But she decides to go through all her belongings. The plan comes as a relief to her. Her possessions are part of daily life, and they signify permanence. They will always exist. She will organize her wardrobe. Tidy up her belongings. Make arrangements for her clothing business. That’s what she will do.
The plan might seem a little frivolous. And yet, of everything that has sustained her in life, nothing seems to have greater meaning right now.
Kerstin, Astrid, and Sandra all have differing ideas about how to deal with Lena’s illness. Lena tries to keep out of it, though she sees them exchanging glances when they think she’s not paying attention. The three of them carry on whispered conversations behind her back. And when the voices stop and she hears one of them clearing her throat, Lena knows that they’ve reached some sort of conclusion after much discussion and consideration.
On this occasion it has to do with her plans for staying on Fårö. Kerstin announces that Lena will be monitored by a nurse named Holger. Lena sees the solemn look on Kerstin’s face, but she can’t help laughing at the nurse’s absurd name. Holger. So this is going to be her summer with Holger.
In a certain sense Lena has become an isolated entity within the circle of her family, and yet she feels a great calm whenever she’s with them. The concern they share without directly involving her somehow reminds Lena of her childhood.
And that’s not a bad thing.
One day Astrid decides they should go on an excursion to the sea. She offers to drive, and she’ll also bring a picnic lunch.
“Mamma and I will pick you up,” she tells Lena. “We’ll find a nice place near the water to eat lunch. It’ll be lovely.”
Apparently Sandra hasn’t been invited, but that doesn’t really matter since Lena sees her often enough.
Again Lena ponders what she should say to Astrid about her long-ago affair with Michael. Astrid makes no mention of it, even though Lena knows that she knows. Astrid behaves toward her with sympathy, kindness, and concern. But Lena knows how her sister behaves when she opens her heart and allows herself to give one hundred percent. And that is not what she’s doing now.
When the day for the excursion arrives, it turns out that Sandra is coming with them after all. Lena sees her waiting next to Astrid’s car outside the apartment building and for a moment Lena feels happy. She has Kerstin beside her, and her two sisters are standing on either side of the car, ready to take her for a drive. All three are here for her sake.
But Lena soon notices that Astrid’s expression is stony. And Sandra is holding her chin higher than normal. Some sort of battle is being waged by her two older sisters. All she knows is that when Sandra takes her hand inside the car, the gesture represents some sort of challenge to Astrid. And when Astrid glances in the rearview mirror to glare at Sandra, and then drops a casual remark about a bag lunch, she is making a clear statement that Sandra isn’t welcome.
The loneliness that envelops Lena at that moment reminds her of how she felt in the schoolyard on Viktor’s graduation day. It’s the loneliness she always feels when she needs her family most, but they ignore her because they’re too involved in vying with each other for position.
Suddenly Lena can’t deal with it anymore. She doesn’t say anything, but she has already left behind this sort of familial competition. She has let it go, as if dropping a sack of sand from the basket of a hot-air balloon. With a sense of relief, she feels herself rise, but it also means she is leaving her family far behind.
And, in reality, what could be so important? If there’s one question she’d like to ask her mother and sisters, that’s probably it. What the hell is so important about holding on to your positions with such a tight grip? What exactly are you holding on to, with your clenched jaws and white knuckles? What do you get out of it? What do you win?
Because right now you’re losing me. All of you are already losing me.
The sun has slipped behind the clouds by the time they reach the beach area that Astrid told them about in the car, speaking in that slightly sharp voice of hers. Lena is feeling depressed and would honestly prefer to go home. She’s tired of holding Sandra’s hand, which feels hot and sticky. And Astrid’s annoying habit of yanking open the car doors and then slamming them shut has given Lena a headache.
When she climbs out of the car, all she wants is to get away from the others. She pretends that she needs to pee and sets off, feeling a little dizzy from the headache. Kerstin follows after her like a shadow.
Lena turns to tell her mother rather harshly that she needs to pee. “Just wait here. I don’t need your help.”
