Yesterday's News

by Kajsa Ingemarsson

  “Do you mean that you thought that…?”

  “Well of course I did! They’re musicians, the lot of them! None of them can afford to go out for fancy meals like this!”

  Agnes stood with her hand on the register. She didn’t know what to think. She couldn’t treat five people to a free dinner. It wasn’t even her restaurant. What would she say to Kalle – who wouldn’t even let his brother eat for free?

  “But I can’t…” she stammered.

  “Pah, you’ll work it out one way or another.” He kissed her forehead. “Don’t get all worked up now, baby. Not when I’ve arranged some good PR for you. You should almost be the one paying me!” He laughed. “Nah, I was just joshing,” he added, as if there was actually a grain of truth in the joke. Then he turned and went back to his two friends, who were sitting at their table smoking. They got up and pulled on their jackets. Tobias waved and blew a kiss at Agnes, who hadn’t moved from the register. She slowly raised a hand and waved back. When they’d gone, she tapped out the bill. Two thousand four hundred and forty-seven kronor. There was one way out of this – to pay it herself. She’d have to take it up with Tobias tomorrow. Maybe they could at least split it. He was right, in a way. It was all publicity and new guests. And people like that hung out a lot in restaurants, even if they didn’t always eat three-course meals. And besides, she’d just been paid, so she had money in her account. Not much, but it should cover it. And, really, it was nothing to kick up a fuss about.

  As she went out to get her credit card, she passed Lussan, who was sitting with a full glass again. She must have filled it herself. It didn’t matter that much, even if the licensing authorities would hardly approve of guests serving themselves alcohol. Lussan always paid her way. What else would she spend her money on if not restaurants on the brink of bankruptcy, she’d say, and insisted that Agnes put everything, peanuts included, on the bill.

  Lussan called over to her. “What was that all about?”

  Agnes pretended not to understand. “What?”

  “What were you talking about by the register?”

  “Oh, that.… Er, nothing special.”

  “Was he trying to get a discount?”

  Agnes attempted a little laugh. “No, it was just a misunderstanding.” And then she hurried away. It was just as well not to say anything to Lussan, who’d no doubt jump to conclusions. And that would hardly benefit either of them.

  When Agnes arrived back at Aspudden, she was so tired that she took the lift up the three flights of stairs. Her legs were aching and her feet felt like she’d been bathing them in cement.

  She stood for a while rummaging in her bag for her keys. It wasn’t that long ago she was doing exactly that, but with Tobias waiting behind her. She was glad that she hadn’t obeyed her impulse then and told him to fuck off. She’d given him another chance and he’d taken it. How wonderful life could be!

  She turned the key and opened the door. It was only then that she noticed how quiet it was in the building. No Deep Purple, no Neil Young, not even a nasal grunting from Bob Dylan. She tried to remember if the light had been on in David’s apartment, but she couldn’t remember.

  She still felt a little guilty that she’d let his invitation slip her mind the other evening. She had a valid reason, this was true, but she could at least have called and told him that she couldn’t make it.

  He hadn’t been to the restaurant since then either. And Agnes, who’d become almost accustomed to his lonely visits, had all but started to miss him. Maybe she ought to stop by some day? Ask him up for a cup of tea one afternoon? Although that wouldn’t be easy: Tobias was often practicing at that time and she worked in the evenings. Oh well, there’d be an opportunity sooner or later, she thought, and shut the door behind her.

  A faint radiance was just visible behind the blind. The clock’s digital display showed 03:17, and Agnes hadn’t been asleep for long. As usual when the phone rang in the middle of the night she was filled with trepidation. She fumbled for the receiver and her “hello?” sounded hoarse and apprehensive. It was Tobias.

  “Hi. Did I wake you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

  “Has something happened?”

  “No. I just wanted to tell you that I’ll be crashing at Foxy’s place tonight.”

  “Whose place?”

  “Foxy’s. He was with me at the restaurant. We’re going to jam around a bit on the guitar back at his place.” Tobias slurred a little on the word “guitar”; otherwise, he sounded surprisingly sober.

