by Linda Olsson
“She is standing outside her gallery in Barcelona. The sign has just been fitted. It was such a happy day. Well, one of many happy days. You can tell, can’t you?” I wondered briefly if it was obvious only to me. “I don’t think I have that ability. To look happy, I mean. Not even when I am. Mother’s voice again, I suppose. But Maya’s happiness was generously on display for everybody to see. And I just couldn’t get enough of it.”
“Well, I think you look alike.” She smiled, and I couldn’t help but be affected.
“Maya had a kind of deep joy inside her, Emma. Even when she was serious. She couldn’t shake it off. It affected everything in her life. It was intoxicating to be in her presence. The world suddenly looked different and infinitely more hopeful.”
Unable to continue, I stood up and walked outside. I took in the view of the sea below. The town’s lights threw slanted, glittering shafts of light over the mottled black surface. I watched, and I could see all the previous evenings when I had been standing just like this. The warm, happy evenings. They hung like pearls on a string, the first ones shimmering bright, the later ones giving off a flickering faint light.
I heard Emma call my name softly and I returned inside. We sat down on the sofas again.
“I have thought so much about that moment. When we stood there, clearing up after the funeral, and I invited you to come here. I have wondered where the impulse came from. I had not been aware of any such plans. I just wanted the funeral to be over and to return here and never again have to be reminded of anything to do with Mother. But it just slipped out of me. I’ve wondered if I wanted you to see how happy I was. How I lived here. Well, showing off my life with Maya. That is what I have been thinking. But I am no longer sure.”
Emma had pulled up her feet and covered her legs with one of the blankets.
“So what are you thinking now?”
“I regretted the invitation the instant it came out of my mouth. I couldn’t understand what had gotten into me. Because I really didn’t want you here. And then, well, when I didn’t hear from you, I forgot the whole thing. Never gave it another thought.”
Emma smiled.
“Yes, I think I realized that was the case. But I just couldn’t forget it. It stayed with me. It was something comforting to hold on to while my existence crumbled around me. When nothing else remained, well, I still had you. And your invitation. And for once I didn’t care to try to imagine how you would react when you received my e-mail. You had invited me, hadn’t you? So I swallowed my pride. Because I really wanted to see you. I needed it. You may not understand how important it was to me. But if you had not replied, or had said no, then I wouldn’t have insisted, of course.”
I looked at my sister for an extended moment. She looked small huddled up underneath the blanket. In the dim light, she looked touchingly young but simultaneously ancient. It was as if I could see her entire life span.
“I think you would have liked Maya.”
I hesitated, not sure how to express myself. Or rather not quite sure of my own feelings. My thoughts seemed to emerge in that instant, slowly, one at a time. And I allowed the words to follow when I was able to put them into sentences.
“And I think Maya would have liked you. I think now that this is what I sensed at that moment when I invited you to come and visit. I stood and watched you. I could see how tired you were. I was grateful, too, for all that you had taken on. And I was relieved. It was over. It was just the two of us left. You and me. And I wanted you to know that I was no longer afraid of being happy. That I felt I had a right to my love. And I think I wanted you to see me like that, happy. See my real, loving self.”
I had held back the tears for such a long while, but now I wept again. It was incomprehensible that I contained all these tears.
“I think I asked to come because I always knew you had it in you, Maria. And I would have given anything to see you happy.”
I made a feeble, helpless gesture to indicate that I couldn’t speak. Then I stood and walked outside again. I closed my eyes and took deep breaths, but it was as if I was expelling a lifetime of tears. It took me a long while to compose myself.
Emma still sat as I had left her when I returned inside.
“I want to explain to you how it was. How I came to love Maya.”
“You don’t have to explain anything. I can see how much you loved her.”
“But I want to. I want you to understand.”
I took a moment to think about what I wanted to say. Wondered why it felt so important. Again, I felt as if I was searching for words to explain my thoughts to myself as much as to Emma.
“I have never sought relationships. It has never bothered me to be alone. Yes, it’s hard now. But it’s not really hard to be alone. It’s not the solitude as such. What is hard is living without Maya. Earlier in my life I lived by myself for long periods. Perhaps it has to do with losing Amanda. The loneliness that came over me then I have lived with ever since. I think it became part of my personality. Part of who I am. And the relationships I have had never really affected that. Even in good relationships I have been lonely. I lived like that with Elliot for six years. Alone but in a relationship.”
It sounded extraordinary when I heard myself say it. Six years and we had hardly ever talked about my family. I had told him about Amanda. But I am not sure I even mentioned Emma. And Elliot never seemed particularly interested. On one occasion we did talk about going to Sweden and possibly meeting my family. But that trip never happened. And shortly after, we separated.
