Sven had approved the ceremony without protest. The only thing that he put his foot down on, with surprising vehemence, was the choice of music. They were to play World of Glory and Spread Your Wide Wings. He was adamant. They were Maud’s favorite hymns.
Eventually, Agnes decided to go home. Gullan would take care of Sven, and Madde promised to look in as often as she could. Their friends were informed, the neighbors too. The Fjellners had already been over twice. There was nothing more for Agnes to do. There were only a few days left till the funeral, and she’d soon be back.
It was only a week and a half since she last took the train. In the other direction. Even so, it felt like another life. When she got off in Stockholm, she was almost appalled by the number of people, and how much of a hurry they were in. People chatted on cell phones, hurried to meetings, looked in shop windows, and bought tuna fish sandwiches in the mini-marts. Couldn’t anyone see her? Was there nobody who could see how she was grieving? That her mom was dead, that everything had changed?
By the time she stepped into her apartment in Aspudden she was shaking all over. She thought she’d pulled herself together, that she was prepared, but then it suddenly struck her that it hadn’t even started.
She collapsed in the hall into a little heap on the floor, heaving and sobbing. It didn’t sound like crying, though. It was as if her grief was so great that it had found a noise of its own. How long she lay there she didn’t know, but gradually she began to make sense of her surroundings. Like the ad mailers she was lying on. Cheerful special cut-price offers that had cascaded through the mail slot while she was away. On the shoe rack were the shoes she’d worn in a previous life. Above her hung her vaguely remembered coats. Everything was different, everything had changed. Was life really supposed to carry on as normal? Was she supposed to go to work, buy margarine, and take out the garbage? Book laundry times and get irritated by neighbors with bad taste in music? Or would all that change now, too?
She’d stopped crying and was now only breathing heavily, unable to rise. When the phone rang she hardly reacted, but it carried on stubbornly. Her answering machine was switched off. Agnes pulled herself into a squatting, then sitting, and then standing position. She picked up the receiver. It wasn’t Mom.
���Agnes, hi, are you at home?” It was Kalle. “How are things?”
“OK.” Her voice sounded unfamiliar. She sat down on the sofa.
“Shall I come over?”
“Thanks, but there’s no need.”
“Are you really sure about that?”
“I think so.” She started to recognize her own voice. It was weak and thick, but it was hers.
“I don’t know what to say, but I’m so sad about what happened. I’m really sorry. Is there anything I can do for you?”
“No, but it’s kind of you to ask.” She’d called Kalle and told him about her mom’s accident and that she’d be there for a few days. Then she’d called again with the news of her death and that she’d be there for a few more days. Kalle had given her every support, offered his help and told her that in no way was she to feel under any pressure. She was to leave the restaurant to him, she could take just as much time as she needed. Now she was sitting at home on the sofa with no idea of what she was to do with her time. “I guess I’d like to get back to work as soon as I can,” she said.
“Shouldn’t you be taking it a bit easy?”
“I need something to keep my mind occupied. How’s it been going there anyway?”
“Fine, but it’s been boring without you.”
“Any more guests?”
“Not exactly, but it’ll be OK.” He didn’t want to worry her, Agnes realized that.
“Has Lola turned up again?” It felt good to talk about the restaurant, like reclaiming small pieces of the life she’d once had.
“No. She’s been here three times now, I doubt she’ll be coming any more. Now we just have to wait for the review.” There was silence.
“Maybe I’ll pop by tomorrow evening. And as I said, I’d like to start working as soon as possible.”
“You can start tomorrow if you want. Pernilla and Henrik are both aware of the situation. But don’t feel that you have to, do what feels best for you.”
“OK. Thanks, Kalle.”
A little later Lussan called, too. They arranged to meet at the restaurant at eight. Agnes felt almost moved by what good friends she had. And then she thought of Madde. Jonas might not have said much during the days at the hospital, but at least he’d been there. Picked up and dropped off in that rusty old Ford, bought Chinese food from a restaurant in town when they tired of the hospital sandwiches. She could just tell by looking at Madde, who could return the next morning revitalized after a night at home. She had somewhere from which to draw energy. Just like Agnes had now. She thought of her dad. Where would he get his energy from? Would his neighbors and former workmates really be able to help him? She would have loved to help, but she lived in Stockholm. She couldn’t pop in on him every day. But she could always call, of course. And Madde lived close by. They’d have to pull together.
Agnes went to the restaurant half an hour before she was due to meet Lussan. As soon as she stepped through the door it was as if something was released inside her and for a brief, brief moment she felt something resembling happiness. Pernilla came up and hugged her and Kalle appeared and did the same. Agnes poked her head into the kitchen and said hello to Filip. He nodded and mumbled something that she thought sounded like “… sorry… ahem… mom.” She nodded back and went to the bar. Kalle took a seat beside her and stroked her cheek.
“Poor thing,” he said. Agnes felt the tears well. It clearly didn’t take much more than that to set her off.
“Stop being so sweet,” she said. “I can’t take it.”
“OK then, in that case I’ll ask you to pull yourself together, because you’re going to be needed here when Lola’s review is published.”
