A while later, Sofia, Kalle’s girlfriend, turned up. Agnes hadn’t seen her that much at the restaurant. She greeted Agnes pleasantly and then disappeared into the kitchen, returning after a few minutes to sit down in one of the armchairs by the bar. Agnes tried to talk to her, but she answered gruffly and didn’t seem particularly interested in small talk. A quarter of an hour later, Kalle emerged. He seemed nervous and asked Sofia if she wanted something to eat or drink. She didn’t. He continued to offer her a variety of things: water, a prosciutto sandwich, perhaps a little sorbet, an espresso? Finally she snapped at him: she didn’t want anything, was he deaf? She wanted to go home, wasn’t he ever going to be ready? Yes, of course. Kalle hurried into the kitchen. Sofia stood up and put on her coat. It took a while for Kalle to return, and Agnes realized that he had to finish off in the kitchen. Put food away, turn off ovens and fryers, prepare for the dishwasher, who was also the cleaner and who usually arrived early in the morning. When he finally materialized again he had removed his chef’s jacket and changed into his own clothes.
“Can you lock up tonight, Agnes?” he asked anxiously.
“Sure, no problem.”
“Thanks. Don’t forget the alarm.” He turned to Sofia. “Shall we be off, then?” She looked wearily at him and Agnes had to admit that it was a rather stupid question to ask someone who’d been standing by the door with her coat on for the past twenty minutes.
When they’d gone, Agnes went in to Filip, who was still in the kitchen.
“What was that all about?” she asked, nodding towards the door through which Kalle and Sofia had just passed.
“What was what about?”
“Sofia. She seemed really pissed off.”
“Oh that. Kalle said something about her not liking the way he works all the time. But what the hell did she expect? He’s just opened a restaurant, and it’s not exactly the right time to sit at home in the evening cuddling up with prawns and white wine. Is it?” Filip vigorously wiped the stainless steel counter, where the sea salt, olive oil, chopped onion, garlic, tomato concassé, wine, butter, herbs, and everything else in the mise-en-place had recently been laid out.
“No, I suppose not. Though if you’re in love, maybe logical arguments like that don’t really wash. After all, they haven’t been together for that long either.”
Filip shrugged. “What do I know, I’ve got no idea how that kind of thing works,” he said, and Agnes nodded sympathetically. Filip was young and single; what did he know about relationships?
“I was together with a musician once. He wasn’t at home that much either,” she added. “I think I can understand how Sofia feels.”
Filip and Agnes left the restaurant together. Agnes did one extra round before switching off the lights, setting the alarm and locking the door. It was like leaving her home, she thought. And that’s what it was, in a way.
It was quiet in her block when she stepped into the elevator, too exhausted to climb the three flights of stairs to her apartment. There was even no sound coming from Kummel’s apartment. Maybe he wasn’t in. Or his stereo had broken. What a miracle that would be! Recently, the turmoil of his musical taste had escalated somewhat when he started playing Elvis and old blues recordings. The other morning he’d topped it all with the Doors. Agnes didn’t know what to make of it. Was he trying to annoy her? Anyway, she’d been able to draw two conclusions from his taste in music. One was that he was a periodical listener, playing the same record again and again only to change abruptly to something completely different. Like with Bob Dylan. For a couple of days he’d played Bob Dylan until she was on the verge of vomiting. And then, suddenly, nothing. The other conclusion was that he didn’t listen to anything produced in the past decade. Wasn’t he a little too young to devote himself so wholeheartedly to nostalgia?
She opened her door and stepped in. Turned on the hall light and kicked off her shoes. She’d become accustomed to coming home to an empty apartment. At times she could even appreciate it. Granted, it had been pretty much empty most of the time even when Tobias lived there, but not like this. The dirty dishes in the sink were hers. The unmade bed smelled of her and no one else. If she were to turn on her CD player she’d hear Alicia Keys, since that was the record she’d been listening to last. The milk in the fridge would be enough for her morning coffee as no one else had been there to drink it all up, and her hair mousse didn’t run out before she’d claimed the last frothy dollop for herself. There were definitely advantages to an empty apartment, oh yes. You just had to remind yourself of them sometimes.
