Where did that come from?
“Not everything is about sex, Erik.”
“Don’t I know it?”
She didn’t want to discuss it. He knew she felt insecure about her weight gain, but it was also something else, something she couldn’t explain. She just didn’t feel that way when she looked at him. A painful truth that she needed to deal with. But how? His behaviour didn’t exactly encourage her.
“What happened to us?” she said, depleted.
He came back in and stood in front of her, still angry but calmer. Then he put his hands on her shoulders, the physical contact almost making her cry. She reciprocated by wrapping her arm around his leg, resting her forehead on his thigh.
“I have no life,” she whispered.
“What does that even mean, Anna?”
He sounded exasperated and her instinct was to get annoyed. He didn’t understand anything! Her arm squeezed his leg tighter but she felt him back away.
“I work hard to provide a good life for us. But sometimes I feel like no one really cares about me, Erik.”
“Anna, stop it.”
“I mean it.” She looked up at him. See me. “The boys prefer you. You’re the fun dad and I’m the mean mum. My boss no longer appreciates my efforts, he takes them for granted. The students… they’re sucking me dry.”
She was specifically thinking of Daniel, who had opened up a whole new problem for her to solve.
“You just need validation,” he said. “Reality check, Anna, you were Teacher of the Year last year.” He spat it out as if it was an accusation. “I hate to break it to you but everywhere we go, you receive praise.”
She knew this bothered him; parents and previous students telling her how wonderful she was. This was superficial though: comments said in passing. And she hadn’t asked to be named Teacher of the Year. It was one of the principal’s new incentives that was supposed to make her feel valued instead of under-paid. The truth was, she felt empty. Erik needed to know. To understand.
“Everyone thinks I’m a terrible mother and that you’re a great father.”
“That’s not true.”
“Really?” she said. “If I were to leave early to pick up the children, my boss thinks I’m a bad employee. If one of my male colleagues on the other hand has to pick up his children, he’s a good dad. You see? Even though we supposedly live in a modern society, there are still these preconceived ideas. I’m sick of it. I can never win…”
“I don’t agree.” He broke away from her, forcing her to let go. “Anyway, if that’s all. I’m off to Rob’s.”
She looked at him, perplexed. How could he be so callous?
“Erik.”
“Yes?”
It was pointless. She grabbed her bag and the car keys and shot out the door before he got the chance. That would teach him.
“Anna!”
He followed her out to the carport but only caught up with her when she had already slammed the car door shut and locked it.
“Anna! I have to go.” He was knocking on the window. She ignored him, started the car and sped off. He wanted her to join him in a screaming match but she wouldn’t. In the rear-view mirror she saw him standing in the road, arms up in the air. A mixture of triumph and sadness hit her.
Her phone rang almost immediately. Erik’s name flashed on the screen. She didn’t pick up. Nothing either of them had to say would be constructive now.
She needed to get away from him. From everything. If only she had made an effort to make friends, she would have somewhere to go. Apart from university friends who were now all over the country, she didn’t really know anyone well enough to call in an hour of need. No shoulders to cry on. A fleeting image of Kent. Could she? No. Their friendship seemed to be put on hold when they left the school building for the day, to be reignited when the next day began. Her mother wasn’t a viable alternative either. They hadn’t spoken for months and when they did talk, her father’s grunts and demands in the background kept her mother distracted.
*
Anna drove around for a while, wasting petrol, passing green sprawling woods interlinked with horse paddocks and vast fields, the sea revealed in the distance, the moon sparkling on its dark surface. When they first arrived in Skåne County, she had found the southern countryside breathtaking. They had moved down in summer, when everywhere you looked was lush and green; the lavender blooming, bumblebees hovering, the ice cream kiosks busy, and families biking to the beach. That first Midsummer had been precious, the tradition from the Middle Ages brought to life in a nearby meadow, celebrated with a few hundred people from Mörna, their new town. Children and their parents had clad the maypole in birch leaves and brightly coloured flowers, a man playing folk songs on an accordion while they danced around the pole. It was before Sebastian and Lukas were born and she had made a mental note to bring her future children there. They had continued to celebrate each Midsummer in that same meadow but other than that one time every year, they didn’t make use of their beautiful surroundings. She couldn’t even remember the last time they had gone for a walk. There’s a life outside of school. There was indeed.
Erik kept calling. She could imagine his words: “For fuck’s sake, Anna! Come back!” He definitely wouldn’t be calling to say sorry because he wouldn’t know what to apologise for. He didn’t understand her, couldn’t read her emotional barometer. She kept ignoring him.
When she had met Erik on holiday in Gran Canaria, he was the tall, handsome bartender from the north of Sweden doing a gap year in the sun. She had fallen for his gentle ways, how he was charming but neither pushy nor arrogant. His golden hair glowing, his lips plump. Kissable. She remembered her friends quarrelling because she chose to spend a large part of the holiday with Erik. “We came to have fun, not hang out with boys!” It was true, the purpose had been to get away from their studies. But she had been too exhilarated and had shrugged it off, thinking they were just jealous.
