He caught sight of the plaster as soon as I got in the car.
“What have you done to your neck?” he asked.
“I’ve been scratched by the cat.”
“Is it so ill-tempered?”
“No, but it got scared when I lifted it down from a tree.”
Then he said nothing more. I didn’t know what he thought, but I hoped that he had swallowed it.
We went to his place, as usual. When we lay on the bed and I reached for the lamp he said:
“No, keep it on. I want to see you.”
At first I put my arms on his back while he lay on top of me, but then he sat up and wanted to gaze at me and I couldn’t hide them. He saw the marks and grabbed my wrists and looked first at them and then at me.
“So the cat did this, too?” he said and got at strained expression on his face.
“No.”
“The cat didn’t scratch you on the neck, either, did it?”
I could neither lie nor tell the truth and was almost without words.
“Answer me now! What has really happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing? Do you think I’m dumb?”
“It was a guy who got angry when I didn’t want to go with him.”
“When did you meet him?”
“On Wednesday.”
“Did you go out on Wednesday?”
“No, I was with Kicki. But he saw me at the bus stop when I was on my way home.”
“Did he drag you into his car?”
“No, but he tried.”
I thought that would explain the marks on my arms and felt relieved.
“Then, how did you get the mark on your neck?”
“Just as I said. From the cat.”
I was dead scared that he would pull off the plaster and see the hickey underneath, but he just bowed his head into his hands and took a deep breath.
“What’s the matter?” I said.
“I don’t know if I can stand this any longer.”
“What?”
“That I can’t rely on you.”
“Yes, you can rely on me.”
“No, it doesn’t feel that way.”
“But I couldn’t help it that that guy came by and started messing with me!”
“That isn’t it.”
“Then what is it?”
He lifted his head and looked sadly at me.
“Why did you lie?”
“What do you mean, lie?”
“Why didn’t you tell me what really happened, in the first place?”
“Because I thought you would get angry.”
“But don’t you understand that we must be able to trust each other? You must trust me and I need to be able to trust you.”
“I’m probably too immature for you,” I said.
“Yes, but it doesn’t have to be that way.”
“No, but it feels like you don’t care about me when you rather do other things than spend time with me.”
“But I’ve already explained it.”
“You’re the most important in my life, and I’m the least important in yours.”
“That’s not true, and you know it.”
“No, I don’t. I only know how it feels.”
“Sometimes you demand so much of me,” he said.
“And you demand that I should be as mature as a twenty-one-year-old.”
“Yes, that’s probably wrong...”
I don’t remember everything we said, but finally we made up again.
“Oh, my little Star Eye! he said and drew me close. “What were we going to do?”
I love him and I don’t want it to end. I’m never going to be dumb again. I’m going to be the way he wants me to. I’m going to be as wise as he is and never again demand too much.
Everything is all right between us again. It’s perhaps good to fall out sometimes, because afterwards you appreciate each other more.
On Sunday we were at Fågelsången and had coffee before he gave me a lift home. He usually drives up towards the woods and parks in a place near where Kenneth and I were once upon a time, and then we sit there and fondle. Now when it’s cold outside we can’t lie on the ground, but we can do it standing up. And it’s more enjoyable to do it outside than inside in a bed, I think.
I wish that I dared let Lasse come home with me, because mom and pop know I’m going steady with a guy now, and Lasse probably wonders why I don’t introduce him and why we don’t ever spend time in my home. I have explained to him that pop doesn’t like it that I date guys and that I’m afraid that he would start scolding or questioning him if we went in, and that’s the reason. I would be afraid the whole time about what mom and pop would say or do. They couldn’t take it naturally if I brought a guy home. Why do they have to be so dumb? Why can’t they just be normal, like all other parents?
Friday, 16 October 1964
When mamma and I went to bed, we knew that papa would be drunk when he came home. We lay in the dark and listened while he unlocked the outer door, and then he flung the bedroom door open and pulled off mamma’s quilt and yelled something. He didn’t hit her, but he was violent, and a porcelain figure that grandma has given her fell to the floor and shattered. I knew that he wouldn’t hit her, because he has never done that, even though he has been menacing many times. It has been close a few times when she has plucked up courage and tried to put her foot down. But most of the time she just goes away and cries. And he soon calms down again. After his outburst last night, he laid down and fell asleep immediately. But it isn’t fun at all to have a papa who comes home drunk.
I don’t know what to do. On Saturday we were at Lasse’s home all evening and yesterday we went to Sigtuna and bought hot dogs. On our way back he fondled me and put his finger in, while he was driving. I touched him too, and he got an erection. I don’t know why, but when we do it in the car I get more randy than when we are at his place lying in bed and can start frigging at any time.
He stopped on a forest road and wanted me to give him a blow job. I know there are girls who don’t mind doing it, but I find it disgusting. I don’t think I could do it even if I were drunk. But he had run out of condoms so we couldn’t frig.
