[2013] The Heart Echoes

by Helena vonZweigbergk

  “Lena lives here,” Sandra tells him. “Do you know that?”

  Obviously he does. His face changes color when Sandra mentions her name.

  “I was helping Astrid with something.”

  “Astrid?”

  Michael slowly shakes his head. Sandra moves to one side, trying to block his way so he can’t slip past.

  “Well, Sandra, I really have to go now, so . . .”

  Sandra doesn’t budge. She’s so disoriented from running into Michael in Lena’s building that she has no idea what else to say to him.

  “I’m really sorry to hear about Lena,” Michael says suddenly, speaking with such sympathy that Sandra thinks he might start crying. “I’m really sorry about everything . . . about the way things turned out. You know what I mean. So I’m leaving now. It’s best for everyone. But tell Lena that I said hello. Take care of her—and Astrid.”

  Michael gives Sandra a quick kiss on the cheek before he sidesteps around her, pulls open the door again, and steps outside.

  “Where’s Astrid now?” Sandra calls after him, but the door slams shut before she hears a reply.

  Sandra turns around and goes up the stairs to Lena’s apartment.

  LENA

  It’s not me. It’s someone else who is going to die.

  There are too many reasons why it can’t be me and it can’t be now. Too many signs pointing forward. The fact that it’s summer. And that everything is going well with what I’ve set out to do. And that I’m living my life in a way that makes me happy.

  And the fact that I am loved.

  No one except my lover and I know anything about this. And the whole world would be struck with jealous amazement if they were aware of the strength of the love we share.

  Lena peers out the window to see if her mother is there, waiting on the other side of the street. Since there is no elevator in Lena’s building, and Kerstin has a bad hip, they usually meet outside.

  They’ve arranged to go together to Viktor’s graduation party. Astrid will be there with her family, and Sandra with hers—or at least with Per. Lena is in the habit of attending family gatherings with her mother, so she won’t have to show up alone.

  Mamma is so easy to spot, Lena thinks as she shuts the window. Her mother is wearing that beige summer coat, so starched and pressed that it could double as a sail and carry her off in the wind. The more wrinkled Kerstin gets with age, the more neatly pressed her clothes have become. Right now her head is twisting and turning nervously. Why does she always look so frightened when she’s waiting outside? As if she were sensing disaster encroaching from every direction. Lena has often wondered about this, because Kerstin’s anxiety hasn’t seemed to lessen as her children have reached middle age. Not at all.

  Her relief is so palpable whenever she sees a family member. When she catches sight of one of her daughters, Kerstin begins moving her lips before they’re even close enough to hear each other. Her body relaxes, and her hands reach out before there’s even anything to touch.

  But this time Kerstin doesn’t smile as Lena crosses the street to join her. Her lips are pressed tightly together, and she still has that frightened look in her eyes when she sees her daughter. Which makes Lena think it must be true after all.

  She can see it in her mother’s face.

  She’s going to die very soon.

  Kerstin knows that she’s having surgery next week because the doctors have discovered something bad inside of her. But nobody knows yet exactly what it is or what the prognosis might be. That’s as much as Lena has been willing to tell Kerstin. She hasn’t said that the doctors do know that the cancer has spread. Nor has she mentioned that the mood in the doctor’s office was heavy with foreboding when her tumor was discussed.

  Lena hasn’t told anyone about that. She wants everything to be normal, at least for a while.

  Not even her lover, who lives far away, knows what’s going on. Since great love is such a big gamble, with the potential for a dizzying fall, and possesses the power to amplify both joy and sorrow, Lena has decided that for the time being her illness will stay here, in Sweden.

  That way she can retain some measure of control.

  But when Lena looks into Kerstin’s eyes, she knows. This woman who gave birth to her can, without being aware of it herself, foretell her child’s death simply by looking at her. Kerstin’s nostrils are flared and trembling slightly; she senses that the life she gave birth to is turning away. Lena’s own body is communicating with the body that brought her into this world, and that’s when she knows.