Agnes gave a laugh and a tear rolled down onto her cheek. She hurriedly wiped it away. “It has to be a good one, doesn’t it.”
“Well, at least we’ve done what we can. I can’t think of anything that went wrong. What do you think?”
“No.” Her mind drifted to the Frenchman and Lola’s barbed glances that evening. “I hope not. The food’s been perfect, anyway.”
“So, when do you want to start?”
“I’d like to start tomorrow.” Kalle looked dubiously at her. She continued so as to convince him. “Seriously. The funeral’s on Friday, so I won’t be able to work on Friday and Saturday, but after that I hope things can go back to normal.”
Kalle continued looking dubiously at her. “Agnes, you’ve just lost your mother. There’s no hurry.”
“Stop coddling me, I said.” The lump had returned to Agnes’s throat. The tears rose.
Kalle backpedalled immediately.
“OK, that’s that then. You’ll be on the schedule Wednesday and Thursday and then start again on Sunday.” Just then Lussan arrived and excusing himself, Kalle returned to the kitchen.
Lussan hurried over to Agnes and hugged her long and hard. Agnes had to wipe away even more tears.
“You’ll get over it, girl,” said Lussan when at last she released Agnes and held her at arm’s length. “It’s natural. That’s just how it is.”
Yes, who’d know if not Lussan?
A couple entered and sat down beside Agnes and Lussan at the bar. The woman spoke loudly and shrilly and laughed a lot. At nothing, it seemed, as the man hardly said a word. Agnes looked askance at them and then turned towards Lussan.
“Would you mind taking a walk instead?”
“Not at all.”
They put on their coats again and said goodbye to Pernilla before leaving. They turned right and walked up towards Nytorget green.
“How old were you when your mom died?” asked Agnes after they’d walked a bit in silence.
“Fourteen.”
“How did she die?�
�� Despite their long friendship, this was a subject they’d never talked about. There’d been no reason to. Lussan had said that her mom was dead and there wasn’t much more to say. At least not then, in Agnes’s world.
“She took an overdose.”
“Drugs?” Agnes halted. She knew that Lussan had come from a problem family, but drugs…? She was suddenly overcome by shame. Think how self-obsessed she’d been to never have even bothered to ask.
Lussan started walking again. “Well, she wasn’t one of those druggies you see down by the station, it was more sophisticated than that. It started when she had me. She developed some kind of depression. So a doctor prescribed some pills for her. And then it was more pills. Sometimes she’d stop and decide that enough was enough. When my little brother was born, for instance, she took nothing for almost three years, but then she got depressed again.
“And the doctors just prescribed pills without checking how things were for her?”
“That’s pretty much it. And she got wise, too. Changed doctors when they started fussing. She was very manipulative. She managed to hide it from Leif, my stepfather, Jesper’s dad, for years. The thing is, he tried to get her to stop, even tried to lock her in once when her pills had run out. But she managed to escape. From the third floor. Climbed down via the balcony and jumped thirteen feet.” Lussan went quiet. “And then she took an overdose. Swallowed half a bottle of pills when she was at home alone one weekend. When we came back on the Sunday we found her dead.”
“Suicide?”
“Yes. That or a desperate attempt to ease her anguish. Though maybe that’s the same thing.”
They’d passed Nytorget and were now walking slowly up the narrow stairway to Vitaberg Park. The spring birds were still twittering in the dusk. “So what happened to you?” Agnes looked at Lussan.
“My stepfather was going to take care of me and Jesper, but as I said I was in the middle of puberty. It was an awful time, and he couldn’t cope with it for more than a couple of years. He just yelled at us and intimidated us the whole time: Louise was to do this, Louise was absolutely never to do that! I moved out when I was seventeen.”
Agnes stopped again. “Why haven’t you ever told me this?”
“Maybe because I’m not so keen on reminding myself about it. It wasn’t exactly the best period of my life.”
There was silence. They were approaching Sofia Church. The door stood open, and inside there seemed to be some sort of choir practice under way, as they could hear singing. The same passage being constantly broken off and then begun again.
“But that’s a terrible story,” said Agnes at last.
“It’s my life,” said Lussan, giving an ironic little laugh.
“Shall we sit down?” Agnes pointed towards a park bench outside the church. Lussan nodded and they went over to sit on it.
“I’m sorry,” began Lussan after a moment’s silence. “I didn’t mean to tell you all that today. That’s not why we were supposed to meet. I was meant to comfort you, and there I go spewing out all that shit about my past. Sorry.” She took Agnes’s hand. “How are you?”
“What can I say? Everything’s relative.…”
“Agnes, all that happened when I was fourteen. Believe it or not, I’ve gotten over it. You don’t have to feel guilty for feeling upset.”
“I know, I don’t. But in comparison it was at least a happy passing of a kind. If there is such a thing.”
“I don’t think there is. And a loved person always leaves grief behind her. Your mom died far too early. No one’s asking you to be in the slightest bit big and grown up about it. It’s terribly tragic. That’s all there is to it, and you’re going to miss her for the rest of your life.”