  “OK.”

  “I thought you’d want to know. So that you don’t get worried.”

  “Right, thanks for the call. Will you be home tomorrow?”

  “Of course I will. Get back to sleep now, baby.”

  “OK.”

  He blew her a couple of kisses through the line and hung up before Agnes could return the gesture. She put the phone back onto the bedside table and lay a while blinking into the duskiness before feeling ready to go back to sleep. It was true. Tobias really was a different person. She smiled to herself and shut her eyes. How considerate of him to call.

  CHAPTER 37

  THE NEXT DAY, it was as empty as usual in the restaurant. By the end of the evening no more than eight people had eaten and handed over money. This was particularly unfortunate as Kalle had called in Henrik for cover in case the assault of the evening before was repeated. Now Agnes and Henrik had to share the small amount of work there was; the rest of the time they had nothing to do but scan the street for more guests. The mood in the kitchen was equally listless.

  Not even Lussan came by. She was on a date with a man she’d met at a trendy nightclub a few evenings before. He had an Armani suit, an Amex Gold, well-polished shoes, thinning hair, and no sense of humor, she’d told Agnes. He might have been as dry as a cracker, she said, but he matched her new handbag and was sufficiently well-bred to at least laugh at all her jokes. That was as high as her demands went these days, Lussan had claimed when Agnes wondered if that really qualified him for a date.

  Even though Henrik was entertaining as he described in detail his attempts to become an author – his apartment was never as tidy as on those days he’d resolved to get down to his novel – Agnes missed Tobias. He hadn’t come home until three in the afternoon, and even then went straight to bed. He’d fallen asleep after two minutes. He and Foxy had apparently sat up until seven in the morning jamming. And boozing, Agnes was able to add, as he smelled sourly of stale drunkenness when he came home.

  He still wasn’t awake when Agnes left for work. Granted, she was accustomed to the fact that his diurnal rhythm was different to hers, and he’d probably be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed when she returned, but she’d still missed talking to him.

  At nine-thirty, the restaurant was empty and Kalle emerged sighing from the kitchen and asked Agnes to lock up. Even though she was naturally saddened that the evening was a washout, she was happy about coming home a little earlier than normal. Since there were so many of them there, it didn’t take long to clean up and Agnes was sitting on the subway before eleven.

  Her lights were on and Agnes hurried up the stairs. Coming home to Tobias was a bit like knowing that there was a present lying in wait for you at home. She unlocked the door and bounded into the hall with an expectant, “Hello!”

  Tobias was lying on the sofa watching TV. On the coffee table was an empty pizza box and half a glass of milk. He looked up at her.

  “There’s nothing but shit on,” he said without noting her early homecoming.

  “Turn it off, then.”

  “And do what?”

  “Well…”

  “Like, read a book? Like, don’t think so.” It wasn’t as if Tobias didn’t read books. As far as Agnes knew he’d read On the Road and a few novels by Charles Bukowski. He’d also tried to read Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance a couple of times. But at the end of the day he was probably not the liter
ary type.

  “But now I’m home.” Agnes went into the sitting room and snuggled up beside Tobias on the sofa. It was cramped and Tobias grumbled a little when he had to lie on his side to make room for her. She kissed him. He still smelled slightly of hangover, and onion and milk. What did she care? She kissed him again. This time he kissed her back.

  “Well, well, look who’s here,” he said, pulling her round so that she lay on top of him and he could resume his supine position. She continued to kiss him and could soon feel that he wasn’t wholly uninterested in her invitations. They made love on the sofa, him on top, as he murmured contentedly into her hair that if this is what work did for her, she might want to think about getting an extra job.

  Afterwards, they lay for a while on the sofa, Agnes stroking Tobias over his sinewy arms.

  “Tobias, sweetheart…” she said tentatively.

  “Mmm?”

  “I was thinking of that bill…”

  “What bill?”

