[2013] The Heart Echoes

by Helena vonZweigbergk

  “Lena, sweetheart!” Kerstin cries.

  Lena tries to get up, but she’s too dizzy. She sits on the floor, her knees aching as she waits for the worst of the dizziness to subside.

  Holger crouches down in front of her and grips her upper arms. “I’m going to lift you up,” he says, and then he helps her to her feet.

  Lena has always convinced herself that she’s not really afraid. But now she avoids looking into Holger’s light-green eyes. And she notices, much to her surprise, that she’s crying. She has a desperate urge to beg for mercy. Please, she wants to say, please don’t come here and be all gloomy and serious. Don’t come here and insist that I should be serious, too.

  “I’m sorry,” Lena says. “I don’t know why I’m acting this way.” Through her tears she sees Kerstin hurry out of the kitchen with her hand pressed to her mouth.

  Holger helps Lena over to the kitchen table. She sits down and tries to pull herself together, but she can’t. This giant of a man, with his ugly clothes and pathetic sandals, is supposed to offer her help and support as he bears witness to the fate that Lena has so far managed to endure with grim resignation. But with Holger, she suddenly feels as if she’s a five-year-old child who wants to hide under the table and shout, “I won’t!”

  Holger doesn’t say a word as he patiently waits for her to calm down. Then, speaking with a Gotland accent, he asks Lena if there’s anything in particular that she’s worried about, anything she’d like him to help her with. She merely shakes her head in reply and then listens as he explains the procedure for draining the fluid from her abdomen, and what sort of painkillers she can take. He goes over all the practical help he can offer. Kerstin comes back into the kitchen and leans against the counter. Lena sees that her mother is trying to appear strong and confident, in spite of the slight trembling of her head.

  Holger wants to examine Lena’s stomach, so she gets up to show him her swollen abdomen as she peers down at the nurse’s huge fists touching her skin. When he says they should plan to drain the fluid next week, Lena merely nods. She realizes what is happening here. He is taking charge. Until now, she has always been the strongest one in her family, the one who offered comfort and solace to everyone else.

  But under Holger’s hands and gaze, she feels so small.

  “Think about what you want,” Holger is saying. “I’ll do whatever I can to help you. I’ll drop by often, and you can always call me if you need anything.”

  He takes her hand to say good-bye. Her thin hand seems to disappear in his huge grasp. Then he leaves.

  Think about what you want.

  Lena stumbles along, breathing as hard as if she ran ten miles. As she walks, she holds her hands over her ears. Lena needs to think clearly, and in order to do that, she needs to concentrate.

  Several days have now passed, and every once in a while Holger asks her what she wants.

  That fat man in his pathetic-looking clothes. Fate has dictated that she must rely on his care. In her mind she says to Holger, I don’t know what I want. You keep asking me that question, but I’m afraid I can’t answer. All I know is what I don’t want. I don’t want the woman I love to be thousands of miles away.

  Besides, how am I supposed to know what I want? I no longer want anything. For me, there is only what I don’t want, as hopeless as that may sound.

  Well, wait. There is one thing I want. I want Astrid and Sandra to come here. I want them to rise above all the barriers that our adult lives have placed between us and just be here with me.

  If only my hands would stop shaking. The slightest upsetting thought makes them shake.

  Lena sits down on the beach and presses the palms of her hands against the shore. It’s still very early in the morning. The sand feels soft, like an empty flour sack. Lena spreads out the skirt of her dress and runs her trembling fingers over the worn fabric.

  I could teach you to wear a dress like this, Martha.

  I could show you the rocky shores with the crumbling light-gray limestone. The towering rauks speckled with dried dark-yellow moss, like patches of rust on ancient stone formations. The grandeur of the sandy beaches, the stubbornly impenetrable juniper bushes, the sheep with their spindly legs and thick bellies and glassy yellow eyes. The winding stone walls in the fields. And together—you and I, Martha—we would ponder how people managed to construct those walls. Dragging one stone after another out of the fields, fitting them into walls that extend for dozens of miles.