Agnes deflated. “It feels so horribly meaningless. A car accident, I mean.…” The tears started to flow again. Lussan put her arm around Agnes and held her close. A man walking his dog strolled past, looking curiously at them.
“There, there,” she said quietly into Agnes’s hair. When her sniffs had died down she started to talk again. “But I can tell you something, Agnes, and that is that you learn to live with it. And in the end you can even see that you’ve learned something from it. However strange that might seem at the moment.” Agnes looked up.
“What have you learned?”
Lussan released Agnes and straightened her back. She thought for a while. “To not take anything for granted. Yeah, I know it sounds clichéd but it does actually mean something to me.” She paused. “And to make sure I get what I want, because no one else will do it for me. Or ever has.” Agnes nodded slowly. It sounded like Lussan. Lussan was a doer, and never waited for fate or other people. Sometimes it worked, sometimes not, but she had at least tried. It was a trait that Agnes admired. “You’ll get over this, I promise. Even if it doesn’t feel like it now. And you’ll learn things. About yourself, especially. And that’s not such a bad thing.”
They got up from the bench. Agnes had had enough urinary tract infections to know that it wasn’t a good idea to sit for too long on cold park benches in thin trousers. They walked on, talking about trivial things, things that didn’t mean anything. It felt nice.
When they arrived at Skanstull subway station they parted with a promise to be in touch soon. Agnes was tired as she rode home, but felt lighter. Not happier, but the weight that had been dragging her down had eased and that night she slept for the first time in many days without waking sweaty and terrified.
CHAPTER 30
YES, SHE MANAGED. Absolutely. But no more than that. She greeted the guests, showed them to tables, distributed menus, took orders, and served meals. She opened wine bottles, poured water, removed plates, and thanked the guests for coming as they left the restaurant. Henrik kept a watchful eye on her. Kalle had arranged backup and he was wise to do so. Twice during the evening Agnes had to take a break. To breathe calmly, drink a glass of water, and wipe away the odd tear that had trickled involuntarily down her cheek. However, she was still proud of herself when she went home in the evening. She’d started to work again and it felt good. But the lump in her throat didn’t disappear altogether and she was dreading the funeral.
On the Friday morning Agnes woke early. She’d had a troubled sleep with nightmares about vast, abandoned cathedrals, a far cry from the charming little white church in Länninge where she’d been christened and confirmed, and where her parents had gotten married. And where her mom’s funeral was to take place.
After a half-eaten bowl of yogurt she got dressed. She’d ironed and laid out her clothes the previous evening: black trousers, white blouse, and black jacket. Now she was standing in front of the hall mirror looking at herself. She looked like she was just off to work in some boring office somewhere. As if she’d gotten a job at a bank to make her dead mother happy. Agnes removed the jacket and blouse and started to rummage around her over-stuffed wardrobe. Finally she found what she was looking for: a red top, long in the sleeves but thin and fetchingly necklined without being too festive. She tried it with the jacket. Much better. That would have to do; it would hardly be honoring her mom to dress like some pencil-pusher.
She looked through her jewelery box, too. There it lay – the confirmation necklace she’d once been given by her mom and dad. A gold heart with a tiny, tiny diamond in the middle. A childish trinket actually, she’d not worn it that often, but now she wanted it. Once she’d clasped the chain together at the back of her neck, she returned to look at her reflection. The little heart nestled perfectly in the pit of her throat. She was ready to leave.
For once in her life Agnes wished that the train journey would take longer. She was nervous, and it felt as if small creatures wearing stiletto heels were stomping around in her stomach.
They were to meet at Sven and Gullan’s and then go together to the church. By the time Agnes arrived at Snickarvägen, Madde and Jonas were already there. Madde hadn’t dressed conventionally either. She was wearing jeans, new and black admittedly, but still. Over t
hem she had a loose black tunic with small flowers on. Agnes said nothing. Madde had no doubt reasoned as she had that she wanted to be herself. That their mom would have wanted her to be herself.
Gullan was sitting on the sofa, unusually quiet. Her cheeks were pallid and the black hat that she had already donned cast a shadow over her eyes.
Sven was also ready in a dark suit and white tie. He looked collected, but his grief was all too visible. Every pore, every hair radiated loss and sorrow. Agnes hugged him and he hugged her back. Not just one of those normal dad-hugs but long and hard, as if he were genuinely thinking for the first time about what he was doing when he was hugging his daughter. Then it was time to leave.
The priest met them outside the church, greeted them solemnly and pressed their hands. He took them slowly and carefully through what to expect and how the ceremony would be conducted. Through the doors, at the very back of the church, Agnes could glimpse the coffin. Her chin started to quiver again uncontrollably. She looked at Madde, who had noticed the same thing and was standing staring in through the entrance. The priest saw it too, and suggested that they should go inside before the other guests came so they could accustom themselves.
Agnes didn’t want to go in. Her heart was thumping as if about to burst from her body and her legs felt ready to give way under her. Madde inserted her arm under hers.
“We’ll get through this,” she said calmly. The tears were flowing, and her mascara wasn’t waterproof. Agnes couldn’t help emitting a laugh when she saw her sister standing there like a Halloween ghost with black rivulets running down her cheeks.
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