My Brother

by Karin Smirnoff

  Onethousandfourhundredandninety kronor he said and turned the calculator so I could check.

  Right I said. You had better call him.

  Isn’t it better that you pay me right now.

  Better for whom.

  Me obviously. Your brother owes me.

  That’s true I said. It seems that he does. But he isn’t me. I’m not crazy about pizza.

  But he’s your brother he said. You’re even twins right. By now his discreet whispering had escalated into illconcealed fury. It’s not right. It’s not honest behaviour. I have been kind to him and allowed him to buy from me when he had no money to pay me with.

  That’s not very smart I said to have something to say.

  He pulled the pizzas out of the oven and threw them noisily into folded cardboard boxes that he closed with angry hands. I still couldn’t think of anything reasonable to say. The doorbell pinged as I left.

  We ate the pizzas and drank the highoctane booze. Around nine o’clock we were drunk enough to go out into the night and still sober enough to be let in. We took the shortest route to the rotunda. It had snowed enough to build up a twentycentimetre-thick layer. Jeanette took the lead and acted snowplough. The rest of us lined up after her by height like the von trapp family. I was last because I was the shortest. We even sang as we walked.

  The band with the double name ulf&urban opened with something soft to get people up and out onto the huge rotunda.

  Brightly patterned shiftdresses stood along one wall checking out the row of besttrousers opposite and were checked out in turn. At that point only a few couples were dancing.

  A besttrouser made up his mind to brave the distance to shiftdressworld. Hundreds of eyes followed his brightred shirt. He had tied a cowboy strap round his neck instead of a tie. His dancefriendly shoes slid across the floor like skates on ice.

  He was followed by other enterprising males. The couples took to the floor until it was filling up nicely. The rows of waiting people thinned out. The wallflowers were left behind their hands sticky with sweat. I was one of them. By accepting sociable invites from my workmates I had managed to ignore my awareness of being alien but it came back now. I stood among the fat ones and the shy ones with outsider branded on my forehead. One of those who would be picked last. For the netball team and so on for ever and ever.

  Would you like to dance.

  At first I hadn’t realised that he was addressing me. A besttrouser had turned up out of the blue and was holding out his hand. He wanted to dance with me. I wiped my palm on my hip and said yes sure.

  It was meant to be a jitterbug. I didn’t know how to. I was flung around like a doll held in a hard grip that even my moist palms couldn’t soften. Twirl and backwards. Twirl and forwards so that our pelvises touched. We’re doing great he shouted. At the same time he was forcing me round in a failed twirl by wrapping his big leg around my thigh. We crashed into another couple.

  When the tune finally ended a neon sign announced it was the men’s dance and before I had time to react he had taken a few quick sidesteps and led me out into the mass of dancing people again. Aren’t you bror’s sis he shouted. We’ve worked together.

  And now the next one is for you if you like hugging. A few slow moments ulf&urban’s singer intoned with his stagevoice. Besttrouser tried a new hold and crushed my nose against his shirt buttons.

  Don’t look at your feet he shouted encouragingly in my ear. Just follow me. I’m good at leading. The walls flickered past.

  Jeanette and another woman maybe eva were pointing at us and laughing. Or maybe I was just feeling spooked. The clinch as we danced had stimulated besttrouser. He had an obvious hardon and smelled of sweat and aftershave. I must have reeked of anguish and hooch.

  When itsaheartache stopped at last even besttrouser had had enough but insisted on escorting me back to my wall. Before he left to go to besttrouserworld there was something he wanted to whisper in my ear.

  Hey pussycat. If you fancy a fuck just say.

  You were so flipping hot together jeanette shouted and pulled me by the arm towards the entrance. Come on it’s time for a fag and a drink or three.

  We went outside into the parking lot. Jeanette took a swig from the pocketflask she kept tucked away in her handbag. I drank in the cold wintry air. Silent snowflakes left damp stains on my blouse.

  Have some she said. A drink will make dancing come more easily. You mustn’t be so uptight. Just hang on to whoever is leading and you’ll get there. But mind how you go with martinpilkvist.

  What about him I asked but jeanette had caught sight of someone she knew and wandered off leaving me alone. I went back inside. We had agreed that I would sleep over at jeanette’s but by now it felt like a bad idea. The night out had only just begun but I already wanted to go home. I needed peace for a little while so I went down to the toilets. There was a queue for the cubicles. A crowd in front of the mirror. Bottles went from mouth to mouth.

  The rotunda had banned consumption of alcohol but everywhere drunkenness spoke in its loud monotonous voice. Someone sang. Someone wept. Someone screamed.

  Someone was screaming at me.

  You leave my husband alone you filthy little whore she hissed. Spit sprayed from between her teeth. I wiped my cheek with the back of my hand. You bitch keep your hands off martin she shouted and used both hands to push me. Don’t fancy yourself like you can just come back here and help yourself to our men.

  I don’t know who you’re even talking about I said and tried to fend off her flailing hands.

  What’s your fucking problem you’ve just been making out with him. By now she was screeching.

  I shoved her out of my way and left the ladies to go straight to the cloakroom. I collected my jacket and boots and put my shoes in my bag.