CHAPTER 28
“AGNES? IT’S DAD.”
“Hi, Dad.” Agnes stretched. It was almost eleven in the morning and she was still in bed. The privilege of the night worker. She’d stayed up far too late the previous night watching Hallmark so that she could feel rested enough to go to bed. Perhaps it would have been better to sit meditating for a while to wind down, but Agnes didn’t know how. And compared to a couple of stiff whiskies, as preferred by many of her colleagues, she figured that Hallmark was rather innocent.
“There’s been an accident.” It was only now that she heard how tense his voice sounded. “Your mom’s been in a road accident.”
“What kind of road accident?” Maud didn’t even drive, for God’s sake.
“She was riding her bike into town and at the roundabout, just where the bike path crosses the road, a car came speeding along. It didn’t have time to stop.”
Agnes went cold. “When did this happen?”
“Two hours ago. The driver called the ambulance.”
“How serious is it?”
“Very. She still hasn’t regained consciousness.”
“Oh, my God.” Agnes shivered. She’d lost the sensation in the hand holding the phone. She tried to formulate a question, but however she twisted and turned the sentence she couldn’t get away from words like “die,” “dying,” and “fatal.” They weren’t words she wanted to use. “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” she managed at last. She paused before continuing. “Is it… urgent?”
“The doctors say that her condition’s stable.” Sven tried to sound reassuring, but Agnes could hear how worried he was.
“I’ll come up right away. There’s a train in…” she looked at her clock, “just under half an hour. I’ll go straight to the hospital.”
“She’s in intensive care.”
“OK. I’ll see you soon.”
Agnes threw herself out of bed and pulled on the clothes that were lying on the chair under the window. The coat from the hook. The bag. Check purse for keys. Yes, keys. And out.
She ran to the subway. Her face felt tight in the wind. Once on her seat, she flicked away some sleep from the corner of one of her eyes. Staring intently out of the window, she caught her own pale reflection as the train pulled out of Liljeholmen Station and dived back under ground. When it arrived at the central station, she had three minutes to make her connection. Agnes ran as fast as she could through the tiled passageway. Even though it was not that crowded, she still almost bumped into several people on the way.
She made her train. She was lucky. Fate was on her side. Agnes tried to think that it was a good omen, a sign. When she arrived her mom would surely be awake. Tired and with a bandage on her forehead, but conscious. She would reassure the family, who had been so worried about her. Ready to scold herself for not looking properly, for not wearing a helmet. She’ll certainly get around to buying one now, that’s for sure, she’d say. And everyone would agree. Also reproachful, but relieved.
She played the scenario again and again in her mind, like a mantra. Saw the family laughing and embracing her mom, carefully so as not to squash her bruises and grazes. Heard her worrying about what they were going to have for dinner, issuing instructions to her dad about the meat in the freezer and the potatoes on the bottom shelf. Agnes smiled to herself. It was so typical of her mom to care about others, even from her sick bed.
She alighted one s
top before Länninge. Outside the station she took a taxi, not because she was in a hurry – after all, her mom’s condition was stable – but there was no reason to linger either.
It took a little under ten minutes to drive to the hospital. Agnes paid the taxi driver and stepped through the building’s automatic doors. She scanned the information board and found the intensive care unit at the other end of the hospital. She was to take the elevator to the second floor and then follow the broken white line. As she was entering the elevator, she almost collided with a group of women in hospital uniforms. Probably staff on their way down to the canteen for an early lunch. They were laughing. Agnes saw the name Irene sweep past on a name badge before they disappeared and she made room for herself in the elevator. Second floor. Ding! Follow the broken white line. Like a cocaine addict with her nose to the floor she found her way to the unit.
