My Brother

by Karin Smirnoff

He was silent for a while. Fed another log into the stove.

  Your gran came to look me over. Put her hand under my chin and scrutinised me as if to check for disease. Her hands were wet from peeling tatties.

  You’re an ugly bairn she said. Harelipped little miseryguts as well.

  What do we want with our lad then your granddad asked from where he sat at the table scraping up the last of the collops with gravy.

  You even remember what they were eating I said.

  I remember especially what I didn’t eat he said. Your gran asked for my name and I told her.

  That’s better. It’s a swedish name in any case she said. We’ll have to find some use for you. She asked me if I was baptised but I didn’t know what that meant. But I probably was. My real mother was said to have been deeply religious.

  It was summertime. The entire family moved into the bakery where they squashed themselves into one room and a kitchen. The big house was to be cleaned for the autumn. A store room had been built onto the bakery, just a leanto with a plank wall. Once it might have been used as labourer’s hut or similar because it was next door to the privy. It’s been torn down by now I think. That’s where our erik and I were to sleep. He was among the youngest. Thirteen fourteen at a guess. The bedstead was homemade. A plain frame and a mattress stuffed with straw. Straws worked their way through the material and scratched you.

  I know that’s what people did in the old days I said. Moved into the bakery for the summer. But this must have been in the nineteenseventies.

  Yes. Or eighteenseventies he said. Time stood still on kippofarm. By the fifties tractors and combine harvesters had arrived and become part of life elsewhere. Not that your grandparents thought so. Horses were good enough for your grandad. Anything with an engine was the work of the devil. Besides he had lots of children for free labour and that included me. For sure a threeyea-rold can be made use of. I had arrived at kippo at harvest time. In early morning we mucked out in the byre. At seven we were given porridge and then we were off to the fields. Your grandad and the older boys used scythes to mow the grass. The sisters and erik and I raked the grass and put it to dry in stooks. By the time the last of the lengths were cut and stooked the hay in the first length was ready to be piled on the waggon. Erik and I were treaders. We treaded all day. First the hay in the waggon to make it hold as much as it possibly could. Next up on the hayrick to pack it down.

  It is like a children’s story about about village life I said. Still it was more of the same when I was little. Work even when everyone else went off on summer holidays.

  I wouldn’t have minded if it had just meant being made to work but your grandparents believed in chastisement as they said. Your gran did at least. Knocking a bucket of water over was enough to get you a beating. Mostly being there was quite enough.

  At home I had never been hit. But the first day in their house I got thrashed. I was hungry. Had nothing to eat since breakfast. When everyone sat down at the kitchen table I realised there was no place for me. I stood and watched the family eat. Nobody seemed to notice me. In the end I steeled myself. Went to your gran. Patted her arm and asked if I could have something to eat.

  She twitched her arm back as if bitten by vermin.

  I hear the wee hare is hungery. But has he earned his keep then she said. Grabbed the hair behind my ear and pulled me up off my feet. Now the rest of us have worked but for all I know he’s been sitting on the floor picking at his scabs.

  Still gripping my hair she marched me to the door and opened it. Hit me on the head so hard I fell out on the veranda. She slammed the door shut behind me.

  I stayed outside until nighttime. Chewed on woodsorrel and firtree shoots. At bedtime our erik came out and called me. Weehare he shouted. Weehare come and you’ll get a carrot to gnaw on.

  Seems he was born a swine I said.

  So he was john said. But erik wasn’t the worst. Mostly he said things like that when somebody could hear him. It took a while for me to understand that I had taken his place as family underdog and he was keen that I should stay.

  That first evening he nicked a hunk of bread and a slice of meat jelly for me to eat. He took the food to the leanto. While I ate he explained what I must do to fit in. I had to get up when everyone else did and go to the byre. Watch out for kicking hooves and do as I was told by anyone else. Work and hang on until signe your gran thought I deserved a stool to sit on by the sink.

