What are you doing out in this fog I asked. Don’t you remember that I like bad weather.
I do. But all the same I could’ve hit you. Do you want a lift.
He wiped off the rain dripping down his face. Put his hand through the window to stroke my face and made it wet.
You get back home he said. You look tired. Or maybe you would like a cup of tea. I can warm some water.
We sat in john’s warmyellow kitchen drinking tea. I told him about katarina and katarina’s mum. He had already heard about it.
I suddenly remembered the painting in her sitting room. After working over the sentence in my mind I finally found a way to ask.
She bought it from me he said. She happened to see it when she brought me a parcel. Katarina worked for the post office in case you didn’t know. She had a car and delivered parcels.
You told me that you had never shown the paintings to anyone. That’s the reason I asked.
Yes that’s true. Apart from that one.
He got up to put logs on the fire. The rain was flowing down the windowpanes. I put the teacup by the sink. We stood together at the sink aching. I couldn’t stop myself. Caressed the burndamaged skin and let my hand move up into his hair. He closed his eyes. I put my arms around his torso and pulled him close. He smelled of man and life and soil and turpentine.
We pulled out the bed and made it. Undressed. He turned me on my front. Lay down on my back and came to rest. His wavy hair falling around my face was like the mane of the horse in the byre.
I don’t want to have to share you with anyone. Not with bror or with that father of yours. Father is dead I said. I was at his grave today.
So maybe he’s dead but also alive. I scared you that morning in the bestroom but it wasn’t me but him who frightened you. Name someone he didn’t terrify I said. Even the pigs were frightened.
The pigs could both bite and butt. Even a stun gun didn’t always knock them out. The pigs could sense blood. And when they had tasted blood they had to bite and bite. Not to eat. Only to kill. Even so they never bit father.
John’s body felt safe and warm but when I tried to recreate the event I realised that it hadn’t been the memory of father that had frightened me. He had been a devil but in the icecold bestroom it wasn’t father who grabbed my arms and shook me.
And what if I don’t want to be anyone’s I said.
He rolled over on his side. Stroked my hair away from my face. Then you’re as free as the raven.
I fell asleep slept all night and woke feeling new. Got out of bed no bother. Dressed. Scooped water to drink from the bucket and walked straight into the bestroom ignoring the squeaking door and creaking floorboards. Pulled the sheet off the painting and saw something I hadn’t counted on having to face again.
It was a seaside scene. A child walked out into the water. Big waves struck her body. The sky was unruly. A pile of broken wood on the beach that might be the remains of an old wooden rowing boat was sharply outlined. Because that caught my eye at first I didn’t take in what was happening further away.
We were on the beach together bror and I and father. An uncommon sunday with sun and a picnic basket. We were six perhaps seven years old only just able to swim but anyway the bay was shallow and the sea calm. Hardly a ripple as father said. You’re allowed to go out a bit.
We ate from mother’s packed lunch. Sandwiches and squash in a plastic bottle with a snapon lid.
Father had brought his own plastic bottle with a snapon lid.
He bundled up a towel to make a pillow for himself and slept. Bror and I built a sandcastle. Carved out canals with bits of bark then made the bark into boats that sailed around in the castle moat.
The wind was getting up. We put a towel over father so he wouldn’t get cold. The wind was driving waves into the bay and we jumped over them when they began to slap against the beach. Then we grew more daring and ran out into the water.
When the wave came along we rode with it until the sand was scraping our tummies.
The further out you went the bigger the waves.
For a long while the bottom was out of toereach and then suddenly came a current.
I was just about to jump on a wave when the current dragged me seawards. I went under and surfaced again. Arms and legs tired quickly. They waited for a wave but they were broken up by the current that was trying to get away from the beach. The current wanted to be free to play in the sea.
Bror ran to father. Tore the towel off him and screamed he must rescue me. Pointed towards the foaming surface of the water and ran out into the waves to show the way.
I saw my brother in the shore breakers. How father ran after him. His belly shook with each step. Swung from side to side and his thighs did as well. They cleaved the water and drove the fatherbody as it crawled through the sea to save me. He had to stop now and then to tread water and take deep breaths.
He got to me at the moment my arms felt they couldn’t splash about anymore and the wave roared above my head and when he reached out he grabbed my hair. My scalp hurt as he pulled my body towards his and said to hang on with my arms around his neck. He swam on his back. I held on to him. His feet touched the bottom. The wave flowed back out.
Then we lay down on the beach. You can’t see that in the painting.
We were lying on the sand and father held me hard with sandy hands and my swimsuit rubbed against my shoulder.
SEVENTEEN
I lightly smacked john’s arm to wake him. The gesture wasn’t friendly. He sat up scratched his tousled hair with both hands. Wiped the sleep from his face.
Goodmorning he said. You look cross.
I wasn’t. Only focused. I was drawing strength from my anger in order to get things done. Get things said without cowardliness making me back off.
I’ve seen the painting I said. How do you know what happened by t’sea.
He got out of bed and went to the loo. In passing he squeezed my shoulder as if feeling sorry for me. The fire had to be lit in the range and the coffee made. Then he sat down with his saucer and lump of sugar.
