What was she doing?
This can’t go on, she thinks as she makes a sandwich. I can’t live like this.
She gets dressed and then searches through her bag for her keys. That’s when she finds the watch. In her slightly foggy condition, it takes a moment before she realizes why it’s there. Then she tells herself that with the watch in her possession, one of her biggest problems is solved. But she has completely forgotten about having to sell the watch. She has no clue how to go about it, and the mere thought of having to find a buyer makes her feel a little sleazy. A pawnbroker? A shop that sells luxury watches? Online auction sites are out because it would take too much time. She needs to make the payment in six days.
She takes the watch out of its box and examines it more closely. She puts it on her wrist. It’s heavy and shiny and incredibly beautiful. Sandra glances at the clock on the wall and sets the Rolex to the right time. What if this was her watch? What if she was the sort of person who wore a watch like this? Why isn’t she?
Sandra takes it off and puts it on the kitchen counter. Maybe Per could sell it for her. It would be a relief not to have to do that herself. And what else does he have to do with his time? She writes Per a note, which she leaves next to the watch. Do you know where we could sell this? Could you find out?
What else should she write? She stands there flipping the pen between her fingers for a moment before adding, Hugs from your wife. Then she takes a step back to look at the watch and the note.
How disgusting she is. That’s the thought that sticks in her mind. As repulsive as all pathetic and sordid desires. Sandra goes into the bathroom to blow her nose. She takes two aspirin and then leaves for work.
Later that day, just as Sandra is about to close up the dance studio, there’s a cautious knock on the door. It’s Josefin, wondering if she could come in and practice for a while. Sandra can’t help sighing loudly.
“That’s okay. I can come over some other time,” Josefin says, about to turn away.
Sandra pulls the door wide open.
“Come in, sweetie. I’m sorry. There’s just been a lot going on lately.”
“I can wait for another day.”
“No, no. Don’t just stand there. Come in!” Sandra grabs the sleeve of Josefin’s shirt and gently pulls her inside.
Josefin obediently goes into the dance studio. She looks so much like her sister, who is three years younger, and both girls take after their father. Right now Josefin is raising her eyebrows and looking uncomfortable, which makes Sandra even more annoyed. What’s the matter with this girl? Can’t she ever relax?
“Something wrong? You look tense. Has something happened?” she asks Josefin.
“What? No, I’m just a little stressed,” Josefin assures her. “There’s not much time left, and I don’t think I’m very good at it yet. And I can’t practice at home because they’d notice.”
“Okay, well, I’ll stay for a while and give you some pointers. Then you can lock up the studio when you’re done. Okay?”
“Cool! Thanks.”
As Josefin puts on her tap shoes, Sandra selects the music.
“Okay, my girl. Let’s get started.”
Josefin is actually making progress. They have fun, and Sandra forgets all about the time as they slip into a groove. The more Josefin loosens up, the happier she looks. And all of a sudden an hour has passed. They sit down in the studio’s kitchenette to have a glass of cold water while they discuss some of the more difficult parts of the dance routine—how the tempo picks up speed at times, and how easy it is to stumble over your own feet.
“Mamma isn’t going to believe her eyes,” Josefin says, looking pleased. “She won’t even know what to say. Sara, either.”
“I’ve got to ask you a question,” Sandra replies, again feeling annoyed. “Why does your family have to put on these shows every time your mother has a birthday? Have you guys always done that? I don’t know, but . . . I realize it’s none of my business, but doesn’t it seem a little old-fashioned? Sort of like in preschool? Having to show off what you’ve learned, I mean? Sorry, but the whole thing seems a little forced.”
“Really?” Josefin suddenly looks uncertain. There’s a film of sweat on her face, and her hair is sticking up wildly.
“Uh-huh. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of anyone else doing that sort of thing. How did it start?”
Josefin shrugs and gulps down more water before answering. “When Sara was little she was always singing, so Pappa came up with the idea that she should sing on Mamma’s birthday. And Mamma was so happy that she wanted Sara to sing for her next birthday, too. Then I decided to do something for her birthday, and we’ve kept on that way ever since.”
