Erik takes a couple of steps towards him. “You sure? What about in another class at your school, is someone, anyone, called Adam?”
“Maybe,” the boy says. He adjusts the folded sleeves on his jacket. “It’s not an unusual name.” He pauses. “Why do you want to know?”
“Nothing really. I just thought that perhaps she had talked about someone called Adam.”
“Oh. Like, what did she say?” The boy is holding onto the handlebars again, ready to cycle off. “I mean, maybe I can help?”
“No, that’s okay,” Erik says. This was perhaps not the best move. “Anyway, nice to meet you. I’d better get the boys inside.”
“Sure.”
Erik watches his back swerve around a corner.
“He’s cool,” Lukas says, awe in his voice.
“Yeah,” Erik says.
Inside the day care building, the cloakroom is almost empty. Thank goodness. The boys put their backpacks away, hang up their coats and put their shoes on the rack.
“Good job,” he says to them, sounding like Anna.
“There’s Sophie!” exclaims Sebastian and he’s off, running inside to the action, where children and teachers sing and play instruments. Lukas joins him and Erik is sure he’s rolling his eyes at his brother.
He sighs with relief. He can’t see Pernilla.
Back in the Volvo, he calls Linda Johansson for an update. Hopefully Tina’s news has reached her fast, but she seems rushed off her feet and doesn’t mention anything.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I know this is very difficult for you and your family but unfortunately we can’t share information about the investigation with you. We’ll be in touch.”
“Trust Tina,” Rob said. He hopes his mate is right.
Chapter 31 – Rolf
November 2015
Rolf put his heart and soul into fucking Lena. He hadn’t expected any bells or whistles but anger could apparently be converted into the wildest passion. She really wanted to get back at Iris.
“You’re not Iris, but you’re pretty good,” she said, her hair sweaty, perfectly round, fake breasts resting above a trim stomach.
Iris’s on-going affair with Lena had endured for too long and he emptied himself into her, marking his territory. Then he stood to leave. He didn’t ask for any hair, didn’t clip one of her nails or ask for a drop of saliva. It was a revenge fuck, not a piece of art.
Exiting the motel room, leaving a satisfied Lena in bed, he got into his car and called Iris.
“It’s taken care of,” he said.
It seemed to take a while for her to register what he meant. “Oh, good. Thanks.”
“See you later?”
“I think so.”
“Have something better to do?”
“Don’t start, Rolf.”
It was obvious that she didn’t want to change their arrangement and although that frustrated him, he couldn’t blame her. He still remembered having to convince her to have an open marriage in the first place. Just because it didn’t suit him anymore, he couldn’t realistically expect her to flick a switch. At the same time, he didn’t like taking no for an answer.
“If you change your mind, I’ll be in the studio,” he said.
They hung up and he started the car.
Driving out of the city, down the familiar roads to their house in the countryside, his headspace was occupied with images. Iris and that woman, together. Normally, such a sighting would have meant a heightened sexual experience for the two of them later, or at least for him when he was on his own. There were times when he would go back to his car and pleasure himself, his eyes closed, his mind on Iris and her passing partner. Not last night. He had opened the door, seen the fireplace lit up (which in itself was unusual), the glow reflected on their naked bodies. It had been a shock. He recognised that perhaps it shouldn’t have been but this was their home, which meant Iris had broken the rules and that had stunned him, then momentarily mesmerised him. I like rule-breakers. He had silently moved closer until he had seen them. Really seen them. The tenderness, Iris’s hands caressing the other woman’s face, her eyes glowing with desire; the other woman tentative, fully under Iris’s spell. Jealousy had hit him, quite possibly for the first time, his gut on fire, his heart bruised.
At that point he had backed out of the room, an immediate need to block out their moans, urgently escaping. He had stayed in the studio. He had tried to paint. He had tried to drink. He had tried to listen out for that woman’s car leaving.
Who was she?
Her ridiculously common Volvo V70 parked in their courtyard.
He had waited. And waited. He had poured the wine down the sink, the taste bitter and off. He had grabbed the car keys and left. A need to curb his boredom had made him call Frida. She was wild and a lot of fun. The way Måna had been. Although Måna had been a one-off, he had met Frida twice already. It wasn’t forbidden but it was against their set principles that Frida was single and wanted him, not only as a lover, but all out. That wasn’t allowed. You couldn’t ‘complete a transaction’ under those circumstances because then you would risk hurting someone. He distinctly remembered this being Iris’s one and only request. But she seemed to have rewritten the rulebook since then, so what did it matter?
He had felt a strong need to get back on the horse, so to speak, to ride someone hard. And so what if Frida wanted him? At least someone did.
Chapter 32 – Erik
April 2016
At the hospital, a new bunch of flowers sits on the table next to Anna.
“They arrived this morning.”
The nurse’s words startle him. Erik turns around, he doesn’t remember her name. He should know them all by know. Should recognise their faces. At the same time, he doesn’t want to get too familiar.
“Maybe they’re sent out of guilt,” he says.
“You think whoever put her here sent her flowers and added his or her name on the card?”