Kerstin stops obediently, but her expression is defiant. She crosses her arms and frowns. “Do you have any sort of toilet paper?”
“Mamma! I’m sure I can—”
“Let me see if I have some tissue in my purse.”
“No, Mamma! Just stay here!”
Lena steps forward into a thicket. She shoves aside some thorny branches and pauses, breathing hard. For once she doesn’t really have to pee. The tumors usually put so much pressure on her bladder that she’s always running to the bathroom. But right now she has an urgent need to gather her thoughts. She looks at her bare arm. The bushes have left white scratches on her skin. She grabs a branch and squeezes her hand around the thorns. The pain feels good. She opens her hand to look at the tiny red punctures on her palm. Then she looks around. Nature has suddenly taken on a sinister quality. The tender foliage has darkened. With the sun hiding behind the clouds, the granite rocks and the sea are a uniform gray.
“Lena? Lena, dear . . .”
“Damn it, I’m coming.” Lena makes her way back to Kerstin, who hasn’t moved from the spot where she left her. Her mother is standing there with her hands clasped, looking worried.
“You were gone so long. I was wondering where you went.”
“But Mamma, where on earth would I go?”
“I know. I’m sorry. I just . . . Oh, never mind.”
Lena heads back to her sisters, trying to ignore the nervous glances Kerstin keeps giving her as she walks alongside.
Here comes the cancer crashing through the thicket. That’s how Lena feels. That she is taking up a lot of space and her very presence demands this reverential, cautious, and servile attention from everyone.
“What label is that sweater you’re wearing?” Lena asks her mother. The pink cardigan has a small pointed collar that fills Lena with tenderness.
“Oh, it’s nothing special. Not worth discussing.” Kerstin nervously fingers the collar, shaking her head.
“But why shouldn’t we discuss it?”
Lena steps ahead and then turns to give the collar of her mother’s sweater a little tug so the cardigan sits better. Kerstin stands still, smiling awkwardly. Lena puts her hands on her mother’s shoulders to hold her away as she studies the cardigan.
“I want to act normal, Mamma. I wish you’d see that. And I can’t understand why you buy this kind of sweater. It makes you look like a little girl. Isn’t it time for you dress like a grown woman, Mamma? I’m going to knit you a beautiful sweater, if it’s the last thing I do.”
“Oh, Lena. Please don’t say that.”
“But I am. Something stylish and bold.”
Again they head back toward the car. Even from a distance it’s clear that the two sisters are in the midst of an argument. Astrid has raised one hand, as if to punch Sandra, then backs away. She seems to be listening to a cell phone ringing. Kerstin starts waving her arm and shouting, “Hello” so they’ll notice.
“Mamma,” Lena says. “I don’t know if it was such a good idea to come here today.” She stops walking. “Maybe we should just drive home. I can’t take it if everyone’s going to be in a bad mood.”
“But Astrid packed a picnic lunch for us,” Kerstin reminds her.
Slowly they walk toward Astrid and Sandra, who have stopped yelling at each other and are now watching them approach. Astrid is holding two corners of the blanket in her ha
nds, stubbornly smiling. Sandra comes to meet them, taking Lena’s arm.
Lena greets the first drop of rain as if it were a blessing. She sees Astrid hold out her hand, palm up.
“Maybe we should go back home,” Kerstin says.
Astrid doesn’t reply, only offers an impassive expression as she quickly starts packing up everything.
“But why? A little rain never hurt anybody,” Sandra argues. “Why don’t we sit under the trees over there?”
Suddenly everyone turns to Lena. That’s her role these days. She is the one who decides—this person who is no longer fully participating, who, due to misfortune, has ended up sitting on a sacrificial throne.
“Okay, let’s sit over there for a while,” Lena gives in. “Who knows, maybe it won’t rain for long.”
The following week Kerstin and Lena leave for Fårö. The plan is for Astrid and Sandra to join them there later in the summer. Lena can’t wait to be in a serene setting away from the stares and voices of other people. She’s tired of being pitied. She doesn’t want friends to visit her. No matter how considerate they might be, they would bring along the ordinariness of daily life, which she envies. And after they left, the whole room would be filled with a painful loneliness.
