Sacrifice

by Karin Alvtegen

  ‘He would have been thirty. We were supposed to go out to eat for once, I arranged for a babysitter months ago, it was going to be a surprise.’

  Monika clenched her fists and pressed her nails into her palms. It was a relief when it hurt somewhere she could pinpoint.

  Pernilla picked up her fork again and let it return to the chanterelle.

  ‘They rang from the funeral home this morning; he was cremated yesterday. Well, what they managed to scrape up of him, although they didn’t say that. So now he isn’t merely dead, now he’s been annihilated as well, only a little ash in an urn down there at the funeral home waiting to be picked up.’

  Monika wondered how hot the oven should be for the blueberry pie she had bought for dessert. She had forgotten to check before she threw out the package. Two hundred degrees Celsius should do it. If she put a little foil on top it wouldn’t burn.

  ‘I picked a white one. They had a whole catalogue with caskets and urns in different colours and shapes and price ranges, but I took the one that was cheapest because I knew he’d think it was crazy to waste money on an expensive urn.’

  And she had to whip the vanilla sauce too, she’d forgotten about that. She wondered whether they had an electric mixer, because she hadn’t seen one when she’d made dinner, but maybe there was one in a cupboard she hadn’t looked in.

  ‘I’m not going to have a burial. I know he wouldn’t want to be buried somewhere, he’ll be scattered at sea, he loved the sea. I know how much he missed diving and that in his heart he wanted to start again, it was only because of me that he didn’t.’

  Imagine, Sofia Magdalena was engaged to Gustav III when she was just five years old. It said in the books that she had led a melancholy life, she had been shy and withdrawn and subjected to a strict upbringing. She came to Sweden at nineteen and had a hard time adjusting to life at the Swedish court.

  ‘Why couldn’t he have lived long enough to dive one more time? Just one more time!’

  How loud she was talking. She was going to wake Daniella if she didn’t pipe down soon.

  ‘Why wasn’t he allowed to do it? Why? Just one last time!’

  Monika gave a start when Pernilla suddenly stood up and went into the bedroom. It was clear that the wine had affected her legs too. Monika searched the kitchen for the whisk she needed but found none. Then Pernilla reappeared and now she had Mattias’s woollen jumper in her arms, holding it close to her as if in an embrace. She sank down on the chair and her face was contorted with anguish and now she was shrieking more than talking.

  ‘I want him to be here! Here with me! Why can’t he be here with me?’

  Keep moving. Keeping herself in constant motion made it possible to stay out of all this. It was when she stopped that everything hurt.

  Doctor Monika Lundvall stood up. Mattias Andersson’s widow sat across the table and was sobbing so hard she was shaking. The poor woman wrapped her arms round herself and rocked back and forth. Doctor Lundvall had seen this so many times. Loved ones had died and the relatives were left behind in inconsolable despair. And they could never be comforted. People in the midst of grief were in a world of their own. No matter how many years a person studied medicine or stood right next to them, they were still in a different place. There was nothing you could say to cheer them up, nothing you could do to make them feel better. All you could do was to be there and listen to their unbearable sorrow. Endure it even though their distress raged all around them that everything was meaningless, that life was so ruthless it was no use even trying. You might as well give up at once. What was the point when it could all end an hour from now? Why make an effort when everything was steadily moving towards the same inexorable end? And it was impossible to avoid. People in grief were one big reminder. Why try at all? Why?

  ‘Pernilla, come, let’s put you to bed. Come on now.’

  Doctor Lundvall went round the table and put a hand on her shoulder.

  The woman kept on rocking back and forth.

  ‘Come on.’

  Doctor Lundvall took hold of Pernilla’s shoulders and helped her up from the chair. With an arm round her shoulders she led the woman into the bedroom. Like a child Pernilla let herself be led and did as she was told, lying down obediently in the bed. Doctor Lundvall pulled up the covers from the empty side of the double bed and tucked them around her. Then she sat down on the edge of the bed and stroked Pernilla’s forehead. Gentle, calm movements that made her breathe more easily. She stayed there. The red numbers on the clock radio changed and returned in new combinations. Pernilla was now sound asleep, and Doctor Lundvall went back to the subject of her leave of absence.

  Now only Monika was left.

  ‘Forgive me.’

  One big reminder.

  ‘Forgive me. Forgive me because I wasn’t braver.’

  She stroked away a lock of hair from her brow.

  ‘I would do anything to make him come back to life.’

  Pernilla took in a shuddery breath. And Monika felt that she wanted to say it out loud. Even if Pernilla didn’t hear. To confess.

  ‘It was my fault, I was the one who betrayed him. I left him there even though I could have saved him. Forgive me, Pernilla, for not being braver. I would do anything at all, anything, if only I could give you Lasse back again.’

  22

  ‘Why didn’t you say something?’

  Four days had passed since the bathroom incident, and nobody from the agency had shown up. Now Ellinor was suddenly standing in the hall, and she flung out the question before she even managed to close the front door. The words echoed from the stairwell. Maj-Britt was standing near the living-room window and was so surprised by her own reaction that she didn’t even register that she had just been asked a question.