After she had returned to Stockholm, Erik had also moved back and soon they lived together. They had been madly in love and so it hadn’t felt rushed. Plus they had their own circles of friends and would sometimes party separately and at other times, together. Since moving to the south, however, they had become overly dependent on each other. It felt like they were this one compact unit, which at first had felt exciting (it was them against the world) but then she had started to feel that every time she broke away from him, she was made to feel guilty.
She drove back into Mörna but the imminent darkness and dimly lit streets didn’t welcome her. Instead, she kept driving past their house, along the main street, Mörnavägen, which sliced the town in two: the ‘right side’ meaning the part that was closest to the sea, and the ‘wrong side’, where they lived. She exited the town, passing a long stretch of dense fir forest followed by more farms and fields. After a few kilometres, the next town’s lights and rows of houses appeared. She felt herself exhale. It was good to create distance between herself and the town that her whole life seemed to revolve around. She drove down to the sea, passed a small harbour and thought of going for a walk, but it felt chilly and in her rush to get out, she hadn’t brought a jacket.
Aimlessly, she drove up and down the small windy Hågarp roads with their doll-sized houses. It was getting dark and most homes were equally submerged in darkness, the majority of the residents being summer guests only.
She managed to get back to the main road and was surprised to see there was a library. How could it possibly survive in such an under-populated place when most small-town libraries in the county were closing down? It was an old dilapidated building in red brick that had probably been grandiose once upon a time. The word LIBRARY hung precariously above a glass door, glowing like a vintage cinema sign. She stopped the car, welcoming the distraction. Without a plan, she got out and walked up the steps towards the sign. The notion of reading spurred her on. Memories as a child of escaping reality through adventure stories.
Next t
o the door was a notice with the opening hours: the library would be open until nine that evening. In fact, it was open late two nights a week. She made a mental note as she opened the heavy glass door. There was a muffled sound of a bell as she stepped into the otherwise quiet hallway. A couple of students were typing on computers, a man was reading a newspaper. She moved inwards, sucked into the centre where rows upon rows of books welcomed her.
“Hi there, can I help you?”
A lady behind the counter eyed her up and down. She was chic-looking, in a French sort of way, with a dark bob, pale skin and bright lipstick.
“I’m not sure,” Anna said.
The woman viewed her quizzically over the red-rimmed reading glasses, before resuming her typing. Anna noted how slender her fingers were, like a pianist’s. She was wearing a black jersey dress, a big arty necklace in silver decorating her neckline. How simple it would be to make an effort. Her own jeans and stretchy jumper could have done with some adornments. When had she stopped caring about her looks?
“Actually,” she said. “I do know. I’m in need of some escapism but I don’t know where to begin.”
The woman looked up, a broad smile on her face.
“You’ve come to the right place then,” she said and stretched out a hand. “I’m Iris.”
Chapter 8 – Daniel
September 2015
Dan loved writing. His mother knew this but his brother would tease the shit out of him if he knew. At night, he would compose stories with the aid of a flashlight, hiding the unfinished work at the bottom of his box of comics. It felt childish but satisfying, the blue ink on lined paper, stories created out of nothing, the sense of accomplishment. She liked that he wrote. Lying on his back he stared up into the cracked ceiling, following the lines like it was a treasure map. I’m really happy that you have expressed yourself in writing. He had memorised Anna’s words.
He turned on his side and picked up his phone. No messages, which was no surprise. This was bullshit, moving from town to town.
“I have to follow the work,” Frida said, like she was some important businesswoman whose services were indispensable.
“You follow the fucking men, Fri-i-i-da,” he said. He couldn’t bring himself to call her Mother or even Mum.
“Shut your mouth.”
His name had been Emil. Ten years her junior. Martin had beaten the crap out of him after catching them fucking on the couch and that had ended that. The police had picked both Martin and Emil up and Dan hadn’t seen either of them since.
Dan missed him. Martin hadn’t been the best brother but he had protected him. Now he had to fend for himself and that included keeping Frida in check.
“She needs a good beating from time to time, to keep her head clear,” Martin would say. “Or she will be getting up to some dumb shit, start drinking again or smoking weed or worse…”
Dan understood, had seen her at her worst. Memories of no food, uninvited guests, the smell of smoke and vomit, no space sacred. He would sleep on the cold stairs of whatever apartment block they lived in at the time, his backpack filled with books, pens and paper. When the noise got too much, he would hide between the pages and create his own world.
At one point they had been dangerously close to being handed over to a foster family, but Martin had taken charge. At fifteen he had started going to the gym, which had made the junkies an easy win for him. Then he had locked Frida up in her bedroom after first beating her up. Once detoxed, she had tried to start over, moved them to a new town, and secured herself a job. She was scared of Martin but she kept looking for a new man and they followed whomever she had caught in her net, thinking he would bring money, stability, a home somewhere.
Martin’s father was dead but Dan’s own father had left. He had never even known Frida was pregnant. At least that was the story she told.
“We are the men of the house,” Martin would say. “The others are just temporary.” He was right. It turned out none of them wanted to play daddy, they were only interested in getting Frida’s knickers off. Early on, Dan had realised that men liked his mother. If she had stayed away from mind-altering substances, she would be truly beautiful. His late grandmother had given him a picture of her as a teenager, showing a striking girl with long blonde hair, a cheeky grin and a slender, tanned body. He kept the photo in his box as a reminder of her youthful innocence.
