***
It was evening when Patricia got home and stepped on the heap of clothes on the floor.
"Hello?"she called out. "Have you been to a bar or something?"
Annika popped her head around the kitchen door. "Why?"
"Your clothes smell like an ashtray."
"I've been fired."
Patricia hung up her jacket and walked into the kitchen. "Have you eaten?"
Annika shook her head. "I'm not hungry."
"You've got to eat."
"Or what, I get bad karma?"
Patricia smiled. "Karma is sins from previous lives that strike you in your present life. This is called hunger. People die from it."
She went up to the stove and started cracking eggs. Annika looked out the window; the rain pattered, emphasizing the dark gray of the evening.
"It'll be fall soon," Annika said after a couple of minutes.
"Here you are, a mushroom omelette." Patricia sat down opposite her.
To her surprise, Annika finished the omelette.
"So, tell me, what do you mean, you've been fired?"
Annika stared down at her empty plate. "I didn't get another contract. The union wanted me out right away."
"Idiots," Patricia said with such force that Annika started laughing.
"Yes, they are actually. I've left the union."
Patricia cleared the table and did the dishes.
"So what are you going to do?"
Annika swallowed. "I don't know," she said quietly. "I've just resigned from my job at Katrineholms-Kuriren and given my landlord in Hälleforsnäs notice. I posted the letters this afternoon."
Patricia opened her eyes wide. "How are you going to make any money?"
Annika shrugged. "It'll be a month before I get unemployment benefits. I've got some money in the bank."
"Where are you going to live?"
Annika threw her arms out. "Here, for the time being. It's only a short lease, but it could be for as long as a year. After that, I'll have to see."
"We always need people at the club."
Annika gave a shrill, cheerless laugh. "Well, I've got the main qualifications: tits and a pussy. Mind you, I have spun the roulette wheel a few times in my day."
"Really?"
"I worked as a croupier at the Katrineholm Hotel while I was at college. I can spin the wheel eleven times. I used to be able to make the ball land on thirty-four if I snapped the ball out from zero just right."
"Actually we need someone for the roulette table."
"I'm going to go away for a while."
"Where to?"
Annika shrugged. "I can't remember what it's called. It's in Turkey, by the Mediterranean."
"That sounds nice."
They sat in silence for a long while.
"You should find out where you're going," Patricia said.
"Sure."
"Hang on, let me get my cards."
Patricia got up from her chair and padded into her room. Annika heard her unzip her bag. A few moments later, Patricia appeared in the doorway, holding a small brown box.
Patricia put the box on the kitchen table and opened it. Inside was a bundle wrapped in black material that she slowly untangled.
"What's that?"
"Tarot is an ancient source of knowledge." Patricia placed the deck on the table. "It's a philosophy described in esoteric images on cards. A tool for moving toward greater awareness."
"I'm sorry, but I don't believe in this kind of stuff."
Patricia sat down. "It's not about believing. It's about listening. Opening up and gazing into one's inner realm."
Annika couldn't help smiling.
"Don't laugh, this is serious," Patricia said sternly. "Look, there are seventy-eight cards, the Major Arcana, the Minor Arcana, and the court cards. They represent different insights and perspectives."
Annika shook her head and got to her feet.
"No, sit down." Patricia caught Annika's wrist. "Let me tell you your fortune!"
Annika hesitated, sighed, and sat down. "Well, all right. What do I have to do?"
"Here." Patricia placed the deck of cards in Annika's hand. "Shuffle and cut."
Annika shuffled the cards, cut the deck, and held it out to Patricia.
"No. First you cut it three times and then you shuffle again and cut it twice."
Annika gave her a skeptical look. "Why?"
"For the energies. Go ahead."
Annika sighed inwardly and shuffled and cut, shuffled and cut.
"Good," Patricia said. "Now, don't put the two piles together but choose one of them with your left hand and shuffle it again."
Annika rolled her eyes and did as she was told.
"Great. Now you have to concentrate on the question you want an answer to. Are you facing a great change?"
"Jesus, you know I am," Annika said sharply.
"Okay, then I'll do a Celtic cross."
Patricia laid out the cards all over the table.
"Nice pictures," Annika said. "Weird-looking creatures."
"The deck was designed by Frieda Harris, after sketches by Aleister Crowley. It took five years to finish the whole deck. The symbols have their roots in the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn."
"Whatever that is," Annika said incredulously. "And now they're going to show me my future?"
Patricia nodded gravely and pointed at a card that lay underneath another. "Here, in the first position, is the card that represents your present situation. Tower Struck by Lightning, the sixteenth card in the Major Arcana. As you can see, it's falling down. That's your life, Annika. Everything that has stood for security in your world is crumbling- I don't need to tell you that."
Annika gave Patricia a searching look. "What else?"
Patricia moved her finger and pointed at the card that lay on top of the tower. "Five of Disks crosses your present situation, obstructing or promoting it. The card signifies Mercury in Taurus- depression and fear."
"And?"
"You're afraid of the change, but there's no need to be."
"Right, and then what?"
