Betrayal

by Karin Alvtegen

  The far end of the bar made a ninety-degree turn, and that’s where he sat so he could see her face. It almost made him stop breathing. There was almost an aura around her. All past longings, all beauty, all that was worthwhile gathered in this body, large as life before him.

  Suddenly she turned her head and looked at him. He stopped breathing. Nothing could make him move his gaze from her eyes. She turned to the barman.

  ‘A pear cider, please.’

  The barman took down a glass from the rack above his head and served the cider. She had no ring on her left hand.

  ‘That’ll be forty-eight kronor.’

  She made a move towards her handbag and he didn’t hesitate an instant. Just let the words come as a matter of course.

  ‘May I buy that for you?’

  She turned her eyes towards him again. He saw that she was hesitant and waited breathlessly for her decision. If she said no he would be finished.

  Then she gave him a faint smile.

  ‘Certainly.’

  Yet he wondered in confusion if it was actually joy he felt. He hadn’t felt this way for so long that he couldn’t identify the feeling. Only a certainty that everything was obvious, meant to be; there was nothing to be afraid of any more.

  A complete, all-encompassing calm.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said.

  How could he hide his gratitude? Relieved, he hurried to open his wallet.

  ‘I’ll have the same.’

  He quickly put a hundred-krona bill on the bar and the barman gave him a glass. When he turned back to her she smiled at him.

  ‘I’m the one who should be saying thanks,’ she said.

  He raised his glass to her and felt his smile spread through his whole body.

  ‘No, that’s not true, I should say it. Cheers, then.’

  ‘Cheers.’

  ‘And welcome.’

  Their glasses met. The contact passed like a shock through his body. He looked at her over the rim of the glass, his eyes refusing to let go. He had to memorise every contour, every feature. Until the next time he saw her.

  She drank again, two deep swallows. When she finished he would offer her another.

  Again and again.

  ‘My name is Jonas.’

  She smiled, amused.

  ‘There you see.’

  Suddenly he was unsure. How could he get her to talk? Somehow he had to win her trust. Maybe she thought he had been too forward in buying her a cider.

  ‘I don’t usually buy cider for strange women, if that’s what you think. But I wanted to buy one for you.’

  She gave him a quick look and then stared down into her almost empty glass.

  ‘Is that so? Why me in particular?’

  He couldn’t reply. How could she ever understand?

  ‘What’s your name?’

  The question was so inadequate. He wanted to know everything. Everything she had ever thought, everything she had ever felt. An inner jubilation at even being able to think these things.

  She paused before she answered, and he understood her. He couldn’t expect her to trust him. Not yet. But soon she would realise what he had understood as soon as he caught sight of her.

  And as if she too was suddenly aware of the import of their meeting, she smiled at him again. A shy smile, as if she were telling him something in confidence.

  ‘My name is Linda.’

  Her first instinct had been to rush in and confront him with everything she knew. Shove the truth down his throat and tell him to go to hell. But in the next instant she realised that that was precisely what he wanted.

  Go to hell.

  Suddenly she grasped what he was trying to do. Standing in the park with their defiled home before her, it struck her like lightning out of a clear blue sky. She figured out his plan. All at once it was ridiculously obvious.

  The cowardly swine was once again trying to push the responsibility onto her.

  Once again he thought he could hide behind her capacity for action.

  Instead of accepting the consequences for what he had done and for once making his own decision, he thought he could force her to leave him. Get rid of the guilt so that for all his days he would be able to hide behind the fact that it was her decision; she was the one who wanted a divorce, she was the one who was leaving.

  She wasn’t going to make it that easy for him. Not at all.

  She felt a stubborn contempt.

  He couldn’t even manage his own infidelity without her.

  Her decisiveness filled her with a liberating calm. She was in control again. Finally she knew what she should do.

  She needed confirmation of just one thing to be able to hold out.

  Just one thing.

  She hadn’t said a word before she left. Henrik and Axel were playing a computer game and had closed the door to the office; he’d notice she was gone soon enough. She was more than pleased not to see him. She still wasn’t sure that she could manage to conceal her hatred, but she had the whole night to summon her strength. Tomorrow he would have his faithful wife back; but first she had to get someone to confirm that she was good enough.

  She looked out over Järntorget. She had stopped briefly on the way into Gamla Stan to have a well-deserved pick-me-up. It was a long time since she’d been out on the town at all, and she couldn’t remember ever going out alone before. Always having to rush home with a guilty conscience. At work because she wasn’t at home, and at home because she couldn’t manage to do her job properly.

  She took the last gulp from her glass and turned around. This was definitely the wrong place for her plans. Couples eating dinner and groups that didn’t want to include anyone else. No, one more cider and then she’d get going.

  She went up to the bar.

  She heard the door open behind her. The barman stood with his back turned, filling bowls with peanuts. She turned her head and glanced at the man who had just come in. Now he was standing right in front of her at the short end of the bar.

  Way too young.

  The barman came over to her.

  ‘A pear cider, please.’