Sandra can just picture it. The much-revered Astrid enthroned in her bed, Henrik bringing her wonderful presents and a breakfast tray, while the children stand there looking ready to burst and vying for the attention of their adored mother.
“I think you should start dancing for your own sake,” Sandra tells Josefin firmly.
“Isn’t that what I’m doing?”
“Come with me.” Sandra takes Josefin’s hand and leads her back to the studio. Josefin stands in the middle of the floor while Sandra searches through the music. She finds a piece that is jazzier, more upbeat than the one her niece had previously chosen. At first Josefin looks startled as Sandra comes over to her.
“Okay, now. Don’t look at me in the mirror. Look at yourself. And feel where you are. Feel the music inside of you.”
Josefin does as she says. Standing next to each other, they look at themselves as the music starts off at a fast pace.
“You’re not Astrid’s eyes and ears. Remember that. You’re you. And you’re fucking great!”
Josefin gives Sandra a sidelong glance. But when she meets her aunt’s eye, Sandra shouts, “Don’t look at me! Look in the mirror! Let’s go!”
Sandra starts off with steps similar to those Josefin has been practicing. Josefin follows as best she can. Sandra fixes her gaze on her own image in the mirror as she dances. Every time the girl tries to sneak a glance at her aunt, Sandra shouts again, “Look in the mirror! Listen to what I’m saying! Keep your eyes on yourself! Nobody else! You and the music are one!”
And they keep dancing, getting more confident as the tune plays.
“We’re amazing!” Sandra exclaims, out of breath but happy. “We’re really good, and we don’t give a damn about anybody else!”
Sandra looks at herself in the mirror, and realizes it’s true. She’s good at what she does, and she doesn’t care what anyone else thinks. She looks at herself and likes what she sees.
By the time the music ends, they’re both sweating. Giggling, they fall into each other’s arms.
“We were great!” Josefin says, panting.
“We are great!”
“Just think if Mamma saw that. She wouldn’t know what to say!”
Sandra looks at Josefin’s overheated face. A trace of anxiety and the urge to please seem to have crept back in.
“To hell with Astrid. Say it with me. To hell with her!”
Josefin laughs, sounding both nervous and set free at the same time. “Okay. To hell with my mother, from now on!”
Per sounds a bit pompous when he talks about the Rolex watch and how valuable it is. He says that when you’re dealing with something of such high quality, it’s important to be cautious. They shouldn’t just take the first price offered. He’s trying to sound both casual and knowledgeable. Sandra finds it touching to see the way he examines the watch. His awe is clearly evident when he describes it as a work of art. And he knows something about how utterly exquisite it is. The human being is not equipped to deal with such things.
“The most precious of metals. The most superb craftsmanship. Sooner or later it all ends up in greedy hands.”
“I thought Rolex watches were worn by greedy hands,” Sandra says. She wants to keep thinking of the watch as something ridiculously philistine,
meaning of no real importance. She wants to see it with Lena’s eyes. A pathetic gesture from someone who has way too much money.
“You’re right about that,” Per replies. “Everything that is beautiful and flawless ultimately ends up as merchandise. That’s just how it is. Nothing but a brand. A means of dividing people. But who sees these things for what they really are?”
“Rolex watches for the masses!” Sandra says, attempting to joke, but Per is still looking serious. And that’s unusual. The watch seems to be having an odd effect on him.
It’s because we’re so hungry for nice things, Sandra thinks. That’s all it is. We’ve given a hundred percent to our work, and yet this is where we’ve ended up. This watch was never meant for the likes of us.
One morning Sandra and Kerstin take a cab over to the hospital to pick up Lena, who has now been discharged. Sandra is relieved to hear that Astrid isn’t coming because she has to work. When they get to Lena’s apartment, Kerstin offers to go out and get lunch while Sandra helps Lena carry her bag upstairs.
Lena slowly walks through the rooms, her expression impassive. Sandra follows her like a shadow. When Lena glances in the bedroom, Sandra says tensely that she took the watch and she’s very grateful.