  How she had detested that voice. It had plagued her like an ingenious torture instrument with its inexhaustible flow of words, but now she had a feeling of gratitude. She had come back. In spite of what had happened last time.

  Ellinor had come back.

  Maj-Britt remained by the living-room window. What she felt was so unfamiliar that she completely lost her bearings, she no longer remembered how you were supposed to act in situations like this, when you actually experienced something that might easily be mistaken for a mild form of happiness.

  She didn’t have much chance to think about it because the next moment Ellinor came storming into the room, and it was quite obvious that she wasn’t expecting to be welcomed with delight. Because she was furious. Really fuming. She stared at Maj-Britt and completely ignored Saba, who stood wagging her tail obsequiously at her feet.

  ‘You have pain in your back, don’t you, where you usually put your hand? Admit it!’

  The question was so unexpected that Maj-Britt totally forgot her gratitude and retreated at once to her usual defensive position. She saw that Ellinor had a folded piece of paper in her hand. A piece of lined paper torn from a notebook.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Why didn’t you say something?’

  ‘Are you aware that it’s been four days since the last time you were here? I could have starved to death.’

  ‘That’s right. Or you could have gone out to the shop.’

  Her voice was just as fierce as her gaze, and Maj-Britt realised that something had happened during those four days Ellinor had stayed away. Maj-Britt sensed that it had to do with that piece of paper she was holding. It was so similar to other pieces of paper which had intruded into her flat a while back, and which she was sorry she had ever read. Ellinor must have seen her expression, because now she unfolded the sheet of paper and held it out to her.

  ‘This was why you thought I knew Vanja Tyrén, right? Because she wrote that you had pain somewhere, so you thought I was the one who told her, right?’

  Maj-Britt felt her ears flame red. Since the past had come back she had been almost anaesthetised, it was as if a peculiar gap had formed between all her emotions and what she had suddenly remember
ed. She sensed that the reprieve was temporary, and now that she saw the paper being held out to her the gap was reduced to nothing more than a thin little membrane. Nothing in the world could make her take it. Nothing.

  ‘Since you refused to tell me, I wrote to her myself and asked what actually happened, what it was that made you believe she and I knew each other. Today I got her answer.’

  Maj-Britt didn’t want to know. No, she didn’t, she didn’t. She had been unmasked. With Ellinor’s letter Vanja had learned that Maj-Britt had actually lied; she now knew what a pitiful failure of a human being Maj-Britt had turned into. But naturally Ellinor did not intend to let her escape. Not this time either. Her voice lashed out the words when she started to read.

  ‘Dear Ellinor, Thanks for your letter. I’m glad there are people like you out there with a genuine empathy for your fellow human beings. It gives me hope for the future. Most people who are locked in the bathroom by their clients would probably have left the whole thing behind like an unpleasant memory and chosen not to go back there again. I’m glad for Majsan’s sake that she has you, and do try to forgive her. I don’t think she meant as much harm as it may have seemed and the fault is actually mine. I wrote something in a letter that no doubt scared her, and to be honest that was my intention, because I think it might be urgent. I wrote that if Majsan has pain somewhere then she has to seek medical help. I had hoped that she would have already done something about it before she got my letter, but apparently she chose not to, and the choice is naturally her own and no one else’s.’

  Ellinor raised her eyes and glared at Maj-Britt, who turned her back and looked out the window. Ellinor continued reading.

  ‘Now I realise that you probably wonder how in the world I could know this, and I sense that you have already decided to write another letter to ask me. To save you some time I’m answering you now. The only person I’m willing to tell it to is Majsan, and I don’t intend to do so either by letter or telephone. Best of luck, Ellinor. My warmest regards, Vanja Tyrén.’

  It was finally quiet. Maj-Britt felt that disgusting lump in her throat. She tried to swallow but it wouldn’t budge, and even grew bigger, forcing tears to her eyes. She was thankful that she had her back to Ellinor so she wouldn’t see. Her weakness would be used against her, she knew that, that’s how it had always been. It was when you dropped your guard that you made yourself most vulnerable.

  ‘Dear Maj-Britt. Let me ring and make an appointment with a doctor.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘But I’ll go with you, I promise.’

  Ellinor sounded different now. Not as angry, but concerned instead. She had been easier to deal with when she was angry, when Maj-Britt was fully justified in defending herself.

  ‘Why should I listen to someone doing life in prison who has some peculiar notion about me?’

  ‘Because that particular notion is right. Isn’t it? You do have pain in your back. Admit it.’

  She hadn’t even sounded angry in the letter. Even though Maj-Britt had lied to her. Vanja still cared about her welfare despite her nasty reply. She felt herself blushing, the colour of shame creeping across her cheeks when she thought about what she had written to Vanja.

  Vanja.

  Maybe the only person who had really cared about her. Ever.

  ‘Can’t you at least find out what she knows?’

  Maj-Britt swallowed in an attempt to get control of her voice.

  ‘How? She didn’t want to say, either in a letter or on the phone. And she can’t come here.’

  ‘No, but you can go to see her.’

