by Viveca Sten
Emir gave a wolfish smile and moved closer to the table. Dino was about to throw up when Andreis pushed the gun aside. He sniffed the air and pointed to Dino. “I’m fucking starving—what are you waiting for? Pizza!”
Dino slowly put the boxes down on the table without taking his eyes off the Glock. He was sweating like a pig, and prayed no one would notice. Fear has its own smell. Dino knew that, and so did Andreis.
“Another five minutes and he’d have taken a bite out of that thing,” Emir said, pointing to the gun.
Dino obediently forced his lips into a smile. Emir grabbed a slice of marinara. The mussels on top of the cheese began to move in front of Dino’s eyes; he felt sick.
“Andreis scared the shit out of Mina’s parents the other night,” Emir went on before taking a big bite of pizza. The tomato sauce turned the corners of his mouth red.
Andreis nodded with satisfaction. “They thought it was their last moment on this earth.”
Dino cleared his throat, hoping his voice would hold up. “Did you go over there on Saturday?”
Andreis nodded again. “Useless fuckers,” he mumbled through a mouthful of food. “Scared of their own shadows.”
Dino had to ask the question. “Did you find out where Mina is?” Andreis shook his head but didn’t seem particularly bothered. Did he have a new plan?
“My lawyer’s working on it,” he said.
“Mina’s mother had a heart attack,” Emir confided, taking a swig from a can of beer. “She was so frightened she nearly pissed herself.”
Something about Andreis’s posture made Dino feel he could breathe again. He opened his own pizza box in spite of his churning stomach.
Andreis’s thoughts seemed to be elsewhere. His movements weren’t as tense as the other night, and the look in his eyes was less suspicious.
Dino took a bite of pizza and chewed. It tasted of ashes. He didn’t dare reach for a beer; he didn’t want them to see that his hands were shaking. His armpits were wet with sweat, and he could feel it running down his back. He pressed his spine against the chair and hoped they wouldn’t notice.
The situation was under control. Andreis hadn’t found out what he’d done, and everything was just the same as usual. He was safe. For now.
Bosnia, March 1993
Mom was busy peeling potatoes for dinner. Andreis was hungry; it was a long time since lunch, which had consisted of soup with no meat. They hardly ever ate meat these days.
However, at least the air was warmer. He wasn’t constantly shivering as he’d been all winter.
He was sitting at the kitchen table, drawing with his colored pens. He wanted to do a really nice picture for Mom to cheer her up. She always looked so sad, and she never laughed.
“This is for you.”
He held out the picture for her to admire. He’d tried to draw their garden, the berry bushes, the fruit trees, and the pretty flowers. Mom used to like puttering around out there, although she didn’t really bother anymore.
“Thank you,” she said, putting it aside without looking at it.
Andreis swallowed his disappointment. “Will you play with me?”
“I don’t have time right now.”
She said that whenever he asked. She was always too busy for him. Andreis was bored; almost all his friends had left the little village. There was one thing he wanted to ask his mother, but he wasn’t quite sure how to do it. “Why is Dad always mad at you?” he said eventually.
Mom put aside the potato peeler. She reached for a cigarette and lit it. “What do you mean?”
“You keep yelling at each other.”
Andreis didn’t know how to continue. His eyes were inexorably drawn to the bruises on his mom’s forearm. Last night he’d been woken yet again by another terrifying argument.
“You never kiss and cuddle anymore,” he said, lowering his head.
Mom put down the cigarette and dropped to her knees in front of him. “Sweetheart, sometimes moms and dads disagree—that’s just the way life is. It’s nothing for you to worry about.” She kissed each of his eyelids; that was their special thing. “Your dad and I have a different opinion about certain matters. It’s not unusual.” Her eyes shone with unshed tears. “Our country is at war, Andreis. It’s not easy for anyone right now. Dad’s having a hard time, just like everyone else.”
“Is that your fault?”
Mom sighed. “What makes you say that?”
“Dad’s so angry.”
Mom pushed back her hair and picked up the cigarette again. She took a deep drag, turned her head, and blew the smoke away from Andreis’s face. “Dad’s frustrated,” she said, stroking her son’s hair. “He wants to go and fight, but his bad leg means he can’t do that. He’s worried and scared, just like me.”
Andreis had another question that kept him awake at night. He gathered up his courage. “Are we going to leave Dad?”
Mom pulled him close and gave him a big hug. “Of course not, you silly boy. We’re a family. Families stick together, whatever happens.”
CHAPTER 50
Thomas cautiously turned down the covers so that he could slide into bed without waking Elin. She was fast asleep on Pernilla’s side, still clutching her rabbit. He switched off the lamp, knowing he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on a book. Elin’s words had had a profound effect on him.
When Emily died he’d been devastated, but the despair he felt now was almost as excoriating, though in a different way. When Elin was born, he’d vowed to do everything in his power to protect her—and look where they were now. Elin’s life had been torn apart, and she wondered if it was her fault.
He propped himself up on one elbow and gently stroked her soft cheek with his index finger. Nothing was more important than Elin; why couldn’t Pernilla see that?
