by Tove Jansson
They waited. Ines came in.
Emmelina said, “It’s very pretty.” And added, as if parenthetically, “But it doesn’t suit you.”
Afterwards, down on the street, David said he thought she shouldn’t have said that. “Couldn’t you lie a little just to be nice?”
“Of course I could. But not yet.”
“I don’t understand you,” David said. “But you could try to be nice to my friends.”
Things were even worse at Inger’s. She had a large cage of canaries. One of them, plucked naked and miserable, was being chased around the cage by the other birds, and Inger said, “What should I do with the poor thing?”
“Kill it,” said Emmelina.
“But I just can’t! Maybe the feathers will grow out again …”
“They’ll never get the chance,” Emmelina said. She opened the cage, caught the bird quick as a wink and broke its neck. She laid the pathetic little carcass on the table.
Thank you,” said Inger uncertainly, taking a tiny step back. But David saw, and he saw the look in Inger’s eyes, and he said, “I think we should go home.”
One day, David took Emmelina to see Knut. “Emmelina,” he said, “remember that Knut is my friend.”
They walked to the garage and Knut showed her the best cars he had. David was amazed to hear her ask very knowledgeable questions. She seemed to know a great deal about cars. Knut was enthusiastic. He talked at length about catalytic converters and overhead camshafts, told his guest about all the latest fine points, as he called them, and she seemed to understand everything he said.
“But do you even know how to drive?” said David on their way home. “How do you know all that stuff? Or are you just pretending again?” And before she had time to say nothing at all in reply, he said, “Forget it. Knut liked you.”
Now the snow melted and blue patches opened in the sky. The air was mild. David decided to borrow the company car and drive out to the country somewhere with Emmelina. She needs it, he thought. We’ll take a picnic lunch and spend the whole day outdoors. But Emmelina said she was busy over the weekend. David didn’t ask, but he was bewildered and a little hurt. Every time he’d called, she’d been at home and had no plans, was never in a hurry but simply there. He’d come to count on it.
♦♦♦
Old People’s Homes – those large buildings in out-of-the-way places outside the city – are all much alike. At visiting time, the buses seldom stop, just slow down a bit and then drive on.
The receptionist recognized her. One nurse stopped in the corridor and said to another, “Here she is again. You’ll see, another one of them will go. Last time it was Room 25. Keep an eye on her.”
“I don’t believe all that. She’s just an ordinary bleeding heart with time on her hands.”
“No, no, she always knows when one of them’s going to kick off. Are they afraid of her?”
“Not a bit. If anything, she calms them. Now don’t be childish. One of them thinks he’s Napoleon and there’s another thinks she’s the Queen of Sheba. So why can’t that girl imagine she’s death’s little helper?”
And they walked off in opposite directions.
♦♦♦
“Your little friend,” Ines said, “who’s she playing at? Mystery girl? The little truth teller? Honestly, David, there’s something there I don’t like. What’s her game? We don’t know.”
“So what?” David said. “Leave her alone. Why do you have to know what her game is, if she even has one? You usually just let people be themselves, a very nice quality.”
Ines shrugged her shoulders. “You don’t understand,” she said. “As far as I’m concerned, people can be as odd as they like, that’s up to them. But this girl is odd in the wrong way. She’s sort of not really of this world, if you know what I mean.”
No,” David said rather stiffly. “I really don’t. Let’s talk about something else.”
“Fine, fine, whatever you say. But all the same, take care. There’s something about her – I’m sorry, I can’t help it – that’s a little frightening.”
They were trying to distort his picture of Emmelina, each in her own way. It was better to see them without her. Or maybe not see anyone but Knut.
They were sitting reading their newspapers at their usual place. Knut would get up now and then and put a couple of coins in the slot machine, but he never won, so he’d come back to the table.
“You know what?” he said. “I had such a funny dream last night, although I don’t usually dream at all. What it was was that we were working together at the garage. You were great at selling cars, talked people practically to pieces, you know, like you do at your job. And they said we could start serving beer. Weird, huh?”
“Very,” said David. “Sounds nice. Knut? About women. I don’t understand them. They’re strange.”
Knut thought for a moment, then said, “How much do you like her?”
“I don’t know.”
“Have you asked her?”
“No.”
“And now you don’t know what to do next?” Knut leaned across the table and said, “Maybe I’m wrong, but couldn’t you try to impress her? Tell her about your plans for the future, get her interested, then you’ll be planning together and that will make the whole thing easier, right? Does she know what you want, what your goals are?”
“I suppose she does,” said David heavily. “She seems to know everything, and that’s why there’s nothing for me to say. You see?”
“No, not really,” Knut said and stared at his hands. And then they talked about other things.
Spring had now finally come in earnest. David had once heard or read that spring can be dangerous for people with dark thoughts, a risky crater in the annual cycle, roughly similar to four o’clock in the morning – the easiest time to let go. David made no attempt to curb these thoughts. On the contrary, he dove headlong into them in defiance of all the encouragement offered him on every side – sympathy, advice, concerned questions, his overly friendly and embarrassed boss at work, and Inger, inescapable, more maternal than ever – everyone trying to help except Emmelina. She was silent, the only one capable of understanding.
