by Linda Olsson
Would it have changed anything if she had posted the cards? I couldn’t help but think that the impact was much greater this way. If she had sent me that first card, I would probably just have thrown it away, and it wouldn’t really have touched me at all. But with them spread out in front of me, all these birthdays, all these words, it was impossible not to be moved. I could no longer ask her what she had meant. Why had she not posted them yet saved them?
It struck me that perhaps she had intended for me to sit just like this. Desperately trying to understand what her intention had been. It wasn’t what I wanted to believe. I wanted to be allowed to embrace the words. And the thoughts behind each word. I wanted to believe them.
I awkwardly rose from the floor. There were still no sounds from downstairs. I wondered if Emma was asleep, and I wasn’t sure whether she wanted to be left alone. Should I just sneak out and have a meal by myself in town? Or should I try to make myself a meal at home? That would inevitably wake her.
I considered the alternatives while I collected the cards and stuck them back into the envelope. And then I returned the envelope to the box. For now. Only until I had decided what to do with it.
I heard Emma in the kitchen while I was on my way downstairs. She stood leaning against the counter, a glass of water in her hand.
“Did you sleep?”
She shook her head.
“No, I can’t really sleep during the day. Like I said, I can still get some rest. But not today. And I wasn’t really tired. Just cold. And embarrassed.” She sipped the water.
“I’m so sorry, Emma.”
She shrugged.
“It’s not your fault. I apologize for my behavior. I just lost it when I watched you disappear into the water. And then not resurface. I just panicked.”
She looked at me, and I couldn’t quite read her expression. Or perhaps I could. I just didn’t want to.
“I have no idea why I jumped overboard. It just happened. You know how I am overcome by these mad impulses and do the most embarrassing things. Which I then regret. So I’m the one who should apologize.”
“Pau must have thought we were mad, both of us.” A little smile touched her lips, so brief I hardly caught it.
“Perhaps. I’m not sure. But he still invited us to come down to his house tomorrow. What do you say?”
Emma crossed the room and sat down at the table. She was pale and still looked as if she was cold. I put a couple of new logs on the fire. But in spite of the fire the spacious room felt cool.
“It all feels a little awkward, all of it. I don’t know. What do you think?”
I stood by the door to the little balcony off the dining area. The view offered a glimpse of the sea. The sun had disappeared and dusk had dampened the light as well as the wind, it seemed. I turned and looked at Emma.
“I think we should accept.” As soon as I had said the words, I realized how much I wanted to sit in Pau’s study and hear him sing. I couldn’t remember when I had last wanted something this strongly.
“Let’s do that, then,” Emma said.
* * *
We had finished our meal. Leftovers from lunch. It amazed me how Emma was able to create something from hardly any ingredients at all. For the first time, we had our meal in the dining room. The fire had finally warmed up the room, and I could see that Emma’s cheeks had their color back. Yet she still looked exhausted.
“I’m so sorry about what I said in the boat. It had nothing to do with you. Nothing to do with your jumping into the water. I mean, of course you had the right to do that. That it turned into such an incident is entirely my fault.”
I hesitated, not sure what to say. “I could have said something before jumping. But it just came over me, like I said. And I just stepped off the rail. I had no idea it would make you so upset. I had no thoughts at all. Not that I was aware of anyway. I saw you sitting there. So comfortable and relaxed, talking to Pau. Laughing. I saw it, and it looked so . . . well, so beautiful. So absolutely perfect.”
Emma slowly shook her head. Then she looked up at me and her eyes were very clear. I felt as if she could see right through me. Read my mind.
“I want to talk about Amanda.”
My heart began to pound. I rose and took away our dinner plates and put out small ones for the cheese.
“You don’t need to say anything, Maria. Just listen.”
“And if I don’t want to?”
“Then I can’t make you. But I beg you. Listen to me. I have carried this for so long. I don’t think I can manage any longer.”
Although she was actually pleading, she didn’t have the expression I had seen so often and disliked so. No, now she just looked determined, I thought. As if she had prepared herself carefully.
“Do you remember how it began?”
“What?”
“That afternoon.”
“Of course I do.”
“Do you mind listening while I tell you how I remember it?”
I leaned back against the chair. Even though the room was warm now, the metal felt cold against my back.
“It was your idea.” She threw me a quick glance before continuing. “But, then, almost all ideas were, so that doesn’t really matter. You were always leading and Amanda followed. And I think you challenged her more and more. Perhaps to force her to choose between you and me.”
What she said hung in the silence between us. I said nothing.
“I can understand that now. You were almost sixteen, and I had just turned ten. Of course you wanted to do your things. But Amanda always had to tug me along. There was nobody else. Mother was never there to reckon with. You know that. Always somewhere else. Even when she was at home. But you got impatient and tired of me. And Amanda was torn between us. It was like you found increasingly more challenging things for us to do. Things I couldn’t really do. Or things I wasn’t allowed to do. Like that day. When you decided that we were to go down to the canal. Thinking about it, I’m not sure if you actually said it. Or if you just started to walk.”
