Lena looks out the window and sees her sister park the car and then come striding toward the house. Lena hears Astrid knock and then pull open the door, bringing with her a greater physicality than the summer house has witnessed lately. Kerstin and Lena both move cautiously. Lena walks slower, more haltingly, and Kerstin follows suit. Whenever Holger comes over, the quiet of the house shifts a little, but he, too, slips into a more cautious and slower rhythm.
With an effort Lena gets up to greet Astrid. Her whole body hurts, as if it’s about to implode. Her cells are waging an anarchic civil war and she is disappearing bit by bit.
Astrid can’t hide her reaction to how Lena looks. She tries to put on a smile, but it drops away so dramatically that it could have made a clattering sound on the floor. And her eyes fill with tears.
So, Martha, this is what I’ve become, Lena thinks. People cry when they see me. I’m so glad you won’t see me now.
“Lena . . .” Astrid attempts to retrieve her smile. And Lena tries to muster a smile, too, to help her out. A door opens, and Kerstin comes into the room to join them. She must have been taking an afternoon nap because one side of her face is creased with sleep, and her eyes have a slightly glazed look, trying to seem alert when her brain isn’t quite awake yet.
“Astrid!” she exclaims.
When Astrid turns toward Kerstin, Lena can see from her sister’s reaction that something has happened to their mother as well. There is something frightening about her appearance, too, as if grief has already become etched onto her face.
I’m dragging my mother with me into the shadow world, Lena thinks. Like a reverse umbilical cord. She gave me life, and now I’m draining hers.
With alarm in her eyes, Astrid looks from Kerstin to Lena and back again. Lena imagines that her sister must feel like she is seeing two ghosts who have lost the ability to smile, only able to bare their teeth instead. Astrid takes Lena’s hand and probably regrets touching her, because that, too, seems to fill her with fear. Lena knows how thin her hand is. Her arms and legs, too. She is withering away.
Astrid, on the other hand, looks strong and radiantly beautiful, with her thick and shiny hair, an attractive suntan, and her lips, which Lena has always thought have something secretive and exciting about them, like a lovely rosette on an elegant package. She has on an expensive pair of light-blue jeans and a white cotton shirt. Nicely dressed, as always, although in Lena’s opinion a tad boring. Much of Lena’s clothing designs have been a response to Astrid’s unwavering self-confidence. In her mind, Lena would talk to her sister, saying, “You would never dare wear something like this, Astrid” whenever she created something especially exuberant. It was a form of provocative rebellion.
Can I do this? Lena thinks when Kerstin goes to the kitchen to make tea, and Astrid turns to face Lena. Can I handle having her here? Can I even handle having tea with her and Mamma?
She wants to be with Astrid, and yet she doesn’t. She wants her sister close by, and yet she’s afraid of her. Lena heads for the kitchen, and Astrid makes a clumsy attempt to take her arm.
“No,” says Lena to her mother. “I don’t want any tea.” Then she turns to Astrid. “Let’s go for a walk instead.” When she sees that Kerstin has turned off the teakettle so she can come with them, Lena tells her that she wants to be alone with Astrid for a while.
“Oh, okay.” Kerstin looks hurt, but also a little relieved. At least that’s what Lena wants to believe.
The two sisters walk down to the beach. It’s late afternoon and ominous-looking gray clouds have gathered. A few families are still there, but most have packed up their towels, folding chairs, and picnic baskets. Their father used to call such people “vacation wimps,” worthy only of scorn. In their family, you went down to the beach with a towel nonchalantly draped over your shoulder, or you walked along the shore fully dressed. To set up camp on the shore like the vacation wimps was unthinkable. They were the sort who brought along cookies that got dropped in the sand and tepid coffee in big thermoses. They had whining children who stuffed sand in their mouths, and their fat bodies were encased in ill-fitting swimsuits. The ways of the vacation wimps were to be avoided at all costs.
“I wish we had a blanket to sit on,” Astrid says as they stand at the shoreline, letting the water wash over their feet. “It’s strange how much we still carry with us, don’t you think? All those things we do or don’t do because we grew up with things always being done a certain way.”