  The sound of talking and music the loud drunk voices the rutting calls and the disappointments pleasure jealousy and lust became a solid thing pressing against my back.

  Then I turned into the road and the wall of ploughedup snow suddenly blocked the noise out. Now all I could hear was snow falling from the trees and the engine of a distant car.

  I raised my thumb. A tractor stopped and I jumped in. It was finn. He had swapped his gully sucker for a snow blower and was on his way home.

  He patted a folddown seat. Took his jacket off and spread it across my knees in their thin tights.

  THIRTYSEVEN

  The rehab clinic had a visiting day for relatives. Bror had asked me to come and see him. We were sat down in a circle and the drug therapist told us to introduce ourselves.

  Janakippo. I’m a relative I said. Brorkippo. I’m an alcoholic bror said.

  People who live with someone who abuses drugs become codependent the therapist said. That is dependent in the sense that your belief that you’re helping makes you adjust your behaviour to the abuser. From now on I want you to introduce yourselves as codependents. No one can help the abuser if he or she doesn’t want to be helped the therapist went on.

  He came out with more selfevident comments. Bror and I were already experts in this area. He in particular since he was a user as well an experienced codependent.

  I didn’t buy into the word. Codependent. We weren’t to blame for father’s behaviour. And now I was supposed to be codependent again to relate to both bror and john. In this part of the world being an alcoholic was a complete identity and being codependent a steady job.

  The battalion of drunks marched past in my mind’s eye. My jobskills were broadly based on experience.

  So how are things I asked later when bror and I were walking in the clinic park.

  Not too bad at all he said. I miss getting plastered though. Staying sober is scary. Everything seems grey. Before there was some black as well.

  Why didn’t you tell me that diana rang years ago and asked for my address.

  Did she he said. Yes she did.

  Who is diana? My child.

  Your child with father he said. Yes maybe. Or my chil
d with john.

  John. Bror stopped and lit a cigarette.

  Yes. He said that she might be.

  John speaks through his arse much of the time haven’t you realised.

  Of course I have. But not always. Two blue-eyed people won’t have a browneyed baby. Or blackeyed.

  Maria was afraid of him bror said.

  Seems to me maria spoke through her arse a lot I said. Did you know she had it off with katarina’s dad göranbäckström you and surely quite a few others. And at about the same time.

  Stop it he said. There’s no need for that. Yes I said. There is. You need it.

  We walked in silence for a while. It was called the park but it amounted to a cluster of birches and rowans on a bleak lawn. The site was surrounded by a dense hedge of clipped conifers that kept out prying eyes. It was hard not to think cemetery.

  Our shoes splatted through newlyfallen wet snow. I understood why bror saw life here as grey. No need to be either a drug abuser or a codependent to see that.

  Have you talked with emelie I asked.

  I asked her if she would come here but she hasn’t.

  Where does she live now I asked.

  In sheltered housing.

  Why I asked and leaned against a tree. Tried to pick up a last ray of sunshine in the raw cold. Gave him a light push. Tell me why.

  Because of me he said and flicked the fag end over the hedge. Someone came out and shouted that time was up.

  We had to sit in a circle again and obediently introduced ourselves as codependents. The therapist looked quite pleased and asked us to tell each other a little about ourselves and our relationship to the abuser.

  The verbal baton passed from one person to the next and I was becoming more and more nervous. The tapeworm slashed and sucked.

  One by one people told their sad stories. Most of them were wives or partners to middleaged men. Many wept. The men didn’t even look worn. Rather they looked like any wolf in sheep’s clothing.

  When it was my turn the storytelling halted.

  Hi everyone I said. I’m codependent and bror is my twin.

  We can see that the therapist said eventually. But jana who are you. When I didn’t reply he asked me to say a few positive things about bror instead.

  I looked at bror and knew what he thought.

  He’s quite good handling a gun I said. A good cook too. He is kind to animals and a skilled carpenter. Above all he killed our father with a spade. And did some other great things that I can’t recall just now.

  Bror smiled. Smiled broadly and then began to laugh. I burst out laughing too. Only he and I laughed. We struggled to stop. Nobody else seemed to get the joke.

  Relatives were allowed to stay the night but I went back home. Bror was recovering and that was the main thing. At least he was showering regularly.

  On the way home petra phoned.

  Dad is unwell again she said. He sits in the kitchen and weeps. Are you there now I asked.

  Yes. I don’t dare to leave him. He says he wants to die. Please can you come.

  Does he want me to I asked.

  I don’t know but I can’t handle this on my own.

  Ten minutes later she phoned me again.

  I’ve locked myself in the loo she said. Please hurry. He has lost it completely. Got into his head that I’m not me but my mum. Says he’ll kill me.

  I heard him hammering on the door. And heard the things he was shouting.

  Call the police if he doesn’t calm down. I’ll be there as soon as I can I said. The line was cut.

  Ten minutes later I turned into the yard at eskilbrännström’s. Shut the car door and listened to get a hang of what was going on. From where I stood the house was silent.

  I should have phoned the police and göranbäckström or someone else in the village but it was too late now. I couldn’t leave petra alone with him. It would be like mother who always abandoned us to father when he went out of control.