"Your view of the situation is what might be expected, Aeon, the twentieth card, which stands for self-criticism and thoughtfulness. You feel you've failed and are searching yourself. But your unconscious interpretation is much more interesting. Look here, Knight of Swords. He's a master of creativity. He's trying to break away from all the narrow-minded idiots."
Annika leaned back in her chair, and Patricia continued, "You come from the Seven of Disks, limitation and failure, and you are moving toward the Eight of Swords, interference."
Annika sighed. "Sounds like hard work."
"This is you. The Moon. That's funny- last time I told my own fortune I also got the Moon. The female sex, the final test. I'm sorry but it's not a good card."
Annika didn't reply. Patricia looked at the remaining cards in silence, then said, "This is what you're most afraid of. The Hanged Man. Rigidity, that your own spirit should be broken."
"But how's it going to end?" Annika sounded a little less dismissive.
Hesitating, Patricia pointed at the tenth card. "This is the outcome. Don't be afraid. It's only a symbol. Don't take it literally."
Annika leaned forward. The card showed the figure of a black skeleton wielding a scythe. "Death."
"It doesn't necessarily signify physical death but rather a radical change. Old relationships need to be dissolved. Death has two faces. One that tears down and destroys, another that sets you free of old bonds."
Annika stood up abruptly. "I don't give a damn about your cards. It's bullshit," she said, and marched off to her room, shutting the door behind her.
Part Three
September
Nineteen Years, Two Months, and Eighteen Days
I think I'm quite good at living. I imagine that in reality my life is quite bright. My breath is so light, my legs so smooth, my mind so open. I believe I have a gift for being happy. I think I l
ove to be alive. I sense a shimmer somewhere just beyond, just nearby, but intangible.
How simple it can all be. How little is really needed. Sun. Wind. Direction. Context. Commitment. Love. Freedom. Freedom…
But he says
he will never
let me go.
Monday 3 September
The landscape didn't materialize until about a minute before the plane touched the ground. The clouds hung just above the trees, spreading a fine mist of rain.
I hope the weather's been this bad all the time, Annika thought. It would serve the bastards right.
The plane taxied to Arlanda Terminal 2, the same one they'd taken off from. Annika had been seriously disappointed that Terminal 2 was only an annex to the real international terminal, with hardly any duty-free shops. It was where the marginal airlines carried on their business, international and domestic, charter and scheduled. No glamour whatsoever.
At least no customs agents were around.
It's something, she thought as she walked through the green channel.
Of course, her bags came last of all. The airport bus was packed, and she had to stand for the forty-five-minute journey into central Stockholm and the City Terminal. When she stepped out on the Klaraberg Viaduct, it was raining properly. Her cloth bags absorbed the rain and her luggage got soaked. She swore under her breath and jumped on the 52 bus on Bolindersplan.
The apartment was quiet, the curtains resting peacefully in the morning light. She put her bags on the rug in the hall and sank down on the living room couch, groggy with fatigue. The plane had been scheduled to leave yesterday at four in the afternoon, but for reasons that were never disclosed, they had spent eight hours in the Turkish airport and another five in the plane itself before they finally took off. Oh, well, that's the kind of thing that happened on last-minute trips. It wasn't as if she was in a hurry to get anywhere.
She leaned back on the couch, shut her eyes, and allowed the unease to come to her. She had suppressed it during all those hot days in Turkey, focusing on absorbing the Asian sounds, the light, and the smells. She had eaten well, salads and kabobs, and she'd drunk wine with her lunch. Now she felt her stomach tighten and her throat constrict. When she tried to visualize her future, she saw nothing. Blank. White. Empty. No contours.
I have to forget, she thought. It begins now.
Annika fell asleep on the couch but woke up after ten minutes, freezing in her wet clothes.
She undressed and sprinted down to the communal bathroom in the basement.
When she returned upstairs, she tiptoed into the kitchen and popped her head around the door to Patricia's room. No one was in. It was both disconcerting and surprising. On her way back to Stockholm, she'd been annoyed at the thought of Patricia's being there. But she'd been wrong to think she wanted to be alone. The absence of her black mane on the pillow filled her with a sense of loss; it wasn't a good feeling.
She restlessly paced the apartment, from one room to another. She made coffee that she couldn't drink. She emptied out her wet clothes on the floor, then draped them over chairs and on door handles. The rooms filled with a sour, damp smell, so she opened a window.
Now what? she thought.
What am I going to do with my life?
How am I going to make a living?
She slumped back down on the couch. Her tiredness squeezed into a small lump of anxiety just beneath her breastbone. She had difficulty breathing. The curtain in front of the open window rose and billowed into the room, then sank back down again. Annika noticed that the floor next to the window was getting wet and got up to wipe it dry.
The building's going to be renovated, she suddenly thought to herself. It doesn't matter. It's pointless. Nobody cares if the floor is ruined. Why make the effort?
The realization that this was somehow emblematic of her own situation filled her with oceans of self-pity. She sank back down on the couch. She pulled her knees up to her chin and rocked back and forth crying. She was clutching her arms so tightly round her legs that they ached.
It's all over, she thought. Where can I go? Who'll help me now?
The realization, clear as crystal, hit her.
Grandma.
