To anyone who is getting this story for the first time, please read The Toothfish, Part 1 first, to fully appreciate and understand this story. You can also read the whole thing as one story over at https://girar.world/chapter/?id=136&book=Stories%20%282022%29 ***
Father sits at a fine-dining restaurant in central Oslo. He is not the only one Dr Hvit has called to dinner. Father is in the company of many other doctors and their spouses. He is seated next to one of the doctors who he knows works in the neonatology wing of the hospital but whom he has never conversed with. Father exchanges polite pleasantries with him when necessary, but otherwise maintains his conversations with Mother. Mother is sparkling in a flowing leopard-print dress. Despite just reaching her sixties, she has combed every one of her grey hairs under to the point that only a bloom of blond is visible, and the pale thinness of her face matches the flamboyance of her dress choice. Father is the opposite. Mother may have spent a lot of money to buy his outfit, and yet Father’s belly is about to burst out of his white button-down shirt and pink-striped blazer. He is not fat in the least but feels much bigger than a lot of the other men and women in the restaurant. Norwegians as a group are no longer defined as just white, gaunt, and tall. The restaurant-goers of all the skin colours and national backgrounds found in modern Oslo have no problem showing off how beautiful they look in their coats, dresses, and jewels. Dr Hvit himself has dressed to impress. He is more or less the same age as Father, more or less a similar figure, and yet his tight white pants fit him effortlessly, his sleek white jacket gives off a professional countenance, and the beret adds the whiff of a thinker. Father knows that Dr Hvit’s choice of dress is not accidental. He has invited the twenty of them here for a reason. That reason becomes apparent after the appetisers. The walls of the restaurant are made of glass, and so light reflects and refracts all over, causing shadows to dance on top of the white of the tabletops. The restaurant is on the port side, and so water surrounds Father’s view. The exception is the view of the opera house. It buoys itself in the water like a melting glacier. The restaurant is near a lot of other tourist attractions and is therefore crowded and noisy. This is why Dr Hvit stands up and clanks a fork on his wine glass. He is about to give his toast. « My esteemed fellow doctors, thank you so much for joining me and my wife for dinner today. It is an honour to have you join us, particularly at this hour, outside of your work and during your resting hours. » Dr Hvit’s wife, Johanna, stands up, wearing a tight-fitting black dress. She is not as skinny as Mother, and her fat jiggles as she straightens her back for all the doctors to see. She bows ever so slightly with her wine glass in hand. She stares Father in the eyes, and Father stares back. They exchange a polite smile. Dr Hvit continues. « We are so grateful to have you here. You are some of our best friends, and my wife and I feel so satisfied knowing that we have experienced some of our most pleasant memories with your families at our side. » What a pompous lie, Father thinks. Ignoring his own personal history with the doctor, all he has to do is take a look around to know that none of the doctors present are the ones Dr Hvit regularly interacts with. Dr Larsen, Dr Nilsen . . . these are mostly the top earners of the hospital. It’s very clear they have been invited for funding reasons. Despite this, Father finds himself with a half-smile. Part of this is to maintain decorum, just like all of the other doctors and their partners are making a similar contortion of their faces. The other is because Dr Hvit has made his presence known without raising his voice. He has maintained a merely elevated conversational pitch and yet everyone is listening to him, even some of the strangers seated at the bar, getting drunk. There is so much din in the restaurant, and yet his diction is clear. Father is genuinely impressed. Dr Hvit finally gets to the point. « As you all must know, it has been a little bit over a year since I proposed my hospital reforms. I am pleased to say that the hospital board has read it over, and diligently. Your signatures were of great help, and it helped the board deliberate. This is why the decision took so long. Sadly, it is not a pleasing decision. We were not able to meet the target amount needed in order to buy the new state-of-the-art technology, and therefore the board is not sure whether to move forward, particularly given that they involve equipment our patients rarely need. » Of course, Father thinks, and he predicts in his mind exactly what Dr Hvit says next. Dr Hvit takes out some papers from a briefcase and gets his wife to hand them to each doctor. « Which, my friends, is why I have invited you here for dinner today. I have prepared a detailed budget of how much money the hospital will need in order to finance the updating of its equipment. If we can get some government funding, it would be wonderful. However, I know how much each and every one of you have complained about how far we are falling behind compared to the best of what Oslo and the world have to offer. I think if we are able to each give the amounts stated in these documents, we will be able to convince the board to take the infrastructure updates ahead. » Father takes the paper, reciprocating Mrs Hvit’s polite half-smile with one of his own. His face scrunches up the moment he sees the document, simply because he finds the font a little too small. He wishes he had brought his reading glasses; he had left them in the car. He is about to ask his wife to read out the details for him, but Dr Hvit cuts off teir conversation. « My friends, as I said, you coming to this dinner is a source of great happiness for me. We can consider these matters after we feast. First, let us have our meal. » Dr Hvit and his wife take their seats. So, he isn’t pressuring us to donate immediately, Father reflects. How odd . . . Father is used to Dr Hvit’s direct style of marketing. Usually he is successful at getting what he wants up front. Father wonders if Dr Hvit is a little under the weather. He observes that Dr Hvit is sweating, and he is mouthing something to his wife rather than listening to the other doctors engaged in conversation around him. As soon as he sits down, ten or so waiters come, almost in a line, carrying plates on their shoulders. Father wonders if Dr Hvit had to pay extra to orchestrate something like this. It’s a little bit of a spectacle, which causes some of the doctors to take out their phones and record videos. Father takes one last look at the paper before putting it away. He still can’t read it, but he is thinking seriously of donating. He has donated many times to Dr Hvit before, and most of the time Dr Hvit delivers on what he says. Not to mention that Father’s time on this earth is limited, and he knows that the only place he has made an impact on is the hospital. If in a hundred years people are still roaming around the port side of Oslo, he’d like them to know of the place he worked at, and how it continues to ensure the livelihood of people as it does now. The diseases of the future are only a few years away, and it would be useful to invest in automation before anything else cripples the world. The flesh of the Antarctic toothfish simmers under a cream of butter and wine. Father stirs the meat in the beurre blanc sauce, cuts deep into the toothfish, and puts fork to mouth. The creaminess of the sauce dashes against his taste buds; his teeth grind furiously against the softness of the flesh. Life has been too good to me, Father thinks. He is suddenly grateful for being able to have such an exquisite meal, just as he is grateful to be able to afford to dine at such restaurants, just as he is grateful to live in one of the most developed countries on the planet. He tells himself he will never trade his place in life for anything or anyone. He guzzles down what is in his mouth, his eyes almost rolling in the back of his head as his tongue savours each and every bite of this immaculately cooked meal.
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