  I needed a weapon. There was a spider wrench in the boot but I changed my mind. The heavy wrench meant too much blood. I couldn’t handle blood.

  I picked up a chunk of birchwood from a basket of logs on the veranda. It would have to do. The door wasn’t locked. Behind the pane somebody moved. I pressed my ear to the glass.

  Don’t you understand his voice said. The shame of it. They were my neighbours. Some even my friends. He hammered on the loo door. Petra said something from the other side of the door.

  I cautiously pushed the front door open and looked through the gap. John was kneeling as if at prayer or waiting to be executed. His face was buried in his hands so he didn’t see me. I gripped the birchlog in one hand.

  Dad petra began.

  I’m not your father he roared.

  John I said. And again and again until he turned towards me. He didn’t look drunk. Maybe petra had confused madness and drunkenness. I could think of no better word than mad.

  What are you doing here he said. Get out. I haven’t got time for you now. Come around to clean some other day. He didn’t recognise me.

  John I said. It’s petra who is hiding from you. Your daughter petra. You must calm down.

  Nobody asked you to stick your nose in this he said. Especially not that one in there.

  He banged on the door again. Maria he bellowed. Open the fucking door.

  Petra I called out. Phone the police.

  I can’t she replied in a childish voice. My mobile’s dead.

  And I had left my mobile on the passenger seat in the car.

  Too many people coming and going he said. No one with any business here. I want you to go away. Give me some peace and quiet. Do you hear me he bellowed suddenly and rose on his hind legs like a furious gorilla. Leave me alone.

  I knew one or two things about people going off their heads. This was my last chance to get petra and myself out of this place. We’ll go now I said hoping he would retreat a little. That my voice would bring some sense into his head.

  When he came at me I was prepared and slammed the log against the side of his head. He didn’t even seem to feel it. How could my voice.

  I ran towards the kitchen. He came after me. I pushed the kitchen table toward him. We circled it. He was growling darkly. When he stood still for a moment at the end of the table furthest from the lobby I shoved it up and over him. Screamed to petra run now. I heard her unlock the loo door and run. Before john realised what had happened she was outside the house and well away.

  He could easily have extracted himself from the fallen table but didn’t move. I watched as the look in his eyes changed utterly. He was himself again. The table fell. He put his hands to his head. His temple was smeared with congealing blood. He saw what the kitchen looked like. The upended table. Chairs thrown about. Broken china. It was like a battlefield.

  What is all this about he said.

  Don’t you remember what happened.

  I remember that petra came.

  You got it into your head that she was maria. Petra locked herself in the loo. She ran when I overturned the table to stop you. She’ll be on her way to get help by now. She might call the police.

  He raised the table back on its legs. Then put his arms around me. Rocked me. Rocked himself. I held myself still waiting for the next stage.

  I can’t understand this. I don’t understand how this came about.

  You need help I said.

  Let me show you something he said. I didn’t dare refuse.

  He locked the front door. The tapeworm stirred inside me.

  Why do you have to lock it I asked.

  It’s just because we need a bit more time he said as he was pulling me towards the stairs.

  I’m not sure about this I said. I ought to go now.

  Soon he said. I’m not keeping you captive. Don’t think that.

  THIRTYEIGHT

  The upstairs floor was laid out like most upstairs in a västerbotten farmhouse. First a landing. A small room and a couple of bigger ones. One
of them had been turned into a kitchen by the looks of it sometime in the 1930s. A small door off the landing probably led into the attic space.

  I stopped on the landing to gain time. I wanted him to let go of my hand. Pretended to have a look around as if to orient myself.

  I like the wallpaper I said. It looks original.

  He opened the bedroom door wide. Pulled me into the dark room still holding my hand in a grip that didn’t seem about to loosen.

  John I said. There’s no need to hold on to me. I’m not going to escape.

  No why would you.

  He moved to stand behind me and said I that was only to look at one painting at a time. Mumbled something I didn’t catch. Then he switched the light on.

  The wallpaper was covered by the canvases stapled to the walls. I thought the woman in the paintings was maria.

  We moved slowly along. The same scene was painted from several different perspectives. It was always summer. The grass was grassgreen. Clouds were drifting in the sky.

  I was especially pleased with the clouds he said. We had divorced a year or so before. It was her wish. She said I was impossible to live with. Kept repeating that we had no future together.

  What did she mean by that I asked.

  Just the usual I think. That I was jealous and controlling. That she got frightened of me when I got drunk.

  Have you been drinking today I asked.

  What’s that got to do with anything he said.

  It matters a lot I thought. But was in no position to argue.

  Perhaps she had reasons for fearing you I said. John agreed.

  She did. Absolutely. You can’t question somebody’s fear he said. But I was afraid of her. She had ways of diminishing you. She invented things. Like somebody had said this or done that.

  What kind of things I said.

  In those days I rarely got drunk. Maybe a couple of times in a year. Maria would tell people that she was living with an alcoholic who was lying about at home getting pissed. I didn’t. I worked as hard as anyone and harder. When I wasn’t working I was with petra.

  Don’t you think people worked that out. They aren’t that stupid.