Money had never really interested her. Not since she began making so much that she never had to worry. She had a high salary and worked a good deal, and she had no major expenses. Four years ago she had allowed herself to buy an apartment in one of the city’s newly renovated historic buildings, and her mother had expressed her utter dismay. Monika had never told her what it cost, but her mother managed to figure it out from the local paper, an article in which the reporter was shocked at the scandalous property prices. And her mother had leisurely inspected the apartment and found more defects than a professional surveyor.
‘Let’s take a look. You have two hundred and eighty-seven thousand in your savings account, and then you have a money market fund that at today’s rates is worth ninety-eight thousand kronor.’
Monika wrote down the figures. Investing money had never interested her, but at some point she had followed the bank’s advice and put a little of her money into various funds. But it actually made her rather uncomfortable. In a bank account she knew what the interest was and wouldn’t be hit by any unpleasant surprises. The yield from a mutual fund was more uncertain, and she didn’t like taking risks.
‘Okay, what about the Asia fund then?’
He typed in some more numbers.
‘Sixty-eight thousand five hundred.’
Monika shifted her feet.
‘I’d like to cash in all of them and withdraw what I have in the savings account.’
He gave her a quick look before his hand went back to the keyboard.
‘Would you like a cashier’s cheque or would you like the money transferred to an account?’
She thought it over. Once more she was surprised at her lack of planning. It wasn’t like her to ignore details. In future she should think things through a little better.
‘If you put the funds into my cheque account, can I make transfers by phone to someone else’s account later? I mean even a large amount?’
He suddenly looked unsure. Hesitated a bit with his answer.
‘Yes, technically you can transfer the money, but it depends on what you want to do with it, whether it’s legal with regard to taxes, I mean. If there’s something you want to buy, then a cashier’s cheque is preferable.’
‘No, I’m not buying anything.’
He hesitated again. Looked around as if he wanted some colleague to come and help him.
‘This will be quite a considerable sum that is being transferred, so…’
He typed again.
‘Four hundred and fifty-three thousand five hundred and twenty-three kronor. I just want you to know that such a large transfer might interest the tax authorities.’
Monika suddenly noticed that her vague irritation was growing stronger and that it would soon become apparent to the man on the other side of the counter. This wasn’t like her, either. Not caring what that officious man thought of her. That for once she might be viewed as annoying with all her demands. But she would have to take it a little easy. She wasn’t finished yet, she had more matters to take care of, and it would be more difficult if she lost his goodwill.
‘Then I’ll take a cashier’s cheque.’
He nodded and was about to pull out a drawer when she continued.
‘And then I’d like to take out a loan.’
He began digging in the drawer and found the paper with the survey of her apartment. It was nine months old, but the building was known all over the city. Everyone knew how attractive the flats were. For those who could afford them.
He gently closed the drawer, looking at her a bit longer this time, and then began reading the paper. She didn’t take her eyes off him as he scanned the document. She already had a mortgage on the apartment even though she could have made a large cash down-payment. Someone had told her that for tax reasons it was better to have the loan outstanding instead of paying it off with the money she had in the bank.
When he finished reading he looked at her again.
‘How much did you have in mind?’
‘How much could I borrow?’
He stood quite still. Then his hand went to his throat and tugged a little on the perfect knot of his necktie. He pulled out the drawer again and took out a form.
‘Please fill this out while I do some calculations.’
She read the paper lying on the counter. Income, length of employment, marital status, number of children to support.
She took a pen and started filling in the information.
Her gaze settled on the hand holding the pen, and suddenly she didn’t recognise it. She recognised the ring she had bought for herself and saw that her fingers were making the motions she was telling them to do, but the hand seemed somehow separate, as if it belonged to someone else’s body.
‘You can borrow three hundred thousand more on the equity in your property.’
He had gone over the completed form and familiarised himself with what else he needed to know, and now he placed a loan proposal on the counter in front of her. She had seen him talking with one of his colleagues. Noticed that during the conversation they had looked at her a few times, but she didn’t care. It was strange how unmoved it all left her. But three hundred thousand wasn’t enough. She needed more, and she slid his proposal back across the counter.
‘How much can I borrow beyond this amount?’
She could see that he hesitated. She sensed his anxiety and was perfectly aware that she was the cause of it, but it didn’t faze her. She had a mission to fulfil and he had nothing to do with it.
And what should she do with her money if she didn’t even have the right to be alive?
‘It’s easier if we know what you will be using the money for. I mean, if, for example, you want to buy a house or a car, it would be much easier for us to grant a loan.’
‘But that’s not what I’m going to do. I’m quite pleased with my BMW.’
Her hand again. It looked different. And the words she heard herself saying were unfamiliar too.
‘I can see here that you have an excellent income and… you’re a doctor… and your ability to repay the loan is undeniably excellent. And only one child to support.’
He hesitated.
