The Helios Disaster

by Linda Bostrom Knausgaard

  Two more aides were sitting on a sofa, and they nodded at me and I realized that they wanted it to be quiet at night, so they could do other things. The aide brought a sandwich and milk and I ate it quickly and drank the milk.

  ‘Okay then?’ said the aide, pulling me up.

  We walked toward room four together, and he dumped me in bed like a piece of meat, and I reflected on how I was just that.

  Had I really taken that walk out into the ward in the middle of the night? Or had that been someone else? Was I Artan’s father, wandering around, unable to decide if I should leave my family or not? The medicine pulled me down and I saw the colours darkening with every breath.

  The spray of the shower woke me up; I stood under the water for a long time as it washed over and over me. They’d had to carry me out of the bed; this idea of taking a walk scared me more than anything else. It was about life, and I didn’t want anything to do with that. Artan hadn’t said anything about it today; he’d just carried me to the shower, but I knew he hadn’t forgotten it even though his father was dead and everything. Urban must have brought clothes while I slept; maybe he didn’t want to see me, maybe he saw that I was lost and would never come back. The giant’s foot was there, tearing at me, but I hadn’t received any medicine yet. Did I want medicine? It was always unsettling when the medicine cart came and the patients flocked like birds around the nurse, who always needed help from at least one aide to keep everyone back. They came in to me because I didn’t get out of bed, but I could hear the ruckus out there and it scared me.

  I turned off the shower, saw the steam on the mirror, and dried myself carefully with the towel. The medicine was waiting in my room and I gratefully took the little plastic bottle and swallowed the pills with the water the nurse had in a plastic carafe along with the cups. Soon the foot would disappear and my intestines would stop twisting. On the bed lay a pair of jeans, a yellow shirt, socks, a blue down coat, mittens, and a hat. I didn’t want to look at the clothing, but it was there, waiting for me. Artan wouldn’t give up.

  I dressed in my usual clothes and brushed my hair until the mats were gone. I put my hair up in a ponytail and I thought, maybe I look normal, but none of this is for real. I was dressed as myself, but I was somewhere totally different.

  I looked down at the floor as I walked to the breakfast table. I had never spoken to any of the patients, not even Sara, even though she talked to me sometimes of course, asked me to tell her which looked best on her: this headband or this one; what did I think about lipstick, didn’t dark lips make you look old?

  I ate and I knew that Artan was there in the background somewhere. I had difficulty swallowing, and the tears threatened to come, so I swallowed and swallowed and finally my food was gone and I felt Artan’s hand on my shoulder.

  I cried with my hat on, and my coat in the way. Artan bent down and tied my boots. Then he looked me in the eye and said, ‘Let’s go now. You and I. Just a little walk in the park.’

  I thought it was strange that he could take a walk with me now when he really ought to be at home, and it felt unfair toward him. I cried because I didn’t dare to do it.

  ‘I can’t do it, Artan. I can’t do it.’

  My nose was running and I cried and sobbed, but all along I knew inside that I couldn’t get out of it. That nothing could stop what was about to happen.

  ‘Let’s go now,’ said Artan.

  He took me by the arm, his hand at my elbow, and held me up, firmly; there was no hesitation in Artan.

  We walked out through the locked door; Artan opened it with his key and then locked it again. The stairwell smelled like old snow. We took the few steps toward the elevator and Artan nudged me into it. There were mirrors everywhere, and I caught sight of the one of us two who was me, and it was a sight that made me shout.

  ‘No. No.’

  I hit him, but he took my hands in his at once and looked at me gravely.

  ‘You don’t hit me. Do you hear me? Never.’

  The elevator door opened, and it led out to the doorway, a steel door in the middle of the yellow-painted stairwell. A rubber mat lay there, with slush on it, and that was probably what smelled, along with the snow that was outside. Artan was still holding me by the elbow, and he gave me a little push out.

  ‘There we go. One step. Another step. You can do it. Good.’

  I walked beside him. I was walking on a sanded path, and the ice under it was grey. There were snowbanks beside me because someone had shovelled. The park was covered in white, and we walked there, Artan and I. I smelled the dry snow and the bright sun melting it. I tried to look down at the ground, but Artan kept saying, ‘Look at the birds! Do you see that bush?’ And then, ‘Turn around, and you can see the hospital.’