They’d had a huge fight back in June. He thought Pernilla was away too much, and when she finally came home, she was stressed and irritable. He couldn’t bear to see the sadness in his daughter’s eyes when Pernilla disappeared for weeks at a time. He had found it increasingly difficult to cope with his own job, even though his mother willingly helped out. He had obligations, too, something his partner didn’t seem to understand.
He’d tried to explain that he felt more and more like a single dad, so maybe it was time to accept the situation: they’d reached the end of the road.
Eventually they’d decided to try again. They loved each other, and they’d already been through so much together. They couldn’t simply give up again; they had to think of Elin.
Thomas had really believed Pernilla’s assurances that this would be a fresh start. He’d been optimistic all summer, and enjoyed the weeks they’d spent on Harö. The usual bickering had disappeared. Pernilla had made a real effort and had barely looked at her laptop or cell phone during the vacation.
It had almost been like before, when they nurtured their love.
Thomas lay down on his back. That was the last time they’d been happy.
Once the fall came, Pernilla started traveling again, and her days at the office grew longer. Elin cried for her mother in the evenings, and Thomas seethed with anger when he saw how disappointed she was.
Things came to a head late one night early in October, when Pernilla admitted that she’d accepted a more demanding role in the company without even discussing it with him. Thomas had lost his temper.
“You lied to me!” he’d shouted in the bedroom, ignoring the fact that Elin was sleeping next door. “Everything you said back in the summer about putting the family first—did you mean any of it?”
He’d been holding a book, and without realizing what he was doing, he’d hurled it onto the floor with a crash that reverberated through the whole apartment.
Pernilla had been white-faced as he continued: “You don’t give a shit about me or Elin. Nothing’s more important than your career.”
They’d yelled at each other like never before, said things that could never be taken back.
He didn’t know who she was anymore, and he couldn’t forgive her. What made it worse was the fact that he’d actually believed her when she promised to change and put the family first. It had meant so much more than he’d realized at the time.
Darkness descended on their relationship. He’d slept on the sofa in the living room, and the following day Pernilla had gone off on a long-planned business trip to the US. When she returned to Sweden, she’d found alternative accommodation.
“You’re impossible to live with,” she’d explained on the phone.
He felt exactly the same about her.
He turned onto his side. He had to find a way to get along with Pernilla. They couldn’t let their daughter suffer like this.
The problem was that he had no idea how to fix the situation.
CHAPTER 51
Mina lay curled up on her side, wishing she were dead. It was all her fault—Mom was in the hospital, and Dad was in a terrible state.
Why hadn’t she left Andreis the first time he hit her?
She still didn’t understand why she hadn’t done it. How many times had she read in her magazines about women who’d been abused? She’d always wondered why they didn’t simply walk away. Every article advised readers to leave at the very first sign of violence, and Mina had nodded to herself. It was obvious—what woman would stay with a man who beat her?
Then she ended up in the same situation, and forgave and stayed and forgave again.
Andreis had been so upset the first time it happened. He’d bathed her wounds and kissed her bruises one after another. He’d sworn by all he held sacred that he’d never do it again. They had wept together, and he had clutched her hands, apologizing over and over.
She loved him so much; how could she ignore his distress and leave him?
Then it happened again and again and again.
Gradually she began to recognize the warning signs. She learned to be afraid when the bathroom door slammed in a particular way, or when he came into the kitchen with an ice-cold look in his eyes. She knew what to expect when he called her from the car using a certain tone of voice, or when he sat down at the dining table without even bothering to say hello. The way he put down his glass. Her body reacted instantly. Her heart began to race, and she broke out into a cold sweat before she even realized what was going on.
The waiting was almost the worst part, the knowledge that he would soon unleash his anger and violence, and that there was nothing she could do to prevent it. She had no control whatsoever.
Sometimes she just lay there wishing it would come quickly so that at least it would be over—this time. Afterward things calmed down for a while. Every blow, every bruise earned her a kind of respite. When he grabbed her by the hair and pulled so hard that she almost blacked out, she consoled herself with the thought that he’d be nice to her for a week or so.
She looked over at the crib. Lukas was the only thing that made her life worth living, and he needed her.
She couldn’t allow herself the luxury of death.
CHAPTER 52
Nora was brushing her teeth when Jonas came into the bathroom.
“I’ve put Julia’s gym clothes in her backpack,” he said, reaching for his own toothbrush. “I can drop her off tomorrow if you want to leave early for work.”
“Thanks,” Nora mumbled through a mouthful of toothpaste.
Jonas turned the cold water on at the faucet. “By the way, did you manage to speak to Thomas about therapy?”
Nora felt a pang of guilt. She’d had so much on her mind that she’d completely forgotten to call him. She spat into the sink. “No, I haven’t gotten around to it yet.”
“We should have him over to dinner one evening.”
Jonas’s thoughtfulness made her so happy. It was good that he cared about her best friend. He’d quickly become friends with Thomas and Pernilla, and liked them both very much. There had never been any tension between Jonas and Thomas, as there had been with Henrik. The two of them had never really gotten along, and that had become even clearer when Nora finally decided to leave Henrik. Thomas had encouraged her every step of the way.