He was feeling terrifically sorry for himself. He put his troubles all in a row and scrutinized them with bitter satisfaction. Staying in his present job – out of the question. Starting over with something he couldn’t handle and cared nothing about – out of the question. Everything else – out of the question. Absolutely. He was punishing Them, It, The Others, Whatever, by not shaving, not making his bed, not doing his laundry, buying canned food he didn’t even like and eating it directly from the container – yes, there were lots of ways to demonstrate a desperate man’s contempt.
And, most all, he played with the notion of his own death.
Early one Monday morning, Emmelina appeared outside David’s door. Very calmly she told him that he had to quit his job.
“It’s important,” she said. “Don’t wait till tomorrow, David, I beg you.”
“What are you talking about?” David said.
“You know perfectly well what I’m talking about.”
“Emmelina, you don’t understand.”
“Yes, I do, believe me.” And without giving him time to reply she turned and walked up the stairs.
That evening, David went to her and said, “I couldn’t do it.”
“I knew it,” she said. “You were scared.”
“What do you know about scared?” he shouted. “Everyone gets scared! You and your damned crystal balls, empty, stupid crystal balls!” And he slammed the door and went home.
The next morning, David called his office and said he was sick. In fact, he thought, in a way I’ve never been as sick as I am now because I might just as well die. I’m ready to go, even though it doesn’t show. To be on the safe side, he took aspirin and checked his temperature, which was normal, went back to bed and pulled the quilt over his head but didn’t disconnect the telephone. It di
dn’t ring until early evening, and then it was only Inger.
“My dear,” she said, “are you sick? Is it your throat? No? How are you feeling?”
“Awful,” David said. “This could last a long time.”
“Can I come up and make you some tea or something? Maybe we should get a doctor to come have a look at you.”
“No, no, it’s nothing, nothing at all! I just want to sleep and be left in peace, absolutely in peace. Do you understand?”
Before David could repair his rudeness, Inger asked if he wanted her to call Emmelina.
He hadn’t expected that of Inger. For a moment, his voice failed him.
“Are you there?” she said.
“Yes. Good. Good idea. Inger. Thanks. You’ll tell her that I’m feeling really bad?”
David waited, but the doorbell didn’t ring. It was the telephone that rang, and it was Emmelina, finally. “David? Inger said you were sick. She was very friendly.”
“She was? Why wouldn’t she be?”
“She doesn’t like me,” Emmelina explained, almost parenthetically. “What’s wrong with you?”
“I don’t know. Everything’s wrong.”
“Of course it’s wrong. But I think you’d better get up. I’ll wait down at the corner.”
For a moment, anger flooded through him again, but all he said was, “You have to remember that I’m very weak.”
“I know that,” Emmelina said.
Outdoors, the spring dusk was almost warm.
She said, “Let’s go and see Knut. He’s unhappy that he sees so little of you.”
“Have you spoken to him?”
“No. But he’s unhappy.”
Knut stood up when they appeared. “Hi,” he said. “How nice. Miss, two large beers and a small Madeira for the lady. Busy at work?”
“Fairly busy … How about you? Have you sold anything lately?”
“Yes, indeed. A Mercedes. Used. I got the sale by telling the buyer you had a friend who owned the same model. I should almost give you a commission! And what are you two up to this evening?”
“Nothing much.”
“Good. Everyone needs to take some time to just be. It’s restful. And right and proper. Like little Emmelina here, she’s just herself, she just is. Right?” He smiled at her and then went off to put some coins in the slot machine.
They stayed quite a while and talked only when they had something to say.
When David and Emmelina walked home, it had started to rain.
“Spring rain is wonderful,” David said. “Really. It makes all the colours stronger.”
David didn’t know which was greater, his affection for Emmelina or his respect. Plus somewhere there was a little fear, the kind you feel for things that are alien and different, unpredictable. He was unable to hold on to the image of the girl with the candle. The unreachable had somehow grown even more distant.
Then came a time when the maid answered Emmelina’s telephone. No, the young lady was not in, no, she had left no message. Every day the same thing, no matter what time of day. She just wasn’t there. David didn’t let himself worry. It didn’t occur to him that something could have happened to her. He was just immeasurably hurt at being left in the lurch just when he needed her most.
And when she finally came, he shouted at her. “Where have you been? You’re not my friend! You know what I’m going through – and this is the way you behave!”
“I’ve been busy,” she said. “But now I’m here.” She walked past him into the room and sat down at the table. David looked at her beautiful hair, heavy and shimmering. “I’m so terribly tired,” he said. “You know that.”
Emmelina said, “David, I can’t wait for you any longer. It’s getting late for me and I have to go.”
“You sound so strict,” he said. “Why are you being that way?”
“Sleep a little,” Emmelina said. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”
He had recurrent dreams. How he would do it, cleverly contrived so that no one would have a bad conscience – and then right away came the other dream, where he did it with morbid clarity and left everyone in unforgiving self-reproach.