“You have no idea how much you’ve helped me. I really want you to know that. I was backed into a corner, and—”
“Okay,” Lena interrupts. “But let’s not talk about it anymore. All right?”
Sandra looks at Lena’s strained and haggard face. “Sure. Okay. I just want to say that I hope you don’t think it was wrong of me to take the watch. Astrid seems to think—”
“Didn’t you hear what I just said? Let’s drop the whole subject. And don’t be talking about it to Astrid or Mamma either. I don’t want to hear another word about that damn watch.”
“Okay. It’s just that it was so nice of you.”
Lena stops midstride. “I’m relieved that it’s not here anymore. So not another word! Besides, what the hell do you think I’d do with that watch now?”
She starts walking again, going into the kitchen and again into the bedroom. She looks restless. She stumbles over a pair of shoes that she kicks aside.
“I really need to clean up this place,” she mutters. “Clear away all this shit.”
“I’d be happy to help you,” Sandra offers.
Lena suddenly doubles over and goes back to the kitchen to sit down at the table. Sandra follows quietly and sits in a chair across from her. She doesn’t know what to do. Both of them look around the room in silence. Two invitations are stuck to the fridge with magnets. One is to Viktor’s graduation celebration. The other is for the fortieth birthday party of someone named Marco.
Is that Lena’s boyfriend? Sandra wonders. Does she even have a boyfriend? She’s always so secretive.
“Cute guy,” Sandra says, pointing at the picture of Marco posing with a guitar and wearing a straw hat. But Lena hardly gives it a glance.
“Did anyone else come to visit you at the hospital?”
Lena stares at Sandra for a moment, as if she doesn’t really understand the question.
“What? Oh, uh-huh. A few friends.”
“That’s nice. It’s good to have friends.”
Sandra doesn’t know what to say. It’s as if she’s sitting here with her arms full of life and the future, and that makes it even harder to relate to Lena. Sorrow is crouched in the corner clearing its throat, a spectator whose presence colors whatever they say, making everything awkward and tense.
“I want to put everything in order,” Lena announces. “We’re going to Fårö next week, and I want the apartment to be neat and clean before I leave. But I feel so tired all the time.”
Kerstin rings the bell but unlocks the door before Sandra has time to get to the front hall. She has brought takeout from the restaurant around the corner. Sandra is relieved to see her mother. When the three of them are together, the conversation seems fairly normal. Kerstin complains that the person who made her salad hadn’t tied back her hair. “So now there’s probably hair and dandruff in my lunch,” she says, which makes Sandra and Lena exchange amused glances.
It’s an amazingly beautiful day. Outside, the sun is blazing, and the drooping foliage of the trees seems half-asleep. Lena has sent Kerstin and Sandra off because she wants to have peace and quiet to rest.
“You know what?” Kerstin says just before she and Sandra part to go their separate ways.
Sandra looks at her mother, noticing again the slight trembling of her head. It’s a recent phenomenon, as if her attempts to deny fate have physically manifested.
“This morning I woke up, and for a very short time everything was back to normal,” Kerstin goes on.
“Oh, Mamma . . .”
Sandra feels her throat tighten when she sees Kerstin’s eyes fill with tears.
“This should be happening to me, not Lena. It’s not right, Sandra.”
“It shouldn’t be happening to anyone, Mamma.”
“But before Lena got sick . . . I don’t think I realized how happy I was back then, when everything was normal.”
“Do you want me to come back to your place with you, Mamma?” Sandra offers.
“No, I’m fine. I just want to go home. I’m tired and I need to rest.”
Sandra stands there watching Kerstin walk away. She looks so small and pitiful. She’s carrying her shopping bag in one hand, with her head tilted to one side to counteract the weight. Grandiose Kerstin, their fully rigged flagship of a mother, is walking along the street looking like a sad little child.
Sandra turns and heads into town. The street is hot and deserted. She phones Per, who responds with enthusiasm when he hears her voice, saying, “There she is, my sweet little wife!”
Sandra is happily surprised by his unusually upbeat mood, but she also hears something else in his voice.
Something that makes her suspicious.
