Yesterday's News

by Kajsa Ingemarsson

  “And you?”

  “None. Oh, I dunno. Maybe one. Or two. But not right now.” He fell silent. Agnes tried to think of something to say but couldn’t conjure up one single topic of conversation that would interest them both. Just when she was about to excuse herself to refill her glass, he got going again. “I’ve been laid off from the factory.”

  “You as well.”

  “Yeah.” He suddenly looked even drunker, staring down at the beer can in his hand. “Fuck, I’m only twenty-six and already on the unemployment line. How do you think that feels?”

  Agnes thought about it. Until a few weeks ago, she’d also been unemployed. But this was different. In Agnes’s case it was a matter of not getting the job she wanted. For this guy, and everyone else at the factory, it was a matter of probably not getting any job at all.

  “Can’t you move away?”

  “Move? That’s what they say at the job center, too, but this is my home. Everyone I know lives here—my girl, my parents, my mates.” He took another swig of beer. Agnes started to feel sorry for him. Until he put his hand on her thigh. High up her thigh. So she excused herself and went into the kitchen. The girls were standing in a group discussing interiors. The guys were standing in another group discussing, as far as she could make out, ice hockey. She poured herself a cup of coffee from the pump thermos that Madde had provided. Then she found her sister and said that she was thinking of leaving. She was going to sleep over at their parents’. Madde was a little put out that she was leaving so early, but didn’t insist that she stay.

  “Listen, what I said about Tobias,” she began tentatively while Agnes put on her coat. “I hadn’t meant to say anything, I didn’t want to gossip, but given that things were how they were, I thought that.…”

  “It’s all right, Madde. We’ll say no more about it.” Agnes zipped up.

  “But I just wanted to.…”

  “Then you’ll have to talk to Jonas. I don’t want to talk any more about Tobias.”

  Madde almost recoiled at the sharp tone in Agnes’s voice.

  “OK, OK, we won’t. Thanks for coming.” She gave Agnes a hug.

  “Thanks for the party.” Agnes turned and started to leave, but stopped when Madde started to talk again.

  “But look, there’s just one thing.…” Agnes clenched her teeth. She didn’t want to hear any more about Tobias, couldn’t Madde get that into her head? “That oil.… I thought it tasted a little strange.” She grinned at Agnes.

  “Yeah, yeah. Use it as bath oil instead. Bye.”

  “Bye.”

  Her mom was waiting up for her, just like she used to. Agnes sat at the kitchen table across from her and told her about the party. Nothing about how alienated she’d felt there, but a full account of what had been served up. And then she told her briefly about Pasta King, doing her best to sound a little positive. Kalle’s proposal remained unmentioned, and her mom seemed to be happy with the little that she heard. Then she went to bed.

  Agnes lay in bed a while before falling asleep. Looked at the moon outside. Wondered if she’d made a mistake moving from Länninge, if she’d have been happier if she’d stayed. What did it matter, it was all academic now, anyway. She’d made her choice, her life was like it was and at times she was actually quite content. She thought about it a little longer, looked at the familiar silhouettes of the chair and table by the window, the rocking chair her grandfather had made, the cushion she’d embroidered at school. Well, for one, she liked her apartment, she thought. And her friends. That was as far as she got. The rest she’d just have to work on.

  CHAPTER 12

  NO, THINGS COULDN’T carry on like this. She simply couldn’t take it any more. Pasta King was the worst job she’d ever had. The schedule was scandalously bad, her pay disgracefully low, and the food dished up disgustingly bad – no, worse than that: it was really, really repulsive. More than half the staff were paid under the table, the kitchen was a veritable hygiene hell, and on top of all this she was convinced that Micke, the owner, was having an affair with Rosita despite being married. She might have dropped a Château Pétrus on the floor, but surely she was worth more than this?

  Agnes stood behind the register and watched the last of the lunch guests leaving the stuffy little diner. She ought to follow them. She really ought to follow them.

