Yesterday's News

by Kajsa Ingemarsson

  Agnes stood still for a moment glaring at the painting with the indecipherable Gotland motif; then she went into her apartment and returned with a pen in her hand. A thick, red felt tip. It wasn’t without some anguish that she started to draw – vandalism wasn’t really her thing – but she gritted her teeth and got on with the job.

  Above the enormous nose she drew two staring eyes. Now there could be no question that it was an old man. He looked completely insane. Quickly, Agnes drew on a moustache. It was easier now that she’d made the first marks, and she continued with a pair of rosy cheeks, an earring, and a ponytail. When she finally finished, she was almost feeling giddy from her achievement. The only sorry thing was that the painting actually looked better now after her amendments. Hopefully Tobias wouldn’t agree.

  And then she walked back into her apartment and slammed the door.

  Less than half an hour had passed since the phone call and now Agnes was back at her kitchen table. All of a sudden she was struck with dread. Not at what she’d done, not at the callousness that had gripped her, but at the risk that it would pass. What if her anger melted away? What if she found herself standing there once more with the tears and the sorrow? Or even worse – what if she repented and took Tobias back yet again?

  Just how long she’d sat there at the table Agnes didn’t know, but she jumped when there was an unexpected ring at the door. This was followed by a second ring and then a knock.

  Her adrenaline started pumping, instinctively. But this wasn’t the instinct of the hunted gazelle but of the raging tiger, which now left the table and paced out into the hall.

  “Fuck off!” she screamed so loudly and fiercely that it wouldn’t have surprised her if the door had been pulverized by the shock wave. “Fuck off!” she repeated. Just as forcefully, but with more of a growl this time. Apart from the sound of Agnes’s heavy breathing it was dead silent in the hallway and not a sound could be heard from out on the landing. Had he given up so easily? Agnes was almost disappointed, she’d only got to bare her fangs. Wasn’t he even going to give her a fight, let her tear him to shreds and spit the bleeding remnants out of her life, just as she’d done with his dirty underwear?

  And then it came again, a tentative little knock, barely audible. That did it. Agnes charged at the sound, turned the lock, and flung open the door.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re…!?” That was as far as she got. David Kummel leapt in alarm to one side, just managing to avoid getting the door in his face. Instead, it slammed with some force into the wall so that its hinges groaned, and bounced back towards Agnes, who managed to grab hold of it with one hand. She looked in confusion at David. The abuse which she’d started to hurl remained like spew in her mouth. She couldn’t swallow it now that she’d started. “And what the fuck are you doing here?” she blurted out. She glared angrily at David, who took a step back.

  “I.… I saw all the stuff and was wondering.…” That was all he could manage.

  “Wondering what?! How is my stuff any business of yours?” snarled Agnes, still unable to restrain her wrath despite it having nothing whatsoever to do with the poor man standing outside.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean.…” He took a few more steps back, groping for the banister rail. “I won’t disturb you.” He turned and started to hurry down the stairs. Agnes remained outside her door. Her breathing had eased slightly. She watched David’s back disappear.

  “Wait!” she called. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean.…” He’d passed out of sight but the sound of his steps had stopped. “Hey.…” She suddenly sounded pitiable. There was a moment’s silence and then the steps returned. A few seconds later David reappeared in the stairwell.

  “I really didn’t mean to bother you,” he said carefully. “I’d been up in the attic and I saw all this stuff outside your apartment on my way down and got a bit concerned.… Has something happened?” He’d reached the top step. Agnes sighed. The waning adrenalin kick left a slight tremble in her body. She couldn’t tell which sensation was the greatest – her relief that it wasn’t Tobias that had been at her door, or her disappointment.

  “I thought it was someone else,” said Agnes finally. “Sorry for yelling like that.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” They looked at each other for a moment, neither quite knowing what to say or do next.

  “Maybe you’d like to come in for a bit?” Agnes looked at David. He was wearing jeans, not his brown cords, and a completely normal black t-shirt. She looked down. And shoes. Real shoes with socks.