‘Wait just a moment, I’ll consult my colleague.’
He strode through the bank. She looked at the paper she had filled out.
She had at least been honest, obviously, and put down her obligation to support Daniella.
But only one child to support.
He was an idiot.
He was conferring with the woman she had said hello to when she came in. That was good. She presumably knew all about Monika’s spotless past. There were no payment problems; in all those years she had never paid a bill late. She had always been a conscientious citizen, no one could complain on that score. It wasn’t actually possible to accuse her of that defect any longer, the one that sat inside her but couldn’t be seen, because she had once and for all decided to atone for it. She would sacrifice everything she had ever wanted and subjugate herself. What more could she be expected to do? In order to get back the right to exist.
She didn’t notice that he had returned until she heard him speaking to her.
‘We can issue an unsecured loan for another two hundred thousand in view of the amount you usually save.’
He picked up his pen and calculated quickly. Nine hundred and fifty-three thousand, five hundred. It wasn’t really enough but apparently it was all she could manage at present. It would have to do. Pernilla would at least be able to pay off her loan. And Monika herself could continue to help with whatever she could.
‘Okay. I’ll take it in the same cashier’s check.’
‘In what name?’
She thought for a moment. The tax authorities might be interested.
‘Put it in mine.’
* * *
Her agitation increased with each step as she approached. With each intersection the accelerator seemed harder to press down. She had to force herself to drive in through the
gates to the clinic grounds and further to the parking lot. Someone had had the audacity to take her parking space, and she angrily jotted down the licence number on a parking receipt. She would find out who the owner of that car was and personally ring and tell him off. Or her. She realised that it might even feel good. To be able to take it out on someone. Someone who had done wrong. To be able to say what a bloody idiot he or she was and be fully justified in taking the upper hand.
She parked her car in the next space and hurried towards the entrance. The red brick façade loomed before her. This had been her refuge, giving purpose to her life, but now she felt nothing. Everything associated with this building now stood in the way of what she needed to devote herself to. She had to drive to Pernilla’s and see how she was doing today. Whether she was feeling bad after all the wine she drank. Find out whether there was anything she could do. The distaste increased with each step she took towards the entrance, and by the time she managed to place her hand on the handle of the entry door she realised that it would be impossible. That familiar shape. The hand that instantly felt at home and tried to send impulses to the Monika who was usually there but who was no longer accessible.
You have sworn upon your honour that you in your work as a physician shall strive to serve your fellow man with humanity and respect for life as a guiding principle. Your goal shall be to preserve and promote health, to prevent illness, and to cure the sick and alleviate their suffering.
Only two people had the right to demand that of her. Only those two to whom she was indebted. They were the only ones.
Suddenly she felt ill. She backed up a few steps and then turned and ran back to her car. Behind locked doors she let her gaze sweep across the façade to make sure that no one had seen her from any of the windows. Without checking behind her properly she backed out of the parking space and almost collided with the ticket machine. Then she continued out the gates going much too fast, but when she had gone some distance she pulled over to the kerb and stopped. She took out her mobile and punched in the letters.
‘Taking one more week’s leave of absence. Best wishes, Monika L.’
Message sent.
It took only a minute before the phone rang. She recognised the head of the clinic’s number on the display but stuffed the mobile back in her handbag. A minute later the beeps sounded, telling her he had left a message.
Pernilla and Daniella were out in the playground when she parked outside their building. She could see them from the car, and she sat there, watching them. It felt good to sit there in secret and still be able to keep them under supervision. For once to have control even when Pernilla was nearby. To be spared subjecting herself to her moods and having to watch each word carefully in fear of being sent away. She sat there for a long time. Watching Daniella swing back and forth, back and forth. Pernilla was pushing her, but with her gaze turned in another direction, out into empty nothingness.
Dinner yesterday. All the intolerable things Pernilla had said. If they could meet somewhere else it would certainly be easier. Somewhere Mattias’s presence was not so obvious. Where Pernilla and Monika could have the chance to be in peace with their tentative friendship. And then she decided. It would be better for them to meet at her place instead. Where there was no admittance to Mattias.
She started the car and drove back into town.
She drove past Olsson’s antiquarian bookshop. She had seen them that morning but hadn’t really registered what they were until she suddenly remembered now. They were hanging in the display window, two historical pictures in simple gold frames. One of them was a map from Sweden’s glory days and the other was a lithograph of Karl XIV Johan’s coronation. She bought them for twelve hundred kronor and then continued on to the Emmaus Secondhand Shop. They had several ceramic objects that looked home-made, and none of the ones she picked would make Pernilla feel inferior.
She left all her purchases in the hall, went into her study and called before she even took off her coat. It rang several times but nobody answered. Maybe they were still out in the playground; if so, they had certainly been there a long time. She saw by the clock that it had been over an hour since she had seen them there, and it made her uneasy that they weren’t back yet. She hung up and went to take off her coat. The uneasiness refused to let her go. She kept calling every five minutes for the next hour, and when Pernilla finally answered she was practically beside herself with worry.