  So that’s how it is. She is going to die soon.

  It’s incomprehensible.

  What is real, what is still her life, seems suddenly so tangible, so intense and sharply etched, that Lena squints at the light and searches in her purse for her sunglasses. Her hands shake as she puts them on, and her mouth twists in a quick, pained grimace. How helpless I feel confronting my fate, she thinks. So silent, so mute. But when there’s no longer any use in fighting or denying the truth, when hope is fading, then what can you do?

  Kerstin and Lena embrace. Lena notices that the tension her mother usually exhibits when her coat might get wrinkled is now gone. They hug each other, and Kerstin murmurs, “My little girl. My dear little girl.”

  Lena frowns behind her sunglasses, because it won’t do to be a little girl in this situation.

  It was only a few days ago that Lena revealed her illness to Kerstin. By then she had known for several weeks that something was wrong. Her stomach felt tight, tender, and swollen. She told the doctor that she was constipated and needed something to speed the process along. She was hoping the solution would be something simple, like eat more fiber or take this medicine for ten days, preferably at mealtime.

  But that’s not what happened.

  The doctor sent her to have an MRI. She had to lie in a tube as though she were being sent into space to an unknown fate. Wearing a big headset to protect her from the loud noises the machine produced, she allowed the magnetic pressure and radio waves to penetrate her body. She kept her eyes shut tight. Only once did she open them. But when she saw how little space she had, she shut her eyes again and didn’t open them until she was finally allowed out.

  After the MRI, Lena went back to see the doctor, and by then he had seen enough to tell her with a somber expression that they could do laparoscopic surgery, but he wasn’t optimistic. There was something implacable about the way the doctor looked at Lena that made her stomach clench. Back out in the corridor, she had to dash for the restroom. It felt like everything was running out of her in sheer terror, and she had a giddy feeling that maybe this was exactly what was needed, maybe now she would be perfectly fine again.

  Lena is not a person who scares easily. She has never allowed fear to rule her life, and she has no intention of changing now. She will stand firm and face with open eyes whatever is coming. But when she hugs her mother, her resolve nearly collapses.

  Mamma, I’m so scared, she hears a voice whispering deep inside the convolutions of her heart, a tiny voice concealed in an ancient labyrinthine system. A voice that was hidden away long ago.

  Mamma, I’m so scared. So scared, so scared.

  No, I’m not.

  Lena takes a deep breath and straightens her sunglasses.

  “Okay, Mamma. Let’s go.”

  “But do you think we should really bother going to the school?” Kerstin asks. “Wouldn’t you rather stay home and rest?”

  “No!” Lena’s response is sharp and firm. She won’t allow Kerstin to sabotage the solid structure of hard-won normality that she is holding on to. “Today is Viktor’s day. We’re celebrating his graduation. But on Monday, I’d be grateful if . . .” Lena’s voice breaks, and she has to take a deep breath before going on. “If you would come with me to the hospital, when they do whatever the fuck they plan on doing.”

  They proceed toward the school. Lena notices that occasionally Kerstin gives her a worried look. The
obscenity is still hovering in the air, unchallenged. Under normal circumstances, Kerstin would have protested loudly, even though her children are now adults. But today she says nothing, and Lena feels her throat tighten because more than anything she wants her mother to yell at her for swearing and act as she usually does, making everything feel as if it were normal.

  What is she hoping will happen when she sees her family in the schoolyard?

  Lena realizes there is something she’s hoping for, and that’s why it’s so important for her to be there. She wants the family circle to close around her like a protective barrier. She wants their secure and primordial presence to chase away the invading evil.

  But, standing in the schoolyard, Lena realizes she has never felt more alone. Astrid greets her sister with a nervous look as she gives her a quick hug and says hi. Sandra gives Lena a friendly wink followed by a rather indifferent hug. It’s then that Lena notices how distant she feels from her sisters. They are still in that realm of carefree gestures, a place she will never have access to again. She is on her way toward a borderland where everything has exaggerated import and fateful impact.