  Agnes stole into Micke’s tiny office and retrieved the note with Kalle’s number on it. It took a while for him to answer. She fiddled nervously with some papers lying on the desk. The sheets were headed Solvalla Racecourse, but that was all she had time to read before Kalle picked up. She could hear someone drilling in the background.

  “Kalle, it’s Agnes.”

  “Well, hello! At last! I’ve been waiting for you to get in touch.”

  “Is there still a place for me there?”

  “Of course!” He hesitated. “Has something happened?”

  “No more than me ending up in every waitress’s worst nightmare.”

  “Sounds bad.”

  “It is. The restaurant that God forgot. I can’t take it any more.”

  Kalle laughed. “You’re more than welcome here. We’re opening in two weeks. And listen – have I got a surprise for you!”

  “A surprise? Will you be there tomorrow?”

  “Where else?”

  “See you then.” Just as Agnes was about to hang up, Micke entered the office. She shrank back, but he didn’t seem to have heard anything of her conversation.

  “On a break?” He ran a hand over his slicked-back hair and adjusted his shiny tracksuit pants.

  “I had to make a call.”

  “You can do that on your break. And if you want to use the phone, ask first. I don’t want my staff running around in here.” Agnes looked at him and then down at the desk. The papers from the racetrack were still there in front of her. Micke took a step forward and snatched them up.

  “This is my office. It’s private,” he hissed, and with an irritated motion stuffed the entire bunch into the inside pocket of his leather jacket. Agnes stood up.

  “OK, you won’t have to worry any more about me running around in here. Or anywhere, for that matter. I quit.”

  “What? You can’t do that,” protested Micke, throwing out his arms. Something in his tone told her that this wasn’t the first time a member of staff had walked out of Pasta King.

  “Oh, yes I can.” She untied her apron and tossed it on the desk. This time she’d made sure to think ahead. She’d already taken out her pay for the first two weeks that morning. They were all settled up. So she delivered a cursory version of what she thought of the restaurant, picked up her coat, and walked out. The whole episode took no more than a few minutes, yet she was trembling all over. What was the matter with her? What had she done?

  Agnes hurried down the escalator to the subway and jumped onto a train that had just pulled in. She slumped down onto a free seat. Tried to breathe slowly, go through what had happened. Was this what you did when you listened to your intuition? Or was this how you behaved just before they locked you up in the loony bin?

  CHAPTER 13

  AT FIRST, SHE COULDN’T SEE much of a difference. The rooms were still coated in dust, and machines and tools lay scattered everywhere. When she entered, Kalle stopped sanding and looked up.

  “Look, here comes my staff!”

  “And there’s me thinking it was a restaurant I was going to work at rather than a construction site.”

  “Don’t be so narrow-minded, it can be both, can’t it? Angle grinder with béarnaise sauce, halibut with panel pins and caulk.… I’m bursting with good ideas!” Agnes laughed, for the first time in ages, it seemed.

  “Seriously though, will you make it?”

  “Definitely. Opening in two weeks.” Agnes tried to see if he looked nervous, or at least doubtful. But all she could see was a very contented, happy Kalle. “So how’d it go at the Restaurant that God forgot?”

  “I resigned, I guess you could say
.”

  “Did he freak out?”

  “Presumably. I didn’t hang around to find out.”

  “Maybe he’ll try to get his revenge!” Kalle tried to look terrifying.

  “Yeah, maybe one morning I’ll wake up with a tuna fish’s head in my bed.” Agnes gave another laugh. “With a bit of luck he’ll have bet away the restaurant by then.”

  “Is he a betting man?”

  Agnes nodded. “I think so. The horses. At least, I found receipts from Solvalla in his office.”

  Kalle whistled. “It wouldn’t surprise me if he’d been there buying winnings receipts.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “Oh, dear, oh, dear, I see you’ve got a lot to learn about the restaurant business!” Kalle smiled playfully at her. “Say that you’ve got a bit too much money for the taxman’s taste. Maybe you’ve got a new Mercedes even though your company’s reporting losses.…”

  “He’s got a BMW.”