She seemed to be considering what she had said.
“No, I don’t think you told us to follow. I’m not sure if you said anything at all or if so, what it might have been. But you didn’t really make the decision for us. No, I think you just casually said that you were going to the canal. As if to see what would happen. But to us it was the same thing. We followed you wherever you went. We all knew that it was absolutely forbidden.”
The canal was forbidden territory at all times. The water was polluted by sewage so we were not allowed to swim there in the summer. But in the winter it was an absolute no-go zone. When the water had frozen over. Even when the ice was at its thickest, a channel was kept open for the regular boat traffic. And the water never froze at all where the sluice flowed into it. Our side of the canal faced north, and the ice thawed last along that shore. Just as the snow lasted well into spring under the dark pine trees on the slope down to the water. Not even during warm summer days did the sun reach there.
“I can’t understand what made you go there that day.”
I went to collect another bottle of wine from the fridge. When I held it out to top up Emma’s glass, she quickly placed her hand over it and shook her head. I filled my own glass and sat down.
“It was so cold. Do you remember? The first week of March. Overcast, gray, and deserted. Hardly any snow remained and icy patches froze over during the night and thawed during the day. But that particular day it was colder and everything was frozen. The whole world was gray. The road was slippery, and I kept slipping and almost fell over a couple of times. So we lagged behind, Amanda and I. You were ahead of us, and you walked fast. And the distance between us kept growing. I think Amanda tried to keep your pace, but she was held back by me.”
Emma bit her lip.
“I can see her so clearly, Maria. How she
struggled. Torn between her yearning to walk beside you. Be near you. Talk to you. Be part of your adventures. Share your secrets. And her responsibility for me.”
I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to see Emma. And more than anything I didn’t want to listen to her. But I stayed where I was, helpless, unable to say or do anything.
“So we came down to the canal. There was still snow under the trees on the slope down to the water. Grayish and with a hard, icy crust. It was completely still. That’s how I remember it anyway. I could hear the sound of your boots when they broke the crust. Some crows cawed over the black treetops. But I remember it as silent otherwise. As if everything was holding its breath.”
I opened my eyes and saw that Emma was standing. She walked to the balcony door and stood there with her back to me, looking out.
“Is it okay if I have a cigarette here?”
She turned her head and looked at me, and I nodded.
“Of course.”
I held my glass in a tight grip. We needed our drugs, both of us. Emma lit a cigarette and blew the smoke through the open door.
“When Amanda and I reached the edge of the canal, you were already out on the ice. You said nothing. There was no need to. Like I said, you never had to lead us on. We followed wherever you went, and you never turned to see if we were there. And you didn’t this time either. You just charged ahead, knowing full well that we would follow. And you jumped so easily over the cracks. Moved so fast and with such ease. Amanda held my hand, and we followed in your tracks. But so much more slowly. The distance kept increasing. When we got further out and closer to the open water, there were more cracks and they were wider. And the ice floes moved under our feet. Here and there you could see water well forth between the cracks. I don’t remember that we said anything, but I thought I could feel Amanda’s fright through her hand that held mine in a hard grip. And I became scared too. Then she stopped. We stood still and I heard her panting. Then she called out to you. Called to say that we wanted to turn back. But you made no sign of having heard her. We stood there for a while. I’m not sure I’m right, but it felt as if Amanda was hesitating. That scared me too, because she used to be so sure of what to do. You were just a dark figure in the gray-white landscape, far ahead of us. Then we could see that you changed direction and turned back toward the shore. But you didn’t come toward us. You moved in a wide curve and seemed to aim for the shore much farther away. Again, you moved gracefully, running fast and skipping over the cracks. So we turned too and moved in your direction, aiming for the same stretch of shore. We walked over untouched ice, instead of following our own tracks back to the shore. We no longer held hands. I think Amanda was relieved. She walked ahead of me, and I could tell from her posture that she was her usual self again. She talked about what we were going to do when we got home. She was going to make us hot chocolate. I watched her jump over a wide crack and land on the other side of it. There she turned to check that I got over safely. But just at that moment, the crack widened further and the ice creaked under our feet. I saw water gushing up over the ice on both sides. Amanda took a step back as if to avoid the water.”
I could hear that Emma was crying.
