Lycke

by Mikaela Bley

  Mostly, she wanted to start her whole life over.

  The doorbell rang. It was that young couple who’d made an appointment with her to look at the apartment. Helena introduced herself and gave them each a prospectus.

  As luck would have it, they didn’t seem to recognise her. Most likely, no one expected she would be the one showing an apartment.

  She let them look around, while she lingered in the background. She didn’t have the energy to gush on about the venerable building, the amazing floors, the location. Not today.

  She observed them at a distance as they went in and out of the various rooms, whispering discreetly to each other. Giggling. Hugging. They completely radiated it. Eagerness for the future.

  Don’t do it. He’s going to leave you. For someone younger. They all do that. Life doesn’t turn out the way you imagined.

  She sometimes still woke up in the middle of the night with Harald’s words pounding in her head, filled with that sense of total powerlessness. There was nothing she could do. It didn’t matter how much she screamed or berated him.

  It was the day before Christmas Eve. Four years ago.

  She had put on a Christmas album. They almost never played music at home, but she had decided that it was going to be a nice Christmas. Actually, she had no energy, but she was really exerting herself anyway. Tried to keep above water. Everything would be perfect.

  The Christmas ham was in the oven; the tree, they would decorate in peace and quiet when Lycke was in bed. Helena had brought home some good bottles of wine. She had done the Christmas shopping three months earlier. They would go on a hunting trip to England, because hunting was Harald’s favourite thing and Helena’s parents knew someone who knew someone who knew someone. Just the two of them, with no child competing for attention and zapping their energy. It was exactly what they needed. They needed to take care of each other.

  Harald came into the kitchen as she was making pickled herring from a recipe she’d gotten from her mother. She realised at once that something wasn’t right. He hadn’t taken off either his shoes or his jacket. His eyes looked tired, but alert.

  ‘Is something the matter?’ she asked with her fingers in the herring jar.

  Without answering, his gaze wandered around the kitchen. Maybe it was to take one last look at what he wanted to escape from. As if to gather extra energy. To truly decide that she wasn’t good enough.

  ‘I’ve met someone.’

  The way he said it. Flat out. About the same tone as if he’d just told her he’d forgotten to buy milk.

  ‘What are you talking about? What do you mean, met someone?’ She refused to let it sink in. Or else she was buying herself time. Didn’t want to understand. Her hands were dripping with vinegar.

  ‘I’m sorry. This wasn’t the way I wanted it to be. Believe me. I’m going to pack a bag tonight and drive down to the hotel. After Christmas, we’ll sort everything out.’

  ‘But —’

  ‘You know yourself that it’s been bad between us for a long time. I can’t even remember when we last touched each other. To be quite honest, ever since we had Lycke —’

  ‘What? What the hell are you talking about? You can’t just leave me here with Lycke.’

  She stared down into the herring jar. She couldn’t organise her thoughts, her emotions racing through her like blood.

  ‘It’s Christmas Eve tomorrow.’ Whatever that mattered. Somehow it felt important then. It was the only thing that she managed to get out.

  ‘Forgive me. I’m truly sorry that it’s happened like this. But I can’t live this kind of lie any longer. It just won’t work. And because we were going to celebrate with your parents, I thought it didn’t matter anyway. You’ll have a better time without me.’

  She didn’t know which of his words she should hold onto. Tried to understand exactly what he had just said. Who was he? Who was this person standing in her kitchen, leaving her and their daughter the day before Christmas Eve? Turning her into the most insignificant, loneliest person in the world.

  Should he still celebrate Christmas with her?

  ‘How can you do this to me? And to Lycke? Your daughter!’

  Should she take care of Lycke by herself? The mere thought made her legs shake. How would she manage it?

  ‘I can’t help it. I’m sorry, Helena, but I’m in love with someone else and I can’t ignore those feelings any longer.’

  I can’t help it. I’m in love with someone else. The words echoed in her head.

  It didn’t matter how much she screamed at him.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Helena. I can’t help it. I’m in love.’

  ‘Does it include a berth?’

  Helena was startled by the question. The guy looked out the open window and down toward the piers on Strandvägen.

  ‘Yes, absolutely …’ Helena forced a smile. ‘And membership in the Royal Motorboat Club. It’s all in the brochure.’

  ‘I see,’ the young man answered. Nonchalant now, as if he didn’t want to show that he was impressed. She’d learned to see through such games long ago.

  The couple continued looking around.

  Helena tried to block out the memories. The aroma of herring and Christmas music in her ears.

  ‘Excuse me, do you know if this wall is structural?’

  She cleared her throat, tried to focus. ‘Yes, that wall is structural, but you can move that one, and that one, too.’ She pointed. ‘You must have approval from the association first.’

  ‘Oh, then maybe we can put the children’s room here.’ The woman twittered with happiness.

  ‘Okay, we’ll get back to you,’ the guy said, no longer equally enthusiastic.

  ‘Absolutely,’ Helena answered. ‘But don’t wait too long. I have another couple coming to look this afternoon and the seller wants to have a contract before Wednesday.’

