Your first proper meal for more than a week she said. Won’t that be a treat.
Only the tapeworm was keen.
I rang john’s number again. His phone was still off. Then diana. Same message.
That fairytale of hers about thumbelina and the boy with the lion’s mouth went round and round in my mind without my being able to get a grip. How had she actually told it.
I studied her note. See you soon mum it said. Now I’m going to meet the boy on the strand.
If that boy was john. If he chose not to tell her. If he became as mad as that time.
Another knock on the door.
Göranbäckström stepped inside. He brought a bulging carrier bag from the coop. Took the cap off as men in our village usually do and nodded a greeting. Pulled up a chair next to the bed rather than sitting down on the armchair.
I had an errand in town. So I thought. Are you feeling better now he asked.
Yes I said. I can’t remember much of what happened. You rang me. After that nothing.
I couldn’t get in. The door was locked and I couldn’t find any spare key. In the end I broke your toilet window. I found you on the floor in the yellowroom he said.
You mean in the hall I said.
No he said. If you hadn’t been so ill I would’ve liked to stay and have a look at those clay figures you make. It looked like the entire hunt crew.
Remembering the battalion of drunks made me laugh. I laughed and coughed a cough that began deep down and tore its way through my body. Göranbäckström pushed on the button to get the bed into a better position and fetched a glass of water.
Hadn’t you better eat something he said. No I’m not hungry.
He rustled inside the plastic carrier that was propped up between his feet. Pulled out a bundle of magazines and newspapers and placed them on my table.
The missus put in some weeklies you might like. And issues of vk and your mail. And noragran came by with a bag of homebaking for you. She sends her best wishes and hopes you’ll get better soon.
He opened the bag and held it out for me. Steaming freshly baked muffins inside.
I took one to be polite. Thank you I said. Please tell them.
By the way I said once another bout of coughing was over. How did I get here.
I called the ambulance but it was twenty minutes away so I wrapped you up in the reindeer skin and carried you to the crossroads. The ambulance met up with me there.
Gratefully I touched his hand. He looked awkward.
Without you I might not have survived I said.
No he said. That could be so. But you’re a kippo after all. Tougher than most perhaps.
Your wife göran. Sonja. She’s beautiful when she smiles but you probably know that already. You should see to it that she smiles now and then.
I hardly knew what I was saying so for a while we were silent together. It was a comfortable silence. The kind of silence that people from our village share when they like each other.
There was something you wanted to talk about. Was it about maria I asked.
Partly he said. But it can wait if you’re not feeling up to it. That’s fine I said.
Göranbäckström went out to get himself a cup of coffee. I fell asleep straightaway. I was crawling on a rotten roof. It could crash under me at any moment.
FORTYSIX
Next time i woke it was night again but something was different. My body was different. It was cool. And it didn’t ache. Not much anyway.
I sat up in bed. Then perched on the edge of the bed. Tried putting my feet on the floor and standing. My legs hadn’t walked for nearly two weeks. I held on to whatever there was on the way to the toilet. I walked from the toilet to the bed and then back to the toilet. My legs felt stronger with every step I took. I needed strong legs to get home.
There was a text from diana.
You might have told me about john slash dad. I’m already getting fed up with your secrets. Keep in touch.
She sounded angry. I felt relieved though.
Hi diana I texted back. All families have secrets. Phone whenever. Love.
I was discharged two days later. I put my few belongings in göranbäckström’s carrier bag and set out to find the lift. I had to stop and take a rest several times.
John was waiting in the jeep parked in a bus bay. It was like a rerun of a film I didn’t fancy watching again. He got out when he saw me and held the door open.
It’s been snowing he said. I changed tyres yesterday.
He put my things in the back seat and even helped me with the safety belt. I inhaled his scent. It’s a bad habit. It is heavy with pheromones and demons.
How did you know I’d be discharged today.
I checked the time on my phone. Two o’clock.
I rang the ward and asked john said. Told them I was going to drive you home.
Why didn’t you phone me instead of just turning up.
You don’t even answer texts he said. Besides I’ve been phoning the hospital every day. Talked to the nurses to find out how you are. I thought I’d better leave you in peace.
You’re a coward. You’re ashamed. You try to hide. You cover things up. You.
He took a pinch of snuff. Wiped his fingers on his knee and turned the radio on. We listened to the news. Nothing special had happened.
Bror is back home again he told me. I picked him up in pite yesterday. He seems a lot better. Even had a haircut.
They kicked him out I said. We haven’t paid the bill.
We’ll see if he stays sober for any length of time.
He looked at me and at the road and then at me again. You’ve got some colour back in your cheeks he said.
What do you know about that I said.
I sat with you the first night in hospital he said. Göranbäckström rang me. I went home when diana arrived. I didn’t want to be in the way when you two met. How did it go.
I hardly remember anything I said because I wanted to keep that memory to myself. I was febrile and slept almost all the time. Apparently she went to stay with you afterwards.