  And she wasn’t prepared for Michael.

  She didn’t know he was coming. When she sees him enter the schoolyard, her first impulse is to leave. She casts an inquiring glance at Kerstin, who merely shrugs apologetically. Lena realizes that her mother knew but decided not to say anything—probably because she didn’t want to upset Lena, but the present situation doesn’t feel like a kinder alternative.

  After Michael hugs Viktor and says hello to Astrid, he looks around, his expression a bit confused and embarrassed. He hasn’t really changed much. He’s wearing a casual beige suit, and that’s something different, of course. His hair is cut shorter than in the past, and there are traces of gray at the temples.

  But his stance is the same, with his feet set a little wider apart than might be expected. As if he’s standing on a skateboard, steady and relaxed. He smiles with that same charming openness, although there’s a hint of guilt shadowing his gaze as he looks around. He greets Kerstin with a smile and tries to kiss her cheek, which Kerstin doesn’t seem to understand. She steps back when he bends forward and looks downright disapproving as she reluctantly says hello.

  And then he looks at Lena.

  How is she supposed to react?

  So many years have passed. Almost Viktor’s entire lifetime. All the years of his childhood and adolescence. A lifetime that might have looked very different.

  “Nice to see you, Lena,” Michael says in English, holding out his hand. He makes no attempt to kiss her cheek.

  But Sandra, who is quick to draw his attention and loudly expresses her pleasure at seeing him again, does get a kiss.

  Lena sees how Michael has fixed his gaze on Astrid. That’s who he keeps looking at. Lena also notices how Astrid, Viktor, and Michael form a unit around the traditional congratulatory poster her sister is holding. For thirty seconds they are a family once again, and for a few of those seconds a different, earlier version of Astrid appears.

  Is that really what Lena sees? Or is she merely conjuring her sister as she remembers her?

  “Astrid . . .”

  Lena quietly whispers her name, speaking in the voice of her younger self—the little girl, longing for her big sister. The little girl filled with yearning. A voice Lena hasn’t heard in a very long time.

  Does the Astrid she remembers even exist anymore? The Astrid who used to claim she could take the hurt away from a scraped knee by tossing the pain out the window. The big sister who asked the ghost under the bed why it was lying there farting, and who then made farting noises as the ghost’s reply.

  Astrid had been the greatest source of comfort and love for Lena when she was growing up. Lena had done her best to hide this from Kerstin, who was so easily offended, and from Sandra, who was often jealous.

  But that’s how it was.

  Lena tried hard to forgive herself for what happened during that summer long ago. She was so young, inconsiderate, and immature. And at the time she was trying to escape her grief. Pappa Hans was dying, and his last days seemed to put a stranglehold on all life around him. Astrid was of no help to Lena. She simply wasn’t there for her sister. Lena was jealous of Astrid, who could turn to cute, funny Michael for support. And maybe she was even more jealous of Michael, who had Astrid.

  The playful relationship that Michael and Lena developed on Fårö was a means of fending off the ever-increasing gloom taking over the place. Kerstin, Astrid, and Sandra would give Lena stern looks, as if taken aback by her behavior, seeming to ask why she wasn’t showing the proper respect for her dying father.

  But that’s not how Lena saw it. In her view, Kerstin, Sandra, and Astrid had betrayed her by no longer being their normal selves. They displayed an exaggerated reverence, pretending Hans was someone he had never been. Astrid played the perfect daughter, acting as the self-appointed spokesperson for the sisters regarding all matters concerning their father. Kerstin and Astrid had serious conversations about Hans, and Kerstin refrained from the usual bitter truths she was fond of spouting about what sort of man their father really was. Sandra was fully occupied, as always, with protecting Per’s ego from the injustices he’d encountered, so she, too, added to the solemn mood.

  But for Lena, her father’s last days reminded her of something else. It reminded her of life—of how much she loved being alive and how important it was to protect that feeling.