  “OK, there we go, a nice new BMW. It’d be convenient, wouldn’t you say, to claim that you won it on the horses. The problem is that you’ve got to be able to prove it.…”

  “Aha, so you head off to Solvalla and buy the receipts that some foresighted person has been collecting. Is that how it works?”

  “It happens. Embarrassingly often in this business, in fact.”

  He fell silent for a moment and put down the sander. “But hey, you’ve got to check out the surprise I’ve got for you.” Kalle picked up a sheet of paper that had dropped onto the floor. “The new plans. And what do you think this is?”

  “It looks like a bar.”

  “Exactly. Maybe we can christen it Agnes’s Corner?”

  “I’d rather you didn’t.”

  “As you like. Feel free to come up with something better. But isn’t it brilliant? It’s just like you suggested. The architect thought it was a great idea. Two guys are coming over on Monday to do the floor and build the bar, and then all we have to do is just slap on some paint and furnish it.”

  “Just?”

  “Well if you’ve installed new ventilation fans and changed the sewage system, it seems like ‘just.’ Just fun, too.”

  “What have you got in mind?”

  “I can’t really decide. The floor will be wood, for the sake of the acoustics. Washed in a neutral, light gray glaze. I’d been thinking red for the walls.”

  Agnes looked around her. Although the windows overlooking the street were large, since the restaurant was a little below street level, red walls were in danger of making the place look like a cave.

  “You don’t think it might be a little too much with red, as if you’d just swum into the belly of a whale?”

  “That’s possible. I’m a little unsure myself.”

  “But I think color’s a good idea,” she added hurriedly. She didn’t want to appear negative. “Whitewashed interiors seem so passé.”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  “What about the food? And besides, what’ll you call the place?”

  “Yeah, the name.… Me and Stefan had decided to call it Two Chefs, but we can ditch that for obvious reasons.”

  “Yes.” Agnes refrained from saying she thought it was just as well. Two Chefs sounded boring, a little like Two Surveyors or Two Librarians.

  “I’ve racked my brains, but haven’t come up with anything yet. Sofia has tried to help, we were going to do a bit of brainstorming the other night, but nothing came of it really. The only thing we could think of was Bistro Karl, but I’m not sure if that’s any good?”

  “I don’t know, maybe it doesn’t really say so much about the restaurant.…” Agnes was trying to tread carefully.

  “Feel free to come up with suggestions. If you have any.”

  Agnes nodded. “I’ll think about it. What kind of cuisine will it be?”

  It was a little strange that they hadn’t discussed it before; it should have been the first question, but she had a pretty good idea of Kalle’s taste after Picnic’s, and there had been so much else in the way. Like dust. Agnes sneezed.

  “Got a cold?”

  “No, but maybe you ought to consider changing cleaners.” She ran her finger along the counter top, leaving a line in the dust.

  “I’ll take it up with them.” Kalle grinned. “The food? A lot of Mediterranean, Italian, naturally. Herbs, oils, seafood and fish, some fresh pasta, a lot of small dishes. Asian influences. No creamy sauces, no traditional grub pimped up as nouveau cuisine – I did enough of that to last me a lifetime at Picnic’s. I want pure ingredients, not over-prepared, and simple arrangements. Lemons, sage, thyme, garlic.…”

  Agnes nodded as he spoke. It was just as she’d been hoping. She started adding to his list:

  “Lime.”

  “And coriander.”

  “Chili.…” They looked at each other and laughed.

  “You seem to understand what I’m talking about.”

  “Definitely. I think it sounds great! Can I help with anything, by the way?”

  “Please do. You can sand down those plasterboard joints I’ve filled over there. There’re some old overalls in the kitchen you can wear.”

  Agnes did as she’d been asked. The filler dust whirled about her as she evened off the surface of the wall with sandpaper. It felt good. Kalle, the restaurant.… She shuddered when it crossed her mind that she actually should have been standing in Pasta King at this very moment, selling spaghetti frutti di mare made from some wholesale tomato sauce and canned prawns so small that they could barely be detected under a microscope. Things could only get better, that was always something of a comfort.