Yes she just knocked on the door. Didn’t phone to tell me. She stayed the night and slept on the pullout sofa.
And where did you sleep I asked.
I didn’t. Just pulled a chair up and sat by her. Watched her sleep.
Something must have happened. The flow of traffic was slowing down. Then it came to a standstill.
Was it true what you said about petra I asked. Yes it’s true. But it doesn’t matter.
Do you know who her father is I asked.
That I knew but he didn’t was part of a kind of revenge. Of course he might know and be unable to do anything about it. He is married.
Once petra was born something changed maria. It was hard for her. She was in labour for almost two days and nights. They pulled the baby out by suction in the end. Maria would barely look at her. She felt nothing for the baby she said. She couldn’t love her child even though she wanted to. And she said that she couldn’t love me even though she wanted to. She cried almost all the time and when she wasn’t crying she was silent. Sat on the sofa and smoked. Didn’t go outside ever. Didn’t answer phone calls. If someone knocked on the door she didn’t open it. Stopped answering when you spoke to her.
How could you let her care for petra when you knew she couldn’t cope I asked.
She was hardly ever left alone with the baby he said. Only for a short while in the early evening before I came home. All day noragran was on hand to help. This was when I was working in ume. One evening I was back a little later than usual. All the house lights were off. The door was locked. Petra was in her cot. She didn’t even cry. But the mattress was soaking. Her quilt was hanging over a chair.
Maria came back early the next morning. I was sitting on the sofa with petra. I had wrapped her in a sheepskin. Maria stopped in the doorway. She scowled at us. Then she went off to bed upstairs.
She had postpartum psychosis didn’t she I
said.
Yes he said. That’s what they called it. Anyway, the child care services sent someone along to talk to maria but she refused. A couple of hours afterwards an ambulance pulled up outside. She allowed herself to be taken away without a glance at me or petra.
Many months later she was back home. The medication and the hospital food had made her put on too much weight but her mind had brightened up. She seemed quite interested in petra but in a way that reminded me of people watching colourful fish in an aquarium.
Noragran kept coming round as before and maria didn’t argue. She was busy elsewhere. She’d disappear and return full of renewed energy. That’s how it started I suppose.
For a while we sat in silence. Snow hurled itself against the windscreen. It was only half past three but already dark. Car lights were of little use. Neither full nor dipped beam helped. The long line of cars snaked slowly along the efour. It was soporific to be inside the warmth aware of the winter outside and hearing the sounds of the cars.
Why don’t you rest a little he said and pulled me gently towards his shoulder. Getting home will take its time.
I went by the cottage and looked for you I said. Not because I wanted to see you but because I had promised to and I was scared of what you might do if I didn’t come. But you weren’t there.
You mustn’t be scared of me he said.
It was a poor attempt to confuse the issue.
I didn’t say I was scared of you. I said it frightened me to think what you might do to yourself if I didn’t turn up. There’s a difference. Besides, where were you.
Seeing a medic. Göranbäckström drove me to a&e. He is a good man. I understand why you trust him he said. Well now that is news I thought.
Do you remember what happened I asked.
I thought petra was maria. I wanted retribution. Or more to the point. I wanted to hit her lovely face until there was nothing beautiful left to see.
Why do you think it struck you just then I asked a while later.
The efour was at a standstill again.
You know yourself how things are he said. No I don’t I said thinking about my clay men.
My memory seems to run a neverending show he said. I woke up at night thinking I was about to die. I got a prescription for some kind of tablet. Doctor’s order. And my anguish subsided but my drive to paint too. By the time petra came along I had drunk a great deal. It was a fantasy that alcohol would start me off painting. Then things went from bad to worse. Come to think of it you haven’t seen all my work yet. The latest ones are quite early memories.
Memories of what I asked even though I was too tired to listen.
Do you really want to hear he asked. Perhaps you’d rather sleep. Not at all I lied.
When I was little and adam had died in the fire brännströms sent me off to a school for deaf and dumb children in örebro. I told you about that already.
You were ten years old I said.
Most of the kids at that school were older than me. Boys and girls were housed apart. Lights out was at exactly nine o’clock. It set off stirring in the snakepit. At first I was a perfect victim. Small for my age and harelipped and ugly.
There were many others who were like me. Sent to the deaf and dumb school to have sense beaten into them. I learned to endure until I had grown into my skin and could hit back. Eventually my fists struck them hard enough and the snakes wriggled off to torment others.
I was twelve or thirteen when new girl came to the school. She was two years older than me but we became friends. My first friend ever apart from adam. She was completely deaf but we got on well because I had learned sign language.
She was fun to be with and smart. The kind of person who enjoyed making other people feel good about themselves. She didn’t even seem to see how ugly I was. On the contrary. She shone like a sun on everyone who needed warmth. The problem was that I wanted her to shine on me alone.
We started going out for real. She was my first girlfriend. I couldn’t have enough of her company. Wanted to keep her close to me always. So close there was no room for anyone else. So close that no one but me would even get near her. Love didn’t just fire me up. I was obsessed. Then she said she didn’t want to go out with me anymore.