What Lena needs is enough peace and quiet to concentrate. She insists that she and Kerstin should make their way to the island by public transportation instead of driving themselves. They’ll go first by bus to Nynäshamn, then by boat to Visby on the island of Gotland, and again by bus and car ferry to Fårö. It takes about two hours to get from Visby harbor to the summer house. They’ll have to walk the last mile or so. The whole plan excites Lena. This is something practical she can manage. Filled with self-confidence, she packs a rolling suitcase and then waits for her mother, who arrives with a similar suitcase.
Lena isn’t taking a lot with her. No cell phone, no computer. She doesn’t want anyone to be able to reach her. And she doesn’t want to know that anyone has even tried.
She also leaves most of her clothes at home. She knows there are plenty of old clothes in the summer house, ones she remembers with fondness, worn and frayed and smelling of salt from the sea and traces of summertime sweat.
Her yearning for these summer clothes is part of a larger strategy that Lena is developing. She has discovered that clinging to pleasant sensations is balm for the fatigue, pain, and fear she is feeling. Right now, she’s fixated on those summer clothes. Lena’s swollen abdomen and aching body have made most of her clothes uncomfortable. But the loose-fitting summer dresses will free her. Just thinking about them lifts her spirits.
But as they begin the trip, Lena quickly realizes that she has lost the ability to deal with the big, messy world. Sitting in the bus to Nynäshamn, she starts to worry that she might not make it all the way to Fårö. She feels short of breath and terribly tired. And each time she sinks into despondency, she feels Kerstin looking at her with concern.
“How’s it going? How are you feeling, dear? Is this too much for you?”
Out of stubbornness Lena says no. She doesn’t dare give any other answer. And eventually they make it onto the ferry to Gotland, the two of them sitting next to each other—two women, one relatively young but very ill and the other much older. And all strength and decisiveness seem to be slowly seeping out of both of them. The only thing Lena can do is insist they continue on out of defiance and sheer force of will.
Kerstin is wearing a blue pantsuit, which she seems to have chosen in hopes it would further her resolve. Her sense of determination is also apparent in the slightly self-important expression on her face. The task at hand has influenced both her appearance and her choice of garment. She keeps tugging at the sleeves and smoothing down the pockets. While Lena sinks onto a deck chair to rest, Kerstin leaves in search of coffee. When she comes back, carrying a tray with two paper cups of coffee and two almond tarts, Lena can see from her mother’s determined expression that she has made some major decision. It turns out that she has ordered a cab to drive them all the way to the summer house.
“And that’s settled,” Kerstin tells Lena. “We’re not taking any more buses today.”
Then Kerstin sits down next to her daughter and takes a big bite of the tart, looking both smug and supremely competent.
“Mamma—”
“I don’t want to hear any objections.”
“No, I think it’s great. That’s all I was going to say.”
And what makes Lena even happier is that she didn’t have to make the decision. Now she, in turn, is casting surreptitious glances at her traveling companion. She watches Kerstin sipping her coffee and eating her pastry, her eyes fixed straight ahead, like a commander in chief during a casual coffee break. Lena smiles briefly, then she turns her head and falls asleep.
During the taxi ride, Lena looks out the window, occasionally dozing off. She forgot how far it was. Her whole body starts to ache so badly that she can barely stay upright. I’m not going to make it, she thinks off and on. Her swollen legs hurt. But when they finally reach the ferry terminal at Fårösund, her heart begins pounding with renewed strength.
The yellow-painted car ferry glides up to the dock, a sheet-metal dinosaur of a boat moving through the water. It’s a beautiful sight. With some effort Lena climbs out of the cab to have a look. She used to spend a week on the island every summer, though she frequently longed to leave as soon as she arrived. She often felt restless and claustrophobic staying in the summer house with her family. In her former life, she would never have imagined that Fårö would be the place she would seek out when she needed peace.