“It feels strange now that he never got to meet either of you. Not you and not Mother. I am not sure exactly how I pictured us. Perhaps I never really saw him as a lasting part of my life. I am not sure I ever thought we were going to marry. Have children. We lived together. We had a good life in every way. I think I was happy, as happy as I was capable of being then. We had common interests. He was a professor of Romance languages. We enjoyed traveling together. I wasn’t aware of wanting to change anything. And it wasn’t me who ended it, not really. Or perhaps it was, in a way. Because, just like Olof, Elliot eventually wanted more than I was able to give him. Above all, he wanted children. It wasn’t that he ever made any demands. But I watched him with other people’s children. Especially with his sister’s three. Occasionally he would talk about it, in general terms. But I knew exactly what he was thinking. What he was hoping. And I realized I couldn’t envisage ever being able to give him what he was hoping for. From that moment, our relationship was doomed. We sat on a bench in Regent’s Park. It was an early summer afternoon. In front of us, the water was like a mirror and the warm air carried the fragrance of spring flowers. An afternoon filled with immense promise. Made for love and happiness. But we sat there struggling through a conversation that should have happened much earlier. We were both crying. When we walked back home, our relationship was finished.”
“And I never even knew he existed.” Emma’s voice sounded distant.
“I know. Afterward I couldn’t help but wonder how we were able to live together for such a long time without discussing some of the most important issues in our lives. Instead, I was grateful that Elliot never asked any questions. Never put any explicit demands on me. And I asked very little about his background too, even if we did meet his sister occasionally. But, above all, I had no idea about his dreams. How he imagined his—well, our—future. And you can’t live like that. Not in the long term.”
“Many live like that, Maria. Without ever having to confront each other’s hopes and dreams. It’s sad and strange, but many do.”
“What I wanted to try to make you understand is that I never secretly dreamed of having a relationship with a woman. That this was the reason for my earlier relationships being short-lived and superficial. No, I don’t think I had ever even considered it. I don’t think I consciously thought much about my private life at all. Of course, I
met someone now and then. When you are single, you get introduced to other singles by well-meaning friends. But nothing serious came out of any date after Elliot. Not until I met Maya. I am not sure if you will believe me when I tell you that I actually never really thought about the fact that I was in love with a woman. Or that I hesitated even for a second for that reason. I simply thought of her as someone I loved. So the fact that she didn’t come with me to the funeral had nothing to do with me not wanting to show up with a woman. That I was in the least uncomfortable. I wasn’t. You see, to me, being with Maya was absolutely natural and absolutely perfect. I loved everything she was. What she looked like. Her perfume. Her voice. Her hands. The way she moved. Her laughter. Her thoughts and ideas. Because all of it together made her Maya. They were all expressions of who she was. And because it was so simple and natural to me, I thought it would be to others too. Of course it wasn’t, but I chose never to take on board any negative comments or reactions. I loved Maya and nothing could change that. Watching myself here and now, I can’t possibly imagine that anybody could ever enter my life in that way again. Man or woman.”
“I listen to you telling me this, and I wish even more that I could have met her and spent time with you when you were the person your love made you. When I think about myself too. And I realize that I will never experience anything like that kind of love. When Olof left me, it wasn’t the kind of devastating grief you carry. Actually, I wonder if it was grief at all. I think it might have been fear more than anything. I was scared. So terribly scared of having to live on my own. As you know, I have never done that. Not until now. And it is utterly frightening.”
We sat opposite each other, in silence. I felt tired. But I didn’t want to make a move. It felt like the dark room with the sea as a distant backdrop was the perfect setting for us.
“Have you opened the envelope?”
I shook my head.
“Are you going to?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it.”
Actually, this was true. I hadn’t given the envelope a thought. I had dropped it into the box by my bed. I realized now that this wasn’t really the right place for it. The envelope didn’t belong with the things I wanted to keep close to me. I didn’t want it at all. I decided to put it somewhere else later. Or throw it away.
“There is nothing more I want know about Mother. Nothing I want.”
Emma’s eyes glittered in the flickering light from the small candles on the table between us. “Do you never wonder about her life? Her childhood?”
“Why should I? She was an adult when I met her. My mother. I was the child. She wasn’t.”
“But we are affected by our childhood, aren’t we? Surely you and I are products of ours. And the older you get, the more clearly you can see the child in other people, I think. It’s as if they’re walking about looking like adults, still carrying inside the child they once were.”
“We talked about that before. But I think you exaggerate the importance. I have met people who had awful childhoods yet grew up to become decent, considerate, and mature human beings. And the other way around.”
“I still think it stays there, inside us. The little child we once were. Our memories. Our disappointments. But also all the good things. And perhaps we can pick and choose a little and decide what we want to hang on to.”
“You’re philosophical, aren’t you? And I am sure you are a better person than I am. In every way. But we all do the best we can.”
I met her eyes.
“But if it makes you happy, I will open the envelope. And absorb what’s inside. I promise.”
“It’s not for my sake that you should do it. It’s for yours, Maria. Only yours. And it’s entirely up to you.”
She stood up, a little unsteadily. Due to the long day or the wine, I couldn’t tell.