I was there he said. It was a sunday I think. I had gone over to the rocks and lay on my towel in a rift. That’s how you couldn’t see me but I could see you.
Someone had told me the sea eagle had a new brood. I brought the binoculars. It was sunny and warm. I saw you all arrive. You and your brother were playing in the sand. Our erik was snoozing on the blanket. I thought that you two were just little. Too small to go swimming on your own. Besides the wind was up. Off and on I kept an eye on you through the binoculars.
After an hour or so the sea eagle swooped into my field of vision. It seemed to play a game with a gull or maybe the gull was just being a nuisance. I tracked the movements of the birds. Observed their gliding skills on the air currents.
I don’t know if you’ve ever watched a sea eagle he asked. I said no.
It soars over its kingdom. Takes a break now and then to dive for fish or to steal from other birds. If you like we can drive down to the sea. Their eggs will be hatching soon.
By the way jana do you protect yourself he asked as if the thought of sea eaglets had reminded him of human reproduction.
No I said and you don’t either. But I’m not likely to have any more children. I caught some kind of infection. Mother said that I almost died. As for me I think I wanted to die like katarinahansson’s mum does.
Not likely he repeated and fetched more coffee for us. Then he sat deep in thought for quite a long while. His gaze was lost in the distance and even though I talked to him he didn’t answer. In the end I put my hand on his shoulder and asked him to carry on with the story.
Where was I he asked. With the sea eagle.
Yes that’s right.
Then he fell silent again. He seemed uneasy about telling the story to the end but I had to know what happened.
Please john I said. What happened next.
I moved the binoculars he said. From the eagle down to you
. At first I couldn’t find you children. Only our erik still sleeping away. You had put a towel on top of him.
The waves had grown much larger now and between the wavetops I saw bror. He seemed to be screaming. Ran to pull the towel off our erik and made him come down to the water’s edge. Your brother was pointing out over the sea. I tried to follow with the binoculars. There were lots of waves breaking and foaming. And then suddenly your head cut through the surface and gasped for new air.
You were drowning. I watched you drowning from the safety of my rift. Erik walked as far as he could and then swam against wind and waves until he reached you. It was just about your last chance when he caught hold of your hair and was able to get you back to the beach. You clung to his back like a baby monkey.
I stayed in the rift watching. You were lying on the beach together you and your dad. I saw him hold you to his big belly and I saw him cry.
Did he cry I asked.
Yes he cried. At first.
I sensed that there was more to the story.
Come here john said and reached out for me. Let’s lie down for a bit.
We lay down fully dressed on what was now the kitchen sofa. I rested on his arm with my back against his stomach and thought about father. How it was a fact that I had never seen him moved. John was sifting my hair between his fingers and I inhaled his body odour as one might breathe in the scent of flowers or perfume.
I kept you in my sights. Couldn’t resist looking. Erik was known everywhere for his temper. It felt good somehow to see him with his defences down. As if the beast might have a human soul.
But he didn’t stay like that I said.
No john said he didn’t. At first I couldn’t work out what he was up to. Was he helping you to take your swimsuit off. It made sense because you must be cold. But he only pulled it down a bit. Then he took your hand and pressed it against his swimming trunks.
I saw you were trying to free yourself and made up my mind to do something.
At first I threw a stone against the rock but the noise disappeared in the rushing of the waves. Instead I got up went round the back of the rocks so it would look like I had walked across the foreland and only happened to run into you. You spotted me a bit away.
You pulled up the swimsuit straps and erik stood up suddenly. Gave bror a push to make him get up. The boy had curled up on a towel with his hands around his knees.
Is that nae him the wee connie your father said when I was within earshot. Heard some interesting things on the day he said and gave me a pat on my deaf ear. Then he hollered at you two to pack your gear and go to the car.
Didn’t he ask you about what you had seen.
No he knew I was dimwitted of course john said. Just in case I hid the binoculars under the towel.
We lay together in silence for a while. I thought about everything I didn’t remember.
He may just have been looking for closeness john said. Your innocent childish body must have aroused a dangerous tenderness that was sweet and painful.
What about you I asked. What did you do afterwards.
I cycled back home. Or maybe I had the moped then. I told my mum what I had seen and she went to speak to siri. That was brave of her. She who ate tattie peel by the sink was prepared to fight on behalf of a neighbour’s child.
Siri hadn’t ever heard anything like it. Called it a fool’s tale. That our erik would never do anything like that. And said she’d get me locked up if I carried on spreading lies.
So we returned to our own. Me they packed off to örebro after the garnering. The next year dad sold the cows and I went off to work for a farmer down south near södertälje. When I came back here almost seven years later you were thirteen and had tried to kill your father.
Why are you painting that picture I wondered.
I paint to understand. It’s why I paint at all. I want to reach the innermost core of memories.
And now you’re painting yourself into my memories I said.
Our memories. I was there too.
Hope there’s plenty of red on your palette I said.