“I felt ice cold water wash over my boots. And I watched how Amanda suddenly tottered and slipped before she slid into the dark water between us. It was strange how slowly it seemed to happen. So quickly yet so unbearably slowly. I can’t remember any sounds at all. No screams for help. Not even any sounds of splashing water. Nothing. It was as if the water had swallowed Amanda in no time at all and absolutely silently. One moment she was standing there, talking about hot chocolate. The next moment she had disappeared, and the ice creaked as the floes drifted apart. She never resurfaced. I stood there, completely speechless, as if waiting for it to rewind. A miracle. For something that could undo what had happened. My teeth began to chatter. A ship passed through the channel in the ice, farther out, and the swell reached me and I felt its movement under the ice. Then I must have turned and started to walk back to the shore. I must have, but I have no memory of doing it. I must have followed our tracks back toward land, the way we had come. I slipped and I stumbled and finally I began to cry. When I came closer to the shore, a man came walking his dog. A golden retriever. When he asked what was the matter, I couldn’t speak at first. I wasn’t able describe what I couldn’t understand. But he crouched down in front of me, looked at me, and gazed out over the ice. He pulled me close for a moment. He told me to wait and ran out on the ice, following our tracks. But there was nothing out there for him to see. Nothing. Somehow I think he understood what must have happened. He turned back and came running toward me, he too slipping on the ice. He looked around as if hoping to find some help. But there were just the two of us and the dog. By now my crying was unstoppable, almost choking me. He asked where I lived and took me by the hand. He talked all the way, as if trying to comfort me, but nothing he said made any sense to me. It was as if he wasn’t really there. As if the man, the dog, well, the entire world, was very distant. And I was completely alone.”
I opened my eyes and looked at Emma, who had turned toward me.
“But you, Maria, you never looked back. You just walked your way.”
Emma stretched out her hand and put out the cigarette on the balcony rail, walked to the kitchen counter, where she wet the butt under the tap before dropping it in the waste bin. Then she returned to her chair and sat down. I had the distinct impression that she purposely took her time. She placed her hands on the table and clasped them. But she said nothing further.
“It wouldn’t have made any difference if I had been there,” I said eventually. “Nobody could have saved Amanda.”
Emma’s eyes were wide open, and she regarded me with a steady gaze.
“No, nobody could have saved Amanda. Not there, not then. But we would have come with you if you had only waited for us. We would have walked in another direction if you had only waited.”
“It was an accident. And I never asked you to come in the first place. And I didn’t choose the path you took over the ice.”
“True. It was an accident. It could have happened to either of us. You or me. For a long time, I wished it had been me. I dreamed about how I slid down into the ice-cold darkness under the ice. Strangely, I never dreamed about watching Amanda doing it. It was always me.”
She looked genuinely intrigued. As if the thought had never struck her before. She lowered her eyes and looked at her hands. She seemed to hesitate about whether to continue. He previous confidence seemed completely lost. Now she seemed to search for every word.
“It might not have made any difference for Amanda if you had been with us when it happened. You are right. Nobody could have saved her.”
She wiped her mouth with her palm, placed her elbow on the table, and rested her cheek on her clenched hand. She was silent for so long that I wondered if she had finished. I made as if to stand up. Then she stretched her hand across the table, and I sank down on my chair again.
“But to me, it would have made a world of difference, Maria.” She covered her face with her hands and sobbed.
I sat opposite her helplessly, unable to move. It took her a long time to collect herself.
“I had nobody to talk to. I had to describe how the accident had happened, of course. But I hardly understood it myself, so how could I describe it to others? But, Maria, there was one thing that scared me more than anything else afterward.”
I felt my pulse pound and my cheeks flush. I couldn’t find anything to say.
“Mother came toward us through the hallway when we got back. Then everything turned into chaos. The police arrived. Neighbors we didn’t even know. The man with the dog stayed for a long time. I remember he sat with me on the sofa, holding me.”
She looked straight at me.
“But you stood by the window all the time, Maria. I have always wondered what y
ou were thinking. Why you never said a word to me. Never asked me anything. Never made any effort at all to comfort me.”
The room went deadly silent, and the sound of voices from outside drifted in.
“You think people who lose someone they love should be able to unite in grief. Comfort each other, even. But there you were, by the window, with your back toward me. And Mother. She didn’t cry. She didn’t hold me. She didn’t even run to call the police when we first arrived—the man with the dog did that. She just stood there. And I looked at her and realized she didn’t even see me. She just looked scared. Not sad. Not shocked. Just bewildered. That’s what it looked like. As if she had no idea what to do. And when we stood there at first, and you came out of your room. You must have heard, of course. You already knew. And you saw us. But you said nothing. Nothing at all. You just walked past us into the living room. And there you stood the entire time, in front of the window, turned away from us. I longed for you to hold me. For us to hold each other. I wanted you to help me make sense of the senseless. Later, when everybody had left and all was still, well, then you just left. You had not one word for me. Not one look. And I felt you were accusing me. As if it was my fault.”
I slowly shook my head.
“That’s not what I was thinking. Not at all, Emma. I just couldn’t do anything other than what I did. I just had to leave.”
Again the room became silent.
“But you left me behind, Maria. You left me with Mother. I had nobody to turn to. Nobody to tell me how to survive. What to do.”
“Nobody helped me either. And that’s how it is, more often than not, I think. Two people grieving the same loss are rarely able to help each other. Grief is private. You’re alone in your grief.”