‘Yes, hi, it’s Monika, where have you two been?’
Pernilla didn’t answer at once, and Monika realised that her question had been overhasty. At least phrasing it in that tone of voice. And she could hear that Pernilla thought so too.
‘Out. Why do you ask?’
Monika swallowed.
‘Oh, I was just wondering, I didn’t mean anything by it.’
Did she dare ask? Now that things had got off on the wrong foot? She wasn’t sure that she would be able to handle a rejection. But she had to meet with her. She had all her papers, she had to have a chance to give them back, and of course she had some good news!
‘I thought I’d ask if you’d like to come here and have dinner tonight.’
Pernilla didn’t reply, and Monika could feel the adrenaline forcing her heart to speed up. At the same time she could feel how unfair it was, when she had such good intentions. Pernilla should really be meeting her halfway.
‘I thought we could eat a bit early so that Daniella could come along too. Maybe at four or five or so, if that would work.’
Pernilla still didn’t reply, and Monika was feeling more and more stressed. She hadn’t intended to bring it up in advance but Pernilla’s hesitation forced her to say something. In any case she had to give her a little hint.
‘I have some good news for you.’
This constant desire for control. It was going to drive her crazy. Always demeaning herself, playing the underdog. Being forced to ask everything twice.
‘What would that be?’
No. She didn’t intend to say any more. She had the right to be there in person when she gave her the news. To be there and share in the joy for once. She deserved it, as a matter of fact.
‘Did you ring that programme?’
‘I’ll tell you when you come. I can pick you up if you like.’
Pernilla had given in. Agreed to come over. But she hadn’t sounded particularly happy. Monika still felt the irritation that had been triggered at the bank. Even Pernilla was exasperating her. No one did what she wanted and nothing was ever the way she had imagined. Nothing Monika did was ever good enough.
She picked them up at four and not much was said during the drive. It was obvious that Pernilla didn’t want to talk about yesterday’s dinner, and Monika wasn’t very interested in doing so either. Pernilla sat in the back seat with Daniella on her lap. Since they didn’t have a car, they had no child’s seat, and it occurred to Monika that she should buy one. For the future. Considering all the things they would be doing together.
For the moment she felt quite secure, and she had almost managed to put herself in an anticipatory mood when Pernilla suddenly asked, ‘Would you mind stopping right up ahead? I just have to run in and do a quick errand.’
Monika pulled into a space between two cars and turned off the engine. Pernilla climbed out with Daniella in her arms, and Monika opened her door and stretched out her arms to take her. Then Pernilla went down a lane and Monika and Daniella stayed in the car and sang ‘Itsy Bitsy Spider’. Over and over again. Monika looked more and more nervously at the clock and started to wonder how the root vegetable casserole at home in the oven was faring. When Itsy Bitsy had climbed up the tree seven more times, the passenger door was suddenly opened. Pernilla put a large white box on the floor in front of the passenger seat and stretched out her arms for Daniella. And then they drove off again. Monika stole a glance at the carton. As big as a six-pack of beer it stood there on the floor and kept drawing her eyes over and over again. White and anonymous, without a wor
d on it as a clue. Today she had acted far too curious once already, and she knew it was risky, but finally she couldn’t contain herself any longer.
‘What’s in the box?’
She could see Pernilla in the rear-view mirror. She sat looking out the side window and didn’t change her expression when she replied.
‘It’s just Mattias.’
A shock went through the car. First it hit Monika but her hands transmitted it to the car, which swerved violently. Pernilla instinctively threw out her arm and grabbed the handle above the back door, and with the other she took a tighter grip on Daniella.
‘Sorry, a cat ran in front of the car.’
Monika tried to control her breathing. The white box stood like a reproach on the floor, and even though she tried to keep her eyes on the road, the box managed time after time to tear them away. And each time it looked bigger. As if it were growing each time she looked away.
This is how much is left of me. Hope you have a nice dinner.
Only a few hundred metres to go. She had to get out of the car.
It was all your fault. It doesn’t matter what you do now.
It was impossible to breathe. She had to get out.
Monika was standing utterly still next to the door on the driver’s side. She had discovered that the air was hard to breathe even outside the car. The air was hard to breathe wherever she was, each time she tried to take a breath.
‘Is this where you live? How elegant.’
Pernilla had climbed out on the other side with Daniella in her arms. She had fallen asleep on the way and her head was resting against Pernilla’s shoulder.
‘You take the urn. I don’t want to leave it in the car.’
It had sounded more like an order than a question, and either way it left Monika with no choice. She looked at the white box through the window.
Come on. I can’t walk myself, as you well know.
‘Which door is it? Daniella’s getting a little heavy for my back.’
Monika slowly went round the car and opened the passenger door.
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