She’s mocking him. He turns away. There are too many thoughts in his head, crowding his frail brain. He wants to punch something. Hard. He waits until the nurse is gone and then he packs one into Anna’s mattress. Her body barely moves but he still feels guilty.
The red roses are squashed together in the vase, there are so many of them. He reaches across and reads the card.
Your husband needs me. P.
He rips it out from the bouquet. Stares at it for another second to make sure he’s read it correctly. Has anyone else read it? He rips it into miniature pieces and sprinkles them into the bin. Only he gets paranoid and starts to pick them out again.
“Lose something?”
The nurse is back in the room, watching him bent over the wired basket attached to the wall.
“My ring slipped off,” he says.
“Oh, dear, can I help you?”
She’s already standing next to him and he blocks her by grabbing hold of the basket with both hands, pretending to wretch. “I’m going to be sick.”
“But your ring?”
“I’ll get it…” Pretend retching. “Later.”
“Let me get you something else to vomit in,” she says and she’s off.
He manages to get the plastic bag out from the bin and ties a knot around it in time for her to return.
“I just need some fresh air,” he says and shoots out of there.
*
Erik fires up the car engine and heads back home, although ‘home’ is a loose term these days. It’s where he used to live with his wife and children. Now it feels like a temporary place. Maybe they should move? He feels like they’re stuck in time. Apart from the police having moved through the house like phantoms that first day when he was still at the hospital, everything is the way Anna left it, yet she’s not there. The white-and-blue furniture runs through the house like a pulsating vein about to explode in his brain. If he moves anything or paints a wall, she might get upset if she comes back home. If he doesn’t change anything, he might go c
razy.
Inside the house he takes his shoes off and goes straight to the laptop, which he now keeps in a kitchen cupboard. He checks the emails regularly. He has composed at least twenty more emails to Black Adam but he hasn’t sent them. He has also done some research on Kent to understand him better. After their meeting, he doesn’t want the guy to think he’s paranoid. He wants them to be cool, which means he might need to see him again, strike up a form of friendship. Not that he could find much about Kent. From the Internet, he has learnt that Kent attends theatre premiers and council meetings from time to time and that he has worked at the same school forever. Boring stuff. They don’t have much in common.
Now he looks Pernilla up. Sometimes you need to know your enemies and she’s obviously got it in for him. She’s extremely active on social media, which doesn’t surprise him. They’re not friends on Facebook but he can still view her profile. Privacy doesn’t seem to bother her. There are photos of Pernilla wearing sunglasses, Pernilla dancing, Pernilla drinking shots, Pernilla with her arms wrapped around friends in bikinis. Posing, her lips kissing the camera. He lingers a bit too long. It’s like porn though, once you look, you can’t stop.
It’s harmless voyeurism but it makes him feel he can deal with her. Eventually he forces himself away from Pernilla’s photo gallery to check Anna’s emails. It’s become a habit, to make sure he doesn’t miss anything. Her inbox still receives subscription mail but no longer messages from her personal contacts. People obviously know about her coma by now. Does Black Adam also know?
It’s a tedious task, checking emails all the time, but it keeps him sane to have a routine. Today, however, he notices that there is a new email and it’s not from Black Adam. He opens it, the feeling of surprise quickly replaced by total disbelief: it’s from Anna’s own mother and she most definitely knows that her daughter is in hospital with only a fifty per cent chance of survival.
Hi Anna, when you’re back on your feet, I hope you will read this. Please know that I wanted to visit you but you know what your father is like. There’s not much going on here. Helen’s daughter is almost two now and she’s such a little chatterbox. She has a real bond with her granddad and I think she has softened him somehow. Anyway, I hope the boys are well.
I miss you, Mum.
Apart from being completely disgusted, Erik isn’t sure whether to also be utterly pissed off or if he should laugh. Back on your feet?
“She doesn’t have flu, Gerda.”
He feels a sudden loyalty to Anna, the way he used to when they first started dating, the two of them conquering the world.
“Just stay where you are,” he says to the email. “That makes my life easier.”
He feels angry and unsettled. What he would give to let rip on his guitar with the band. Lately, they have excluded him from any jamming sessions. At first, it felt respectful but now it’s infuriating. He’s even heard rumours about some guy replacing him. He picks up the phone and calls Rob.
“Any gigs coming up?” he asks. No point wrapping it in cotton wool.
“Ehm, no.”
“Are you jamming?”
“We know you’re busy, Erik.”
“Don’t shut me out, I need to play.” He realises he sounds too desperate but the words are flowing. “Come on, Rob. Please. It’s the one thing I’m…”
No, he stops himself. He can’t say it. The one thing I’m good at. He needs to sound less whiny. There’s no need to alienate Rob. He needs his friend and music buddy.
“Did you speak to Tina?” he asks instead. “Did she deliver the information about Anna?”
“She’s here,” Rob says cheerfully.
“Really, you’re what, back together?” That’s a shocker. Erik has a bad feeling about it.
“Yeah, sort of,” Rob says.
Thinking about it, Erik isn’t sure he cares. Having Tina even closer might be good. He still has to ask: “I thought you said it was too much drama?”