Their father’s spirit always seemed to hover over the house. Lena used to think that everyone assumed a slightly forced and somber attitude whenever they stayed there, as if regarding themselves and everyone else with greater seriousness. Death and solemn faces. Betrayal and solemn faces. Lena longed for loud music, wild laughter, and warm glances that accepted rather than judged.
But now, as she gets out of the taxi and fumbles with the front gate while Kerstin pays the driver, she feels an odd sense of peace, as if she has come to the end of the road and can finally breathe.
Instead of going inside the cottage, she heads for the garden. The sun is low in the sky because it’s almost eight in the evening. Lena takes off her shoes. The grass feels dry and wiry under her bare feet. The apples are still only the size of hazelnuts on the gnarled, moss-covered branches of the trees. The peony blossoms have fallen off, leaving piles of lavender-colored petals under the bare pistils. Lena bends down and picks up a snail she almost stepped on. At first the snail retreats inside its shell, but then pokes out its tentacles again. For a moment she watches as it blindly peers around. Then she carefully places the snail back on the grass.
Rustling sounds come from the thickets and hedges. Nocturnal animals are hiding among the thorny juniper bushes with berries that smell of gin if you crush them with your fingers.
“Are you wondering how I am, Martha?” Lena whispers. “Are you thinking about me over there in New York? Do you want to ask me how I’m doing?”
Lena looks toward the meadows, where the heat of the day is hovering like a gentle mist. It’s as if she can see Martha there, stepping forward like a pale shadow.
“You are thinking about me. I know you are.”
Lena smiles as a single tear rolls down her cheek.
“Shall we go inside?” Kerstin calls. At the sound of her voice, Martha’s phantom figure fades from view.
Lena turns around and follows her mother into the house. She tells Kerstin she wants to go straight to bed. It’s been a long day.
She is utterly exhausted. Even so, she takes a sleeping pill so she won’t end up lying in bed brooding over things. The smells inside the summer house evoke so many emotions, but she isn’t prepared to deal with them yet. Maybe tomorrow.
After getting into bed, Lena thinks that Martha ought to realize that she’s ill. She has instructed Caroline to ask Ted for help i
n settling her business dealings in New York “for health reasons.” So both Martha and Ted should be aware of her situation. Or does Martha think that’s just an excuse? That she is retreating because Martha ended their relationship?
That’s possible. Either way, it really doesn’t matter.
The next morning Lena is awakened by the sound of voices. She sits up in bed and listens, trying to figure out who is talking. She recognizes Kerstin’s voice, but who is the other person with that low, rumbling sort of voice?
Then there’s a knock on the door, and Kerstin peeks in. “Morning, dear. So, he’s here now. Holger, the nurse who’s going to be helping us. We’re in the kitchen having coffee. Why don’t you get dressed and come out to say hello?”
Lena gets up and takes from the wardrobe one of her old dresses, which she pulls on over her head. She pauses, hoping to feel the magic she’d imagined at wearing her summer clothes, but nothing happens. She merely feels stressed, and she shivers a bit in the chill of the old stone house. She leaves the bedroom and heads for the kitchen.
Suddenly, unexpectedly, she feels scared.
When she pauses in the kitchen doorway, she sees a burly man with bushy red hair sitting at the table. He’s wearing Birkenstock sandals and khaki shorts that reveal sturdy legs covered with golden fuzz. When Lena catches sight of Holger, she is abruptly confronted with what she has managed to fend off until now. It’s as if this person has been sent from the other side to collect her.
Kerstin gets up and comes over to take Lena’s arm, as if to usher her into the kitchen. Lena pulls away from her mother and, on unsteady legs, goes over to shake hands with Holger. She’s trembling as fear washes over her. She thinks he looks ugly and repulsive, with his beard and crooked smile. She stares at his striped socks and hairy legs. He’s wearing a beige vest with lots of pockets and a green T-shirt stretched tight across his big belly. When Holger sees Lena, he stands up to offer his hand in greeting.
At that moment, Lena’s knees give way and she falls to the floor.
[2013] The Heart Echoes Page 25