“Why don’t you come over and join us?” he’s saying. “We’re having a glass of wine and a bite to eat, Magnus and I. We’ve been sitting here talking in an outdoor café, but pretty soon he has to return to his family duties. Right, Magnus?”
Sandra hears only a muttered reply.
A little while later, when she reaches the café in Kungsträdgården, she sees that Magnus has just been served another glass of wine. Per is wearing sunglasses, his posture straight-backed. He’s looking his usual handsome and physically fit self. But his face is bright red, and both he and Magnus seem excited and boisterous when Sandra sits down at the table next to her husband.
“We’re feeling happy because we’ve just realized why the world isn’t going to end,” Per explains. “Do you know why? It’s because people are too fond of talking bullshit. They go shopping and then sit down to drink coffee and talk bullshit. And they get so wrapped up in it. So, in spite of everything, I’ll be damned if anybody is going to start a war. Forget about art and creativity. But shopping? You bet. Not to mention taking time to have coffee. That’s why world peace might not be the utopia we imagine. If people just keep on drinking coffee and talking bullshit, they won’t want to do anything else. Make lattes, not war!”
Sandra smiles wanly. Magnus gives both of them a sloppy grin. She knows that Magnus lives with a very talented dancer from Ukraine, and they have a seven-year-old son. She suspects that right now his family is waiting for him to come home, but instead he’s sitting here bullshitting with Per.
Now Per draws Sandra close to kiss her on the cheek. He hasn’t done that in years. Giving each other kisses on the cheek is a stage they’ve left far behind, like something stowed away in a box up in the attic among old mementos. Yet Sandra can’t bring herself to return Per’s smile, no matter how much she may be yearning to sink into his embrace for solace. And when she asks Magnus about his family, her voice is ice cold. Magnus notices. He quickly downs the wine in his glass and drops three hundred-krona bills on the table. Then he gets up and leaves for home.
Per is still feeling upbeat from the lively conversation that he and Magnus shared, but his mood fades when he looks at Sandra.
“It’s fun talking shit with Magnus. We’ve only been here a little while.”
“Did you sell the watch?”
“Not yet. But I’ve figured out how to do it. I think we can get fifty thousand for the watch. Can you believe it? I’ll take care of it tomorrow.”
“Promise? Because there are only a few days left.”
“Don’t worry,” Per assures her.
“Okay. And then we can make a fresh start,” Sandra says, realizing the truth of her words. She’d hit bottom, but then Lena came to her rescue. Sandra’s eyes fill with tears at the thought. She quickly reaches for Per’s glass and takes a sip of his wine.
She then looks at Per and realizes it’s time. She has to keep the promise that she made to Lena.
“What should we do with our life, Per? You and me? We need to have a serious talk about it.”
Per lights a cigarette. Sandra watches him inhaling the smoke as if savoring his doom. Is that the answer to her question? Over the past few years, smoking and drinking have crept into their life. When Per was dancing professionally, he almost never drank, and he followed a rigorously disciplined routine.
Sandra realizes that she could have voiced objections to his drinking, but she chose not to. It was simply easier not to confront him. She thinks back to when Emilia was young and liked to pull out the kitchen drawers. She would take things out, pull them apart, scramble them up, or stuff them in her mouth. Sandra would often think she should stop her daughter. She should handle the subsequent conflict and deal with the fact that Emilia would cry if she wasn’t allowed to continue her game. She ought to attempt to take control. Maintain order. But Sandra never did. Emilia was a very energetic kid, and playing with the things in the drawers at least kept her occupied for a while.
Isn’t my attitude toward Per’s drinking the same sort of thing? she thinks now.
He’s clipping his own wings by drinking so much, lobotomizing himself because he can’t deal with the nervous energy stored up inside. He’s able to immerse himself in crossword puzzles and Sudoku as long as he has a glass of wine nearby. And just like with Emilia, Sandra has told herself everything was fine—until his drinking started getting out of hand, that is. If Per went out running in the morning and had some wine in the afternoon, a tolerable sense of calm would settle over their daily life.
[2013] The Heart Echoes Page 22