“I know what you mean,” Lena replies. She thinks it’s wonderful standing here with her feet in the cold water. With each wave, her feet sink deeper into the sand and the cold makes some of the pain fade away. She looks at the goose bumps on her thin arms. “But it’s great standing here like this.”
Finally, they sit down on the sand and watch the waves roll in, one after another. Astrid looks pensive. When she notices that Lena is looking at her, she quickly gives her an apologetic smile.
“So how are things at home?” Lena asks.
“Oh, there’s not much to tell,” Astrid replies. “A little messy, that’s all.”
“Oh, come on,” Lena says. “I’m so tired of being sick and thinking sad thoughts. I’d love to hear about something else.”
“I think Henrik has left me.”
“What? He . . . your Henrik?” Lena can’t believe her ears. But Astrid nods, keeping her gaze fixed on the horizon.
“Is it because of . . .” Lena can’t say the words. Her voice is so faint that it disappears in the roar of the waves. She gathers her courage. She has to speak. It’s time.
Martha, help me, she thinks.
“Is it because of Michael?”
Astrid turns to look at Lena, who sees a glint of fury in her sister’s eyes. But Astrid’s anger is instantly quelled at the sight of Lena’s face.
At the thought of poor me, Lena realizes. Me and my sad situation.
“No,” Astrid says. “Or rather, yes. I guess it’s always been an issue between us. But it’s over now. And Henrik . . . well, I don’t think he can handle it. Even though things could still be worked out.”
Astrid gives Lena an odd smile. Lena hates the expression she sees on her sister’s face. A stoic and melancholy expression. There’s always something so grandiose about Astrid. Everyone else can behave in all sorts of ways. But Astrid is always so composed. She puts on that queen-like air of hers, as if everything runs right off her and she can handle anything.
“Sandra told me that you cheated on Henrik with Michael. In my apartment.”
When Lena says those words, she can’t help smiling, but Astrid’s smile disappears. Being blunt is her solace. It’s her only advantage when everyone else seems bound hand and foot by trying to be considerate and sympathetic. The fact that Astrid is blinking back tears reveals that her words have hit home.
“Do you think that’s funny?” Astrid asks. “I can’t understand how you can sit there grinning.”
“Sorry. But did Henrik find out? Is that why he’s leaving you?”
“Not directly. But there’s always been something unresolved between me and Michael. And from what I understand, you have more insight into that than I ever . . . in fact . . . my God, Lena . . . I never, ever thought that you . . . that you and he . . .”
It’s clearly not Astrid’s intention, but when she spits out those words, charged with fury, Lena feels such pain. She wraps her arms around her legs and presses her forehead against her knees. The pain isn’t isolated to any particular spot. Instead, it seeps into every cranny, permeating her whole body. She is nothing but pain. She buries one hand in the sand. Take my hand, Martha, she thinks. Help me make it through this.
“But it’s okay now,” Astrid hastens to add, reaching out to place her hand on Lena’s shoulder.
Lena manages only a groan.
Astrid takes her sister’s hand from the sand and squeezes it lightly. “I’m not mad at you. I’m really not, sweetie. Everything will be fine. Do you think we should
go back now?”
Lena nods. She needs to take one of the pills that Holger has given her. She longs for her bed and the welcome effect of the medication.
Astrid walks next to her, and every other step she asks, “Are you okay?”
So go ahead and take me, you fucking pain! That’s what Lena wants to scream across the shoreline and sand dunes and wild thyme plants. Can’t you see that I give up? I refuse to fight anymore. Won’t you spare me the worst of it if I surrender and stop struggling?
And yet.
There’s something about Astrid that makes Lena try to muster her strength and defy the war raging inside of her.
“Don’t say it was okay!” Lena exclaims, as she presses her hands to her wretched abdomen. “Don’t say shit like that. You have no idea what’s important to me now.”
“What do you mean, Lena? Tell me,” Astrid begs. “I really want to help.”
Lena hunches against the pain. “Couldn’t you at least be angry? Couldn’t you do that?”