No wonder I said.
Precisely. But instead of grieving and then getting on with life I went for her. Beat her up until her body was lying lifeless on the floor. Only then did I stop.
I never even wrote to say how sorry I was. I figured she had only herself to blame.
Are you saying that your paintings are about violence.
Yes. Senseless violence. Diana is the only one who has seen them. They’ll be shown in the exhibition.
John and diana. The familiar feeling of being excluded. Tiredness might have been part of it. Father and daughter. I wanted to join in. I wanted to belong.
It made me angry.
What about the here and now I said. Where do I fit into the picture. You tell me I mustn’t be afraid of you and meanwhile you’re having psychotic visions. How can I ever trust someone like you.
You can’t he said. You cannot trust someone like me. I can’t predict the future. But just now we are sitting together in the car. It’s quarter past four. Next to me sits the girl who rammed a hayfork into her father’s belly and has been regretting ever since that he didn’t die. Violence lives inside us jana. It’s how it is.
We sat in silence for the rest of the journey watching the snow fall on the windscreen. It wasn’t an unpleasant silence. Only the kind of silence you end up in when searching for new words seems too hard.
FORTYSEVEN
Everything was back to how it had been.
Bror was at home. With his fresh haircut and a few added kilos he looked almost normal. Inside he wasn’t so good. He didn’t say much. Pottered about mostly cutting wood. Came in to eat and left again.
Otherwise he just sat with the cat on his lap his eyes gazing into the distance. The cat had turned up one day. She kept ambling around the steps and meowing. It was a small cat of no distinction. She didn’t care for me. It was bror she was after. She slept by his pillow and rested on his lap. As if she sensed something.
On the saturday he asked if I wanted to come with him to church. To church I asked.
Yes. Either the ordinary one or mother’s.
And I who thought you disliked the blackcoats. Godbotherers you called them.
That’s right. I don’t like them.
It had to be the ordinary one because the service started an hour later in that church. It had been snowing all night.
The minister was a new man. We went to sit close to the front. The congregation was quite large even though that sunday wasn’t a special holy day.
The first line of pews was full of children to be confirmed. Boys to the left and girls to the right. Unlike bror I had always liked going to church. Sacred phrases came to mind almost whatever happened to me. Mediated by mother’s embroideries words arrived in dreams. It was part of how I responded to the world around me.
My upbringing had hammered the language of the bible into me as well as its judgemental old testament division of the world into right and wrong. A place where fires burned and angels sang. I behaved badly towards people quite often but would suffer for it every time in one way or another. I knew that. It was the law of karma to use a worn expression. Law of cause and effect. It never failed to apply and that was a kind of reassurance.
Bror on the other hand had always had problems with religion. Especially the ministers of the church. The plastic trays as he called them. I think he was jealous because they had taken his mother away from him.
I glanced at bror. He had closed his eyes and clasped his hands tightly together.
What have you done I thought. It couldn’t be worse he thought back to me.
We believe in god the father almighty creator of heaven and earth.
The minister was about our age but looked older in his glasses and minister’s bl
ack coat. His voice was pleasing.
He went to address us from the pulpit. It was unusual. Ministers who wanted to be modern showed it by staying level with the congregation. Up there he was a bit above us and could look out over us. His eyes lingered for a moment on the third row from the front where two ginger redfaced twins sat studying the reading of the day.
A celebrity told us on television that forgiving is not what you do for others he began. Forgiving is what you do for your own sake.
Is that so I thought.
Bror’s hands were still tightly clasped.
Forgive us our sins it says in the bible. As we forgive those who sin against us.
No way I thought. Never.
But what does it actually means to forgive another person. Why is it so important. After all forgiveness isn’t about accepting whatever has been done. Nor is it pretending that nothing has happened. It is a way of letting go of what makes us bitter and angry. To forgive is to move on.
He made a rhetorical pause. Glanced at the congregation.
We have all met people whom we find hard to forgive. Whether it is in a war or in love at work in the family or in friendship. But if we do not forgive we become unable to lead a full life. And if we ourselves are not forgiven then that is how we would end up.
In gehenna I whispered to bror. We would end up in gehenna.
We are in gehenna he whispered back. Always have been.
The organ boomed into the prelude to leadkindlylight. We all stood.
Lead kindly light amidst th’encircling gloom. The night is dark and I am far from home. Keep thou my feet. I do not ask to see the distant scene. One step is enough for me.
Then we said our father. I didn’t know the new translation. Fumbled like a dyslexic with the simplified sentences.
We approached the altar. Knelt. Waited to taste the body of jesus.
When it was our turn the minister stopped. Looked at the twins and said. The body of christ sacrificed for you. Put the wafer on each of our tongues.
The blood of christ spilt for you. He held out the chalice for us to drink. Not even at holy communion were we seen as individuals.
My Brother Page 22