Anna agreed. A month felt like a long time. It felt good to sit there; like inhabiting a warm cocoon.
“What about the others?” Anna asked. “Won’t they mind?”
“I’ll just inform them. They’re easy going.”
Iris put her glasses back on and pulled out a book from a basket on the floor.
“So,” she said. “This book will be uncomfortable on a whole other level. This author caused a representative of the Nobel Prize academy to resign, stating her work was ‘unenjoyable public pornography’.”
Anna wasn’t sure in which direction this book club was heading but she felt strangely excited.
“I’m always happy to try something new,” she said.
Chapter 18 – Erik
March 2016
Mum has gone home and Erik is relieved for about five minutes. It’s nice to have the house back. No pretending that everything is A-okay, no looks of disapproval, no dissecting what could have happened. With Mum gone, he will also be able to look at Anna’s emails more closely. Having slept on it, he feels he needs to get his head around them, one way or another.
The day before, he had sat in front of Linda Johansson at the swanky police headquarters, on a blue upholstered chair with wooden armrests, trying to connect with her. Except he struggled. She looked tired and uninterested and he wanted to ask what her problem was? He didn’t though. He reasoned she could have a number of issues that were unrelated to him and Anna. Perhaps she was distracted by another case or it could be personal problems?
“I want to help,” he said. “For the sake of my children.”
She looked pleased. “Good,” she said and in a softer voice, she added: “How are the children coping?”
And there it was: her compassion, and… some sort of connection.
He rested his arms on the table between them, to change position – he seemed to be sitting an awful lot lately – but also to be closer to her.
“They’re dealing with it the best that they can,” he said. “Thank you for asking. It’s not easy.”
“I’m sure it’s not.”
She put a pad and a pen in front of her and said: “We talked to Pernilla, the day care teacher.”
He should have expected that but he still felt himself grow hot.
“She verified that you were at day care Tuesday afternoon.”
He nodded, waiting for her to continue, but she didn’t say anything else. That’s it? She wasn’t going to ask if they were an item. Although it would be uncomfortable to talk about, he wondered why she was holding back. They obviously suspected that he was seeing her. Should he deny it even though she hadn’t asked?
“Did you find out who wrote that note?” he asked. A new topic felt safer.
“I can’t discuss that with you, Erik.”
“Come on.” They had to give him something.
She appeared to think. “Fine. We know who wrote it but it appears to have been work-related and is of no further interest.”
He sighed. Right. Okay.
“Does Anna have a student called Adam?” he asked instead.
Officer Johansson made a note.
“Why do you ask?”
He hesitated for a second. Shifted in his seat.
“Did you speak to the people at her school again?” he asked.
Are you going to tell me if you spoke to Kent?
“Yes, we have spoken to her colleagues.”
She insisted on keeping it vague.
“And no one said anything about an Adam?” he asked.
“I will have to check. What do you know about him?”
“Anna might have mentioned someone with that name,” he lied. What else could he do?
He could have shared the email address with them, he had the printout in his pocket, but he held back. They would want the laptop and he wasn’t done with it yet. They obviously wouldn’t reveal their full hand, so why should he leave the police with all the cards? He decided to email Black Adam himself. To take control, collect more evidence and make sure it got done. Then he would hand any findings over to the police.
“Can I just ask you something?” Officer Johansson said.
“Sure…”
“In your opinion, is Anna a good mother?”
“Of course.” Aren’t all mothers viewed as the superior parent?
“So you don’t feel like she was working too much?”
He shook his head before answering. “No, of course not. She was doing that for her family.”
He felt satisfied with his answer. Soon, Linda Johansson would surely have new evidence to deal with and would stop questioning his wife’s mothering skills. Why would they even care about that?
*
Erik emailed blackadam4321 when he got home but he is yet to receive a response. For now, he hasn’t used Anna’s email address in case this person knows that Anna is in the hospital. Instead, he has set up a new, vague email account. He wrote:
Hi Adam, Anna has told me about you. Let me know if I can help in any way?
He toyed with the idea of signing it as Kent but that felt naughty and could become messy. Instead, he signed it as
someone who cares
He will give the guy two more days to respond before he sends a new message.
Right now he is busy. The downside of Mum being gone is that he has to take on the responsibilities she has shouldered for him.
First stop: day care. Having managed to get the boys dressed, a harder task than he remembers, especially with emotions running high, they buckle up in the V70.
Mörnavägen is lined with cycling children so Erik maintains the 30 km per hour speed limit that applies during school hours. They could have cycled themselves, or even walked, but he doesn’t want to be forced into any conversations. What do you say when you know your family is the target of gossip?
“When is Grandma coming back?”
Erik glances at Sebastian in the rear-view mirror.
“Hopefully end of the week, buddy.”
The boys have sour faces and the drive feels like an eternity, even though it’s only a few minutes away.
“So what’s new at day care?” Erik asks, trying to sound cheerful.
“We have a new teacher,” Sebastian says.
Could this new teacher be a replacement for Pernilla? Not having to face her again would be magic.