  Lena has to laugh as she pictures Martha’s surprised, or maybe puzzled, expression.

  Dragging stones around is definitely not part of Martha’s world.

  She envisions picking wild thyme for Martha—that magically fragrant lavender-colored thyme that grows in the shade along the shore, so sweetly reclusive, yet with such an overpowering scent.

  Last summer, Lena went out for a walk alone early in the morning, still feeling jet-lagged. She met an old man who saw her rubbing wild thyme between her fingers and then holding up her hand to breathe in the scent. The man grinned and gave her a mischievous look as he asked if she was suffering from some heartache. He was a real Fårö islander, with his baggy pants and grubby woolen cap. Puzzled, Lena asked him why he would say that. This happened to be right after she’d met Martha and was walking around in an elated and unreal state. She thought the fragrance of the thyme somehow matched the fluttering inside her chest.

  Speaking solemnly, the old man told her that wild thyme was a balm for the heart. With great effort he leaned down to pick a few of the tiny, dry flowers. He straightened up and rubbed his wrinkled old hands together. Then he closed his eyes and breathed in the scent. When he opened his eyes, he gave Lena a rejuvenated look.

  “It’s an old heart medicine,” said the man. “Anyone who breathes the fragrance will perk up and come alive.”

  Lena gave the man a conspiratorial smile.

  He smiled back. “There’s nothing better,” he told her.

  And Lena nodded, her eyes radiant. “You’re right about that!”

  Lena sits on the beach for a long time, staring out at the sea and rubbing the wild thyme between her trembling fingers. She is tired and her breathing is strained. She should head back, but she can’t muster even enough energy to stand up.

  “Hey, Lena!”

  She turns around and sees Holger’s bulky body come into view. He is wearing his Birkenstocks, making the sand whirl up at every step. When he reaches Lena, he sits down next to her and says he has some questions regarding the sleeping pills she has been taking.

  “Kerstin tells me the new pills have been giving you nightmares. Is that right?”

  Lena nods and tries to explain what happened the other night. As she talks, the terror returns and her voice falters. She looks at the huge nurse, and her hands begin shaking even more. “I can’t . . . I don’t know why, but I get so scared whenever I see you.”

  “But I’m here to help you.”

  “I know.” Lena can feel tears filling her eyes. “It’s just that when you’re around, everything becomes so real. And I feel so damn . . . pitiful.”

  Holger doesn’t speak. He merely places his big hand on Lena’s back for a moment. Lena glances at him, and when their eyes meet, he smiles briefly.

  “That’s really not so strange.”

  “So you’ve met other people who feel the same way?”

  “Yes, I have,” he gently confirms.

  “Do you think it’s a form of punishment when people get sick?” Lena asks him. “That if you do something really terrible, then you’re punished with illness?”

  “I meet a lot of people who are ill, and they’re pretty much like most other people. Some are nice, while others are real shitheads. But that doesn’t mean one ends up more sick than the other.”

  “I guess I feel like I’ve challenged the higher powers too much. I’ve wanted too much. Even things that didn’t belong to me. And that isn’t right,” Lena elaborates.

  “Maybe not
. I don’t know. But you shouldn’t let your illness get mixed up in all of that.”

  “But can’t you see why I want to? It would give some meaning to being sick. And maybe then I’d finally be freed from what I’ve done.”

  “The only meaning is the one you give to it,” Holger tells her.

  “Oh. I didn’t know you were a philosopher.”

  He gives Lena a melancholy smile. “Hmm. I’m not sure I am. Does it bother you?”

  “Just don’t expect me to buy into all your philosophizing. I’ve always detested any sort of pretentious idiots. Do I really have to change now? I mostly find everybody really annoying.”

  He nods. “You can be as dumb as you like.”

  Lena gives Holger a quizzical look. Then she smiles, too.

  “Sounds like you’re trying to be the wise philosopher again.”

  “Guilty as charged.” Holger stands up and reaches out his hand toward Lena. “Need help getting up?”