  I turned around and saw the red-and-white multistorey building. It looked like a little castle.

  ‘That’s where you are now, but it won’t be forever. You’re going to get well.’

  ‘Am I sick now?’ I asked, because I thought I might need to know.

  ‘Yes, right now you’re sick. You are depressed.’

  ‘Is that wanting to die?’

  ‘Yes. That too,’ said Artan before he turned me away from the hospital so I could see the hill down to the kiosk and the road next to it.

  I couldn’t manage any more. How long had we been out? Five minutes?

  ‘Artan,’ I said. ‘We have to go in now.’

  ‘Feel the snow first,’ he said, but I refused. He couldn’t make me. I couldn’t do it. I knew that my refusal was stronger than his will.

  ‘No. I can’t. I can’t!’ I shouted in his face and he looked at me and I could see what he was thinking.

  ‘That’s enough for today. But tomorrow we’ll come out again.’

  He held tight to me, as if he were afraid of dropping me, and this time I closed my eyes as we got on the elevator. All the way up, and then he had to lead me out and when he rang the bell to get into the ward I opened my eyes again, but I just looked at my shoes and the puddles forming under them as the snow melted.

  *

  It was an exhaustion that crowded out everything else, and I slept all day. When I woke up there was a tray of food on a rolling table, and I ate the chicken and potatoes without posing a single question to myself. What did the food taste like? Where was I? I didn’t know. I just brought the fork to my mouth, again and again. Artan had left, and Urban hadn’t been there. It was just me and the room, holding me in its grip. The screen someone had put up because I’d asked for it scared me with its frosted surface. I didn’t want it there, but I couldn’t tell anyone. Not now. Not when the last glimmer of light had disappeared. I had a headache and it was bursting behind my eyes, as if they wanted out of my head, out of their sockets. I saw my eyes carried away on a plate to be put in some other head. I saw it happen and I couldn’t do anything because my tongue was paralyzed and my throat was torn to shreds. I felt inside my eye sockets and it was so soft in there and wet and the blood ran down my hands and arms.

  ‘Anna.’

  It was Sara; had she been lying there all this time?

  ‘Anna, are you awake? I’m going home, Anna. I’m going home tomorrow. The doctors said so. My mom was so happy, Anna, I talked to her on the phone and everything is still where I left it. Everything.

  ‘Anna, I’m going to miss you. Well, everyone. They’re all so nice here. Aren’t they? Anna, you never say anything, but I know you wish me well.’

  I was forced to think about Sara, lying there in her bed, and her longing, but I didn’t have room for it, she was so big.

  I swept my arm to silence her and she didn’t say any more. I didn’t know why I knew that it wasn’t true, what she had said, but I knew it. That her mom wanted her to be here; I had seen it in her mouth, the red sea that opened and closed.

  I felt You shall die with my fingers on the w
all and it calmed me to know that that was how it would end. The life I had no idea how to live. The life that went on out there, that I had been a part of.

  There was a knock at the door and there was Urban. He smelled like snow and sweat, he had been at practice; he had his bag with him. He stood in the crack of the door with the light behind him.

  ‘Anna,’ said an aide named Per Ola. ‘Go sit in the therapy room, you and your brother, so Sara can be alone; she’s sad tonight, Sara is.’

  I followed Urban out into the light. I followed him into the small room where I’d slept the first night. I followed the scent of snow and warmth he spread around him. We sat down on the little sofa bed and he opened his bag and took out a chocolate bar. He broke off a piece and gave it to me and I ate and let the chocolate run out of my mouth and onto my chin, so Urban left me alone in there and went to the bathroom and got paper towels to wipe me with. He said nothing at first, and I couldn’t say anything either, and I wondered if my eyes were where they belonged as I felt the tearing in my throat.

  ‘Anna. I have a letter from the family. The nurse has it. They thought it was too much for you right now. You mustn’t be afraid, Anna.’

  You mustn’t be afraid, Anna echoed through me. Was that what I was? Urban ought to know, right? I couldn’t think about how things were at home, so I looked at Urban’s mouth, how carefully he formed his words. You mustn’t be afraid, Anna bounced between the walls and I could feel my heart running riot in my chest. When could I ask the question? If he could help me die? No, I had to manage it on my own, I had to find a way. I realized now that it wasn’t about wanting to, not entirely, and as long as I was in here I wouldn’t die. Maybe that was the whole point of my being here?

