Hei.” The line picked up.

“Hei, Hilia? Norsk vaer sna snill?” He asked that she speak English to the best of her abilities.

“Ah, Allo, Andries? Is Juli ok?” Her accent was thick, and she still said most of the letters how they were in Norwegian.

“Her stomach, she said her stomach feels ill.” He leaned forward, his Gran was still in the bed. He checked the calendar beside the phone, and noted the date. One year. Just one year, certainely he thought, he had to make sure his Gran outlived him.

“Ok, Just a moment Andries.” He could picture her smiling, brushing her thick hair back out of her face. She hung up and Andries returned back to his Grans bed.

“Anngrim?” His Gran asked in her delirium.

“nei, Andries, Anngrim vil vaer hir snart.” He told her, Anngrim would return shortly. Anngrim was the child raised here, but he had to hurry off to Wales for his daughter. So he flew in Andries, who knew nothing of Norway, only that his mothers mother was ill, and he would only be there temporarily.

Andries had two full Norsk parents, but his mother was stuck in Finland due to Visa issues and his Father cared not for Gran. Gran had only seen Andries once before, the week he was born. Andries and his oldest sister moved with his father to the states while Anngrim and the middle sisters stayed with his mom in Norway. But since he’d come he made a little deal with himself, that since he had this clock –his father had told him when he was quite young, very matter of factly- He would make sure this wonderfully confused elder lived as long as he had anything to do with it.

There was a knock at the door. Andries raced and answered.

“Hei.” Said the cheery nurse, her hair done up in a fancy bun, the chestnut colour accentuating her blue eyes.

Andries could easily recall the first time he met Hilia, he had just got off the plane. He was shaking and nervous and knew only the Norwegian he picked up from the flight, and that which his father used incoordination with his everyday English. Hilia had a sign with his name on it in beautiful script. She was elder to him by at least ten years. Her hair an ashy blonde, and her face slim. She was petite and often wore dresses with weather-concious wool leggings.

Upon meeting her Andries assumed he had fallen in love woith her, but it was nothing so simple. He was fascinated by her, how she had this awfully morbid job in this semi-deserted town and she was so happy with it. She made all her patients feel better, and she was just so different that Andries found himself wondering what kept her going everyday.

“Thank you Hilia, she is in her room.” Andries smiled closing the door behind the petite woman.

Andries was just a few steps behind when the landline rang again. He picked it up and wedged it between his shoulder and ear. He traced the floral wallpaper with his eyes.

“Hei.” Andries answered.

“Andries? How is Beste?” Beste was short for Bestemor, which was Nordic for Grandmother. The Norwegian siblings called her that.

“Carinne? Or Rosaline?”

“You should be able to tell now, Carinne.” Her accent was well hidden, but traces became abundant the more she spoke.

The twins, Carinne and Rosaline, born and raised in Norway, both of them off at University and too busy to help their Beste.

“Gran is okay, When is Anngrim coming back, Gran is always asking for him.”

“I don’t know, I think Molly is really ill, she’s more his focus right now.”

“I don’t know how much longer-,” Andries stretched the cord to give himself more distance between his Gran. “I don’t know how much longer I can stay here Carinne, I don’t even speak Norwegian hardly.”

“Really? You said Hei quite convincingly.” She joked.

“Carinne, please, I can’t stay here, what about Mam?” Andries leaned on the kitchen counter, noticing for the seventh time the flickering lightbulb in the ceiling.

“Mam is trying, how dare you question that. Take one for the team, I get it, You never knew her, or Mama Norway, but the family needs you now Andries, you have to try.”

“I have been trying, CArinne” He nearly spat.

Carinne sighed. “Look, I will fly up after finals, and you can go back home, even though I don’t know what it is exactly you have back there that is so great.”

“My life is there Carinne, just like your life is here.”

“Sometimes I glad we didn’t grow up together Andries.” Andries paused, and she spoke again slowly. “Because Mam raised us better than that.”

“Mam, Mam, Mam was never there for me, Carinne, My whole life has been consumed with this-thing- that is all her fault.”

“Selfish!” Carinne spat. “I hope you don’t speak like this to your Gran.”

“I don’t I want her to live, I do, the nurse is in there just now, but time is precious
Carinne, why did you call?” Andries stared at the flickering light.

“Just to talk to Beste, but if she’s busy I’ll try again tomorrow.”

“Okay, Bye Carinne.”

The line went dead.

He peeked through the arch, Gran was chuckling and Hilia was administering something through an IV while speaking rapidly in her native dialect.

Andries smiled at sat on the frail couch. It groaned under his weight. He wasn’t yet sure if the house was his grans, or if it actually had any connection to his family. He assumed they were renting it to be nearer to a house maid. The house was mid-century or colonial or something like that, it was creaking and sagging about every corner. The lights hardly worked, the television had been long since corrupted, the fridge was molded inside, the wood was near hollow, and the thermostat was merely a wall ornament. But it would serve its purpose. Then there was the broken clock, stuck just past midnight. But no matter, it was detemined to tick and tock exclusively every other second.

The house had four bedrooms, two downstairs, and one upstairs. In one of the downstairs bedrooms his grandmother and all of her wild ornaments and monitors were set up. In the adjacent room was an office space with a shattered computer and stacks of books. When his mam had been up here, she had been working he assumed. Upstairs was his room, lackluster as any room could be. With a browning mattress on the floor and three battered comfoters. His pile of clothes and toiletries were stacked atop his suitcase in the corner. The only thing new in the house being his Norwegian dictionary he skimmed every night. The room parallel was meant for the girls, whenever they decided to join.

He fiddled with the Sudoku book on the wooden coffee table, saying his numbers in off-tone Norwegian as he spoke. He looked up when he heard Hilia’s high-pitched goodbye to his Gran. Hilia met his careful gaze and smiled, though her eyes were pitiful. She took the seat beside him, grabbing for his hand when he dropped the puzzle book. Her handwas chilled.

“Andries.” She loved the way she said his name, the way his name was meant to be said, by someone who always spoke Norwegian.

“What is it?”

“She is getting. . . worse.” She sometimes paused to remember the words in english. Andries thanked god that she knew as much as she did.

“How bad?” Shelowered her grey eyes.

“Andries, I think it is. . .progressing very fast. Faster than the doctors thought.” Hilia’s eyes had lost that sparkle. Something in her facial expression made his stomach drop.

“What do you mean to tell me?”

“I’m not sure, Andries, that she will live past a week.” Her face was still, but there was a catch in her throat.

“Oh.” He had lost the words to say. He couldn’t let her pass, not before he did. She was his burden, and he would carry it gladly as long as he could as his last effort to make amends with his family.
“Do you need me to. . .phone your family?” She looked back towards Grans room.

“No, thanks, I’ll call them tomorrow.” Hilia rubbed over his hand and stood, offering a hug which he accepted.

“I will stop by tomorrow, after I have. . .spoken with her doctor.” Hilia smiled and closed the front door carefully.

Andries glided past the phone, and took quickly to the armchair besides his grandmother. He touched his warm hand to her icicle fingers.

“Don’t you give up Gran. Don’t you give up. You hold on, for me, you owe me this.” He spoke, watching her rollover in her sleep. He closed his eyes, keeping his hand in hers.