Emmelina was there when he awoke. She was no longer strict but asked him tenderly, “David, do you think it’s worth it? Think about it. Aren’t you the least bit curious?”
David wasn’t listening. “Emmelina!” he burst out. “Do you know that I love you?” And he added quickly, “Don’t say it. Don’t say you knew it.”
She let her lovely hair fall forward so he couldn’t see her face as she answered. “I didn’t know.”
Afterwards, when she’d gone, all he could remember was that she’d promised to come back, but later – “much later” is what she’d said.
David slept all night without dreaming and woke up sometime in the middle of the day and knew it was not too late for anything any more, not for anything whatever. By and by he took the bus to work and talked to his boss. “Good,” his boss said. “I understand. Good luck, and let me know how you’re doing.”
It all went very smoothly. David waited a couple of days in order to have his new freedom all to himself, then he walked upstairs and rang Emmelina’s bell.
It was the maid who opened the door. “No,” she said, “the young lady has moved, crystal balls and all. I’m on my way as well. Nice weather we’re having, don’t you think?”
“Yes indeed,” David said. “And she left no new address?”
“No, she didn’t. I’m very sorry.”
“Don’t be,” David said. “She promised to come back.”
My Friend Karin
1
MY MOTHER AND I CAME TO SWEDEN to visit Grandpa and Grandma in their big parsonage in a valley by the sea. The house is full of uncles and aunts and cousins.
Karin is seven months older than me and also pretty. She comes from Germany. I love her.
One day we built a throne for God on the hayfield, and that’s what I’d like to tell about. When God’s throne was finished, we decorated it with daisies and danced around Him. It was Karin’s idea.
And then something dreadful happened. I don’t know what came over me, but suddenly I ran up to the throne and sat down on it. Karin stopped dancing. She was horrified, and so was I. I think we expected to be struck by lightning.
I didn’t have the nerve to sit there more than a few seconds, but I took the opportunity to imagine what it would feel like to be omnipotent. But I didn’t really have enough time.
That was yesterday. Karin said only one thing. She said, “I forgive you.” And now she doesn’t want to talk to me any more. She is a good friend of God’s, which I’ve heard about quite often enough. She doesn’t talk that much about Jesus, although he could do just as many miracles as God.
There’s a thing I’ve been thinking about, namely Jesus and Judas. Jesus knew perfectly well that Judas was going to betray him. It was settled ahead of time what Judas would do, and he couldn’t do otherwise because it was God’s plan. And it was decided that Judas would go hang himself afterwards and become the world’s biggest scoundrel. Okay, so here’s my question: Is that fair? And then, after all his horror and his terrible remorse, Judas was probably forgiven anyway, because God and Jesus always forgive anyone who repents at the last minute.
Uncle Olov said once that they have a copyright on forgiveness, and what he meant was that you can’t take anyone else’s forgiveness seriously. He said to Mama once, “All that stuff about letting people be born in sin and giving them a bad conscience and then nobly forgiving them. What kind of nonsense is that?”
But Uncle Olov doesn’t believe in God, which is a terrible thing. Otherwise he’s very nice.
I’ve been wondering. The person who forgives is always superior, and the person who gets forgiven feels wretched. I don’t know who to forgive so I can be the superior person. What Uncle Olov said about God giving us a bad conscience is absolutely true. I mean, whatever you do it’s just as bad, right fro
m the start, because we’re born in sin and have to pray for forgiveness all the time. I think it gets kind of boring.
But now I want to tell something nice. It was when I found Grandma’s book about missionaries converting the heathens. Grandma’s other books weren’t much fun, but this one was really good. You know, some heathens worshiped the sun and others believed in someone named Pan, and he just went around in the woods and played the flute and didn’t take anything seriously. Then they had a totem pole and all sorts of stuff but they completely believed in all of it until they were converted. It was a good book. I read it at night after Karin had gone to sleep, all that time she wouldn’t speak to me. During the day I read the Five Books of Moses out in the meadow. That was even more exciting and also better written. Among other things, I found it comforting to see that God could behave badly. His feelings were often hurt and He could be jealous of other gods, and He took the time and trouble to wreak quite a lot of vengeance. Of course, that did not diminish my respect for Him, but I did start taking morning prayers and Bible studies a little less seriously, and that was too bad. I mean, not bad, but it was a shame, if you know what I mean.
2
That was the summer Grandpa was working on his great dissertation and needed to concentrate. Since he knew how much Karin’s papa Hugo liked to preach, he let him take over the daily text and say grace before meals, but Uncle Hugo was so zealous that he also took over much of the Bible study and a lot of the hymn singing. All the relatives had to attend. He looked closely and knew exactly who was missing. Although he gave up on Uncle Olov right from the start.
Uncle Hugo had a brown velvet coat and a white cap with a peak and he played the cello.
Sometimes I wondered what God must think of Uncle Hugo, who in a way had stolen all the glory. After all, my grandfather was the Royal Chaplain, and Uncle Hugo was just an ordinary priest who’d married his daughter. But he carried on as if we were facing the Day of Judgment and he knew best. Although he was really nice and very worried about all of us.