  When the chocolate was gone Urban would leave. I saved a bit in my hand until it melted and got sticky and I ate it off my hand with my teeth, making lines in the chocolate.

  ‘I heard you went outside today,’ said Urban.

  I stared at him. Did he know that? What else did he know?

  ‘That’s good,’ he said. ‘That’s really good.’

  I could tell that he wanted to say something about the skis, but he didn’t let himself. It was like he took a breath, as if to prepare himself, but he changed his mind and the image of skis appeared in that empty space, like a picture from another life.

  ‘Have a nice time now, Anna,’ he said, hugging me, but I couldn’t hug back because now this moment was over and he was going to leave me to the loneliness in here, and it was impossible to stay in it. It was like I tiptoed around this ward and that was the only way it could be.

  I was deep inside the softness that settled around my thoughts when I suddenly sat up. It was night, and the moon was hanging in the sky and looking down on me with its white glow. I had been dreaming; I had eaten gravel and my mouth was bleeding and was it doing that for real? I felt in my mouth, but there was nothing there, just spit, and I felt down so far that it felt like I was going to throw up. I had sand in my mouth, I could feel it, and yet I didn’t. I had to rinse my mouth. I was unsteady on my feet, but I held onto the wall and the night staff looked in my direction, and Pär, a tall man with dark hair, came to help but I waved him off to show that I could take care of myself. I took the couple of steps to the bathroom and to be safe I didn’t turn on the light. I rinsed and rinsed my mouth clean and it was as if the sand was stuck in my teeth, scraping, but that was impossible of course, I told myself, and I kept rinsing until my mouth didn’t squeak anymore and I turned off the tap and felt for the door handle in the darkness, but it wasn’t there; the handle was a knife and I cut my hand and the blood flowed, streaming down onto the floor. I felt the warm blood leaving me and I had to grasp the knife a second time to get out of the bathroom. The night staff ran to me, carried me into a room where the nurse came and bandaged me. ‘How was it possible?’ they said. For me to have a knife on the ward. Where was the knife? The nurse cleaned and put on compresses and pressed and pressed against the blood that kept coming through the compresses so she had to keep changing them.

  Finally they controlled the bleeding and my hand was in a tight bandage. Who had given me the knife? Was it Urban, I heard Pär ask. And then a heap of words rained down over me: rounds, suicidal, inadequate procedures. They brought me back to my room, laid me on my bed, and brought extra IVs, and Pär sat on a chair in the room and looked at me in the dark. His eyes were like two black holes and I rolled over on my side so I was lying against the wall, because I didn’t want him there. He was like an animal waiting to pounce on me.

  Bengt’s face was the first thing I saw when I woke up. I saw his red piggish eyes looking down at me and he had a beret on his head, and a coat. He must have come straight here, without first taking off his outerwear in his room with the icon and the dried flowers.

  ‘We’re going to have a talk, you and I. They’ll come get you at ten o’clock. Until then I want you to do what you normally do. Medicine, breakfast, but you can’t shower today. We need to take care of your cut.’

  I thought about how it was the cut they wanted to take care of, not me. If they’d been taking care of me, I never would have ended up here, and Urban popped into my mind. His way of saying ‘You should be here. Trust me.’

  The patients were sitting over there at the breakfast table like a cluster that moved according to a given pattern, and I walked over to them with Pär only a step behind. Get breakfast, chew, lean toward one another, and look down at the plate. It was like a dance, with everyone’s small movements creating one large, billowing movement. A movement everyone took part in, each in his or her own way. It struck me that even my refusal was part of this larger whole, that I sat there like a fundamental tone, refusing to see. I took some food and it was hard now that my hand was bandaged, so Petra helped me, the woman with the slanted bangs and the pets. I shovelled down my cornflakes with one hand; the other lay helplessly on the table. I was given a sandwich and I ate it like I usually did. Petra took my plate and put it on the kitchen cart and then she took me by the arm to help me up, even though I could do it myself.

  Petra followed me to my room, just a few steps behind me, and I became frightened of having her there behind me. What was this? Why couldn’t I be by myself as usual?