“But it happened so long ago. A whole lifetime ago. There’s no reason to talk about it right now.”
“So when exactly did you think we should talk about it? What are we waiting for, Astrid? Are you trying to spare my feelings, or what? Is it because you want to hold on to your anger at all costs so you can keep on being a nice person? Is that it? What a stingy bitch you are! Why can’t you ever let loose?”
Lena’s outburst takes a toll on her. She has to double over to calm her breathing.
As if frozen in place, Astrid stands in front of her sister. But all of a sudden she kicks her leg, presumably because one of the aggressive wood ants has bitten her foot. And Lena can’t help laughing. It almost feels as if Martha is with her, sharing her amusement at seeing the arrogant Astrid trying to look so grand and open-minded.
Lena would like to be one of those fiery ants biting her sister’s self-control.
“Ow!” Astrid shakes her foot again to get rid of the ant. When she looks up her eyes are filled with tears. “I just want us to be friends. I want to forgive you . . . I mean, I do forgive you . . . I know that things are terrible for you, and I’m so sorry that—”
“But why can’t you get mad like a normal person?”
“I’m not mad!” Astrid cries. “Don’t you understand that? I’m not mad at you. I feel . . .”
“Sorry for me?” Lena offers.
“Well, yes. But that’s not what I was going to say.” Astrid looks at Lena with a confused and despairing expression. Her rosette lips are contorted, and she is holding out her hands as if making an offering.
She’s trying to get out of this, Lena thinks. She wants to give me this wonderful gesture of reconciliation in order to get out of this.
“But don’t you get it?” Lena says. “When you refuse to be mad at me, you discount me entirely! I end up not even existing. I mean nothing to you. I’m just someone you feel sorry for, someone you can pat on the head and . . .”
And.
Lena has run out of steam. I’m nothing anymore, she thinks. She looks at Astrid, her vision blurry. Lena doesn’t know whether it’s because of her tears or because she simply doesn’t want to see anymore—as if all sharp contours in her life have disappeared. What does it matter? Why does she bother making such a fuss?
People feel sorry for her. She’s not someone who really counts anymore. And if you think about it, that’s not so strange. She’s a ghost with a pretend playmate, a pretend love.
Martha, can’t you at least give me some sign that you’re real? That we are real—or at least we used to be?
Lena shuts her eyes tight. She doesn’t want to look at Astrid or deal with her sister’s sadness and bewilderment.
Lena sways. She feels so tired that she plunges into darkness. Quickly she opens her eyes to regain her balance and then heads for the garden.
“It doesn’t matter anymore,” she tells Astrid as she slowly sinks onto a chair. “I’m glad you forgive me. What else can I say? I’m really sorry. What I did was stupid. I know that.”
Astrid sits down on the chair next to her sister. The wood of their worn-out patio furniture, left over from their childhood, has turned a weathered gray.
After a moment, clearly not sure how to respond, Astrid awkwardly pats Lena’s arm. “Yes, it was a stupid thing to do. But life goes on, and—”
“Please, Astrid. I can’t take that kind of bullshit.”
“But I just mean that certain things happen and—”
“I’m serious. Shut up.”
“Okay,” Astrid agrees. “I won’t say any more about it. I just want you to know that I’m here for you.”
Lena gives her sister a sardonic smile. “Here for me? My life is too short to put up with all these grandiose and empty phrases swirling around me and making it almost impossible for me to breathe. Just be honest with me or else leave. I wish I was a better person, but I’m not.”
Astrid bursts into tears and covers her face with her hands.
Lena struggles to get up. She can’t stand people crying, either.
But suddenly Astrid looks up. “Of course I’m fucking mad at you! Do you realize what you did? All these years you’ve gone around pretending like nothing happened. Making me play the fool, always thinking that nobody likes me or that everybody is acting so bizarre and something has always seemed off, and my whole life has been so strange, and . . . So, in case you’re wondering, I am mad! I’m absolutely furious!”
So here it is, Lena thinks. Astrid’s anger. For half her life she has been shying away from it, and now here it is. How is she going to respond? She thinks of all the speeches she has prepared in her defense but never delivered. Now she finds herself backed against the wall, and all her previous ideas have fled. What should she say?