  Maj-Britt snorted. That was impossible, of course, and Ellinor knew it as well as she did, although she felt she had to suggest it. Just to have an opportunity to emphasise Maj-Britt’s disadvantage. She leaned on the windowsill. She was so tired. So dead tired of having to force herself to keep breathing. The pain had been so constant lately that she had almost grown used to it, accepted it as a natural condition. Sometimes she even experienced it as pleasant, since it took her mind off what hurt even more. Until it got so intense that it was almost unbearable.

  Maj-Britt’s knees began to give way and she turned round. The lump in her throat had become manageable and no longer threatened to expose her feelings. She went over to the easy chair and tried to hide the grimace prompted by the pain when she sat down.

  ‘How long have you been in pain?’

  Ellinor sat on the sofa. On the way there she put Vanja’s letter on the table. Maj-Britt looked at it and knew that she would read it again, see the words with her own eyes, the words that Vanja had written. How could she have known? Vanja was no enemy, never had been. She had merely done as Maj-Britt had asked and stopped sending her letters. Not out of anger but out of consideration.

  But how could she have known?

  ‘How long have you been in pain?’

  She couldn’t lie anymore. Couldn’t keep it up any longer. Because there was really nothing to defend.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Well, about how long?’

  ‘It crept up on me. It didn’t hurt all the time at first, just now and then.’

  ‘But now it hurts all the time?’

  Maj-Britt made one last brave attempt to defend herself by not answering. That was all she could do. She already knew it was futile.

  ‘Maj-Britt, does it hurt all the time?’

  It had lasted five seconds. Maj-Britt nodded.

  Ellinor gave a heavy sigh.

  ‘I only want to help you, don’t you see that?’

  ‘Well, you are getting paid for it, after all.’

  It was unfair and she knew it, but sometimes she said things out of habit. The words were so much a part of her life in the flat that they didn’t even have to be consciously thought before they spilled out. She was actually aware that Ellinor had done a lot more for her than she was really paid to do. A lot more. But for the life of her Maj-Britt couldn’t understand why. And of course Ellinor reacted.

  ‘Why do you always have to make things so hard? I understand that you have probably had a hell of a lot of trouble in your life, but do you have to make the whole world suffer for it? Can’t you try to make a distinction between those you should hate and those who don’t deserve it?’

  Maj-Britt turned to look at the window. Hate. She tasted the word. Who actually deserved her hate? Whose fault had it all been?

  Were her parents to blame?

  The Congregation?

  Göran?

  He had understood what happened. He didn’t accuse her straight out, but she remembered the look on his face. Göran’s contempt had soon developed to open hatred. When it was time to move to the flat they had been hoping to get for so long, she had to move alone. And here she had stayed. Hadn’t contacted anyone or given out her new address, not even to Vanja. She had no idea where Göran went after the papers were signed and the divorce granted, and after a couple of years she wasn’t even interested in knowing.

  Ellinor sounded rather dejected when she went on; her voice had lost its fire and she started by taking a deep breath.

  ‘But Vanja’s right, of course. You make your own choices.’

  Maj-Britt started at the words.

  ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘It’s your life, isn’t it? You’re the one who decides. I can’t force you to go to the doctor.’

  Maj-Britt fell silent. She couldn’t face thinking it all the way through. That it might be life-threatening. That whatever was hurting inside her body might be the beginning of the end. The end of something that had been so totally meaningless, yet she had taken for granted that it would go on.

  ‘Is it because you don’t want to leave the flat that you won’t go to the doctor?’

  Maj-Britt considered this. Yes. That was definitely one reason. The thought of forcing herself out of the flat was terrifying. But it was only one of the reasons; the other was more crucial.

  They would have to touch her. She wo
uld have to take off her clothes and she would be forced to let them touch her disgusting body.

  Suddenly Ellinor straightened up and looked like she had just had an idea.

  ‘What if a doctor came here?’

  Maj-Britt got palpitations from the mere suggestion. Ellinor’s attempt to find a simple solution was backing her into a corner. It would be so much easier just to admit that it was impossible, so that she could renounce all responsibility and not even have to consider making a decision.

  ‘What sort of doctor?’

  Ellinor’s enthusiasm was back, now that she obviously thought she had found a solution.

  ‘My mother knows a doctor I can call. I’m sure I can get her to come here.’

  Her. Then maybe that would be possible to endure. At least maybe.

  ‘Dear Maj-Britt. Please let me ring and ask her, at any rate. All right?’

  Maj-Britt didn’t reply, and Ellinor got more excited.

  ‘Then I’ll ring her, okay? Just call and see what she says.’

  And so apparently some sort of decision was made. Maj-Britt had neither agreed nor objected. She still had the chance to blame everything on Ellinor if things went wrong.

  That would make it so much easier to endure.

  If there were always someone else to blame.

  23

  The clock radio woke her at seven thirty and she didn’t feel the least bit tired. Her whole system was revving up even before she opened her eyes. She had fallen asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow and then slept dreamlessly for three hours. That was enough. The sleeping pills had not failed her, they effectively blocked all entry and prevented him from getting in. Then she was spared the piercing emptiness in her chest when she awoke and he was gone again.