  Lena grabs Holger’s big fist, and he slowly but surely hauls her to her feet. Together they head back up the path along the shore.

  “I’ll walk back to the house with you. I left my car there.”

  Lena can’t walk fast, and Holger patiently slows his pace to match hers. At one point she stumbles and grabs hold of Holger’s massive upper arm.

  I’m afraid of Holger, thinks Lena, because with him I can’t pretend. She glances at his chubby cheek and notices how he fixes his eyes on his feet as he walks.

  “Do you live around here?” she asks him.

  “I live in Fleringe, near Fårösund.”

  “But you come here often? Out to the island, I mean?”

  “Yup.”

  When they reach Holger’s car, he turns to face Lena and again shakes her hand. His skin is warm to the touch. There is a light film of sweat on his face. He squints up at the sky and tells Lena, “What a lovely summer.”

  As Holger is about to get in his car, Lena is suddenly overcome with panic. She doesn’t want him to leave. What was she thinking when she arranged to stay here alone with Kerstin? She needs to be around someone with a calmer temperament. Someone who isn’t upset all the time.

  “When will you be back?” she asks Holger.

  “I have to visit a patient in Sudersand tomorrow, to change his dressing. I can drop by then, if you like.”

  “That would be great. I would really appreciate it.”

  Holger looks at her patiently. “No problem. I’m more than happy to check in on you. You need to remember to eat, and drink plenty of fluids. Don’t forget about that.”

  Lena wants to tell Holger something, but she can’t figure out what it is. For a moment she merely stares at him. Then she knows what she wants to say.

  “Everybody is always so sad and jumpy around me. I can’t make anyone happy anymore. And it’s starting to get on my nerves. Could you . . . I just wanted to say that you don’t have to feel sorry for me, okay?”

  Holger gives her a big smile, causing Lena to take an involuntary step back. His teeth look as unruly as his hair and beard.

  “And there’s one more thing,” she says. “If I’m not very polite or nice to you, could you just ignore it? I feel so tired and angry all the time, and sometimes dealing with my mother is too much for me. So is it okay if I’m not especially nice to you?”

  “Sure. But people do care about you, Lena.”

  “I just make them sad.”

  “Because they care about you,” he reiterates.

  “But then what good is it for people to care about someone? Mamma can’t even look at me anymore without tears in her eyes.”

  “Haven’t you ever been sad about someone you love, Lena?”

  Lena crosses her arms. “Of course.”

  “Then you understand. Most people think it’s worth it to love someone.”

  “I know.”

  Holger gets into his car and drives off, waving his hand out the window. Lena stands there for a moment, watching the car disappear, then goes back inside. Before lying down to rest, she gives Kerstin a big hug, holding her close for a long time.

  Should I write something about how you should seize the day while you can? Lena wonders. Should I put together a list of all the things I regret? Tell people that they should take good care of each other and appreciate the time that they have here on earth?

  Lena feels as if she ought to accomplish something. This is the time for grand gestures and weighty pronouncements, perhaps even phrases charged with meaning. But she’s not comfortable with all of that.

  Any sort of physical activity is getting harder for Lena, and she can manage only short walks. Yet she feels as if there are things she should do.

  “Mostly I’d just like to tell everybody to go to hell,” she says to Holger one day when he comes over to check on her.

  She looks at his big hands as he sits there studying the label of a medicine bottle. His reading glasses are perched on the very tip of his nose. Lena has complained of nausea, and Holger is trying to figure out if she might be allergic to some ingredient in the medicine. The past few days have been gloriously sunny, and Holger’s nose and cheeks are slightly sunburned. Lena looks at her own pale arms. She’s no longer especially keen on being out in the sunshine. This morning, when she laboriously made her way down to the beach, she was furious to see how beautiful the sea looked, mocking her with its dazzling appearance. I’m probably supposed to sit here enjoying the view and feeling nostalgic, she thought to herself.

  “But I just don’t know what to do,” she tells Holger.

