Sacrifice (5 page)

He scratched the back of his neck for a moment.

‘For me it wasn't a specific event I thought of, but a process that continued for several years. But I didn't need to do this exercise to know that the most important moment in my life was when my wife took her first hesitant steps again.'

He paused, picked at something on the arm of his chair and cleared his throat.

‘It was a little more than five years ago now. We were quite advanced scuba divers in those days. Pernilla, that's my wife, and I, were out with four friends diving in a shipwreck when the accident happened.'

It was evident that he had told this story many times. The words came loosely and easily and nothing was hard to admit.

‘There was nothing particularly special about that day, we had made dives like this hundreds of times before. I don't know how many of you know anything about scuba diving, but for those who don't know you always dive in pairs. Even if you're in a group, you always have a buddy to watch out for during the dive.'

A man in a suit on the other side of the circle
nodded, as if to show that he also knew about diving rules.

Mattias smiled and nodded back before he went on.

‘This time Pernilla was diving with another friend. My buddy and I had probably been down for three-quarters of an hour, and we were the first ones up. I remember that I took off my gear and that we talked a little about what we had seen down there, but by then too much time had passed and the only ones who hadn't come up were Pernilla and Anna.'

Now something changed in his tone. Maybe a person could talk about a really difficult experience as many times as he liked without it getting any easier. Monika didn't know. How would she know?

‘I hadn't been at the surface long enough to go back down, and the others tried to stop me, you know how it is with nitrogen uptake and all that, but the hell with it, I decided to go down again. It was as if I sensed that something was wrong.'

He paused, took a deep breath, and smiled apologetically.

‘Please excuse me, I've told this many times but …'

Monika couldn't see who was sitting to the right of him, but she could see a woman's hand. The hand was placed over his in a gesture of sympathy and then vanished from view. Mattias showed with a nod that he appreciated the support and then continued.

‘Anyway, I met Anna halfway down and she was completely hysterical. Well, we couldn't talk but we signed to each other and I understood that Pernilla was stuck somewhere in the wreck and her air had almost run out.'

Now the self-confidence came back into his voice. As if he really wanted to make everyone understand. And share his experience. He sounded almost eager when he continued.

‘I don't think I've ever been that scared in my life, but what happened was so strange. Everything suddenly became crystal clear. I just had to go down and get her, that was it, there was no other thought.'

Monika swallowed.

‘I don't know if it's true that there is some kind of sixth sense that gets switched on in situations like this, but it was as if I could sense where she was. I found her straightaway inside the wreck.'

Now the words were flowing again. He waved his hands in the air to emphasise what he was saying.

‘She was unconscious, lying half-buried under a pile of debris that had fallen on top of her; I remember every detail as if I'd seen it in a movie.'

He shook his head as if he too found the whole thing inconceivable.

‘Anyway, I got her up to the surface, but after that all my memories are gone. I remember almost nothing; the others had to tell me what happened.'

He fell silent again. Monika pressed her nails harder into her palms.

Everything he had done that she hadn't.

‘Her spine was injured when that wall collapsed on her. I was in the decompression chamber, so the first 24 hours I couldn't be with her, and that was really unbearable.'

He picked at the arm of his chair again and this time the pause was longer. Nobody said a word. Everyone sat quietly, waiting for the rest of the story; letting him
have all the time he needed. Then he raised his eyes from the arm-rest and his expression was sombre. Everyone understood how serious the accident had been, and what marks it had left on his life. When he went on, his tone was objective and matter-of-fact.

‘Well, I don't want to talk all afternoon, but to cut a long story short, she fought for almost three years to learn to walk again. And if that wasn't enough, it turned out that our insurance premium had arrived two days late, so the company refused to pay anything during her entire rehabilitation. But Pernilla was fantastic; I don't understand how she had the guts. She worked like a dog during those years, and it was just so tough not to be able to do anything but stand by her side and give her encouragement.'