  “From yesterday, at the restaurant.”

  “What about it?”

  Agnes hesitated. It wasn’t an ideal time to talk about money, but it was just as well to get it said. “I couldn’t get it worked out, so… I had to pay it myself.” Tobias didn’t answer. “Maybe we could at least split it?”

  He remained silent a little longer. “Yeah, nice one…” he said at last and turned so violently that Agnes almost fell off the sofa.

  “Don’t get me wrong,” said Agnes apprehensively. “I’m really glad that you came with your friends, but unfortunately the restaurant’s not doing so well, so…”

  “So you try to scare away those who are trying to help you and give your company a little PR. Good tactics!”

  “Please don’t sulk.”

  “How much do you want?”

  “Tobias, don’t…”

  “How much do you want, I asked!”

  “Well, a few hundred at least would be good.” Agnes was almost whispering.

  “Sure, sure, you’ll get it. If it’s so important to you, of course you’ll get your money.” He shoved Agnes away, got up and walked out into the hall. A few seconds later he returned to the sitting room, naked, wallet in hand. He fished out two hundreds and flung them onto the coffee table.

  “Here you go.”

  Agnes hardly dared look at him. She hadn’t meant to make him angry. She picked up the money from the table and said thanks. And they spoke no more about the matter.

  At one o’clock, Agnes wanted to go to bed, but Tobias wasn’t tired after his long afternoon snooze – more restless after an evening in and still in a huff over their discussion. When Agnes said goodnight with a kiss to his neck, he’d sat himself in front of the TV again and was zapping between Discovery and MTV. He swore once again over the shit that was on and suggested, just as Agnes was on her way into the bedroom, that they should get some film channels. He’d grown used to having them at his hotels, he said. Agnes didn’t think it was much of an idea as she hardly had time to watch the regular programs, but nodded at him and said that they could think it over. And saying that, she unclipped the locket from around her neck and went to bed.

  At lunchtime, Tobias was headed out to rehearse. He’d formed a new band with some of the musicians from the show. They were going to do their own stuff, he stressed, not just covers, like with Chris Hammond.

  Although he was proud with himself at having a real job as a musician, it was obvious that he was frustrated at being in the background. He wasn’t Chris Hammond, the star, and he wasn’t the guest artist or one of the other singers, and he wasn’t even the bandleader. He was a guitarist, one of the guitarists, in this mammoth extravaganza. His job wasn’t to be seen or stand out, but to elevate and serve the others who were to be seen and stand out. It was a difficult situation for someone who’d always been at the front – admittedly only in the bars and at out-of-town youth clubs, but still.

  When he put on his cowboy hat and picked up his guitar case, it was like this that Agnes recognized him. She looked out of the window and watched him walk down the street. She thought he was sexy.

  When Madde called, Agnes still had Tobias on her mind and before she realized it she’d told her all about the return of the prodigal hero.

  Madde flew into a rage. She snarled and spat and shouted and swore until Agnes had to warn her that if she didn’t calm down she’d hang up. Madde took a deep breath and dropped her voice a notch.

  “You’re out of your mind, Agnes!” she said emphatically.

  “Stop it!” Agnes could feel her temper rising.

  “Should I stop?! I’ll tell you who should stop. You should stop! You should stop taking that bastard back every time he comes crawling back to you!”

  “Tobias isn’t a bastard.” Agnes had to restrain herself so as not to scream back at her.

  “Yes, he is!”

  “No, he’s not!”

  “How do you know you can trust him this time, then?”

  “Because I know I can. Because my intuition tells me so.”

  “Your intuition?” Madde sounded like she was considering bursting into loud guffaws. Instead, she gave off a sardonic snort.

  “Yes, my intuition. That’s all you’ve got to go on. Gut feelings.”

  There was silence.

  “You’re out of your mind,” she said again at last. That was the last straw for Agnes.