“It didn’t mean anything . . .”
“Forget all those meaningless phrases if you want to be as honest as you said,” Astrid demands. “Maybe it didn’t mean anything to you or Michael. I get that. But if either of you ever bothered to look even an inch beyond your own horizons”—Astrid holds up her thumb and forefinger an inch apart, her face contorted with rage—“then you’d realize that a whole world collapsed because of something you call ‘meaningless.’ My world collapsed! And Viktor’s world, too! Oh, I guess maybe you two forgot about that. Or maybe that was the whole point? Let’s destroy Astrid? Was that what you and Sandra secretly wished all along?”
Astrid crushes an ant that has crept onto her ankle and then stomps her feet. She wipes away the tears that are pouring down her cheeks.
Lena feels something harden inside of her. Because behind Astrid’s claim that her sisters have always held a grudge against her is the notion that both they and the rest of humanity rank her higher than others.
“Oh, right. Why does everything have to be about you, Astrid?”
Lena gathers her strength to get up and leave. Can you believe how self-centered she is, Martha? You see it, don’t you? Me, me, me. All the time.
But Martha is looking at Astrid with sorrow. Lena can tell. And in reality she knows what Martha is seeing. A woman whose heart was broken. Who ran away in fright and has never fully reemerged again.
She hears Martha’s hoarse voice in her ear. You know how that feels, don’t you, Lena? Only those who have never risked everything can mock someone like Astrid. But you know that, Lena. She is where we were. Are. Were.
“I’m so sorry, Astrid!” Lena exclaims. All her scorn is gone. She reaches out to take Astrid’s hands, squeezing them tight. She wants to beg and plead.
Astrid pulls away. “And now you’re sick, and I can’t stand it. I don’t know what to do, Lena. I hate you, but above all I love you, and . . .”
The two sisters fumble their way back to one another, leaning over to give each other an awkward yet warm hug. Lena presses her forehead against Astrid’s strong and sturdy shoulder. This is her big sister holding her, someone she can lean on, someone who will support her.
&
nbsp; “Astrid, can you help me go back home to bed?” Lena asks. “I can’t stay up any longer. I need to take a pain pill. It’s too much for me.”
Astrid stands up and keeps a firm hold on Lena as they walk back to the house. Kerstin has apparently seen them from the window, since she comes out to the porch to meet them.
“Lena needs something to drink,” Kerstin says with a stern look at Astrid, as if she neglected her duties. “I think you must have forgotten about that, Lena. You need to drink a lot of fluids or you’ll get dehydrated.”
“Okay, Mamma.”
As Lena slowly climbs the porch steps with Astrid and Kerstin on either side of her, a memory resurfaces. When she was a child, she would often pretend to fall asleep in front of the TV because she wanted someone to pay attention to her. Astrid or Kerstin, or sometimes even Pappa Hans, would try to wake her, shaking her gently. But Lena would simply stir a bit and continue to pretend she was sound asleep. Then someone would either carry her to bed or walk alongside her the whole way. It was such a wonderful feeling to keep her eyes closed and know that someone was protecting and guiding her.
That’s the same feeling Lena has now, walking between her sister and mother. And she senses Martha’s warm gaze observing the whole scene. She pictures Martha giving her a conspiratorial wink, the way she used to do when they shared a secret. When no one was looking, Martha would give her a wink, and in an instant Lena would feel calm and happy.
“Sandra called,” Kerstin says now. “She and Emilia will be here tomorrow.”
“Sandra? I thought she was coming later,” Astrid replies.
“She thought you were coming later, Astrid,” Kerstin answers. “She sounded surprised that you were already here. Haven’t you talked to each other?”
“Uh . . . sure.”
“Because it would have been nice if all of you could have driven up here together.”
“Hmm . . .”
Lena wants to go straight to bed. She can tell something is going on between her two sisters. Kerstin has noticed it, too. As Lena heads to her room, she hears her mother sternly telling Astrid that she hopes they weren’t behaving childishly.
[2013] The Heart Echoes Page 30