  Weren’t you ever allowed to eat with the others I asked.

  No. Signe figured that my cleft palate signified the hand of the devil. Demons had probably taken possession of me. She couldn’t risk having one of his eat at her table. It would foul the food. She prayed to the lord that he would take pity.

  She was well into the devil and hell and all his works. To be on the safe side she regarded most things as sinful. She was one of the righteous and she knew of no better way to force the sin out of children than subjecting them to physical abuse.

  She’s still alive I said. Did you know.

  No I didn’t he said. I had no idea.

  She lives in the smalånger elderlyhome. She’s almost a hundred.

  Erik’s siblings are still alive as well he said. All bar one.

  Oddly enough it had never occurred to me that they would still be in the locality. Apart from bror they were my closest relatives. Father had never spoken about them and as far as I could remember they never visited us. Possibly it was one of them who had cried at father’s funeral.

  Thinking about it if mother’s family had been evangelical it might explain why my grandmother had thought her a suitable wife. From a pious perspective that is.

  You stayed at kippofarm for a year or so. How come you ended up with the eskilbrännströms I asked. It was at the same time alarming and gripping to hear him unravel his life like this.

  John had found a piece of wood to carve something from. Now and then he opened the stove door and put in another log. He watched his knife carve and the logs burn but avoided my gaze.

  There was a dog kennel in the yard just as when you were a child. I think it collapsed a few years ago. They didn’t have a dog but used it for punishments. Our erik especially was most often chained up there. He had a weird gift for getting himself into trouble. It could happen that he spent days on end with the dog chain round his neck. On bread and water like a prisoner.

  But when I arrived your gran’s rancour became directed at me instead of erik. I was small ugly and of no proper use. As if made for being tormented.

  One day a neighbour dropped by. I had been chained to the kennel for several days. They might have forgotten that I was there. I had been told to crawl into the dogshed and hide if someone came visiting but that day I had fallen asleep outside. I had been whining for water and something to eat but nobody heard me. In the end I forgot everything and slept or maybe fainted.

  I woke when someone was removing the chain. I was lifted up. Angry voices were buzzing like wasps. Your gran stood on the veranda hollering. The wee hare belonged to her by law. She threatened with the police.

  The boy stays with me from now on eskilbrännström said. Then he carried me all the way downhill to his house. Not that I weighed many kilos but still. He smelled of byre and snuff.

  Eskilbrännström was not tenderhearted but he was honest. My foster mother was a gentle and kind woman. She sewed clothes for me. I was even given shoes of the right size. Above all I had a big brother. He seemed a divine being to me. I worshipped him and followed him about like a shadow. We shared a room. We each had a bed with a bedside table between us. He taught me to read and write. At bedtime we said a prayer together kneeling at his bed. I wondered how god could be good since he allowed the mistress at kippo to live and my mum to die.

  You’re not to blame god he said. Whoever is beaten will go on to beat up others.

  I asked how I would turn out in that case and he thought for a long time before answering.

  The choice is up to you he sa
id finally. Who you are is for you to decide.

  Adam must have been wise well beyond his years I said. John nodded.

  There is much to say about adam but that’s enough for now. What has been will never come back.

  Except in your paintings I said. That’s different he replied.

  Father did the same thing to bror I said. Locked the dogchain round his neck and let him lie there. And then he shot the puppy.

  Was that when you stabbed him with the hayfork john asked.

  That’s right I said and remembered how smoothly the sharp prongs of hayfork had slid through the cloth of his overall and into his belly. He had sharpened it himself I added.

  We dressed and went outside. Large snowflakes were falling silently. My body was aching after the strain of the night but it felt soothing to walk out into the white light.

  We heard shooting from far away. They’re on a hunt down by the seashore he said.

  What about you then I said. Don’t you join in anymore. I ought to have learned by now to speak to his good ear.

  We cut fir branches to put in front of the door.

  After a day’s work the cottage began to look like someone’s home. And after a day away I was thinking that I ought to go home to my own house. Lukas was still with göranbäckström. John seemed to be more or less as usual.