She dialed the number and with closed eyes prayed that her grandmother would be in her apartment and not out at Lyckebo.
"Sofia Hällström," the old woman answered.
"Oh, Grandma!" Annika was crying.
"Dearest little girl, what's wrong?"
The woman sounded so frightened that Annika forced herself to stop crying. "I feel so lonely and miserable."
Her grandmother sighed. "Life's like that. Sometimes it really is a struggle. The main thing is to not give up. Do you hear that?"
"But what's the point?" Annika said, on the verge of breaking out in tears again.
The old woman's voice sounded a bit tired. "Loneliness is difficult. People can't manage without their tribe. You've been expelled from the set you wanted to belong to, it's cut the ground from under your feet. No wonder, Annika. It would be stranger if you were all right. Allow yourself to feel bad and you can take care of yourself."
Annika wiped her face with the back of her hand. "I just want to die."
"I know, but you won't. You're going to live so that you can put me in the earth when that day comes."
"What are you saying?" Annika whispered down the phone. "Are you ill? You mustn't ever die!"
The woman chuckled. "No, I'm not ill, but we're all going to die. And you're going to take care of yourself and not do anything rash, my dear. Take it easy and allow the pain to come to you. You can outrun it for a while, but it will always catch up to you. Let it wash over you, feel it, live it. You won't die. You'll survive, and when you come out on the other side, you'll be a stronger person. Older and wiser."
Annika smiled. "Like you, Grandma."
The woman laughed. "Have a cup of cocoa, Annika. Curl up on the couch and watch one of those TV shows, that's what I do when things feel difficult. Put a rug over your legs, you have to be warm and comfy. Everything will be all right, you'll see."
They fell silent and Annika realized how selfish she was being.
"How are things with you?" she asked quickly.
"Well, it's been raining every day since you left. I only came here to do some shopping and do the washing, so you were lucky to catch me."
There is a God, Annika thought.
"I've talked to Ingegerd and she tells me Harpsund has been very busy," her grandmother said in her gossipy tone of voice.
Annika smiled. "And how's the prime minister's slimming plan coming along?"
"Not at all, it's been postponed indefinitely. Others have been there who've been a lot less hungry."
Her grandmother's gossip with the new housekeeper at Harpsund didn't really interest Annika, but she wanted to be polite. "Oh, who's that then?"
"The minister that resigned, Christer Lundgren. He arrived the day before it was announced and stayed for a week. Every journalist in the country was looking for him, but no one found him."
Annika laughed. "The things you know! You've been at the center of things, haven't you!"
They both laughed and Annika could feel the lump in her chest slowly dissolving and trickling away.
"Thanks, Grandma," she said in a low voice.
"Just come here to me if things get too difficult. Whiskas misses you."
"He does not. Not the way you spoil him. Give him a big kiss from me."
The warmth that came when she thought of her grandmother lingered after they hung up; still, the tears began trickling down again- sad but not desperate, heavy yet lighter.
When the phone rang again, the shrill signal made her jump.
"So you're back? Jesus, you've been gone for a long time. How was it?"
Annika wiped her face with the back of her hand. "It was great. Turkey is amazing."
"Glad to hear it," Anne Snapphane said. "Maybe I should go. What's the medical service like?"<
br />
Annika couldn't hold back her laughter, it just bubbled up and over before she had time to think. "They've got special clinics for hypochondriacs. X-ray treatment for breakfast, Prozac with your lunch, and antibiotics for dinner."
"Sounds good, but what's the radon emanation in the buildings like? Where did you end up?"
Annika laughed again. "In a half-built resort ten miles outside of Alanya, full of Germans. I went up to Istanbul and stayed with a woman I met on the bus and worked for a week in her hotel. Then I moved on to Ankara, which is a lot more modern." A peaceful feeling spread over her body, making her legs feel soft and relaxed.
"Where did you stay?"
"I arrived late at night and the bus station was pretty chaotic. I just jumped into the first taxi I saw and said, 'Hotel International.' And there was one, with really nice staff."
"And you stayed in a suite even though you only paid for a single room?"
"How did you know?"
Anne laughed. "You were born lucky. You know that."
They both laughed. They had a real affinity. The silence that followed was warm and light.
"Have you left yet?" Annika wondered.
"Yep, I quit yesterday. My TV job starts on the twelfth with some kind of fall kickoff. What about you, what are you going to do?"
Annika heaved a sigh. The lump became tangible again. "I don't know, I haven't got that far yet. I could always work in the hotel in Istanbul."
"Come with me to Piteå. I'm flying up this afternoon."
"No thanks, I've spent the last twenty-four hours in planes."
"So you're used to it then. Come with me! Have you ever been north of the Klar River?"
"I haven't even unpacked."
"Even better. My parents have a huge house in Pitholm, so there's plenty of room for you. And you could always go back home tomorrow if you want to."
Annika looked at the depressing heap of wet clothes and made her mind up. "So there are seats available?"
After hanging up, Annika rushed to her bedroom, found her old work carryall, and threw in two pairs of panties and a T-shirt. She picked up her toilet bag from the living-room floor.
Studio Sex aka Studio 69 / Exposed Page 25