EIGHTEEN
We had a dog. Or to be precise father had a dog. He kept it chained to its kennel. The dog was only used for hunting and it was usually in such bad condition that it wouldn’t bark for the elk. If it didn’t he’d shoot it. An ailing elkhound was of no use. Sometimes the animals died from exhaustion. When a dog died it would be replaced by a new one. It was always a male always called lukas and promptly chained to the kennel.
Before the youngdog grew up it was just a whimpering puppy missing the closeness of the pack.
We were forbidden to pet it. We weren’t even allowed to feed it. The dog was father’s and wasn’t to be spoiled with pats and nice things to eat. It was always scared and barked at everything. Even us.
One day mother had to visit a relative in upper kalix and stayed overnight. Father was away at work and bror was told to give the dog its food. We did it together. An offered piece of sausage silenced him. One more piece and he licked bror’s hand. We sat down with him. He put his head in my lap.
After that we took the chance of spoiling him during the weekdays father was away. Took him for walks in the forest. Sneaked bits of food to him that we had stolen from the fridge. Petted him and played with him as one does with dogs.
We ought to have known better. Father noticed that the dog had changed. He no longer barked at us from fear. He barked because seeing us made him happy.
One more friday and father was expected. He used to travel with a mate from work. We heard the car door slam.
Bror who was much less tense during father’s weekly absences instinctively put his hands to his ears. Lines of anguish appeared in his face.
No one knew how the weekend would be. Only that one way or another it would be bad.
We went downstairs. Newly arrived he was. He was greeted like a saviour.
He carried out his rituals. Unpacked spirits and beer from green and white plastic bags.
Laddie he said. You take the beers down into the coolcellar apart from two that you put in the freezer. Obedient bror. There were no other kinds of brothers. Up went the trapdoor to the coldhole and each time he carried as many cans as he could hold without falling off the vertical ladder.
Five were left. He hugged them tenderly as if they were glass. His arms hardly reach around them.
Just as he put his foot on the top rung of the ladder a can slipped from his grip and rolled fizzing across the floor.
I ran along with a dishcloth. Passed father who just stood there looking on with his arms crossed on his chest. Satisfaction twitched in the corner of his mouth. As bror went to the workbench to throw the burst can in the rubbish bin father grabbed his neck. Hold it he said no one just dashes about here. What do you say.
Sorry bror said quietly.
Bror’s neck was as slender as a bicycletube. A thumbgrip would have been enough but father’s hand closed around it as he propelled bror brusquely towards the hall.
I followed tried to protest. Tried to get inbetween them.
He pushed me away.
It usually didn’t begin so early. Only later once father had boozed his fill from the weekend partybags and was looking to have a good time.
Snatching for air. Childhands could not ever wrench away a fatherhand. As smartly as a club bouncer he opened the door and threw bror down on the ground.
He barely moved. Squeezed his eyes shut not to see not to hear. I touched him he lay still. Father followed. Up you get laddie he roared but laddie lay where he was. A new grip round bror’s neck and he was hauled across the yard to the dog kennel. He hung limply from the man’s hand like sauchweed.
Lukas cowered in his tumbledown kennel. The water bowl had tipped over. The food bowl was coated with brown birch leaves. Father dragged the terrified puppy out. Undid the lock on the chain round his neck and. Did he really. Do I remember right. Father locked the chain around bror’s neck and left him lying the
re with his shoulder at a strange angle and hardly conscious anymore. And there you can stay father said. Until you learn to behave.
Firm steps back towards the house. A curtain twitched in the bestroom. Mother was tending the potplants.
After a while the puppy dared to come close and lie down next to us. He licked bror’s hand.
Then the door again. I saw father and took lukas in my arms. I ran holding on tightly to the struggling puppy but the rain had just stopped falling and I slipped on the wet grass. Lukas twisted himself free.
At the perfect shooting angle a few metres from where we were the bullet hit the puppy in the head. Father’s skill with a gun was highly regarded. Called in from far and wide to help deal with clawing bears and pestering elks.
You will learn from this he said like a vicar sermonising his congregation. Then he secured his rifle and put it on his shoulder like an ordinary huntsman. Pointed at bror and told me to get him back into the house. See to it that the lad had a change of clothes. He can’t look like that when we’re celebrating saturdaysunday.
It went on to be another typical friday. Father found things to preoccupy him. Bror wept over the puppy and I comforted him as best I could. Maybe it was just as well I said. He was undersized and scared of being punished all the time.
Then came the saturday. Something about bror’s shoulder wasn’t right. He couldn’t raise his arm. At half past five in the morning mother arrived as usual in our room. Father and the byre were waiting for us.
There’s something wrong with his shoulder I told her. He must see the doctor. Such a fuss mother said and tugged at her headscarf. You must learn to put up with things. Don’t forget man is born in pain.
Can shooting a puppy and putting bror on a chain be right I asked. She didn’t reply. Stroked bror’s head casually as if to smooth his wokenup hair. All one can do is pray she said.
And how we prayed. Childish prayers for help. Less childish prayers for revenge. We prayed that father would die. But he kept coming back friday after friday.
My Brother Page 8