Sandra has no idea where she’s going to get the money. Her brain has been working overtime on the problem. Could she sell dance lessons at some sort of corporate event? That’s the latest idea that she’s been considering. Maybe in the fall, when companies have kick-off events and orientation meetings? Didn’t companies throw a lot of money at that sort of thing? Dance lessons could be an enjoyable addition to staff parties and also an opportunity for health-and-wellness training.
This morning Sandra woke up at five o’clock with an idea for a presentation taking shape in her head. She could combine the health aspects with creative solutions, while also hinting at the flirtatious elements that dance lessons might spark. She decided to put the plan together later in the day, to write it up in a compelling sales pitch. Then she’ll e-mail the proposal to various prospective clients and require payment in advance once anyone expresses interest.
That has to work.
Now Sandra goes over to start up the music. She sees Josefin standing in the middle of the floor, in front of the big mirror.
“So, I guess your mother is really busy right now, getting ready for the graduation party,” Sandra says over her shoulder.
Josefin is busy studying her reflection in the mirror. After a moment she nods in reply to her aunt’s question. “Uh-huh. All she does is cook. And Viktor has already started partying.”
“Hmm. Well, you only graduate from high school once in your life.”
Sandra stands behind Josefin. The girl has grown so much that she’s already a couple of inches taller than Sandra. In contrast to Sandra’s beige leggings and cotton shirt, Josefin’s outfit is a pair of sagging sweatpants and a T-shirt with a picture of the New York skyline. Sandra pauses for a moment to look in the mirror at herself standing behind Josefin, noticing her own slender and muscular form. Her niece looks plumper and stockier. As if padded to fend off any upsets, thinks Sandra. This girl is part of a family that will always watch out for its own.
“Take a look at yourself,” Sandra says now, and Josefin shyly meets her eye in the mirror. “The first thing you need to think about when you’re learning to dance is your demeanor and your posture. What do you want to project?”
Sandra answers the question before Josefin even has time to open her mouth. “Self-confidence, of course. You need to have attitude. You need to show the world that you believe in your own ability, that you like yourself, that you’re having fun. You can’t just keep staring at your feet. Do you understand?”
“I think so.”
Josefin looks uncertain. Her shoulders are slumped, her back is stooped. She glances at herself in the mirror as she tilts her head to one side, pressing her cheek against her shoulder and raising her eyebrows critically. “Mamma says the hardest part is learning the technique.”
“Your mother doesn’t have a clue. Don’t get fixated on technique. That’s not what it’s about. What matters is falling in love with the rhythm. That’s what you need to focus on, first and foremost. We’ll start with a simple stomp and clap. Let’s go.”
Sandra tries to help Josefin find the rhythm, but the girl is always a beat behind as she furtively watches her aunt.
“This isn’t working,” Sandra says. “You have to feel the music in your own body.”
She stands behind Josefin, placing her hands on the girl’s midriff and pressing gently. “Do you feel it? Is anything happening?”
“I think so,” Josefin replies as she twists around to look at Sandra.
“No, sweetie. You need to look at yourself. Go ahead now. Look. And feel the music inside of you. That’s the important thing. That’s where we need to start.”
Josefin’s cheeks have turned a timid pink. Sandra notices this as she glances in the mirror and moves her hands to grip her niece’s shoulders. She catches the scent of the girlish perfume Josefin is wearing.
When Josefin does as Sandra says, an almost transcendent look comes into her eyes. She finds the beat and starts to play with it as her cheeks turn an even brighter crimson.
“See that? Do you see how wonderful you are? Now, let it in. Do you understand? Feel the rhythm and let the music shape your movements. That’s what people will see when they look at you. That you’ve become one with the music.”
Josefin smiles shyly. Sandra can see that something is stirring inside her niece. She smiles with satisfaction and then shifts her attention to her own face. She can’t help gasping in alarm. When did she get so pale, with dark smudges under her eyes and her mouth set in a grim line? As she stretches her back, she can feel how her body has started to stoop.
She looks hunched over.