Then he looked around the circle and smiled again.

‘So, the day she took her first steps I can honestly say were the best in my whole life. Along with the day our daughter Daniella was born.'

It was utterly still. Mattias looked around and finally he was the one to break the respectful silence.

‘Well, that little episode was what I thought of.'

Spontaneous applause broke out, increased, and would not stop. The sound rose like a wall around Monika. The woman who led the course had sat down on an empty chair while he talked, but when the applause began to die down she stood up and turned to Mattias.

‘Thank you for an incredibly gripping and interesting story. I would just like to ask one question if that's all right?'

Mattias shrugged amiably and said, ‘Yeah, of course.'

‘Now, afterwards, can you sum up what you feel about the whole thing in a few words?'

He only had to think for a couple of seconds.

‘Gratitude.'

The woman nodded and was about to say something else, but Mattias spoke first.

‘Actually, not just because Pernilla recovered, even though that may sound strange.'

He paused, formulating the right words to use to make it all comprehensible.

‘It's a little hard to explain, but the other reason is actually quite selfish. I realised afterwards how grateful I am that I reacted the way I did and didn't hesitate to go back down.'

The woman nodded.

‘You saved her life.'

He almost interrupted her.

‘Yes, I know, but it's not just that. It's being aware of how you would react in a crisis situation, because you have no idea before you're in it – that's something I really understood after the accident. What I mean is that I'm incredibly thankful that I reacted the way I did.'

He smiled a little, almost embarrassed, and looked down at his lap.

‘No doubt all of us dream about being that hero when it really counts.'

Monika felt the room closing in on her.

And any second now it would be her turn to speak.

S
he couldn't move. She was sitting on a chair and she was thin, but for some reason she couldn't move. A nauseating taste in her mouth. Something reminded her of the kitchen at home but she was surrounded by water with no horizon. There was the sound of footsteps coming closer, but she couldn't tell from where. A single urge, to run, to escape the shame; but there was something wrong with her legs so she couldn't move.

She opened her eyes. The dream was gone but not the feeling it left behind. Thin, sticky threads of her consciousness held on to it and tried in vain to put it into context.

The pillow behind her back had slipped to one side. With great effort she managed to heave herself out of bed and onto her feet. Saba raised her head to look at her but lay down again and went back to sleep.

Why had she suddenly been dreaming so much? The nights were filled with dangers, and it was hard enough to sleep sitting up without having to worry about what her mind was going to do when she relaxed her grip.

It must be the fault of that little person. The one who had been coming over lately and had such a hard time keeping her mouth shut. Maj-Britt hadn't asked to know, but Ellinor had told her anyway. Without
being asked she had let the words flow out of her mouth, and every one of them had penetrated into Maj-Britt's reluctant ears. Vanja was one of the few women in Sweden who had been sentenced to life in prison. Fifteen or sixteen years ago she had suffocated her children in their sleep, slit her husband's throat, and then set fire to the house where they lived in the hope of killing herself in the blaze. At least that was what she claimed afterwards, having survived with serious burns. Ellinor didn't know much more than that; the little she knew she had read in a Sunday supplement. A report on the most closely guarded women in Sweden.

But what she remembered and recounted was more than Maj-Britt ever wanted to know. And as if that weren't enough, the little person refused to stop plaguing her, trying to weasel out of her how she knew Vanja and whether she knew any more details. Naturally she hadn't replied, but it was distressing that the girl couldn't keep her mouth shut and just clean, which was the only reason she was in the flat in the first place. But she just wouldn't shut up. Such a constant stream that you might almost think her speech organs had to be kept busy for the rest of her body to function. One day she had even brought along a potted plant, a dreadful little purple thing that didn't flourish – maybe it didn't like the smell of bleach. Or else it was the subzero temperature on the balcony at night that it didn't appreciate. Ellinor insisted that she was going to complain at the shop and ask for a new one, but thankfully it didn't appear in Maj-Britt's flat.

