by Philip Teir
‘Mamma?’ he said again.
She opened her eyes.
‘Yes?’
‘Do you like being a mother?’
She turned her head to peer at him. He was staring at her with such earnestness. His eyes were exactly the same green as her own.
‘Of course I do. Why do you ask?’
‘Because of something Leo said.’
‘What did he say?’
‘That his father didn’t want to be grown up.’
‘Oh, sweetie. I love being your mother,’ she said, kissing the top of his head. The nausea was getting worse. It was so bad now that she needed to dash for the bathroom.
‘Sorry, but I have to go to the toilet,’ she said, climbing over him and running out of the bedroom. She threw up into the toilet bowl, dark red vomit with pieces from yesterday’s dinner. At least she’d made it to the bathroom in time, but her nostrils had filled with scraps of bulgur and bits of parsley. She blew her nose on a tissue and drank water directly from the tap. Then she rinsed her face. She instantly felt better, even though she’d broken out in a cold sweat, and she was ashamed to leave the bathroom and have to meet Alice in the kitchen.
Eventually Erik also awoke. He came into the kitchen and seemed to be in a good mood. He made himself three big sandwiches and then sat down on the steps to eat them. Alice was lying on the rocks, peering dreamily at the tarn as she listened to music. Anton had fetched the little wooden house from the terrace and was busy filling it with tiny twigs he had cut from pine branches.
‘So did you have fun with Alice and that boy yesterday?’ Julia asked him.
She’d made herself a small omelette. Her appetite had returned after she’d thrown up.
‘Leo taught us a new card game. Could we play it later?’
Erik went into the cellar to have a look at the pipes. Maybe he’d forgotten about the strange rituals on the beach because he’d seemed totally unconcerned and happy all morning, like a well-rested person who was ready for new adventures.
‘I don’t know whether I dare mess with the pipes, but I’ll check to see how things look down there,’ he’d said.
Julia nodded.
‘What else did you do yesterday?’ she asked Alice, who hadn’t been listening. She was staring at her mobile.
‘Alice? I’m talking to you.’
‘What?!’ said Alice, looking up with annoyance.
‘I asked you what else you did yesterday.’
Alice gave her mother a distracted look. Then she took her headphones out.
‘Leo kissed Alice,’ said Anton without looking up.
Julia gave him an amused look.
‘He did?’
‘It wasn’t a tongue kiss, but it was still a kiss. On the mouth.’
Julia glanced at her daughter, who was lying on the ground. Alice had apparently become a teenager.
‘Let’s not talk any more about that right now,’ Julia whispered to Anton, who nodded. Yet she felt herself blushing as she thought about her own evening, as if what Alice had done was analogous to what she’d done, as if they were all now entangled with that strange family on the other side of the road.
Julia couldn’t imagine sitting down to write today, not in her present condition, yet she felt a strong urge to get back to her novel. There was something about what happened yesterday that made her feel a need to immerse herself in the story. All the small occurrences of daily life often had that effect on her. She’d get a feeling that she was glimpsing a part of life that existed beyond what was rational and explicable, something that touched on primal urges, something that eluded her if she tried to analyse it.
Erik emerged from the cellar and got himself a cup of coffee. His hair was dishevelled, which Julia found endearing. He was unshaven and emanated a certain vigour, which was a blend of muscles and a sense that he was comfortable with his body. He’d always managed to look good the ‘day after’.
‘Shall we go for a walk in the woods?’ he asked. ‘We can have a look at the moose. You kids will have to show us where it is.’
The whole family headed for the woods, as if on an expedition.
‘It’s over there,’ said Anton, who was leading the way.
Julia wasn’t really prepared for how big the animal was. It looked as if it had been there a very long time because the body was more or less dried out and gnawed, with parts of the skeleton clearly visible. Only the moose’s legs and hooves seemed to have been spared, and there were still some patches of fur remaining. Its entrails had been completely hollowed out, but the head, or rather the skull, was eerily expressive, as if the moose were looking right at them. It was like a spooky cubist painting.
‘Do you think we should phone somebody?’ asked Erik.
He seemed more fascinated than horrified.
‘That’s probably a good idea. The corpse will attract a lot of bacteria now that it’s summer. Plus, I think you’re supposed to report things like this,’ said Julia. ‘I wonder how long it’s been here.’
‘Pappa, why is it hanging in the tree?’ asked Anton.
Julia also thought that was strange. How had it ended up like that? It was hanging a good half metre above the ground, if not more.
‘I think it must have got stuck during the winter and froze to death. Then it thawed out in the springtime. The snow was probably very deep around here, but then the snow melted. That must be what happened. It must have fought hard. It’s a big animal, after all. It seems strange that the moose couldn’t manage to get free,’ said Erik.
Julia felt a lump form in her throat as she gazed at the moose. The nausea returned, and it wasn’t just because of how the animal looked. It was also at the thought of the moose standing here for days, maybe weeks, without food or any way to rest. Fighting a fierce battle to the death. Maybe it had caused a huge ruckus, but no one had heard it high up here in the woods in the middle of winter. Maybe the moose had eventually given up and let the cold take over, deciding not to struggle any more. Moose were big animals, and it seemed likely they were intelligent enough to fear death.