  What are you going to tell people he asked. About what I said. About me losing it and attacking both you and petra.

  I don’t know. It isn’t for me to explain. You’ll have to do that yourself.

  People talk such a lot of shit. If only half of it were true.

  You’re right I said. But this was so otherwise. You were someone else. Thought petra was maria and I had come to clean the house.

  He searched for something in the chest of drawers. It was an old cape in grey felt with a velcro fastening at the neck. Fur lined and decorated with pieces of reindeer horn. He placed it around my neck and smiled his sad harelipped smile.

  You won’t get cold with this on. I think it was my mum’s cape. Walk slightly eastwards and then you’ll get to cross the burn without even wetting your shoes.

  FORTYONE

  There were no footsteps to follow. The snow cover was complete and I walked by instinct. Slipped as I made my way down the hillside that john had said was less steep. Kept hitting my knees on the sharp edges of cracks in the rock. Located the burn and walked back and forth along it until I came to a plank resting on big stones. The water was rushing along under it. Once I had left the burn I got lost and in the end I finally reached the cartrack a good bit further to the south of the saw. Tiredness and cold had invaded my body. I had had it with forests. Walked slowly. Reaching my car would take time. An engine sound was coming closer. I held out my arm hoping for a lift.

  At first I didn’t notice who the driver was. But jana it’s you said a familiar voice. Where on earth are you coming from. Noragran. Gunnargran’s wife. Rogergran’s mum. Nicenora. I opened the door on the passenger side. When I saw her kind eyes and picked up her scent of baking and dovesoap I burst into tears. She put her arms around me and I wept against her breast as I had so often wanted to as a child but never dared.

  My dear she said as my sobbing ebbed away. You’re frozen. Let’s go home and make ourselves some hot cocoa.

  Let’s go home and make ourselves some hot cocoa.

  I had no energy left to argue. I ought to have asked her to drive me to the sawmill. Instead we stopped in her yard and I allowed myself to be led into the kitchen with its warmfire. Everything looked exactly as it always had. The same yellow and orange patterned wallpaper and kitchen sofa with a thick plastic cover. The same brown leatherclad armchair where gunnargran sat and solved the saturday music crossword.

  Nora helped me take off the cape and my jacket. Put a mug of cocoa in front of me. And two cheese sandwiches. After a while gunnargran returned from a day’s hunting.

  Got ourselves another bull today he said and patted my arm. It’s a good thing you’re back.

  Soon enough he would hear everything from his wife. Just as everyone else in the village would eventually find out what had happened. Or not happened.

  We talked about the hunt. He told me in detail about how one of the younger lads it was klasjohansson’s son who had been waiting out a bull he had trailed. A big one with fifteentine antlers. Then a oneyearold suddenly poked its head out from between the pine trunks. That lad has ice in his belly. Just leaned his gun against a fir tree and shot the elk in the neck. Perfect aim.

  A couple of hours later I said now I really must go and pick up my car. Noragran had her hands full with making a sponge. Gunnargran offered to drive me to the mill even though it wasn’t that far to walk.

  You know best he said before I got out of the car. Still it doesn’t hurt to be canny. John isn’t a bad man. But unreliable. He can’t help himself.

  It was already evening. I carried logs inside got the boiler going and put my mobile down to charge. Checked missed calls and returned petra’s. She replied at once.

  Christ jana are you ok. I’ve tried to call you. And been round to yours. And dad’s.

  I said that we had had things to do and told her a little more than noragran but left out details she needn’t know. Called john but he didn’t reply. At home now I texted. See you.

  Before going to bed I spent some time in the yellowroom. I sat on the cold wooden floor twisting and turning the clayfolk as I looked for clues. Somehow I had lost control over my own life. Things happened to me regardless. I had never felt more alive than now. It was a new feeling and it was hollering in my mind like an evangelical preacher without me being able to work out if it meant any good.