  Always the same phrases and games.

  The girl gazed at her other half with longing eyes. She hung eagerly on his arm as they left.

  The door closed and it became silent again.

  Helena sat down on the couch and stared at the yellow-striped wallpaper in front of her. It was worn. Beautiful. She tried to imagine what events it had been part of. What stories it had collected during its time there on the wall. The stripes blurred together and her eyes grew hot. But no tears came.

  The phone in her hand started to vibrate. She looked at the display. It was Harald. He’d sent her a message, saying he wanted to meet and asking where she was.

  She thought for a while before replying that she was on Strandvägen.

  I’ll come to you, be there in 5 mins, he responded.

  Helena stood up and went into the bathroom. Squirting breath freshener into her mouth twice, she then put a few drops of Clear Eyes in each eye, straightened her outfit, and stuffed two pieces of nicotine gum in her mouth before she went down to the street.

  ELLEN

  8.00 P.M.

  The police hadn’t made any progress — their investigations hadn’t led in any particular direction. No tips of any significance had come in, either. Ellen had tried to get hold of Lycke’s parents, the tennis coach, and friends of the family. But no one wanted to talk with the media. She had managed to get in contact with the parents of some of Lycke’s classmates, but no one seemed to know anything. None of the children seemed to be particularly good friends with Lycke; it was as if no one in the class really knew her. The parents were mostly worried about their own children and asked Ellen a lot of questions that she couldn’t answer.

  The search parties hadn’t produced any results. Surveillance cameras were reviewed, ticket collectors in the subway were questioned, but without a single trace of Lycke.

  It felt like she was walking around in circles while time passed quickly by. She had to try to think along different lines.
What was it that she and everyone else were missing?

  She had to get out of the office. Do something.

  The garage under the TV4 building was practically empty on Sundays, with the exception of a few striped cars that belonged to the news team.

  Ellen turned the key and had put the car in reverse when her phone rang. She fished her mobile out of her bag.

  Jimmy. He still had the same old number.

  She let it ring a few times, thought about how many times she’d hoped he would call her. But this wasn’t how she’d imagined it. Now, it could just as well have read ‘Boss’ on the display.

  ‘Ellen here.’ She made an effort to sound curt.

  ‘It’s me. Turn off the car, would you. I’m down here in the garage.’

  ‘What? Why is that?’ she said, looking around.

  But he had already hung up.

  Ellen reluctantly turned off the engine. In the rear-view mirror, she saw him purposefully cross over the parking spaces toward her.

  Even though she struggled against it, she couldn’t help feeling the tingling sensation as he approached her.

  The memory of that last evening forced its way in. They’d been seeing each other sporadically for a couple of months. If Ellen had had her way, she would have had him with her every day, but Jimmy hadn’t wanted things to move too fast. They never went to his place, because he was living with his sister. During all that time, Ellen had never met her, but Jimmy was not a person you pressured or asked intrusive questions. He clearly didn’t want to talk about himself in that way, and even though she was a journalist and knew all the tricks to get someone to talk, it didn’t work with him. And Ellen had been too much in love to dare make any demands.

  Actually he was a typical ‘chapter-one person’. She never got past the first chapter. Was never allowed to read any further.

  But, still, it had been a marvellous chapter, and she would gladly read it several times, each time becoming more and more interested in reading ahead. She knew that when she got farther into the book, once he let her into his world, he would never let her go. That was how it had seemed, and she’d felt so close to it the whole time.

  The way he listened to her. Joked with her. Laughed with her. Touched her in a way that no one had done before. It opened something that was so lovely it almost hurt. As soon as she sensed his smell, her cheeks would flush. He made her completely lose control.

  Philip told her he thought that perhaps Jimmy didn’t actually have more than one chapter in his book. That he was mostly a good-looking cover. But he wasn’t. She knew that. There was more between the covers.

  That evening, it was as if something had come loose. They had dinner at a neighbourhood restaurant in Old Town, and at first he’d acted strangely. Only spoke to stiffly answer her questions. His gaze wandered, and he almost seemed distracted.

  ‘Is there something wrong?’ she asked when they got into the elevator at her place. It was almost as though he was distancing himself from her. In retrospect, she now realised that that was exactly what he’d been doing.

  ‘Come,’ he said, raising her chin. He’d kissed her all the way up to her apartment.

  Still in the hall, he pulled off her sweater. Moulded his hands around her breasts. Like she was a precious object, the finest thing he had ever touched.

  She was trembling. At last, she stood completely naked in front of him. He kissed her. First on the mouth, then on her neck, and continuing down. He carried her into the bedroom.

  He made her let go of everything, It was as if he’d opened her and taken her into his world. As if he couldn’t get enough.

  Afterwards they sat by one of the bay windows, wrapped in the down quilt. The window was open, and the cool breeze from the water seeped in. They shared a bottle of wine and smoked a cigarette.

  And then Ellen had told him the story she had only shared with a few people. It felt so right, then and there.