  “Yeah, well so fucking what? Don’t think you can fucking well go round ruling my life and telling me who I can live it with! Sit there, you self-righteous cow, with your kid and your ugly terraced house and your boring man and be smug, but fucking well leave me alone!” And at that, she slammed down the phone. She was panting, in fits, and shaking all over. It almost frightened her. She didn’t normally react like that. Madde had backed her into a corner, tried to make her choose. But she already had chosen. She’d chosen Tobias.

  Agnes collapsed onto the sofa. She was still trembling and it wasn’t long before the tears started to flow. In the end, she lay there rolled up into a little ball crying enough to leave dark stains on the light sofa cover.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she repeated to herself like some malevolent mantra. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

  Eventually, the tears subsided and Agnes just lay unmoving, still like a little hedgehog with its spines out. When the phone rang again, she wasn’t quite sure what to do – answer or ignore? It was probably Madde wanting to apologize, wanting to say that she’d stepped over the line, that’s she stuck her nose into Agnes’s business, and that of course she wished her and Tobias the best of luck.

  Agnes sat up and grabbed the telephone that she had so demonstratively hurled at the other end of the sofa.

  “Yes?” she said curtly. She had no intention of giving Madde any kind of warm welcome. There was a short baffled silence at the other end of the line.

  “Er, is Tobias there?” said a woman’s voice at last.

  “No, he’s out rehearsing. Who is this?”

  The woman ignored the question. “Do you know if he’s got his cell with him?”

  “No, I don’t. Who wants to know?”

  The woman hesitated. “It’s a colleague.” She wanted to hang up, that was obvious.

  “Can I pass on a message?”

  “No.” Something in the woman’s voice made Agnes react.

  “So what did you want?”

  She hesitated again. “Tobias left a few things yesterday.”

  “Yesterday?” Agnes’s mind worked. “At Foxy’s?”

  “At Foxy’s?” The woman gave a laugh. “Yeah, sure,” she said, “at Foxy’s.”

  If it was the woman’s voice or what she said or that sneering laugh that made Agnes ask the next question it was hard to say, but it came without a moment’s reflection.

  “So you wanted me to tell him Ida called, right?”

  “Yeah, that’s right.” There was a second’s silence. Agnes could picture the blonde woman with the navel ring and the prime gazo
ngas grimacing over her blunder.

  CHAPTER 38

  THIS TIME, Agnes didn’t have to slam the phone down. Instead, she heard the click in her ear and the call was over.

  She hadn’t cried, hadn’t screamed, hadn’t collapsed in a swoon onto the bed or onto the sofa or onto the floor. She felt no despair, she wasn’t going to be sick and had no lump in her throat. She’d just put the phone down and got going.

  It wasn’t much, and with her methodical sangfroid it didn’t take long for Agnes to collect the few bits and pieces. A pair of ratty Converse sneakers, a toothbrush, some hair gel, a few CDs, the red Fender, and the bag of clothes, most of which had to be fished out of the wash.

  The pile outside her front door was little, pathetically little. Agnes wished it were larger, that her controlled rage would be made manifest in the volume of items she’d ejected from her home. If the guitar hadn’t already been broken she would at least have smashed it against the wall or something. Or if he’d had a grand piano she could have chopped it into little pieces and made a bonfire.… But he didn’t.

  She looked around the apartment. Was that really everything? And that’s when she saw the painting. The eyeless old man with the big nose. Tobias loved Lundell. For the second time, she unhooked the picture from the wall. She carried the unwieldy object through the hall and out into the stairwell. There, she placed it alongside Tobias’s other things.

  The pile looked bigger now, that was good, but it looked too orderly. The clothes in the duffel bag had been thrown together and stuffed inside, but it didn’t show as Agnes had been considerate enough to zip it up. And the red sneakers stood smartly beside each other. She gave them a kick so that one of them shifted slightly. That was better. But the painting was still there, intact and ugly. Tobias would pretty much just be able to put the bag over his shoulder, take his guitar in one hand and the picture in the other – possibly with a little difficulty, as it was quite big – and stroll away. As if nothing had happened.