  He ducked down and stood up again with a bottle in his hand. With his other hand he reached for a glass from the rack above their heads.

  ‘That’ll be forty-eight kronor.’

  She already had her hand around her purse in her handbag. And then came the surprising question.

  ‘May I buy that for you?’

  At first she didn’t realise that he was talking to her. Surprised, she looked at the man standing at the bar nearby. Maybe twenty-six, twenty-seven, grey jacket, blond hair combed back, looked pretty good.

  Why not?

  ‘Certainly.’

  For a second she thought he might be kidding, because he just stood there smiling at her. Then he took his wallet out of an inside pocket.

  ‘Thank you. I’ll have the same.’

  He placed a hundred-krona note on the bar and the barman took down another glass. She was smiling to herself. He had to be more than ten years younger than her, so she obviously had a little sex appeal left.

  She wondered what they were doing at home. Whether Axel had gone to bed. She pushed away the thought and tried to smile.

  ‘I’m the one who should be saying thanks.’

  He raised his glass to her.

  ‘No, that’s not true, I should say it. Cheers, then.’

  ‘Cheers.’

  ‘And welcome.’

  There was something about his eyes. His gaze was so penetrating that she was almost embarrassed. As if he were looking right into her, could read all her thoughts, and she had no intention of sharing them with anyone. For an instant she regretted letting him buy her a drink. Now she would have to stay here, and she had other plans for the evening. The faster she finished her drink the better. She took two deep swallows.

  ‘My name is Jonas.’

  She drank a bit more. All her thoughts were occupied with the hatred she felt. She couldn’
t sit here chatting as if everything were normal.

  ‘There you see.’

  Soon she had finished the drink.

  ‘I don’t usually buy cider for strange women, if that’s what you think. But I wanted to buy one for you.’

  ‘Is that so? Why me in particular?’

  He stood looking at her in silence.

  ‘What’s your name?’

  He gave her that smile again. Utterly disarming. And then those eyes that went right through her, as if he really wanted to see into her. But her hatred was her own, he mustn’t see it, no one could see it. If anyone should see her shameful hatred, it would make her weak. She had to learn to act normal, otherwise she would never be able to carry out her plan.

  She took another swallow.

  Good Lord, he had to be at least ten years younger than she was. Quite harmless. He would be good to practise on. For a while he had made her forget that she was the one in control. His undisguised interest had made her uncertain, but that was actually her goal for the evening. He was standing right in front of her and offering her everything she had come here to find. She suddenly regarded him with new interest. He wanted her even though she was at least ten years older. Could she ask for better proof?

  She smiled again.

  ‘My name is Linda.’

  She was astounded to hear her own lie. And how easy it was to deliver it. Actually it wasn’t even a lie. It wasn’t talented Eva who was standing at the bar, it was some other woman. A woman who had put aside everything she believed in and without the slightest pang of conscience was scheming to achieve her goal and take what she wanted even if it actually belonged to someone else.

  To a Linda.

  ‘Hi, Linda. Would you like another cider?’

  She saw to her dismay that the glass was empty. In the next moment she was aware of her intoxication. Everything suddenly far away, only the moment was present. A restful moment in which nothing really mattered very much. Nothing to gain, nothing to lose. She had the whole night ahead of her.

  ‘Sure. Why not?’

  He looked pleased and called over the barman.

  ‘Can we get another round?’

  She got her glass and they sat on their bar stools, he with his knees touching her and she with her arms resting on the bar. The barman changed the tape and took a few dance steps when the intro to an old Earth, Wind and Fire song poured out of the loudspeakers. She couldn’t remember what it was called. But they used to play it at parties in high school.

  They sat in silence for a while. She wasn’t sure that she felt like staying, but she should at least give him a chance. He was just as good as any other man. She took another sip of cider and looked around. More patrons had arrived. A group of middle-aged Englishmen came in the door. In the mirror behind the bar she could see between the bottles that the man named Jonas was still watching her.

  ‘May I pay you a compliment?’

  She turned her head and met his intense gaze. It made her want to stay and enjoy his unfeigned admiration.

  ‘Sure, be my guest.’

  ‘This might sound silly, but I think I’ll say it anyway.’

  Suddenly he seemed embarrassed and glanced away for a few seconds before he looked at her again.

  ‘Do you know that you’re the only person in here who looks really alive?’

  She laughed and took another sip.

  ‘Oh no, that’s a good one. I haven’t heard that one before.’

  He was serious now. Just sat silently and looked at her.

  She waved her hand in an attempt to make light of his seriousness.

  ‘I think they all look fairly alive. They’re moving, at least.’

  A hint of irritation. A crease between his dark eyebrows.

  ‘You can make a joke about it if you like, but I meant what I said. It was intended as a compliment. You have a kind of sad look in your eyes, but it’s obvious that you have a heart that really knows how to love.’

  His words pierced the soothing calm.

  A heart that really knows how to love. Ha!