They stood in silence around the moose. Anton took Julia’s hand. Erik walked around it again, squatting down to take a closer look at the corpse. Then they headed back to the house in silence, walking in single file.
A hunter from the area came over in the afternoon to help Erik haul away the moose. The hunter had a grey beard, and he wore a green jacket. He shook hands with Erik and gave his name, speaking in a muffled voice. The two of them cleared everything away. They threw all the parts of the cadaver in black rubbish sacks, which the hunter then stowed in his big van while Julia stood in the yard and watched.
Later in the afternoon it started to rain. Julia felt like going for a swim, but the kids didn’t want to go along. Erik suggested they take a sauna first.
‘A Midsummer Day sauna. Doesn’t that sound like a good idea?’ he said.
He was right. They sat in the sauna for a long time, sweating out the effects of the night. Julia soon felt like a new person. She and Erik put on their dressing gowns and walked barefoot down to the shore. Pine needles and sand and stones prickled the soles of their feet, but it also felt both lovely and real. The rain didn’t bother them; it actually warmed up the water. Julia tossed her dressing gown on the rocks near the bay and waded out as far as she could go. She caught a faint whiff of rotting fish, the sort of smell that comes from seagulls. The wind was blowing in from the sea, and raindrops lashed at her face.
Erik came into the water and swam over to her. Then he swam further out, taking strong crawl strokes, before he turned around and came back to her. It wasn’t deep where she was standing. The water reached only to her waist. She would have to swim almost out of the bay before the water got so deep she couldn’t touch bottom.
‘Oh, this is great,’ said Erik. ‘It might be the greatest thing there is. I mean it,’ he said.
‘I know,’ said Julia.
‘Did you have fun yesterday?’ he
asked.
He swam over to her and touched her waist. She let her body fall backwards so the water covered her neck. He came closer and gently grabbed her left breast.
‘Did you have fun?’ she asked.
‘Yes. It was a little … different,’ said Erik. ‘Is she the one you wrote about?’
‘Who do you mean?’
‘Marika. In your book.’
‘I suppose she was the model. But it’s fiction, you know. We were childhood friends, and a person’s memory isn’t always reliable. I made up most of it. We spent maybe three or four summers here. Our parents knew each other.’
‘It’s strange that you hardly ever talk about this place, and that we haven’t stayed here before. It’s perfect for us.’
‘It’s like this place exists more in my body than in my brain. And I think I exhausted the topic when I wrote my novel.’
He let her go and slid back into the water.
‘Do you ever think about what all of them were discussing last night?’ he asked her. ‘About the environment?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, do you really think that could happen? That the world will end or humankind will be obliterated? If we’re to believe what those people were saying, there’s no longer any hope for us.’
‘Sometimes,’ said Julia. ‘Sometimes I think about that.’
‘I think it’s horrible to keep imagining that disaster is waiting just around the corner. I wonder what that does to us, to human beings in general. Are we in a perpetual state of crisis?’
Julia didn’t reply as she floated in the water.
He went over to her, shivering in the rain. ‘I think I’ll go in. Coming?’
‘Maybe in a while.’
She was cold, but she didn’t want to get out of the water yet. She felt like staying in this setting, in the moment. She swam a little further out, then dived under as she thought about a short story by John Cheever that she’d always liked. It was about a man who decides to take a detour home by swimming in all the neighbour’s pools, going from one yard to the next. Along the way, some of the neighbours offer him drinks. They’re having a barbecue, and eventually the mood gets stranger and stranger, while the seasons of the year change.
She thought about how swimming was like booze and how you disappeared down into the depths, yet water was also associated with purification.
Erik stood on the shore, using a towel to dry off. She ought to get out and go home with him, but instead she turned around and kept on swimming as she glanced up at the beach and the big grey house.
When she headed back to the summer house, she found Erik in the sauna. He had lit a candle. His skin was almost burning to the touch when she sat down next to him.
‘How was it?’ he asked.
‘Great,’ she replied.
Neither of them spoke for quite a while. Julia was thinking she ought to be talking, but she refrained because she didn’t know what to say.
Erik stroked her cheek.
‘Do you think …’ he began. ‘I mean … doesn’t it feel like things have gone a bit stale between us lately?’
She felt a lump form in her stomach. ‘Maybe you’re right,’ she said, pulling her legs up to rest her chin on her knees.
‘How’s the writing coming along?’ he asked.
‘It’s okay.’
She couldn’t find the right words. She tried to think of what else to say. Then she happened to think of the children.
‘Anton is so sweet.’
‘He sure is. He seems to be thriving out here.’
‘He told me something strange today.’
‘What did he say?’
‘Something about how Leo’s father can’t act like a grown-up. I wonder what he meant.’
‘Chris? He seems very grown up to me. And very confident about his cause.’
‘But in a way, Anton could be right,’ said Julia. ‘There actually aren’t any rules any more about how to be a grown-up.’
‘What do you mean?’
She sat up straight and threw more water on the sauna stones. Steam instantly rose up to the ceiling.