  There were clothes on the bed, my own, Urban had brought them and I realized that I was supposed to get dressed with Petra in the room. I put things on as best I could, but Petra had to help me and pull open the shirtsleeve so my bandaged hand could get through.

  We walked down the hallway, out through the ward, and across to the other side where the doctors sat in their rooms, typing on their typewriters or speaking into their Dictaphones. And they were talking about us; I knew that now. Petra knocked on Bengt’s door and he opened it right away, as if he had been standing by the door waiting for us.

  ‘Sit down, Anna. Petra, you can wait outside,’ he said, and his beret was hanging on the coat rack along with his coat and his chapped head was red under his hair. I sat down in an easy chair and Bengt took his chair and set it down right across from me as if he didn’t want the desk to be in the way now that we were going to talk to each other.

  ‘Anna, where did the knife come from?’ He searched for my gaze, which wanted to wander to the icon and to the window, but he caught me with his small eyes and I realized I would have to answer. I fought with my throat to get control of the words that were all mixed up down there.

  ‘It was the handle,’ I said, although I knew this was the wrong answer.

  ‘Did Urban bring the knife?’ he asked me then.

  I looked out at him, trying to understand who he was. If he knew about the well serpent and the gravel, if he knew how the moon shone. But even though he was a senior physician here, he knew nothing, and that scared me so much my heart beat in my chest.

  ‘No,’ I said.

  I tried, anyway, to say that no, but it didn’t come ou
t into the room; it just lay inside my mouth.

  ‘No, no.’ I tried hard to get that no out. ‘No, it wasn’t Urban.’

  ‘Anna. What happened? We have strict procedures here, you see. Every patient is searched when they arrive. The kitchen knives are locked up and no sharp objects are allowed in the ward. So I’m asking you again. Where did the knife come from?’

  ‘It was the door handle,’ I said again.

  That was all I could say. That was more than I could say. I remembered the night that had passed and the handle burning in my hand, the blood flowing out of me.

  ‘Anna. We have to put an extra watch on you now that we know you have self-harming behaviours. You will always have someone with you. You may not use the bathroom on your own. Someone will sit by your bed when you’re sleeping. But you must tell me where the knife came from. Did you go into the kitchen when they were preparing dinner?’

  I shook my head. I hadn’t.

  ‘You and Artan took a walk. Did you take anything from Artan?’

  I shook my head again.

  ‘I notice that we’re not getting any further, Anna. We’ll have to increase your medication. I believe you have delusions. That you don’t remember. The medicine will help you sort out your thoughts and it will keep you calm. Do you understand what I’m saying?’

  ‘I don’t want to.’

  The words fell out of me and landed in his lap and I clearly saw him pick them up one by one and polish them the way you might polish an apple.

  ‘Then that’s settled, Anna,’ he said with the apples in his hands. ‘And I’ll bring up the inadequate procedures with the staff.’

  He patted me on the shoulder.

  ‘It wasn’t your fault that it happened.’

  I was swimming underwater. Stroke after stroke. Bells were ringing and the congregation was sitting on chairs in rows on the bottom and their folded hands were white and their hair billowed in the water. Erik was at the very front with his hands extended. ‘We pray to the living God,’ he sang. I swam toward them, toward the clocks, toward their outstretched hands. ‘We sing praises to the living God,’ Erik sang, and I swam to an empty chair that was set apart from the others. I sat down on it and held myself in place so I wouldn’t float up. The congregation turned to me as I sat there and their song became stronger. They were screaming. Screaming with wide-open mouths and their mouths were like the screams. Unbearable. I let go of my chair, but I didn’t float up. I was stuck. They looked at me with their eyes and I felt my heartbeat and I tried to escape, but I was theirs. I belonged to them more than I could ever believe, and I screamed too. My scream made them stop and Anna-Lisa turned to me, slid down into my lap, and held her hand over my mouth. I tried to get away; I pulled her long hair and then I hit her in the face, tore at her with my nails until she was bleeding, but she wouldn’t let go. I couldn’t breathe and my vision was going black and I felt death like a black shadow before I fell. I fell down into the blackness and I heard the congregation’s prayers from a distance, prayers to save my soul, which God would receive as one of his own. I cried, cried because it was over, because I hadn’t been able to do more, because life as I knew it was over.