“Do you think I could start tap dancing soon?” Josefin asks. “I really want to surprise Mamma. I can’t wait to see her face. She won’t even believe it. Sara’s always the one who thinks up something fun for Mamma’s birthday. I want to do something amazing, too. Do you think I can?”
“Of course you can. We’ll work on it.”
And Sandra bends down to avoid looking in the mirror. Instead she concentrates on the placement of their feet.
The next time Sandra sees Josefin, they’re in the schoolyard, waiting for Viktor to come running out of the building. The whole extended family has gathered for the graduation festivities, except for Sandra and Per’s daughter, Emilia, who is attending drama school in London. They talked to her on Skype right before leaving home, and Sandra got more and more annoyed as she listened to Per launch into one of his usual lectures about how you should never let the idiots in the world get you down—all part of the never-ending litany of stories the father and daughter tell each other about one dunce (Per’s favorite word) after another. Then they scornfully dismissed a whole bunch of people at the same time as they announced their own hard-fought triumphs, one Skyped face leaning close to the other. In the meantime, Sandra sat on the periphery of the picture, feebly opening and closing her mouth in silence.
Emilia is getting to be just like Per, Sandra thinks with sorrow in her heart. Just like her father, she’s constructing her own fortress of sarcastic remarks and bitter self-promotion. Wrapping herself in a wasp’s nest, layer upon layer of spewed bile, with rage bubbling deep inside. Emilia is talented, and she has just won a major role in a play at her school. But in Sandra’s opinion, Emilia is on the verge of losing all joy in her creative endeavors.
And Sandra has no idea what to do about it.
Per is standing next to his wife in the schoolyard. He is freshly shaven, his hair combed, and he’s holding his back straight in that beautifully body-conscious posture of his. But Sandra can smell the booze in spite of the aftershave and breath mints. Per has recently acquired a slight limp. Two weeks ago he landed wrong and injured his foot, so he hasn’t been able to participate in the dance classes they usually teach together. Sandra has had to handle everything on her own. Right now he can’t even go out for his daily run, which has made his normally gloomy mood even worse.
“What a fucking show they make of this whole graduation thing these days,” Per mutters as they wait in the schoolyard. “I’ve never seen anyone celebrate their future unemployment with such enthusiasm.”
Sandra gives him a warning glance. Kerstin and Lena arrive, leaning heavily on each other and looking anxious. Is it because Michael is coming? Kerstin gives Sandra a wink, and for the most part she seems to be keeping her composure. Lena has on dark sunglasses, and she’s unusually subdued as she greets everyone.
She’s probably feeling embarrassed, Sandra thinks. Kerstin must have told Lena about Michael’s visit.
Henrik has put his arm around Astrid, and Sara and Josefin are standing on either side of their parents. The four of them seem to have entered into a pact, each one ready to fend off the one thing that might upset their perfect family unity: Michael’s presence. Sandra gives Josefin a conspiratorial wink, thinking that she’s going to plant a rebellious spirit inside that girl. And when Sandra hears Sara sullenly asking why Michael has to be there at all, she ca
n’t restrain herself.
“Why is that so strange? Do you really think it’s too much to ask? When it’s Viktor’s graduation party?” she says, making an effort to maintain a light, bantering tone.
But Sandra retreats when she sees Astrid frowning at her. Okay, okay. I’ll leave you in peace, Sandra thinks.
Yet when Michael arrives with his American wife and their young son, it’s as if he brings a storm cloud with him. Kerstin looks downright hostile when she says hello, and Lena seems on the verge of tears.
Sandra can’t help feeling secretively gleeful at this sudden breach in the family gathering. Even so, she offers an effusive welcome to Michael, Linda, and Leonard, as if it were up to her to make her family appear normal.
With a touch of melancholy, she studies Michael’s face. He has aged, and yet he looks much the same as he did during that summer on Fårö. Good Lord, he was practically a child back then—only a few years older than Emilia is now.