  “Oh, by the way.…” Kalle switched off his sander again. “We haven’t discussed your salary.”

  “No.” Agnes felt stupid.

  “As you understand, I can’t offer you that much. I haven’t even been counting on taking out any salary myself for the first three months. Of course I’ll pay you, but.…”

  “Kalle, I trust you. I realize it won’t be that much.…”

  “Not at first!”

  “Not at first. I have my rent, some loans, and a few bills to pay. I don’t need much more. If you can offer me that, I’ll be happy. I know you’ll do right by me as quickly as you can.”

  “Agnes, you’re a diamond, do you know that?” Kalle’s eyes almost started to well up. “Thanks for your faith in me. You won’t regret it.”

  Agnes believed she wouldn’t. Or hoped, at least.

  Agnes hadn’t left the restaurant until nine in the evening. Kalle stayed behind. They’d bought burgers and ate them sitting on the floor. Agnes’s face and hair were caked with dust, despite her best efforts to brush it off. When she stepped off the train at Aspudden, she felt how physically tired she was. Her neck was stiff, her back and right arm ached, and she had small cuts on her knuckles. She didn’t even have the energy to walk up the escalator as she usually did. Half way up the escalator she was overtaken by a man in a dark coat and enormous hair. She glanced at him, and he at her. It was her new neighbor, and the over-dimensioned bouffant was not hair but his presumably Russian fur hat. Agnes tried to pretend not to recognize him. She quickly turned her eyes upward again. The man stayed put. He smiled.

  “Hi! Maybe you don’t recognize me? David Kummel, I’m your neighbor.” Agnes wearily turned her head. David Kummel, so that was his name.

  “Hi.” She looked at him, or rather his hat. “Isn’t it a little warm for that now? It’ll be spring soon, you know,” she said with a faint smile.

  “True.” He took off his hat with an embarrassed gesture. His hair was almost the same color as the fur, but considerably flatter. “It was cold when I left home. No more than a couple of degrees.” By now they were in the little square outside the station entrance. Agnes wasn’t in the mood for company. She was tired and not in the least interested in small talk, but couldn’t think of an excuse to get away. The shops had shut. She sighed and walked as quickly as she could. Luckily for h
er, it wasn’t that far. David walked alongside. “So what have you been up to this evening?” When she didn’t answer, he continued: “I was just wondering, you being so… dusty and all. Or is it flour? Or cocaine, perhaps? Although you know it’s better absorbed through the nose, don’t you? Than through the hair, I mean.”

  Agnes glanced at him again and instinctively ran a hand through her hair. Dust cascaded out. “It’s plaster,” she replied, a little ashamedly. She probably didn’t look so great, as if that mattered.

  “Are you renovating?”

  “No, I poured it onto my hair because I think it looks sexy.”

  He smiled at her sarcasm. They’d reached the entrance of the block, and Agnes pressed the code into the keypad. David opened the door and let her pass. The elevator was down, and David stepped in first. Agnes cast a quick look at the space that was left. Normally the elevator could comfortably accommodate two, but she didn’t feel like continuing the conversation with David Kummel. Especially when she had to stand five inches away from him.

  “Not going to join me?” he asked as she started to make for the stairs.

  “No, I need the exercise,” she lied. She heard him close the gate and then hurried up the stairs to get past his floor before the elevator stopped there. She just made it. As she put her key in the door, she heard her neighbor call up from below.

  “Goodnight, then!”

  “Goodnight,” she mumbled in reply, fully aware that he couldn’t possibly have heard her. She then stepped quickly into her apartment and shut the door behind her.

  Agnes woke up in the middle of the night and lay awhile, blinking into the darkness, groping after the images that were still floating around inside her head. She’d been dreaming about the restaurant. It had been a pleasant dream. She’d seen it in front of her so clearly. The colors, the crockery, even their clothes. And then she’d seen the sign with the restaurant’s name on it. It was so blatantly obvious. That’s what it’d be called.