Then he said that there was something he wanted to talk with me about. I wasn’t prepared for what was to come, and at first I didn’t get it.
“I think it would be best if we didn’t see each other anymore,” he said.
He wanted us to break up. I got so frightened that I felt like I couldn’t breathe.
“To never meet again?” I said.
“Yes, I think that will be the best.”
“But why?”
“Because I think we are too different.”
“What do you mean, different?”
“We have different values and live by different principles.”
And I have thought that as well, but why must we break up because of it? After all, it has been like that the entire time.
“I don’t understand,” I said.
“What don’t you understand?”
“Why we can’t stay together.”
“But I’ve already told you.”
“Don’t you like me anymore?”
“Yes, you know I do. But the advantages should preferably outweigh the disadvantages… And I can’t deal with your demanding of me sometimes.”
“Why haven’t you said anything before, then?”
“I probably thought things might get better. But the time when I realized that you don’t trust me, and that I maybe can’t trust you either, it was like something fell apart.”
“But I do now! I trust you! And I promise that you can trust me too! Maybe you couldn’t do it before, but now you can.”
Then he drew me to him and said with his usual voice:
“Little Star Eye, you are so fine! But I think I need some time to be alone and think this through.”
“But if we don’t see each other I can’t prove that it’s true that I have c
hanged.”
But it didn’t help. He pushed me away and looked pleadingly at me.
“For my sake? Just so that I get some time to think this through thoroughly?”
“But I don’t understand what it is that you need to think through.”
“Try to trust me now. If I say I need time, that’s the way it is.”
“What am I supposed to do in the meantime, then? Just wait around for you?”
“You can do whatever you want and feel completely free.”
“How long will this take, then?”
“I don’t know… A couple of weeks, a month...”
When he knows for sure what he wants he will call, he said, and then we can meet and decide what to do. I’m not allowed to call him in the meantime, and I’m supposed to seize the opportunity and consider this, too. But what should I consider when I already know that he is the only one I want?
I know it’s my own fault that it has come to this. I have been egoistic and childish and have not cared about him as much as he has cared about me. Why couldn’t I understand already from the beginning how wonderful he is? Why did I need to get hung up on trifles and go out and meet other guys just because I felt unsatisfied? Why couldn’t I be thankful for what I had? It serves me right that he doesn’t want to see me. But I can’t manage without him. I love him and want to be with him all the time. I feel so afraid when I think that he might not come back.
Monday, 19 October 1964
I’ve been seeing Jörgen and everything has been fine. But E-L isn’t happy, because yesterday when she met Lasse he said that they should be separated for a while. He thinks she demands too much of him, or whatever it was, and needs time to think. Meanwhile, she should feel free to go out and do what she wants, he had said. So now she’s probably going to start cruising and drinking again, even though she says she won’t meet any other guys until she knows how it will be with Lasse.
I must do as he has said and leave him alone until he wants us to meet again. I’m not going to force myself on him. I will prove that I can be home and study and watch TV and maybe go to the movies sometimes with Kicki, but I’m not going to cruise and get drunk. I will be faithful and wait for him, and then when he contacts me and asks me what I have been doing, I won’t have to lie to him like I did before. I never want to lie to him again. It’s lies and things you never share that cause problems. I will never do anything again that I can’t tell him about. Because, it’s true as he said, that we must be able to trust each other.
Now I believe that he will come back. When we have been apart for a while and he feels how empty it is, he will call me, and then we will never be apart again.
No, it doesn’t work! What if he meets someone else? What if he calls me later just to say that he wants us to end? I couldn’t handle that. Dear God, do something so that he doesn’t meet somebody else! He said that he wouldn’t go out, but I know he will. And then he may meet a girl who is as mature as he is, and he will realize what he has missed out on all this time. I’m so scared. If I must stop hoping that things will be all right between us again, I don’t know what will happen.
How could I be so dumb to believe that I could stay at home? That’s laughable. I went to town and walked on Svartbäcksgatan. I wanted to go with somebody quickly, because I was afraid that I would see Lasse, and that he would see me. And I didn’t have to wait long. When I sat on the railing down by the river a Volkswagen 1500 drove past me and pulled over a bit farther on. I didn’t recognize the car at first, but then I saw that it was Tomas and Börje, with whom Kicki and I have ridden some times before. Tomas climbed out and came up to me and lifted me up and carried me to the car. Börje was driving, so we sat in back.
“Sweetheart!” Tomas said and hugged me. “It has been a long time. How are you these days?”
He wasn’t quite sober, but he had almost no booze left, he said when I asked. But he gave me what he had. And when he was going to smoke he took two cigarettes and lit both of them in his mouth and stuck one of them between my lips.
They had a transistor tape recorder in the car and on the tape there were “Save the Last Dance for Me” with the Drifters and “Twilight Time”, “Only You”, “The Great Pretender” and “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes” with the Platters. I can’t remember the rest. Well, they also had “Hold Me” with P.J. Proby. When I heard the music I realized how much I had missed it.