‘I mean, there’s no ideal way to act. Our own parents rebelled against a conservative generation. They listened to rock music, and certain people – like Ylva and Roger from yesterday – have tried to work out an alternative lifestyle, with open relationships, and that sort of thing … But our generation doesn’t believe in that kind of solution. So we live a super bourgeois life, almost as if we’ve gone back to the 1950s.’
‘We haven’t really, have we?’ said Erik.
‘In some ways, yes. Just think about it. Marriage has won a new status. It’s once again considered desirable. Yet we’re not really satisfied with marriage. We want to be free and leave all doors open. We want the children to give meaning to our life, yet we also want to live egotistically,’ said Julia.
‘I have no need to leave all doors open,’ said Erik.
‘That’s not what I’m saying,’ replied Julia. ‘It’s just that sometimes I think it’s stupid there aren’t other models for how to be a grown-up and live together other than the nuclear family unit.’
She could hear how that sounded, as if she were using politics as a means for talking about her own feelings and insecurities.
‘Are you talking about your writing now?’
They’d had this discussion often, occasionally even quarrelling over it. The fact that she needed solitude and isolation in order to write. But this time it was different. This was about her longing for something that would change her sense of loneliness.
‘No, that’s not what I mean. Well, maybe. I’m not sure. Sometimes I think I’d like to have a … mature relationship. Sort of like Marika and Chris. A relationship that’s not based on meeting at the age of twenty and then staying together because that’s the only sensible thing to do. Just because … You know, we’ve been together a really long time, and I think everyone changes, as a person. Oh, I don’t know.’
Erik scratched his leg. He seemed amused. She could feel the sweat running down her forehead. She was annoyed that he wasn’t taking her seriously.
‘So you want to be like Marika and Chris? And live in a collective?’ he asked.
‘Good God, no.’
‘I know you. And you need me.’
Now she got angry, maybe mostly because he was right. He did know her. At the same time, he couldn’t know what it felt like to be her, to feel the way she did. He couldn’t fix things or take away her loneliness. The only thing he could do was to pronounce a diagnosis and then judge her and think she was a hopeless human being.
And maybe she really was a hopeless human being. Or maybe it was very simple: they had grown apart.
‘You don’t understand,’ she said.
‘In what way?’
‘I mean … Maybe I don’t understand either.’
‘Huh,’ said Erik.
They sat in silence for a while. Julia threw more water on the stones. She felt like she could talk to Erik, and yet she couldn’t. If she really tried to tell him how she felt, she would end up hurting him.
‘So when are your parents getting here?’ he asked.
‘I don’t think they’ll come over until Alice’s birthday.’
‘They always seem to have a lot of things planned.’
‘Uh-huh. They have both the time and the money,’ said Julia.
‘Is everything okay with them?’
‘I have no idea. My mother is never satisfied with anything,’ she said.
At that instant it occurred to her that she was the same way.
‘Oh my God.’
‘What?’
‘Nothing. Or rather, I was just thinking that I’m a lot like my mother. Nothing is ever good enough. Everything is a disaster. I’m her daughter, after all. Why should I be any different?’
‘But you don’t have to be like her. You can do something about it. You are satisfied sometimes, aren’t you
?’ Erik asked.
‘Sure. Of course. Once in a while,’ said Julia.
She leaned back against the hot wall.
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘But you were the one who wanted to talk about us.’
‘I just wanted to have a normal discussion. I thought we could try to talk about our relationship.’
Julia threw more water on the stones. A big scoopful, this time. Steam rose up towards them like a wall. Both of them had to hunch over, pressing their chests to their knees.
Erik stood up abruptly.
‘I think I’ll go rinse off. See you back at the house.’
6
That’s what happened when the solar system closed
its vaulted gate of the purest crystal
and separated the people of the spaceship Aniara
from all the connections and promises of the sun
And abandoned to terror-hardened space
we dispersed our call of Aniara
through clear-as-glass infinity, but achieved nothing.
Excerpt from Aniara by Harry Martinson
MANIFESTO FOR A WORLD IN MOURNING
All grief begins with denial, a refusal to accept the loss. That’s where many of us now find ourselves. With the last of our strength we cling tightly to the hope that maybe, just maybe, we will awake from this nightmare, shake off the anxieties of the night, and step forward into a morning that is exactly like all previous mornings.
But ultimately, the flames of hope are extinguished, and what’s left is only empty space and a bewildered human with no map, with no possibility of finding his bearings in the dark.
We who prioritise the Movement, Aniara, believe that there is also power in powerlessness, that the new tomorrow can be beautiful only when we accept our loss and our eyes grow accustomed to the dark. When we give up any thoughts of saving ourselves and our conscience by means of solar panels and recycling, through technological solutions and a smarter capitalism.
Now is the time to face the truth: it’s too late.
Now is the time to listen to the sound of the funeral dirge; it’s tolling loud and clear and has been for a long time. It’s tolling for a nature that never had a chance to defend itself; it’s tolling for the silent beauty that no one cares about, for the tiny defenceless bugs in the ground, for the birds in the sky, for all that we never saw.