  He takes off his reading glasses and sticks them in his shirt pocket as he looks at her. Lena is afraid he’s going to get up and leave.

  “Like with you, for example,” she goes on. “You scare me because I associate you so much with my illness. At the same time, I want you to stay. Nothing makes sense, and I’m supposed to be so . . .”

  Holger pats her arm. “It’s going to be okay.”

  “You know that’s not true. But it’s this . . .”

  Lena stares at Holger as tears spill down her face. Fury surges inside of her, like a wave slamming against her cranium.

  “Besides, how can you even say that? It’s going to be okay? You sit there looking so healthy, thinking, ‘I’m going to help this poor woman and then I’ll take my fat ass home and have some yogurt and then . . .’”

  Lena is so out of breath that she has to stop. Holger’s only reaction is a small furrow that appears on his brow.

  “I’m sorry, Holger.”

  He pats her arm reassuringly again. “I thought your sisters were going to visit,” he says.

  Lena feels her cheeks flush. That’s the thing. Sandra and Astrid are coming out here soon. Lena has been looking forward to seeing them, but the closer it gets to the day of their arrival, the more nervous she feels. What if they act aloof and treat her strangely? What if they make her feel even lonelier?

  But her desire to see them is greater than any apprehensions. She wants to lie in bed and listen to Astrid’s comforting big-sister voice. Maybe she could even ask her to read a book out loud.

  No, that would be too much like she did with Pappa when he was dying.

  And Sandra, with her over-the-top sense of humor. But will Lena still be able to laugh? The thought brings tears to her eyes. Of course Sandra will be able to make her laugh. Maybe they can reminisce about their childhood. How they used to borrow Astrid’s makeup on the sly, but they always ended up smearing the stuff all over each other, so everyone could see what they’d done. How they would toss water balloons at people from the window of their apartment in the city. They’d throw the balloons and then, shrieking, run away from the window. And how Pappa Hans yelled at them whenever some old guy phoned him to complain. How she and Sandra loved to dance together. That was when her sister’s passion for dancing started. And they liked to pretend they were on TV, with Lena interviewing Sandra, using the handle of her jump rope as a microphone.

 
; They can share all those memories.

  And Lena wants to have a talk with Astrid. She has made up her mind to do it. She doesn’t want to put it off any longer.

  But the closer the time for their visit gets, the more anxious and uneasy Lena feels.

  “I’m in love with someone,” Lena suddenly tells Holger.

  He is standing next to the table, putting things away in his bag. Now he pauses and gives her a smile. “That’s great,” he says.

  “It’s not great at all. It’s fucking awful. She lives so damned far away, and she’s married and has fifteen kids and tons of money.”

  “But she should still be here with you. I bet she’d be willing to come here.”

  Lena leans back in the armchair where she’s sitting. She looks around the living room and realizes that of course she could do that. She could decide to invite Martha here.

  “Our love hit a road bump,” Lena tells him. “And I’ve mostly been thinking that in so many ways she was just plain stupid.”

  “That doesn’t usually help. And besides, it’s possible to love stupid people, too.”

  “I guess so.”

  She can still be here with me, Lena thinks.

  I know that. When you let someone in, the way we did with each other, that connection doesn’t go away. My love for you, Martha, is part of me. And it’s still with me, no matter what you say, no matter what happens.

  Lena drags a patio chair over to a shady spot in the garden, right next to the raspberry bushes. This was one of her favorite places when she was growing up. She would often sit here with a stack of comic books, or a box of paper dolls because she liked to draw clothes for them. She would also secretly eat raspberries, one at a time, even though it was a rule that raspberries were only meant to be picked when the whole family could enjoy them together for dessert. If anyone caught her, which happened frequently because she always managed to smear raspberry juice on herself, Lena would roll her eyes and say, “I only ate one, and it was practically rotten. Why are you making such a fuss?”

  Right now she wants to sit near the raspberry bushes. She sinks onto the chair and thinks about that word now.