Emil was gone but Frida would meet someone else, of course. That’s why Dan had been forced to make a plan. He had formulated it with great ease and it was now as clear in his head as it was on his lined paper. While executing it, he made sure Frida behaved. She needed to stay off the booze and she needed to stay employed.
He hoped she would hook up with a man at the factory. That would mean they could stay for a while. It was a small town and there wasn’t much to do, but it wasn’t like the shithole they lived in before. Here, they rented a one-storey house with a miniature garden. The rooms were damp and drafty and freezing cold but that didn’t bother him much. At least they didn’t have to share walls with another family and the area was peaceful. He could walk through the woods, down to the sea, or cycle around in the countryside. Not many arseholes hassled him and the ones who had at school, he had already shut up. They stayed out of his way now.
It felt gratifying getting into fights. He wasn’t likely to get kicked out of school for it but he knew he couldn’t keep it up without social services getting on his case. He just needed to do it long enough to get Anna’s attention.
Chapter 9 – Iris
September 2015
“I guess it’s just the two of us, then?”
As the heads of the municipality and county librarians left, Lena Blom, chairman of the social welfare committee, made herself comfortable. Leaning against the reception counter in the middle of the library, she kicked her shoes off and let the silk Hermès scarf slide to the floor.
“I’m opening up to the public again after lunch,” Iris said.
“I know.”
Iris loaded the coffee cups on a tray and wiped the white, circular sixties table clean, before heading to the kitchen. Lena quickly followed, her bare feet running up behind Iris, soft on the wooden floor.
“It was a good meeting,” Lena said. “You like Britt, don’t you?”
“I think she’s someone who will deliver on her promises,” Iris said. “That’s what we need. We need to create a hunger or our local libraries will have to shut down.”
“Not yours.”
“You never know. Who knows whom our anonymous beneficiary is? He or she might run out of money.”
“I don’t think so.”
Iris didn’t respond. Lena didn’t understand the value of money. Born into a rich family, she lived an affluent lifestyle many would envy. Despite this, she was, however, dedicated to her government job and Iris did respect that.
“How much do you really like Britt?” Lena asked. “Just so I know.”
The insecurity wasn’t becoming and Iris chose not to reply. Instead, she unloaded the cups and washed them in the sink, handing them one by one to Lena.
Lena dried them, somewhat reluctantly.
“I thought…”
“Not today,” Iris said. “It’s… we work together.”
“We have done for a long time.”
Iris handed her the last cup and rinsed out the sink, watching the foam disappear into the miniscule plughole. She needed more time.
“That’s exactly it,” she said eventually, turning to Lena.
Lena awkwardly held the dishtowel between her hands, as if she might drop it. She looked adorable and out of place, her sparkly jewellery a sharp contrast to the old kitchen décor. Iris found herself losing her thread.
“We will just…” she started, but before she could finish, Lena’s mouth was on hers and Iris gave in. She grabbed Lena’s waist and pushed her up against the wall, expertly unbuttoning her trousers. Her skilful hand slipped inside Lena’s knickers with ease, reachi
ng a rich wetness. Her fingers circulated and played. Lena’s moans echoed into the kitchen, spurring her on and Iris quickened her movement, going faster and faster until her fingers almost cramped. They met in a stormy kiss; Lena’s hand travelled up Iris’s dress, then inside her tights. Lace stretched, the right buttons were pressed; their breathing heightened, their bodies pressed together, the friction intensifying. Groans exploded off their lips as they climaxed. Lena leaned into Iris, panting. Satisfied, Iris held on tight, wrapping her arms around Lena. Just for a moment. Then a brief kiss followed by disentanglement.
Iris felt that although she deeply cared about Lena, their meetings had become a rehearsed routine, it was too familiar. This needed to be the last time, Iris thought. The relationship needed to go back to being a professional one, or perhaps even a friendship if possible.
“Wow,” Lena said.
She buttoned up her trousers, grinning.
“I have to go back to work,” Iris said.
“I know.” Lena combed her hair and checked her make-up in the kitchen mirror. “By the way, I went to your husband’s exhibition last weekend.”
Iris felt herself tense. “Really?”
Pride mixed with dread; she was immensely proud of him but she wanted him as far away from her colleagues as possible.
“The paintings were extremely dark,” Lena continued. “Mysterious.”
“I’ll pass on the message,” Iris said and opened the back door.
“See you next week.”
Lena skipped down the steps like an adolescent girl and then she was gone.
*
Iris unlocked the main door, noticing a slight drizzle, which made the newly laid asphalt in the parking lot glisten. One of her regular visitors, Tore, had already parked. She waited for him by the door as his eighty-year-old body and accompanying umbrella shuffled up the stairs.
“It’s cold,” he said, sneezing.
“It’s a glorious day though,” Iris said.
From the top of the stairs, she could just about see the ocean. It was chilly and windy but fresh, the waves foaming, the seagulls squawking.
When I Wake Up Page 4