Guys, cars, booze, cigarettes and music are all I need, I thought. I don’t give a shit about Lasse! He is too formal and boring for me anyway.
Then I got sad again. I drank the rest of the Koskenkorva and pressed myself against Tomas.
“But what is it sweetheart?” he said. “You’re shaking like an aspen leaf.”
Börje turned around and glanced at me, and Tomas held me.
“Tell me now what it is,” he said.
But I couldn’t, because it seemed so exaggerated, and I didn’t want him to think I was silly.
He kissed and fondled me so that he got turned on.
“Oh, I could eat you up!” he said. You are so fine! And you have beautiful legs. You have it, Eva-Lena! I think I’m about to fall in love with you.”
But he talked like that just because he was randy. Later, when I had said no, he asked me again why I was sad.
“No, it’s nothing,” I said. “Promise me you won’t worry about it.”
“Yes, I promise,” he said.
But I could see that his eyes were doubtful.
Thursday, 22 October 1964
I feel completely confused. When Jörgen and I were out driving, I happened to mention that I’m 16 years old. I thought that he had understood approximately how old I am, but when I said it he was totally taken aback. “Are you only sixteen? I thought you were eighteen.” “Oh, yeah?” I said and felt a bit flattered, because it’s nice if you seem older than you really are. But he couldn’t accept it. “So you are only sixteen years old?” Yes, so what? But I didn’t say it. I asked how old he was. “Well, I’m seven years older than you.” Right? That wasn’t too bad, I thought, because Gert was also that age. But Jörgen seemed so strange and drove out to the woods and held me and wanted to kiss me. And at first it was okay, but then he got demanding, as it’s called, and that was something that I wasn’t at all prepared for, because he hadn’t acted like that before. One of the reasons it felt so good with him was that he wasn’t in a hurry with the physical. So I didn’t get it, and I defended myself a little, but he was so stubborn and just persisted. Yes, and finally he said that if I didn’t let him lay me, it was over! I got very sad and thought that he behaved so strangely. I asked him why. Is it because I’m just sixteen? But a couple of years here or there shouldn’t make any difference. And why did he all of a sudden want to lay me? I didn’t get it. But I said no, and he drove me home, and then we sat outside in the car and talked. I wanted to find out why it had happened, because I didn’t understand it, and I was so sad that I cried. But he couldn’t explain himself, and finally he got out of the car and opened the door and waited for me to go. I found it so hard to leave because I didn’t think I had gotten any explanation, but I had to climb out when he insisted on it. And he drove off, to never return (you may assume). I don’t know what it was that caused him to react so strongly. I can’t make it out. I think about it a lot, but the only thing I come up with is that I don’t understand, and that I’m sad that it must be over.
I don’t know what to do. Why can’t I just give a shit about Lasse and go out and cruise and drink again? After all, that’s what I wanted before. But now that I´m free to do it, I don’t feel like it. It’s so meaningless. The only thing I want is getting him back so that I won’t have to be afraid. How much longer will I have to wait before he knows what he wants? And why can’t we meet in the meantime? Because, I don’t think he will be able to decide if we don’t meet. I would like to call him and tell him that. But if I did he would probably get angry.
I went to town again and there I met t
hree guys who offered Gauffin’s Double Blend. They had the whole trunk full of aquavit, they said. I knew that Gauffin’s is stronger than common booze, but I drank the way I usually do anyway, because I wanted it to hit me quickly. And it was so wonderful to be drunk. I had almost forgotten how it felt.
I sat with a guy named Totte in the back. The two in front just kept talking about a car they had seen somewhere and were boring as hell.
“Just think, a ‘58 Dodge Kingsway with a V8! Double headlights, lots of fucking chrome, high tail fins…”
I hung onto Totte and drank so much that the feeling in my lips disappeared. Then I began to feel sick and needed to get out and puke. Totte held me, and I threw up on my boots. It was so disgusting. A little got on my coat and on Totte’s arm, but most of it came down on my boots.
Once back inside the car again, I laid my head on Totte’s lap and felt ill. I was totally gone and couldn’t pull myself together even though I wanted to. It was dead scary. I have never been that drunk before.
They had to stop twice. The second time I wasn’t able to get out, and I puked from the car down on the road. Then I must have fallen asleep, because I don’t remember anything that happened before Totte awoke me and asked where I lived. They gave me a lift home, and when I came in and lay in bed, everything was spinning so I couldn’t sleep. I thought I would throw up again, but fortunately I didn’t.
I will never drink like that again, so that I get so damned drunk.
I called Lasse and asked if we could meet.
“No, I’m busy this evening,” he said.
“Would you have come otherwise?”
“No.”
“Are you mad at me for calling?”
“Yes, I’m not happy about it, anyway!”
“But I can’t stand to have it like this.”
“You can try!”
Hop in Then! Page 20