“So Pernilla… is she still there?”
“Yes,” Lukas says. “I don’t like her though.”
“Really?” This is a surprise. “I thought you loved her?”
“She’s kind of mean,” adds Sebastian.
Erik immediately pulls the car over to the side of the road, stops and turns to face them. Fear. He feels fear.
“What has she done?” he asks.
They look at each other, in that twins-sort-of-way. Should you tell him, or should I?
“She says Mummy is going to die,” Sebastian says and looks down. He can hear the tears in his voice.
What the hell? “She doesn’t know anything,” Erik bursts out. “Don’t listen to her!” Fuck.
“Is she going to die, Daddy?”
Lukas looks at Erik, his eyes big and hurt. He doesn’t cry as much as Sebastian but he looks so defeated.
“No, buddy, she’s going to be fine,” he assures him. “She just needs time. We don’t know how long it’s going to take, that’s all.”
He collapses onto the horn, accidentally hooting at a passer-by who starts gesturing rudely towards him. He doesn’t care.
“She’s doing fine,” he tells them. “She’s just sleeping. I’m there every day, checking on her.”
“Grandma says you have to start working soon,” Lukas says. “Who’s going to watch her then?”
This astounds him. They know about work and they worry about that?
“Are you sure you’re only five?” he jokes, his face not quite looking as jokey as he would have liked. How did they grow up so fast?
“We’
re almost six,” they say in unison.
“That’s right, in three months. How could I forget?”
He turns and smiles at them.
“Boys,” he says, choosing his words carefully. “We’re the three musketeers. We stick together, sending Mummy love every day.”
They nod. “One for all, all for one.” He’s taught them well.
He gets back onto the road, thoughts of Pernilla now filling his head. What is he going to do? He just doesn’t understand what’s gotten into her.
He could speak to her supervisor but what if she tells her about their night together? Then he will be asked to move the boys elsewhere. It’s almost impossible to get a new place anywhere nowadays, let alone two. He must talk to her, try and fix things.
When they arrive, a teenager on a bike is cycling around the parking lot, doing tricks. He’s got a denim jacket with a faded print on the back and his shoelaces are undone. They could get caught in the wheels, Erik thinks, make him crash. That’s living on the edge, being cool. Erik remembers what that was like, how carefree he himself used to be. Life was uncomplicated back then.
“Nice jacket,” he says to the boy as they pass him.
He looks at them intently, then cycles off without a reply.
“Who was that?” Lukas asks.
“No idea, but I used to have a jacket like that when I was growing up.” They look impressed. “It made me feel like a rock star. Like on Idol.”
He wishes there had been programmes like that on TV when he grew up. Stardom within his grasp.
“Maybe you should sing to Mummy?” Lukas says and Sebastian agrees: “That would make her feel better.”
They look so sweet. Anna would hate a rock or eighties repertoire but she does love the good old ‘Hotel California’. He could sing that.
“Maybe.”
He follows them inside, hoping to catch Pernilla. Maybe he can gain her sympathy, make her back away at such a difficult time in his life?
Other parents are also heading towards the door. He has always hated this part of the drop-off and pick-up: the chit-chat. The mums are the worst, with their sympathetic glances and parrot-like comments: “Anna working late again?” Now, with Anna in hospital it’s intolerable, as if he’s going to break out in a rash there and then.
A man taps his shoulder and Erik freezes.
“I’m Sophie’s dad,” Sophie’s dad says. “My wife tells me Sebastian has a crush on our daughter?”
Erik stops, grateful for how normal the words sound. No mention of Anna, no mention of coma.
“Really?” Good boy.
“Keep him away from her,” the dad jokes, hitting Erik’s arm with his fist, a little too hard, before bouncing ahead of him, through the door.
Erik shakes his head. Bloody idiot.
“Sophie is really funny,” Sebastian says.
“Good for you, son.” Even though her father is a prick.
Erik’s phone starts to vibrate. It’s Mum.
“Hi, Erik,” she says. “Are you coping okay?”
“You only just left.”
“I know but I worry about you.”
“We’re okay.” Apart from Sebastian and Lukas’s teacher telling them that their mum is about to die. “I’ve got to go, I’ll call you later.”
“I was just reading the paper on the train,” Mum says, ignoring him. “About the police being criticised.”
He stops in the day care playground, at once concerned.
“About Anna’s case?”
“No, it was just a general attack on the police’s operations in rural areas.”
“Oh.”
His interest wanes but Mum reads out loud from the article: “We might need to look at changing the lighting in some areas.” She pauses. “That probably would have helped Anna. It’s awfully dark in that parking lot.”
That’s useful, Mum. “It’s too late now.”
“It also says that they don’t have enough staff and that they can only do so much.”
“So?”
“I just mean that they’re doing the best that they can.”
The boys are just about to go inside and he’s spotted Pernilla through the open door.
“Thanks, Mum, for that very helpful information… got to go.”
He doesn’t wait for her to say goodbye.
Pernilla is in the cloakroom, helping another child hang his jacket up.