  Michael was life. He let in air and sunshine and summer. He and Lena used to go down to the beach for a swim in the evening. Either Astrid was playing the favorite daughter and reading to Hans, or else she was being the perfect mother to Viktor, who was having trouble falling asleep and wanted her to stay with him. Michael and Lena made a point of telling each other they were the youngest in a group of very serious adults. They talked about things that made them happy. They discovered they liked the same music, TV programs, and movies, and Michael seemed relieved to spend time with her. With Lena he could retreat to the age and culture and maybe even to the continent where he belonged.

  He told Lena how homesick he was for the States. How scared he was that he might not measure up as a father or an adult. That he didn’t know how to comfort Astrid in her grief, and that he was afraid he might disappoint her.

  The brief glances that Michael and Lena now exchange in the schoolyard are filled with both guilt and embarrassment. Lena has always wanted to say, in her defense, that she had no idea things would end as they did. She thought what happened between them would remain their secret. Not that it would lead to serious repercussions.

  When Michael abruptly called it quits and left, Lena interpreted his departure as a flight from guilt. He left Astrid—but also Lena—in a flood of fear and regret.

  And when Viktor asked for his father and Astrid fell apart, Lena fled to Paris and lived abroad for another five years. She cut off ties with her family, but especially with Astrid. She convinced herself that she was an independent woman who wasn’t in need of the care and concern of a family.

  And nothing was ever the same again.

  Sometimes Lena thinks it’s both strange and sad that Astrid never tried to find out why her little sister vanished from her life in the way she did. But Astrid disappeared, too. She became lost in her sorrow, and she has never fully recovered.

  The glimpse from the past that Lena now sees, as Astrid stands between Viktor and Michael, is a relic from that period when Astrid could still smile and laugh with all her heart, when innocence still allowed all doors to stand open, and her soul projected a radiant welcome. Before it began to harbor suspicions and build walls.

  Viktor is suddenly standing in front of Lena. He is flushed and hot as he throws open his arms and gives her a big hug. He has been making the rounds, hugging everyone, and now it’s Lena’s turn. She pulls him close. It’s heartbreaking to see how much he looks like Michael—the way Michael was back then, during that summer. A
nd when Lena feels Viktor’s arms around her, and hears him saying in her ear, “Shit, I’m all sweaty,” his voice is just like the one she remembers.

  Kerstin keeps casting worried glances in her direction, and it’s starting to get on Lena’s nerves. Here in the schoolyard, she is the loneliest person in the world. At least, that’s how it feels. And she can’t stand to have anyone regarding her with pity. When Lena sets off for Astrid’s apartment, she is joined by Kerstin and Sandra, and she thinks to herself that everything they’re saying sounds so stupid and banal.

  Why can’t you stop talking? she wonders when she looks at Kerstin. Be my mother, offer me support, but stop saying such idiotic things. Don’t say for the hundredth time that I look pale or that I’m working too hard. Don’t ask me again whether I’d rather go home.

  And when Kerstin starts talking about Hans and how irresponsible he always was, Lena discovers what a relief it is, at long last, to tell her mother off.

  When they reach Astrid and Henrik’s apartment, Lena sits down in an armchair with her hands resting on the hard curve of her stomach. The buzz of voices all around her seems totally unreal. Jaws churn and lips open to reveal shiny teeth.

  Do people always laugh this much? Are they always so loud? she wonders.

  As usual, she tries to imagine what she might tell her lover. They always try to give each other vivid reports about whatever they’ve been doing, and anecdotes about their families are high on the list. But right now everything looks so alien to Lena. She prefers to look out the window instead of thinking about the funny stories she might recount.

  The same sun is shining on both of them. That’s a much more appealing thought. Maybe not at the same time, but it’s the same sun.

  Astrid’s daughter Sara comes over to Lena. She’s so dressed up that at first Lena doesn’t recognize her. Sara’s blond hair has been swept up into a topknot, and she’s wearing a pale-blue dress. She certainly hasn’t inherited her mother’s beauty, Lena thinks. She looks more like a girlish version of her father, with that slightly heavy, hangdog face and deeply etched mouth and chin.