  “OK.…” He hesitated a little. “Are you sure? I mean, I can come back another time.” He looked askance at the pile of Tobias’s things. Agnes noticed, and she became angry again. So Tobias would prevent her from inviting her neighbor in, would he? And he wasn’t even here more than in the shape of a bag of dirty clothes and a vandalized painting.

  “Yes, I’m sure,” she said decisively. “Come in!” It sounded more like an order than an invitation. David stepped cautiously into Agnes’s hall.

  “Do you want some tea?” she asked, still with fury in her voice.

  “Yes, please,” said David, smiling a shade nervously.

  Agnes went into the kitchen and started to prepare a pot. She’d run out of milk, Tobias having drunk it all with his pizza yesterday. She was already regretting it. What was her neighbor doing here? If there was something she didn’t want now it was company. At least not that of a stranger. David entered the kitchen and sat down on one of the chairs by the kitchen table.

  “May I ask what all that out there was about?” he said, nodding towards her front door. Agnes clattered around in the cupboard as she removed two cups. She didn’t want to tell David, who had nothing to do with her or Tobias. But perhaps it was that very fact that made her start talking anyway. He wasn’t involved, had no prejudices. She didn’t have to defend either Tobias or herself. Instead, she told him the whole story, everything. From their meeting at The Three Hills and the love at first sight, at least on her part, via the infidelity, lies, reconciliations and promises, to that day’s call from Miss Silicone Valley. David sat virtually silent throughout, nodding and listening. They drank a whole pot of tea and Agnes made a fresh one. She felt hungry and brought out some cookies for them and an old jar of marmalade that she discovered at the back of the fridge.

  Evening started to arrive, even though the sun had many hours left in the sky. The grass outside the block on the other side of the street was already glowing with an intense green, and birdsong could be heard through the closed windowpane. A few more warm days and then nature would explode into bloom.

  Agnes dunked her cookie, and a little piece dropped off into her cold tea. She looked up and met David’s gaze. He was looking seriously at her, from her left pupil to her right, from right to left. Agnes couldn’t be bothered to even be embarrassed or to lower her eyes.

  “I think you’re brave,” he said at last.

  “What’s so brave about letting yourself be cheated and trodden on year after year?”

  “It’s brave to say, ‘No more.’”

  “I’ve said ‘No more’ before.”

  “Aren’t things different this time?”

  Agnes searched her heart, looking for the vein of hope and longing that was always there amidst all the anger and frustration. She shut her eyes and breathed calmly. “You’re right,” she said at last. “Things are different this time.”

  “There you go,” said David with a smile. “You’ve changed. And that takes courage.”

  When at last Tobias inserted his key in the lock, all her rage had gone. Agnes simply went out into the hall and asked him to take his things away. Tobias pretended not to understand what was going on. He stood on her threshold, playing hurt and victimized. What was her game? All he’d done was go out rehearsing. This time she didn’t even want to believe him.

  “Go now,” she said frostily. She had no wish to get angry again.

  Tobias squinted at the p
ile beside the door. “What the hell have you done to my painting?”

  “Ruined it, I hope. You’ll have to excuse me, but I got a little angry when your girlfriend called.”

  “What do you mean, girlfriend? I haven’t got a girlfriend!”

  Agnes smiled wryly at Tobias’s unintentional slip of the tongue. “You’re dead right,” she said tartly. “You haven’t.”

  “You’re out of your fucking mind, you’ve trashed my Lundell! You’ll have to pay for this!”

  “What, you want me to pay for a painting I’ve already paid for?”

  “It’s mine, though, isn’t it. You’ve said so yourself.”

  “Yes, and it still is. So take it. I’ve just improved it a little. See it as a farewell present.”

  “Give me a break! You can’t just throw me out like this!” He was starting to sound pathetic, entreating. “You haven’t even heard what I’ve got to say.”

  “So what have you got to say?”

  “That… that… that you’ve got it all wrong.”

  “Have I?”