  I turned off the light in the yellowroom and crawled into bed between the undersheet and the folded back topsheet embroidered with mother’s monogram. SR. S was for siri. But I didn’t even know what her maiden name had been.

  FORTYTWO

  It was nice to be back at work. I had arrived before anyone else. Got the coffee maker going. Washed up a few glasses and for once had time to look through the nightshift’s log entries. They would be back soon for the handover.

  If the dramatic events at eskilbrännström’s had reached the office I’d find out soon enough.

  Märitljungqvist was the first to arrive. Asked how I was.

  I’m fine I said as I put the glasses away in the cupboard. Would you like a cup of coffee I asked but she didn’t answer. She had put her hands on her belly and a closer look told me that she wasn’t well. Her eyes were bloodshot as if she had a bad cold.

  Are you not well märit I asked.

  I’m fine she said. Just a sore tummy but it will pass. Touch of indigestion probably. She fluttered her hands about to demonstrate what she felt like inside.

  Could be tapeworm I said. What’s that you’re saying she said.

  Tapeworm. A long whitish job that gnaws on one’s gut fat whenever it can.

  She shook her head. Listen to you she said. Tapeworm. This isn’t africa for goodness sake. Just a touch of oldfashioned indigestion. Nothing that a dose of bicarbonate won’t cure.

  She stirred a couple of teaspoons of liver salts into a mug. Drank it quickly and grimaced. The skin of her face was shot through with a mesh of thin blood vessels.

  I went to visit bror this weekend I said. He’s in a rehab home in pite. Seems a good place. He is sober now.

  After that we had no more time to talk. The night staff arrived and the rest of the day crew turned up soon afterwards. Everyone looked tired. It was either too early or too late. I put mugs on the table and poured coffee. Sandwich boxes were pulled out of the handbags.

  We heard the noises made by märitljungqvist throwing up in the toilet.

  Ingermarklund put on more coffee. We all had a refill.

  Jeanette asked who would like to join in a few lines of lotto. Twenty kronor each. I said yes because I had made up my mind to keep practising the role of team player. Everyone joined in except h
ansmikaelnilsson. He was the only man who did homecaring and a right sourpuss. So negative we called him minus.

  Not a hope of winning he said. Do you even have an idea how poor the odds are.

  Fiftyfifty surely jeanette said so we are in with a good chance wouldn’t you say.

  Come off it minus said. Fiftyfifty. More like one to sixteen million.

  You either win or you lose. So it’s fiftyfifty jeanette insisted.

  Everyone except minus laughed at her logic.

  Märitljungqvist came out from the toilet on unsteady legs. I think I had maybe better go home she said. And picked up her handbag and left.

  Her deputy ingermarklund took over now.

  Let’s go for the same worksheets she said. Nothing has changed as far as I know.

  The night staff had nothing new to add. My chess partner had been uncomfortable but otherwise all had been as usual.

  I had a new name added to my list. Veronicabäckström. Göranbäckström’s mum. Ever since göran married she had gone to live in the bakehouse on their farm. I would call on her last before going home.

  It was a fine day. Clear high air and sunshine.

  Allanberg had moved up into the slot for my first morning visit now that ingelahansson had gone and died. In the spring I had managed to swap allanberg for a demented couple in northvillage but it only lasted until the end of the summer and he was back on my list again.

  Even the memory of his long yellow nails couldn’t stop me from feeling upbeat about the future. I turned up the volume on the car radio and was singing along to the refrain of brownsmilingeyes when a deer ran out into the road. I stood on the brakes and just managed to miss the leaping animal’s white rump.

  Whenever I was in a good mood something had to remind me how fragile life was. No matter what I did all would end in the cursed place of gehenna anyway.

  I had to park halfway along the track to the earthly antechamber of gehenna. It was impossible to get any further. Rubbish piled up here as it did figuratively on the eternal dump of evil in the bible where the fire never stopped burning and the worms never died.