Once through the glass doors she caught sight of a nurse. Maud Edin, which room? There. The nurse pointed. Room 12. Agnes’s head was spinning. She hadn’t eaten or drunk anything, or even breathed since her dad had called. Now she was standing in front of the door. All was quiet inside, or well insulated. She felt as though she were going to faint. Like she had in the Santa Lucia procession that time back in school, only this time she wouldn’t be stealing the show from the school’s most popular girl with the school’s longest hair, but from her mom. Agnes took a deep breath. She had to pull herself together.
Her first sight was of Madde standing at the end of the bed. A little further in, on a chair, sat their dad. The steel-framed bed in the middle of the room was made up with a striped hospital pillowcase and an orange sheet. The head end was a little raised. There were machines all around, one of them showing some kind of curve. Tubes and wires were attached to the patient lying on the bed.
One look was enough to bring Agnes to tears. Not uncontrollably but pouring, with a quivering chin. As if the lid had slipped just a tiny little bit to one side. Enough to release a thin wisp of hot steam. Madde walked up to her and hugged her. Her dad did the same, all the time Agnes’s gaze being fixed on her mom. She looked so little there in the bed. Like a child.
This was not the picture she’d tried to conjure up. The only thing that was right was the bandage, but even that was larger. A compress taped to the right side of her forehead, all the way from the hairline to her eyebrow. The picture that revealed itself to her in that bare hospital room was the picture she’d been trying to keep at bay. She walked over to the bed and sat on the chair that her father had just vacated.
“Hi, Mom,” she said, and picked up one of her hands, the one without an IV needle, that lay limply on the coverlet. “It’s Agnes.” Her voice caught. “How are you? Have you had a tumble?” Her mom’s hand was warm but remained unresponsive to the little squeezes Agnes gave it. The skin was wrinkled and early liver spots had just started to show as diffuse brown patches. It had never crossed her mind that her mom had old hands. They were always on the go. Cooking something, cleaning, knitting, chopping, rinsing, pottering.… They were never still long enough to be examined.
Sven, who had positioned himself behind Agnes, laid a hand on her shoulder. It was heavy, and doubtlessly old, too.
“They say that they’ve found no sign of brain damage on the X-ray. That’s something, at least.…”
“How long could she be lying here like this?”
“They can’t say.” Her dad sighed.
Madde cut in. “They don’t know anything. They’re terribly kind and all but they don’t know anything.”
“But they must be able to say something?” The room went silent, and it was only now that Agnes noticed how noisy the machines were. One was buzzing, the other emitting a vague hiss. On top of that was a dull hum from an invisible ventilation system and down on the street she could hear cars zipping by at high speed. The room wasn’t silent. It just seemed that way. She had a thousand questions, like what her mom was doing here, but it was obvious that no one would be able to answer them.
A faint knock was heard and the door was pushed open. A nurse entered and took readings from the machines. She said nothing, just smiled and nodded gently before leaving again.
Even though the whole family was present it felt as if they were waiting for someone. The hours passed. They were like a car with the engine removed. On the surface it was the same, but it remained rooted to the spot. In the end it was Madde who took the initiative.
“We have to get something to eat,” she said. “I’ll go downstairs and buy us some sandwiches.”
“I’ll come with you,” said Agnes. Their dad nodded. Food was low on his list of priorities at that moment.
Not even on the way down to the café did they manage to converse properly. Agnes said things like: “I’m sure it’ll be all right.” And Madde replied, “Definitely, definitely.” And then it petered out. They embarked on a number of similar conversations before giving up and returning with three cling-wrapped cheese and ham sandwiches and three cups of coffee.
Now and then hospital staff would enter the room. They’d take blood pressure, check readings, smile reassuringly, and then walk out again. When evening arrived, Agnes and Madde tried to persuade Sven to go home and get some sleep. He needed to rest. At first he refused, said it would be for the best if the girls went home and he stayed, but in the end he conceded. They decided that Madde would stay behind and Agnes accompany Sven home.
Before leaving the unit, they passed the office, which was attended by a nurse.
“We’re going home to get some sleep,” said Agnes, trying to sound normal, rational. “We just wanted to know… how Mom’s doing. Before we go.…” She couldn’t articulate the thought, ask the question: Will Mom die tonight?