Sandra remembers Michael’s restless, boyish body. The way he joked with Emilia, stuffing a whole boiled egg in his mouth and then letting her pound him on the back to make him spit it out. Emilia was three years old at the time, and she laughed so hard she started hiccupping. But Kerstin was furious. She thought they should be quiet and show some consideration when Pappa Hans was so ill.
Yet even Kerstin couldn’t help laughing once in a while. And Viktor, as little as he was, laughed, too. Michael brought such joy to all of them that summer. And both Lena and Sandra were intensely jealous of their sister. Why should Astrid be the one to have this amazing American boyfriend, who was also the father of her first child?
Sandra can still picture Astrid as she was back then. She radiated happiness; it was like a fragile but implacable light. There was that look of trusting contentment in her eyes, the slight flush of sunburn on her skin, her hands possessively touching Michael and Viktor. And the rather self-important way in which she talked about “her family,” meaning her own little threesome, displaying such pride in them that she could almost burst.
Occasionally Per would come out to the island to visit, tense and excited about an impending dance premiere. He tried to be of some comfort to Sandra, but he always seemed so distant. And everything that was a struggle for Per came so easily to Michael.
Sandra can also still see, however reluctantly, the person Astrid became afterward. It’s possible that she has never recovered, at least not fully, from Michael leaving her. Something became closed off inside her sister. She took on the role of reason and logic, and never again allowed herself to be lured astray by emotion. When she and Henrik got together, they raised an intractable barrier around the two of them, and Michael was forced out to the periphery. Henrik adopted Viktor, and Astrid never again needed to be afraid of being abandoned.
After everyone has given Viktor a hug and they’re about to set off for Astrid and Henrik’s home, Per says that he has to run a few errands before joining them at the graduation party, but promises to be there soon. Sandra knows where he’s going, and Per knows that she knows, but neither of them lets on: the closest AGT lottery kiosk. If he said as much to Sandra, she would tell him how foolish it is to buy a lottery ticket right now when they hardly have enough money to put food on the table. But as long as neither says anything out loud, she can avoid feeling the weight of responsibility and cling to a modicum of hope.
And she is hoping with all her might.
Sandra walks along with Kerstin and Lena, listening in silence as her mother lets off steam.
“It’s lucky that Astrid ended up with Henrik instead. Isn’t it amazing that she met him? But that American . . . not exactly the reliable type.”
Sandra and Lena briefly exchange glances. Then Lena goes back to staring straight ahead, hiding behind her sunglasses. Lately Kerstin seems more and more like some ocean-going steamship, setting an unswerving course with cantankerous machinery. Slightly outdated and slow, but with dependable navigational skills and power.
“Not now, Mamma,” Sandra says.
They all know what she means. Now it’s Pappa’s turn, their father, Hans. Kerstin will inevitably bring up her husband; it’s the topic always waiting in the wings. Sandra tries to catch Lena’s attention, since they usually join forces to avoid what is bound to come next. But Lena has pressed her lips together, and she seems lost in thought.
“Was it hard for you to see Michael again, Lena?” Sandra asks. She speaks quietly, taking a step back so she can lean over to address her sister on the other side of Kerstin. “You seem kind of strange.”
But Kerstin turns around and answers for her daughter.
“Lena has been having stomach trouble lately. She’s going to the hospital for some tests on Monday. I think she should be taking it easy, but she won’t listen to me.”
Lena raises her sunglasses to glare first at her mother and then at Sandra. She’s not wearing any eye makeup, which is unusual for her. Her lips are painted a deep red, as always, but her eyes look bare.
“Mamma, please. Stop talking about it. My stomach is going to hurt even more if you keep harping on me.”
Kerstin stops in her tracks and stares at Lena. Confronted by her mother’s intent gaze, Lena quickly lowers her sunglasses again. She is wearing a light-gray and lavender dress, sophisticated in design and cut. Her own label, of course. Lena’s clothes demand something from the woman who wears them. They’re intended for women who crave the spotlight. But today, it seems like the dress is wearing Lena, and not the other way around.