“It was a really nice walk today. But now I can feel it in my entire body. So I’ll retire. We’re in for a full day tomorrow too. And a lunch to pack before we leave. Good night, Maria. And thank you.”
I stayed in the silence. I couldn’t imagine what the following day would be like. In the past we had often sailed with Pau in his little boat. Long, lazy days when the tourists in town became too much. Anchoring up in a cove somewhere. Swimming, playing music, reading. Often, we brought friends and anchored side by side so we could jump between the boats. During the past year, I had not sailed. I wasn’t sure if Pau still sailed as before, but I didn’t think so.
I rose and turned on the computer.
To my surprise there was an e-mail from Anna.
Hi Maria,
I was happy to hear that mom is with you. Take good care of her. She needs you. And who knows, you might need her too?
Love,
Anna
I had no idea how to interpret this. Here they were, worrying about each other, I thought. Neither of them needs me. More likely, they need each other. So why couldn’t they just look after each other without involving me?
What was wrong with us? What had created this hopeless inability to communicate frankly and clearly?
I opened the folder with my diary and wrote a few lines.
Everything feels different. I’m not sure if it feels better. Just different. Two days to go. I thought I would welcome her departure. Having my house back. But now I’m not so sure. It’s not that I want her to stay. I don’t think I do. I just don’t want to be alone here in the house again.
I suddenly felt exhausted. I took the sheets from the basket where I kept them during the day, moved the cushions from the sofa, and made my bed. I sat down and picked up the box from the floor. I ran my palm over the lid. It was a small one, about the size of a shoe box. I kept my clothes and other things in one of the downstairs bedrooms. But what was in this box I wanted close by. Often when I lay sleepless, I would open it and take out some small item.
I carefully collected the photos that were still spread out on the table and placed them in a small pile. I took out the envelope and set it to one side. Underneath, there were Maya’s early letters. Her perfume bottle, almost empty, but still carrying her fragrance. And there was my old phone. I picked it up and stuck the charger in the wall socket. I kept the phone charged so I could turn it on when I needed to. Because inside there was Maya’s voice. A few voice messages she had left for me. And the pictures. A few selfies of us on the terrace. A picture where Maya was standing behind me, gathering my hair behind my ears. One picture of us in profile, so close that our noses almost touched. I flicked through them, as cautious as always. Scared that some careless push of a key would erase them all. I left the phone charging but returned the pile of photographs to the box. The envelope sat on the table. I picked it up and held it in my hand for moment, hesitating. It did not belong in the box. In the end, I closed the box and put the envelope on top.
DAY FIVE
Pau was right about the weather. We couldn’t have wished for a better day. I stood on the terrace, looking out over the sea as I did every morning. The sky was blue and without a cloud, and it looked like a light breeze rippled the glittering surface of the sea. There was not a person in sight. But Cadaqués always woke late, especially this time of year.
When I came downstairs, Emma was already busy packing our lunch, and there was little left for me to do.
“I hope this will be okay. It’s really just some bread, cheese, and fruit.”
“That’s a lot, Emma. It looks perfect. It will be awkward if we bring too much.”
“I’m not sure this is such a good idea,” I said as I sat down.
“No, it feels a bit odd to me too. I’m not really used to the sea. As you know, I really don’t like being on the water or in it. Plus I get seasick very easily. But the weather couldn’t be better, so I’m hoping it will all turn out fine.”
“I wasn’t really thinking about that.”
�
��No, I understand, I think. But perhaps you don’t need to think further than today. This outing. Just be here and now for little while.”
Here and now? But I didn’t want to be here and now. I had no wish to sit in a sailboat with Emma and Pau all day. The idea made me cold with apprehension. And the familiar irritation made itself felt again.
“It might have been better if Pau had just taken you on this trip,” I said, fully aware that I was distancing myself from Emma. The small steps we had taken to get closer to each other these past days suddenly felt unreal. And meaningless. “I have sailed here before.”
“I’m here to spend time with you, Maria. I would never have accepted the invitation if you hadn’t come along. I don’t even know Pau.”
I finished my coffee and stood up.
“All right. I guess we are ready, then. Shall we go and see if Pau is too?”
* * *
Pau’s little sailboat was a classic single-masted Catalan fishing boat. Or I assumed it was. There were many similar ones in the harbor. It was a wooden boat, its exterior painted warm red and the interior pale yellow. The fitting had probably been adjusted when it stopped being used as a fishing boat, because now it had only three narrow thwarts and a small space for storage.
Emma accepted Pau’s hand with grace as she stepped into the boat. She sat down and looked up at me with a thin smile.
“Push away as you jump on board,” Pau said. As if it was the most natural thing in the world. As if I had done this many times before. I had been on many trips in this boat before, but it had always been Maya who did this part. I untied the rope and waited for Pau to give me a sign to jump on board. For a moment, I could see myself missing the step and ending up in the water. But when I finally pushed off from land and jumped, it felt simple and natural.