  “Yes! You .… Who the fuck is he?”

  Agnes turned. David had appeared in the hall.

  “Don’t you remember me? We met the other day,” said David with exaggerated civility. Agnes felt she should ask him to leave. This was none of David’s business, but somehow it was nice to have him there. On her side.

  “No, it’s not like I remember every asshole that I meet!” Tobias turned to Agnes again, clearly disturbed by David’s presence. “My stuff, then?” The pitiable tone was no more.

  “Well, it’s there.” Agnes pointed to the pile by the door.

  “That can’t be all of it.”

  “Well it is.”

  “But… what about my picks?”

  “In the bag.”

  “Jesus Christ, Agnes.…” Tobias started to sound pleading again. “But I love you.” He looked nervously askance at David. “We’ve been having such a great time together.”

  “Yeah, pity you had to go and literally fuck it up.”

  “Agnes, please.… OK, I know it was stupid, but it was only a one-time thing.…”

  “Do you mean the first time, or the second? Or maybe the third? Or have all the times you’ve been unfaithful been one-time things?”

  “We need to talk about this, Agnes.” Tobias made a move to step into the hall.

  “Didn’t you hear Agnes ask you to leave?” said David in a low voice, taking a step towards him. Tobias stopped. He hadn’t expected resistance.

  “What the fuck…? Agnes, get rid of this asshole. Or do you want me to?”

  “No, I don’t. I want you to go. And I want you to do it now!” She was suddenly gripped by rage again. It radiated out from a point in the middle of her chest, and in a fraction of a second she was ready for a fight. She raised her hands and gave Tobias a shove. “Go, I said, you asshole. Just fuck off!” David rallied around behind her.

  Tobias stumbled. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m telling you to fuck off and never ever come back! Because I’ve had it up to here with you!” She shoved him again. Tobias took a step back over the threshold. Agnes grabbed the door handle and pulled. Tobias got caught in the door and whined. “Out of the way!” said Agnes as she tried again. Tobias jumped to one side and the door slammed shut with a loud bang.

  Agnes remained standing in the hall, listening to Tobias curse as he gathered up his things outside. The sound of his footsteps as he tramped down the stairs resounded all the way into the apartment. And then silence. Agnes still hadn’t moved. And then she felt a hand on her shoulder. It was only then that she remembered David.

  “How are you?” he asked gently.

  It started as a shiver down her spine, a deep breath. And then it came. The tears, the screams, the despair. He took hold of her and held her. Her bawling was incoherent and her sobs choked the words that logjammed in her throat. She didn’t even notice David awkwardly stroking her back. She was alone. Totally alone and when that insight reached to the very core of her snotty desolation the only thing she could discern was the faint echo of one word. Mommy.

  CHAPTER 39

  IT WAS THE FIRST TIME – no, the second. When she’d sprained an ankle while out jogging a couple of years ago, she’d also had to take sick leave. Otherwise she couldn’t remember the last time she’d called in sick. Not even when her mom died did she take off any more than the time she needed to take care of her father and the funeral.

  She was lying in bed. She hadn’t lied to Kalle, she’d just said that she couldn’t work for a couple of days. That it was a private matter and that she’d soon be back again. Kalle had been understanding. He’d call Pernilla and Henrik, he was sure it wouldn’t be a problem. He’d assumed it was about her mother, that her grief had finally caught up with her. Maybe he was right. Maybe it was about her mother, at least on some level. It didn’t matter to Agnes if it was her mom or Tobias; she just felt empty. Now she was lying on her bed listening to the faint hum from the fridge in the kitchen as it switched on and off.

  Lussan had called. She’d sounded worried – maybe it was Agnes’s monosyllabic replies that she didn’t recognize. She’d invited herself over for the evening. Agnes had tried to protest, she didn’t want company, but Lussan had been adamant.

  It was half past five. Lussan was planning to come over straight after work, she’d said. That could mean now or in two hours. Agnes hoped it was the latter, but twenty minutes later her doorbell rang. Agnes dragged herself out of bed and went to open the door. Lussan stared at her.