  Jimmy listened. Took in what she said, seeming not to judge her. Nor did he try to make it appear as if he understood what she felt or how she was doing. It was more as if he wanted to get closer to her. As if he wanted to help her take away the bad stuff, that guilt and anxiety that still held her in a firm grip.

  She cried, and he dried her tears. Then she fell asleep in his arms.

  The next morning, he was gone.

  For a week, she feverishly phoned him, but he didn’t answer. At last, the humiliation was too great and she stopped. Ellen did all she could to avoid running into him.

  Now, she got out of the car and slammed the door, hard. ‘What is it? Are you playing games with me, or what?’

  Maybe he wanted to start up where he’d left off yesterday? Suddenly, she was afraid that he was about to ask for forgiveness for hurting her, saying that he hadn’t felt it was right, and all that shit. That was over a year ago. She had moved on, and never wanted to talk about it again.

  Never again.

  ‘Where are you going?’ he asked, looking serious.

  ‘To work,’ she answered, hearing how she sounded like a whiny teenager. She tied her hair up into a bun on the top of her head.

  ‘Without Andreas?’

  She nodded. A photographer with a big camera scared a lot of people, and sometimes it was easier to do the research by yourself, and then call the photographer to the site. And she had to do something. She hadn’t been able to get hold of anyone by phone.

  ‘I see that you’ve retrieved your car.’

  Ellen nodded again.

  ‘You might want to take a course in how to park though,’ he said, grinning.

  Ellen looked down at the concrete floor and saw that she had parked right between two spaces. ‘Was it anything important?’ She had no desire to stand around and chitchat with him.

  ‘Yes, actually.’

  This can’t be happening, she thought, leaning against the car as some kind of support for the humiliation that would soon wash over her. ‘I’m not interested in talking —’

  ‘I want us to file a police report,’ he interrupted her.

  ‘Police report?’

  ‘Yes, concerning what we talked about on the loading dock. I don’t understand how you don’t view the threats more seriously. It’s one thing for the climate on the net to become so mean-spirited, but you shouldn’t accept just anything. In any event, as your boss, I can’t allow it. I would like for us to sit down and go through the threats and afterwards take out a joint action and file a police report.’ Jimmy held up his phone. ‘Look at this. I realise that you don’t look at these, but I want to do something about it. You don’t read about yourself, do you? I don’t want you to go home by yourself at night, either. Take a taxi and just give me all the receipts. Regardless of whether it’s work or for a personal matter.’

  Ellen nodded. Bit her lip. Did he have to add ‘as your boss’? she thought.

  ‘Do you really never read what’s written about you in these forums and comments? I’m thinking about removing the comment function. Do you get a lot of emails, too? If you want, I can ask someone to filter them for you so you don’t have to read it.’

  ‘No, thanks, it’s not necessary. I delete them without reading them. And as I said, I’ve learned to stay away from viewers’ comments. Considering your reaction right now, it’s probably just as well.’ She smiled.

  ‘Wake up, Ellen, these are threats. Disgusting ones. We have to take it seriously. I want us to file a police report.’

  ‘And how would that help, do you think? The police don’t care; your predecessor and I tried to report about it before, but they shut us down immediately. But I understand that, what can they do? These are only empty threats. People spew out a lot of shit on the internet.’

  ‘This is serious, Ellen.’ He picked up his phone, scrolled to one of the comments on her public Facebook page. ‘This, for ex
ample, is what one Paul Lundskog writes.’ He held up the phone so that she could read.

  I’m going to rape you you fucking whore.

  ‘That is just damned crazy,’ Jimmy said, pulling his hands through his hair.

  Ellen took Jimmy’s phone from him and clicked to Paul’s profile. ‘He lives in Stockholm. Enskede, it seems. Twenty-three years old.’

  ‘That they write like that from their own profiles. They have holes in their heads. Right through. Don’t they get that this is a crime?’

  Ellen entered the number for the TV4 switchboard. ‘Can you connect me to a Paul Lundskog in Enskede?’

  ‘What are you doing, Ellen?’ Jimmy tried to stop her, reaching out to take back the phone.

  ‘Wait,’ she said, stepping back.

  It took only a few seconds before the ringing began.

  A man answered. It sounded like he’d been sleeping.

  ‘Hi, this is Ellen Tamm from TV4.’

  ‘Uh, okay …’

  ‘Why did you write on my Facebook page that you’re going to rape me? You know that’s a threat, right? I’ve filed a police report and the police are on their way to your place now. We’re talking two years in prison. Not especially smart to threaten someone on Facebook considering your account isn’t anonymous.’

  ‘What? Are you joking with me, or what? Who is this?’

  He was definitely awake now.

  ‘It’s Ellen Tamm. We’re running a prime-time program where we make public the names and addresses of everyone who has threatened me on the internet. This conversation is being recorded. I’ve sent a notice to your parents about when the program will be broadcast. Great. So there you have it. Thanks.’ She hung up.

  Jimmy stared at her.

  ‘I really have to go now,’ she said, getting in the car. She closed the door and took a few deep breaths before turning the key in the ignition.

  She backed out and drove toward the garage exit. In the rear-view mirror she saw Jimmy standing there, watching her.