  Her heart was as black as a windowless cellar. No love would ever be able to survive in there any more. But right now she was sitting in a bar in Gamla Stan, she and this Jonas who talked like a bad poet and was ten years younger but who looked at her with a desire that she couldn’t recall ever experiencing. She felt a sudden longing that he would touch her, lose control and let loose all the desire she could see in his eyes. Prove that he couldn’t resist her. That she was worth loving.

  The alcohol gave her the courage she needed.

  She turned towards him and met his eyes before she placed her hand over his on the bar.

  ‘Is it far to your place?’

  He lay utterly still, couldn’t move, as if split in two. One half filled with a satisfaction and an anticipation that he didn’t think it was possible to feel. Everything he had ever dreamed of.

  Ten hours earlier he hadn’t even known that she existed and, now, in the short time he had known her, she had given him everything he could ever have desired. Trembling she had given herself to him, offered him her most sensitive places. The trust she showed had opened his mind wide, all was tenderness, an explosion when the loneliness cracked open.

  And then the calm she created. Her confident hands over his skin covered him with a protective layer, purified him, set him free. All the desire that had so long chafed inside him had burst out and flowed into her. The emptiness was gone.

  But then the devastating knowledge that he had no right to feel this way.

  The other half contained the guilt.

  Now it was proven. In a swift descent he had become a deceiver and a cheat. He had let Anna lie alone while he gave himself to another woman. Poured out all the desire he had been saving so long for her. That she should have received.

  He was no better than his father.

  * * *

  She was gone when he woke up. Only a brown hair on the pillow proved that she had really been there. The hair, and the sated hunger of his skin.

  They hadn’t said a word to each other. Their hands and bodies had told all they needed to know.

  He sat up and was aware of the cold in the room. He had forgotten to turn on the heater when they came home. He wondered if she had felt cold. He turned the thermostat all the way up in the living room and the kitchen and went into the bathroom. The light was on and the blue-edged hand towel was tossed on the floor. He felt a slight pang of distaste but it couldn’t reach him. Her touch lay like a shield around him, an impenetrable armour, it couldn’t reach him any longer.

  He hung up the towel and turned on the water in the bathtub, waited until it was half full and then climbed in. The hot water reminded him of her hands and he could feel his desire rise again. So many years he had forbidden himself to give in. Now he could no longer resist the urge, not even now after she had just left. What had she succeeded in waking inside him?

  He sat down and leaned back. The memory of her nakedness was like a lifelong gift. He could see her before him. How she had closed her eyes and abandoned herself to the pleasure he could give her.

  Her hands. Her lips. The taste of her. Her skin against his, united, no beginning, no end.

  How could he have resisted her? She was everything he dreamed of. A vibrant woman who wanted to have him, take hold of him, love him. Made him reach a pleasure he didn’t think was possible. What terrible god could possibly demand that he say no?

  He got up, climbed out of the bathtub and dried himself with the blue-edged hand towel. The one she must have just used. Suddenly he felt like crying. How could he touch Anna now that his hands were full to the brim with another woman?

  With Linda.

  He hardly dared think of her name. Anna would discover what had happened. She would feel the betrayal, that he hadn’t managed to keep his promise.

  And what would he say when Linda called? She hadn’t asked for his phone number, but she knew where he lived. He was
here in the bathroom, but all his desire was with her.

  He sat down on the toilet seat and put his head in his hands.

  No matter what he did, he would have to betray one of them.

  He had to go to the hospital. Right now, he had to drive over to see Anna and confess what he had done. He had to win her forgiveness. Without it he could not survive.

  The telephone rang. He looked at his watch. Ten past seven. Naked he went back into the living room. It must be her. Who else would call this early? She must have called enquiries to get his phone number. What should he say? And how could he resist answering and hearing her voice?

  The most fantastic thing was that he could answer after five rings. It couldn’t affect him any more. His whole body smiled with this realisation when he picked up the receiver and answered.

  ‘Hi, this is Jonas.’

  ‘Jonas, this is Björn Sahlstedt at Karolinska Hospital. It’s probably best if you come over. Right away.’

  When she came out the front door of the building it was ten after four in the morning, and she didn’t know where she was. The taxi had driven south from Gamla Stan and took a right at Gullmarsplan, she remembered that, but then she had lost her bearings. She turned around. To the right of the entrance hall she had just come out of there was a street sign on the wall, and she took a few steps closer so she could read it in the dark. Storsjövägen. She was in a dead end, and she started walking down the street. The façades of the buildings were dark with shiny black windowpanes. Only a few lights were on.

  She was grateful that he didn’t wake up when she got out of bed. For about an hour she lay still, pretending she was asleep, until his regular breathing assured her that he was sleeping. Only then did she dare open her eyes. A bed-sit, strangely empty of objects. Maybe he was just living there temporarily. Only the walls belied this idea. A great number of oil paintings of various sizes, all with colourful abstract patterns, covered almost every square centimetre.

  He had fallen asleep with his lips against her left shoulder. It was noticeably cold in the flat. Carefully, so that he wouldn’t wake up, she drew away from him, got up and rummaged on the floor for her clothes.