The nurse asked them to wait while she fetched the doctor. It was a man in his early fifties. Like her dad, but with more of a spring in his step.
“I think you should go home,” he said looking gravely at them.
“So there’s no danger, tonight.…” Agnes’s voice sounded thin. Her dad stood in silence beside her.
“It’s hard to say. With the diagnosis we’ve made we can’t promise anything.” He paused briefly. That wasn’t the answer that Agnes had wanted to hear, and the doctor obviously realized this, for when he continued he sounded less solemn. “We’ll call you of course if there’s anything serious, but I definitely think you should go home and rest.”
They spoke little during the drive. Sven’s face was ashen, his shoulders slumped. The house on Snickarvägen was dark when they arrived. Agnes went around turning lights on, trying to make sounds, humming to herself to fill the silence. Her dad showered and then went into the kitchen, where Agnes was sitting.
“I’ll go to bed,” he said. “I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep, but I can always try.” He smiled wanly. Agnes smiled back.
“I’ll be off to bed, too. In a little while.” When Sven retired from the kitchen, Agnes was left sitting on her own. She’d thought she might watch a bit of television, try to relax, but she couldn’t. Didn’t want to. The image of her mom in the hospital bed wouldn’t go away. Despite that, it felt completely unreal. Like one of her childhood nightmares when she’d wake up in a sweat with Mom sitting on the bed stroking her hair. You won’t ever die, will you Mom? No, sweetheart, I won’t, not for a very, very long time. But I don’t want you to die ever! But you know, princess, I must, everyone must, but you don’t have to worry about that now. I don’t want you to, I don’t want you to. I DON’T WANT YOU TO!
Agnes stayed at the hospital the whole week. Maud was moved to a normal ward. She hadn’t regained consciousness, but her condition was still stable. Agnes wished it wasn’t. She wanted something to happen. On the sixth day something did. Sven had gone out to get some air in the hospital grounds when the hissing machine started to beep. It buzzed, too. The green curve on its black screen flattened out. Staff came running, and Agnes and Madde were ushered out. Even more staff came running. The door was flun
g open and slammed shut. Agnes and Madde stood outside the room. Which one of them it was that took the other’s hand she couldn’t tell, but she could feel the clammy grip hard against her own palm. At the end of the long hospital corridor, daylight spilled through a window.
It was a sunny day, the day Mom died.
CHAPTER 29
SHE’D STAYED A FEW extra days with her dad. To say that he’d taken it well would be a gross overstatement, but Agnes was still surprised at how he managed even to exist. To get up in the morning, to eat food, to go to bed in the evening. It was hard enough for her. She’d lost her mom, prematurely and in the most meaningless of ways. Sometimes the insight grabbed hold of her, spun her around to the point of being sick, but still somewhere there was the comfort. Children lost their parents. Sooner or later. It was the nature of things. It was different for her dad. He’d lost his wife, his life-long partner, and that wasn’t how it was meant to be. Or was it? Till death do us part.
Aunt Gullan had arrived from Spain, and was with Sven almost constantly. Devastated, of course, but in a different way. She chattered incessantly. About Maud, about memories, about the apartment in Marbella, about nothing.… Agnes could see that her dad had switched off. He had nowhere to turn, no job to go to. Agnes wondered if that would have made matters better. Workmates who could pat him on the shoulder and give him comfort. Set times and a schedule for living. She herself longed to go to work. She longed for her normal life, with its routines, instead of the black hole that she now moved around in. There was nothing to grasp onto. Just a black, impenetrable grief.
Madde and she helped each other organize the funeral. It was to be on the following Friday. Their visit to the funeral home had been just as unreal as if it had been her own funeral she was ordering. Cordial, impersonal, formally attired strangers wondering if Maud had had any special wishes regarding arrangements. What an absurd question! She’d been in a car accident, and they hadn’t really had time to ask. And for some reason the subject hadn’t been their chosen topic of conversation over their last Sunday dinner together. Or over any other dinner in the past fifty-seven years.
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