‘Is there anything you'd like me to buy for next time, or should I just follow the usual list?'

Maj-Britt was sitting in the easy chair watching TV. One of those reality shows that were on all the time these days; this one was about a group of scantily clad young people who had to win the right to keep their room at a hotel by procuring as quickly as possible a roommate of the opposite sex.

‘Earplugs would be nice. Preferably the yellow ones made of foam rubber you can get at the chemist's, the kind that workers use in noisy jobs. They swell up and block the entire ear canal.'

Ellinor jotted it down on the list. Maj-Britt glanced at her and thought she saw a little smile under her fringe, just above her plunging neckline where her breasts were about to pop out of her jumper.

This person was going to drive Maj-Britt crazy. She couldn't figure out what exactly was wrong with her, since she didn't let herself be provoked. Never before had she felt such a wholehearted desire to get rid of someone, but all of a sudden none of her usual old tricks was working.

‘Whatever happened to that nice Shajiba? Why doesn't she come by anymore?'

‘She doesn't want to. She and I traded work schedules because she didn't dare come here anymore.'

Oh, really. Shajiba might not have been so bad after all. Right now she looked like an absolute dream.

‘You'll have to tell her that I really appreciated her work.'

Ellinor stuffed the shopping list in her pocket.

‘Then it was a shame that you called her “nigger whore” the last time she was here. I don't think she took it as a sign of your appreciation.'

Maj-Britt went back to the TV.

‘It's not until you have something to compare things to that you can see clearly.'

She glanced in Ellinor's direction, and now she was smiling again; Maj-Britt could have sworn that it was a little smile she saw. There was quite clearly something wrong with this person. Maybe she was even mentally handicapped.

She could imagine what the gossip was down there at the home care office. How hated she must be as a User. That's what they were called: not patients or clients, but Users. Users of home care. Users who required the help of little, repulsive people because they couldn't manage without it.

Let them say what they liked. She enjoyed playing the role of The Big Fat Ogre that nobody wanted on their work schedule. She didn't care. It wasn't her fault that things had turned out like this.

It was Göran's.

On the TV, one of the female participants had just lied to a gullible girlfriend and started to take off her shirt in order to tempt a potential roommate. The lowest types of human behaviour had been suddenly elevated to desirable entertainment by people who degraded themselves in full view of the public. They filled the TV schedule, they were on every channel, all you had to do was click through with the remote. And they all tried to outdo each other with their shocking behaviour in order to keep their viewers. It was disgusting to see.

She seldom missed a single episode.

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed that Ellinor was standing watching the TV. A little exasperated snort was heard in the room.

‘Jesus. Dumbing-down has really taken over.'

Maj-Britt pretended not to hear. As if that would help.

‘Do you know that people in all seriousness sit and discuss those programmes, as if they were something important? The world is going under out there, but people say the hell with it and get involved in stuff like this instead. I'm sure there's a conspiracy behind all this shit; we're supposed to become as stupid as possible so that the powers that be can do as they like without having us complain about it.'

Maj-Britt sighed. Just think if she could have a little peace and quiet. But Ellinor wouldn't stop.

‘It makes you sick to watch it.'

‘So don't watch.'

Admitting that she partially agreed with her was out of the question. She would rather justify a cholera epidemic than admit that she shared an opinion with this person. And now Ellinor was really wound up.

‘I wonder what would happen if they shut down all the TV stations for a couple of weeks, and at the same time saw to it that people couldn't drink any alcohol. Then at least the ones who didn't go right out and hang themselves would be forced to react to what the hell is going on.'

No matter how much Maj-Britt disliked using the telephone, soon there would be no other alternative; she had to ring the office and get this girl replaced. She had never had to do that before. They had always seen fit to leave on their own.

The thought of a mandatory telephone conversation made her even angrier.

‘Maybe you should apply to join them. With those clothes you wouldn't even have to change.'