  “Oh, hon, what do you look like?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Take at look at yourself in the mirror.”

  Agnes turned. There was something translucent about the image in the reflection. Its thin skin was pasty, almost white, the lips pale, the eyes big and darkly ringed. She looked a little like a ghost. “I was napping,” she said contritely.

  “You need a little blood in that body.” Lussan pulled a bottle of red wine out of her bag.

  “No thanks, not for me.”

  “You need iron, it’s patently obvious. This contains loads! At least have one glass.” Lussan went into the kitchen and fetched two glasses and a corkscrew. “Have you eaten anything?”

  “No.”

  “I’ll call and order a pizza.”

  “Not for my sake.”

  “You need food.”

  “Not pizza.”

  “OK, so what have you got here?” Lussan started to rummage around the food cupboard. “Would noodle soup be better?”

  “No.”

  “Oatmeal?”

  “No.”

  “Spaghetti?” She opened the fridge and peeked in. “Spaghetti and Parmesan, can you eat that?” Agnes didn’t reply. She wanted to go back to bed, but reluctantly she found Lussan’s energy contagious. Lussan filled a pot with water and put it on the stove, and then poured each of them a glass of wine. “OK, out with it. He cheated on you again and you threw him out. And then…?”

  “And then nothing.”

  “He hasn’t gotten in touch? You haven’t called him?”

  “No.”

  “It’s over?”

  “Yes.”

  “Really over?”

  “Yes.”

  Lussan sat in silence for a while. She refrained from making any gratulatory comments or cheering, and Agnes was thankful for that.

  “Do you know what I think?” she asked at last. Agnes looked up. “When you look back on this in a few years, you’ll realize that it was here that your life took a turn.”

  “Took a turn?”

  “Yes. It might sound strange, but I think that in everyone’s life there’s a turning point. One or more events that propel your life onto a new course.”

  “Like some kind of fate or something?”

  “You could say that. But not the kind of fate that befalls you, but one that you create yourself.”

  “So you
’re saying that I brought all this on myself?”

  Lussan squirmed. “I know it sounds a bit hard.…”

  “Are you joking, because you sound like some preachy scientologist. Oh my, what a shame you’re in a wheelchair. But you know that’s because you sinned in a former life.…”

  “All I mean is that I think there’s a meaning to all this. A meaning for you. Although that might be hard for you to see right now.…”

  The water started boiling in the pot and Lussan got up to put in the spaghetti. Agnes was grateful for the fact she’d stopped talking. But then again, maybe she was right, maybe this really was a turning point. The end of something old, the start of something new. Maybe. Or perhaps it was just misfortune.

  Lussan seemed to sense her skepticism, for she said no more about it. Instead, she asked about Tobias’s departure while serving up the cooked spaghetti in two bowls and grating generous amounts of Parmesan over it. Agnes picked at her food, and then started to speak, albeit a little reluctantly at first. Lussan already knew the end, the punch line, so what was the point of going over and over what happened? But after a while, Agnes found that her story became easier to tell. It grew into a story, more like an anecdote than a tragic event from her life. Lussan asked questions, wanted details, insisted that she repeat certain sequences. And Agnes talked. Lussan roared with laughter when she heard the bit about the painting.

  “But, look, this David guy, what happened to him?” she said at the end.

  “He went back to his apartment, I guess. I fell asleep, and when I awoke, he was gone.”

  “Hasn’t he gotten in touch?”

  “Someone knocked on the door yesterday morning, but I couldn’t be bothered to get up and open it.”

  Lussan sat not speaking for a while. “He seems nice.”

  Agnes looked up at her. “You can cut that out,” she snapped.

  “What?”

  “Don’t even think it.”

  “Think what?”

  “Don’t give me that, I know what you’re like.”

  Lussan gave a grin. “Come on, the least you can do is pop over and tell him you’re alive. I mean, he must be wondering. I bet he’s worried given the state you were in yesterday.”