“Hi,” he says nervously as he enters.
Her eyes meet his, glossy lips turned at the corners.
“Hi,” she says.
“Go on, boys,” he says. “Put your bags away and off you go.”
He pats their heads and they run off. With the boys out of sight, he asks Pernilla if they can talk.
“Sure.”
“Somewhere private.”
She opens the door to a storage room and they squeeze in-between brooms and buckets. Before he’s had a chance to speak, she’s wrapped her arms around him, pushing those lush lips against his. At first he lets it happen, soaks up the affection and feels comforted, welcoming the feeling of being close to another person’s body. Then, a couple of seconds later, he resurfaces and pushes her away.
“No, Pernilla. Please. Stop.”
Blue, wounded eyes.
“What do you want from me?” she asks, arms folded.
He sighs. I could ask you the same.
“Pernilla,” he starts. He’s older, he needs to explain maturely. “Anna is in a coma. My wife is in a coma.”
“I know. I’m not stupid. But she’s not likely to wake up though, is she?”
“She might.” For the love of God, why does she have to make it so difficult? “Stop telling the boys their mum is going to die. It’s not fucking okay.”
“But what if she doesn’t make it?” she says. “You’re going to need someone to help you look after the boys. I know them, Erik. They’re practically like my own.”
He stares at her, the words alarming.
“And you,” she continues, her hands caressing his hips. “You will need a lot of love and attention.” A hand strokes the front of his trousers and he’s torn, wanting to get out, to get back to life, another part wanting to escape into nothingness, to forget, to stay here, away from it all, postponing reality. His cock wants him to stay. She snuggles closer, kissing his neck and it’s so soothing. He lets her hold him, leans into her body, hands himself over. Just for a short while. He’s going to leave. Soon. Then, his brain poking him: he has something else to say, something important.
“Erm, Pernilla… you told the police we were seeing each other,” he says, trying not to smell her newly washed hair. It’s still wet, she must have rushed to work after showering. Lavender?
“I just…” she whispers. “I want us to be seeing each other.”
“I know, but we can’t.”
“Just one last time. Please. I’ll take care of you.”
A loud bang outside the door and he pulls away.
“I have to go,” he says. “Don’t say anything stupid to the police, Pernilla.”
“If we can just… talk. Can we talk, Erik?”
He nods. Sure. If that’s what it’s going to take.
“I’ll come over to your house this week,” she says. “Before your mum comes back.”
She knows Mum’s plans? Of course she does. Mum speaks to her every day.
“Do you know where I live?” he asks.
She nods and he wonders, what doesn’t she know?
Chapter 19 – Iris
October 2015
Iris cracked four eggs into a ceramic bowl and whisked them absentmindedly. In the background of her country kitchen, Ella Fitzgerald encouraged Iris to fall in love. Let’s do it, let’s fall in love. Outside the window, the overgrown garden reminded her of how long they had lived in this house, with its white-stained walls and red window frames. Far away from any affairs. Just the two of them, surrounded by serenity, the garden bordering onto kilometres of farmlan
d.
It had been their first house after years of being cooped up with Rolf’s paints and canvases in a sparsely furnished Linköping apartment. A big step, but then, her new job had also been a huge leap. Heading up a library had been her dream and it didn’t matter that it was a quaint library in the middle of nowhere. Rolf had supported her; he had told her he could work anywhere, as long as they were together.
“It’s picturesque,” she had told her mother, in an attempt to get her to visit, and just as she thought that, Ella’s voice appropriately filled the kitchen with Heaven, I’m in heaven.
Iris smiled and pulled out a frying pan. She felt a sense of peace as she melted butter on the cream-coloured AGA cooker, pouring in the eggs, adding fresh thyme and basil from the pots in her kitchen window.
“… dance with me, I want my arm around you…” she sang along.
“Of course I will,” a voice said behind her and she felt Rolf’s arms wrap around her waist, holding her tight. He nuzzled her neck. “You making enough for two?”
“Might do,” she said and turned to kiss him.
He had paint on his cheeks and she rubbed it with her thumb in an attempt to remove it. She had felt him slip out of bed early that morning, which wasn’t uncommon. When inspiration struck, it didn’t matter what time it was, he would be outside, in the red-painted wooden extension that housed his studio.
Rolf slipped his hands inside her robe; he found her breasts with ease, his erection poking her stomach.
“Right here?” she said.
“It’s nice and warm by the cooker,” he said and pushed her back.
He smelt of turpentine, a smell she had come to associate with lust, and she pulled him close. Their tongues sought each other out; kissing Rolf made her feel like a teenager. His passion shot through her and she was wet before his hand even cupped her sex. He knew how to touch her, knew exactly which buttons to press. She shivered under his touch, reciprocating through his open robe, his naked body moving closer to hers. He painted in the nude, at least when no one was around. When she was ready for him, she spread her legs and he pushed himself inside, the AGA hard behind her back. She wanted him; her hands grabbed his behind and pulled him in deeper. Behind them the eggs were burning.
When I Wake Up Page 10