It was quiet for a moment, and Maj-Britt kept watching the TV.

‘Why would you say something like that?'

It was hard to tell whether she sounded angry or sad, and Maj-Britt went on.

‘If you ever passed by a mirror and glanced at yourself then you wouldn't have to ask such a dumb question.'

‘So what's wrong with my clothes, in your opinion?'

‘What clothes? I haven't worn my glasses in so long that unfortunately I haven't been able to see any.'

It was quiet again. Maj-Britt would have liked to see if her words had hit home, but refrained. On the TV the credits had begun to roll. The programme was sponsored by NorLevo, a morning-after pill supplier.

‘Can I ask you one thing?'

Ellinor's voice sounded different now.

Maj-Britt sighed.

‘I have a hard time believing that I could actually stop you.'

‘Do you enjoy being so mean, or is it only because you feel you're such a failure?'

Maj-Britt felt to her dismay that she was blushing. This was outrageous. No one had ever talked back to her before. Nobody had dared. And to presume that she regarded herself as a failure was an insult that could get this loathsome little person sacked.

Maj-Britt turned up the volume with the remote. She had absolutely no reason to reply to an insult.

‘I'm proud of my body and I don't think there's any reason to try and hide it. I think I look great in this shirt, if that's what's making you so upset.'

Maj-Britt still didn't shift her gaze from the TV.

‘Well, it's up to you whether you want to walk around looking like a whore.'

‘Right. Just like it's up to each of us to decide whether to lock ourselves in a flat and try to eat ourselves to death. But that doesn't mean that a person has no brain. Or what do you think?'

That was the last thing either of them said that day. And it annoyed Maj-Britt to bursting point that Ellinor had had the last word.

As soon as she was alone she called the pizza delivery.

Six days had passed since she sent her reply. Six days to let her feeling of repugnance slowly but surely fade away; or at least it no longer bothered her more than she could stand. She had enough to think about with being annoyed at Ellinor. But then one morning she again heard a noise in her useless letter basket, and before the flap on the letter-box snapped shut she knew that it was another letter from Vanja. She could feel it through the whole flat; she didn't even have to go to the door to have it confirmed.

She let the letter lie there, and avoided looking towards the door when she passed by in the hall. But then Ellinor arrived, of course, and beaming with happiness she stuck it right under Maj-Britt's nose.

‘Look! You've got a letter!'

She didn't want to touch it. Ellinor put it on the table in the living room, and there it lay while Ellinor cleaned and Maj-Britt sat silently in the easy chair, pretending it wasn't there.

‘Aren't you going to read it?'

‘Why's that? Do you want to know what's in it?'

Ellinor kept cleaning and exchanged a few words
with Saba instead. The poor beast couldn't escape, and Maj-Britt saw her quietly lying there, suffering.

Maj-Britt got up and headed towards the bathroom.

‘Does your back hurt?'

Would this person never learn to shut up?

‘Why?'

‘I just noticed you grimacing and putting your hand there. Maybe it's something a doctor should have a look at.'

Never in her life!

‘Why don't you just see about finishing the cleaning here and then pack up and leave. Then you'll see how much better my back will feel.'

She locked the bathroom door behind her and stayed in there until she was sure that the unpleasant little person had gone.

But her back did hurt, she couldn't deny it. The pain was always there, and it had been more pronounced lately. But never in her life would she consider undressing and letting herself be examined by someone who would touch her body.

The letter lay there. For days and nights, consuming every molecule of oxygen in the flat and making Maj-Britt long to get out of there for the first time in ages. She was incapable of throwing it away. She could see that it was a thick letter this time, considerably thicker than the first one. And it lay there like a reproach and shrieked at her day and night.

‘You have no backbone, you fatty! You can't resist reading me!'

And she couldn't either. When the refrigerator was empty and the pizza delivery had closed for the night,
she had no more defences. Even though she didn't want to read a single one of the words that Vanja had written.