“Maybe next weekend, when Simon’s back with us?” Jonas went on.
Thomas was Simon’s very committed godfather. Nora had always suspected that he’d have liked more children.
“I really hope he and Pernilla can sort things out,” Jonas said. “It’s not easy being single with a young child.”
He knew what he was talking about. When they first met, his daughter, Wilma, had been only thirteen years old, and Jonas had spent a long time as a single dad. He and his partner Margot were only twenty when she got pregnant, and their relationship had been short lived. Over the years the two of them had built up a strong friendship as they coparented Wilma.
“I hope so, too,” Nora said. “They’ve split up before and managed to start afresh. Plus they have Elin to consider; it’s not just about what they want.” She picked up the jar of night cream that presumably promised far more than it could deliver, dipped her finger in, and began to work the cream into her face. “It seems as if Thomas is the one who’s taken it hardest—or maybe that’s my impression because I’ve talked to him more than Pernilla. She travels so much it’s hard to get a hold of her.”
Nora felt a little guilty that she hadn’t spoken to Pernilla over the past few months, but then Thomas was her oldest and closest friend. It wasn’t a competition; Nora was doing the best she could—and to be fair, Pernilla hadn’t contacted her either.
“I thought he was the one who decided they should separate,” Jonas said.
“Did he tell you that?” Nora realized she sounded offended, but Thomas hadn’t confided in her.
“Not exactly, it was just something he said back in the summer. You remember that weekend when Pernilla rushed off from our crayfish party? After you’d gone to bed, Thomas and I had a beer down by the jetty.”
Nora nodded. They’d held the annual crayfish celebration on Sandhamn, together with friends and neighbors. Pernilla had taken a phone call and announced that she had to leave for London immediately.
“He was furious. It was obvious that things weren’t right between them, and that he really didn’t want her to go, but she went anyway.”
Pernilla hadn’t been happy either. She’d clearly felt guilty, and had left after profuse apologies.
“It’s not easy to balance a job like that with a partner and a child,” Nora said. “There are bound to be conflicts along the way.”
“That’s not what it’s about.”
“So what is it about?” she asked, putting down the jar of cream with a little too much force. “The fact that Thomas can’t cope with his wife being a highflier and earning more than he does?” Jonas’s analysis of Thomas and Pernilla’s relationship irritated her. Thomas was her best friend, not his.
“Are you mad at me?”
Nora shook her head and tried to smooth things over. “What were you going to say?”
Jonas scratched the back of his neck. “I think Thomas would be able to cope with Pernilla’s job if she just made him feel that he came first in her life.”
He drew Nora close.
“It’s not about the hours she works or how much she earns,” he murmured in her ear. “Thomas isn’t that kind of guy—we both know that.”
“As I said—so what is it about?”
“She makes him feel irrelevant, and he can’t handle that. He’d rather be alone.”
Tuesday
CHAPTER 53
She didn’t even have her own hairbrush. Mina gazed at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She’d just washed her hair with the cheap shampoo she’d been given. It was a million miles from her usual brand, which smelled divine and was specially made for long blond hair. The strands felt dry and brittle, even though they were still damp.
Everything except her purse was still back home in Kolarängen. Every stitch she and Lukas were wearing was borrowed. Nor did she have
any money. The little she had squirreled away was hidden in the house, where Andreis wouldn’t find it.
She sank down on the toilet seat. She didn’t want to stay here among all the other abused women who also wept at night. She wanted to sit in her own kitchen with a cup of coffee as the morning sun streamed in through the window.
She wanted to go home.
She stared at the shampoo bottle next to the sink, then swept it onto the floor. It bounced on the cheap vinyl and rolled into a corner.
If only things could go back to the way they used to be . . .
Mina got to her feet and contemplated her reflection again. The bruises had begun to fade, and the stitches were healing. She still looked battered, but not quite as bad as before. She would soon be able to show herself in public without attracting the wrong kind of attention.
She bent down and picked up the shampoo. She longed for her own home in a way she’d never thought it was possible to long for material possessions. The simplest details, like opening a drawer and seeing lingerie she’d bought herself. Being able to dress Lukas in something cute and new instead of the faded clothes another baby had already worn.
She’d never realized how much it all meant. Maybe that was how Andreis’s mother had felt when she’d been forced to leave her old life behind—a yearning for the everyday, for some kind of normality, even though the world was on fire and the life she knew had been smashed to pieces.
Mina closed the bathroom door and went to make herself some breakfast. Lukas had already eaten, and was sleeping peacefully in the crib by her bed. She’d hoped to find the kitchen empty, but Anna-Maria was standing by the coffee machine.
There were crumbs all over the wooden table. Someone else had eaten without clearing up. Mina always wiped the table when she’d finished; Andreis had made her very meticulous about such matters.
Anna-Maria gave her a warm smile. “Good morning, Mina—how are you today? Would you like a cup of coffee?”