“You don’t look well. I think you need to take better care of yourself,” Kerstin replies, sighing with concern.
“I’m okay. I’m actually feeling much better.” Lena turns away and starts walking.
Kerstin looks worried, but then she resumes the conversation, following her own track. “I could tell at once there was something unreliable about that Michael. How could he just disappear like that? But, as I said, it’s unbelievable how lucky Astrid has been in life.”
Lena sighs loudly and walks faster. She is pressing her hand to her stomach, and Sandra sees that a thin film of sweat has formed on her pale forehead, even though it’s rather chilly for a June day.
“Come on, Mamma,” Sandra urges. “There’s no need to rehash all that right now.”
“He’s just like Hans was. So charming and lively and playful. Fooling everybody. But then . . .”
Our shared life consists of fixed images and stage sets, thinks Sandra. Pictures that we pass from one person to another as we each confirm what we see, but we do so out of old habit and without reflecting on what the pictures actually show. Kerstin tells us what to see, but sometimes it seems the pictures are becoming more one-dimensional as the years go by.
“Let’s not get into that again. That’s all in the past. Michael could be a totally different person today.”
Kerstin merely shakes her head at Sandra’s halfhearted objection. “Oh no. I don’t believe that for a minute. They never change. Not those kinds of men. Just think about Hans. He couldn’t keep his hands to himself even when . . .”
Kerstin is so upset by what she’s remembering, even after all these years, that she has to stop and take a deep breath as she places her hand on Sandra’s shoulder for support. She presses her other hand to her heart.
“Not even when I’d just come home from the maternity ward with—”
“Come on, Mamma. We’ve heard this a million times before.”
Sandra and Kerstin stare at each other angrily, each of them brandishing their version of the truth.
Kerstin’s version goes like this: your father was a liar and an adulterer, and that is the truth we all need to accept. She underscores her defiance by the slightly grandiose way in which she now raises her head, making her plumes of hair sway. As the senior person, and the one who was there from the very beginning, she assumes that her interpretation will be respected.
Sandra, like her two sisters, opts for a different point of vie
w. How many times can somebody stomp and swear on a man’s grave? Hans was an odious philanderer. That much is true. But as their father, he was also someone who told them stories and made up his own characters, like Floppsy and Moppsy, the trolls who lived in the wardrobe. Pappa showed the sisters how to dance the Jenka, and that time when he slipped on the newly polished parquet floor, he laughed so hard that it took a while before he could even get up again.
The three sisters have a different version than their mother does. And none of them can accept that they should simply respect each other’s memories.
Kerstin raises her voice a bit as she alternates her attention between Sandra and Lena. “I’m just saying how it was,” she tells them, an ominous ring to her voice. “But we don’t need to say anything more about it.”
“No, we don’t. It would be nice if we didn’t have to listen to all that crap one more time,” snaps Lena, using an aggressive tone that is so unlike her.
Sandra and Kerstin are both shocked into silence as they continue heading for Astrid’s place.
When Per arrives at the graduation party, he gives Sandra only a brief nod in greeting. The emptiness in his eyes tells her that he didn’t win. He puts on a good show of spirited interest for the other guests. The consummate performer, he always livens up before any sort of audience—except when subjected to Sandra’s scrutiny, that is. These days he avoids meeting her gaze. Sandra wonders whether he’s aware of the face reserved only for her—a cold and bitter one. In this type of social setting, it becomes even more apparent. Per is practically electrified, his voice insistent and his urge to tease overflowing. But when Sandra suddenly appears within his field of vision, it’s as if the plug is pulled inside of him.
My own family: Per and Emilia, thinks Sandra. And my original family: Mamma, Astrid, and Lena. What do we really mean to each other? What will happen to us when everything falls apart?
Sandra goes upstairs, out to the rooftop terrace with the view of Djurgården and the amusement park, Gröna Lund. It’s windy up there. Sandra wraps her cardigan closer around her body. She has never felt more alone than here, in the heart of a family gathering.
[2013] The Heart Echoes Page 8