There’s giggling in the background and absentmindedly, Erik logs into his new email account. This is another routine. He does it every day, sometimes several times: opens and closes the inbox. Occasionally he receives emails about money he is supposed to have won or about penis extensions, the usual junk.
Rob resurfaces. “It’s all good,” he says. “Why don’t you come over and meet her?”
“Wait…”
There’s an email from Black Adam.
“I’ll talk to you later, Rob.”
Excited but nervous, he puts the phone down and opens the email.
Hi there, thank you for caring (whoever you are). I loved Anna. I still love her. Whatever I can do, please tell me. I will do anything.
Anything?
“How about revealing who you really are?”
And he ‘loved’ her? Was it really a student? Erik had assumed so because of the mention of a test but perhaps it had been a different type of test? The thought makes his muscles tense.
Then he gets an idea.
Thank you. That’s very kind of you. Do you know Xeroxwed?
If he doesn’t get a response, then it’s possible that Black Adam and Xeroxwed are one and the same. He’s searched for emails that Anna might have sent to this Xeroxwed but hasn’t found any. Maybe she deleted them. Or did she not reply at all?
It’s such a mess. He rests his head in his hands, closes his eyes and wishes he were somewhere else, the emotions tearing him in different directions. Nothing means anything.
But then again, anything means something. Like a Rubik’s cube, he twists and turns, hoping it will all come together. He needs to get everything back to normal.
Chapter 33 – Anna
November 2015
The road lay deserted in front of Anna as her old running shoes hit the asphalted pavement. The air was chilly and her lungs sore. Her body already wanted to give up but she kept going. The aim: to eliminate intrusive thoughts. Thinking would mean taking responsibility for her actions. It would mean entering reality where she was a wife and a mother and… a lesbian?
She stumbled, a tree root protruding through the cracked tarmac, briefly making her think of marriage. She shook her head at the absurdity and kept putting one foot in front of the other. Moving forward.
What had she done?
As she ran past the closed-down flower shop, the memory of Iris’s feminine scent hit her, strong and sensual. That feeling of longing wrapping its arms around her chest. Desire.
Her run slowed to a walk. It wasn’t just the way Iris smelt or how safe she made Anna feel, there seemed to be invisible ties pulling them close. They were so strong they scared her.
Her sex had been entrusted to Iris whose fingers had been soft but firm. Anna recognised that she had reciprocated, the arousal making her brave. All the way home, she had lifted her right hand from the steering wheel to smell her fingers, to remind herself of what had actually happened.
She picked up her pace again. Her heart was aching. Never in her life had she imagined doing what she had done. It had just felt so natural, like something she couldn’t have stopped from happening. But she had cheated on Erik.
She ran faster.
The darkness closed in on her. Only a few lights were on in the town’s houses. Most people were asleep. Her feet moved forward while her brain raced at an even faster speed. She ran past the small supermarket that was now closed, signalling that everything had shut down for the day. It was like a ghost town, eerily quiet without the sound of traffic.
Then a car from behind. She could hear its wheels slowing down and braced herself, waiting for it to pass. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a dented bumper and paint peeling off. The car didn’t pass by, instead it stopped and a dirty window was rolled down.
“Excuse me, is there a petrol station around here?”
A man in his fifties or sixties, sporting a moustache. A familiar face that she couldn’t quite place. A student’s parent?
“You need to turn around and g
o back,” she said. “Then take the first road to your right. About fifty metres down you’ll find a self-service station.”
She started running again, feeling vulnerable. Most likely she was being paranoid but she wanted to keep moving. The car followed her and soon it was level with her again.
“Do you live around here?”
The question was unnerving and so she ignored him. She kept looking straight ahead as her feet ran forward but he kept driving next to her. Why hadn’t she brought her phone? Her heart was beating double beats. Could she cut through the bushes to her right or run into someone’s garden and ring a doorbell? While she was debating what to do, he sped off.
Had he really left? She waited for him to turn around and head towards the petrol station but instead he drove straight ahead as if exiting the town.
After a hundred metres or so, she stopped, out of breath. She looked over her shoulder but there was no one there. Yet she couldn’t shake the feeling of unease and pushed herself to keep running no matter how much her throat hurt.
When she returned home, she needed a few minutes in the hallway to digest what had just happened. Was it just a weirdo trying his luck? She wanted to tell Erik about the man and the car but he was engrossed in an action movie and barely looked up. She hesitated for a moment, hoping he would turn to her and ask about her run. He didn’t and so she decided not to bother him. He would probably tell her she was paranoid anyway.
In the bathroom, she undressed. Her pulse slowed down and she felt calmer, her focus now elsewhere: on Iris and their night together. Her fingers tracing Anna’s curves, making her feel beautiful.
Anna viewed herself in the mirror. Her body felt different, it felt new. Her skin was glowing instead of looking loose and flabby and her breasts appeared shapely as opposed to sagging. As she stepped into the shower, hot water warming her up, she closed her eyes and stroked her arms, her hips, her waist, the same way Iris had done. She transported herself to Iris’s living room, imagining her fingers were Iris’s, following the line of her breasts and belly, down between her legs. Opening her eyes with a jolt, guilt overshadowed the sensation of lust: could she really see Iris again?
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