Inger Frimansson - Good Night, My Darling

“She wasn’t my real mother.”

“I know.”

She took another sip of the glögg. It was strong and wellspiced.

“My parents are buried over in the graveyard there. They were very old, you probably remember. I didn’t stay here in Hässelby very long. I had to get away from here. I met my husband soon after that. He’s called Tor, by the way; he’s an accountant. Sounds dull, doesn’t it?”

Justine smiled. “Have some more glögg. We might as well finish it up, Christmas is over.”

“ Skål. ”

“ Skål yourself. To our meeting up again.”

“But really… why were you thinking of me today exactly? That sounds so odd. The exact day when I am here in Hässelby, you think of me and then we meet up again, like fate.”

“It really wasn’t fate. You walked here yourself.” “Yes, but… I was just wandering around thinking about the past.”

“ Auld lange syne .”

“Maybe so.”

“Do you have any children, Berit?”

“Two. Boys, twenty-one and twenty-two. They’ve moved out now. We’re just by ourselves now, Tor and me. Now we can really be there just for each other. What about you?” Justine shook her head.

Then she stuck her fingers in her mouth and whistled a sharp short whistle. There was swishing behind them, the room shrunk, it squawked and something sharp scraped her skull, caught in her hair.

“My God! What the hell!”

She screamed and leapt to her feet, spilling her mug of glögg all over her pants.

An animal was lying in the forest. An animal that looked like a dog.

First she saw just his head; around him were leaves and moss. She just saw his head, but she wasn’t afraid, and she went home without being seen.

She found the washtub in the basement, where Flora was keeping clothespins. She dumped them into a corner, filled the washtub with water, and returned.

The animal drank. Some water ran out onto the moss, but the throat moved and it swallowed. She saw that the animal had been without water for quite some time.

Was it a dog? She touched the tangled fur. It wrinkled its nose and showed its yellow teeth.

The animal didn’t have a collar. The body was in the moss and the twigs of the lingonberry bushes were bent and red.

“You can’t come home with me,” Justine said. “A witch lives in my house and she will put the evil eye on you. But I will come back and bring you food and water, I promise.”

He was rough all around the neck. She gave him a name.

She said his name as loud as she dared, but he did not move his body, and his tail could not be seen in the moss.

She took meat with her the next day. Without Flora noticing, she took a piece of her cutlet and wrapped it in a handkerchief.

The animal was still there, like before.

She could no longer see his eyes.

When she placed the bit of meat next to his nose, his tongue came out a bit.

But he did not eat.

She never saw him again.

Pappa came up to her room one evening.

“Do you want to say your prayers with me?

“Ourfatherwhoartinheaven,” she began.

He leaned over her, kissed her behind her ear. “And who are we thinking about now, just you and me, just us two.”

“Mamma,” she whispered.

His face fell and he looked sad.

“I also have to tell you that tomorrow when you wake up, I won’t be here.”

“No!” Justine flew out of bed.

He pleaded with her, but that just made her angry. “You have to stay here!”

“But I must travel to Switzerland.”

He lowered his voice.

“You know, that’s close to where your mother came from.” “Then I want to go, too!”

“My sweet child, that’s not possible. You understand. It’s a business trip. And you have to go to school. I have my work; you have school; we both have our daily duties.”

She beat against his hands, against his stupid legs.

He placed her back in her bed, and left the room.

He was gone in the morning.

She thought about the animal. The animal could be her daily duty.

But Flora came to get her at school, which she hadn’t expected.

Flora was dressed in her little black dress and pearls. A purse dangled from her wrist, held by a bronze chain.

“We’re going to Vällingby,” she said. “We are going to a café.

They began to walk down the hill.

“You could try to be happy. For once!”

Flora held her hand and minced along the way ladies do when they want to appear beautiful.

Flora was beautiful.

“Tell me what you did in school today,” she said.

“I don’t know.”

“Of course you know.”

“We read some, I think, and did addition.”

Her hand was hard around Justine’s fingers.

“Read some and did addition, you think!”

Justine had to pee. She wanted to pull her hand from Flora’s, but Flora would not like that. Flora was her mother now, and she had to be Flora’s child.

Once they arrived in Vällingby, Flora went shopping. Justine had to hold her purse while she tried on clothes.

A bare arm came out.

“Miss, this one is too big, could you bring me size thirtyfour instead?”

The imperial ways of the shopkeepers, how they swept in and out, carrying the clothes. Flora came out wearing new dresses, twirled around and showed herself.

“Well, Justine, what do you think? Shall I take this one? Do you think Pappa would like to see me in this?”

First then did the shopkeepers notice her. Their expressions softened. Your mother certainly is lovely, isn’t she!

Once they reached the café, she was finally able to go to the bathroom.

When she came out, Flora had already ordered a cola and a pink and puffy Napoleon pastry.

Flora didn’t eat anything, just sipped her coffee from a very small cup.

The tables had checkered tablecloths. The place smelled strongly of smoke. Next to their table there was a child the same age as Justine who was with an older lady who was just spitting some saliva into a napkin in order to wipe the child’s face.

“Oh Grandma!” said the child, but she didn’t squirm. She bit into her bun and stuck her tongue out at Justine. It was covered with doughy clumps.

Flora’s red nails.

“Eat, now, Justine! Eat!”

At a different table, there was a man with a newspaper. He looked toward them. He smiled at Justine and winked. His hair was shiny black like a chocolate cake.

When Flora shook a cigarette out of the package, he was there right away with a light.

She bent her neck gracefully.

“Eat, Justine!” she repeated. “You have to eat the whole thing. I’m warning you. I’m not going to buy pastries just so you can leave them half uneaten.”

“Children are funny, aren’t they?” said the man.

Flora blew out smoke. Her lips left a red mark on the cigarette.

“They can also be a pain,” she said.

Justine took small bites. She had already eaten the pink, raspberry inside. All that was left looked like fat, creamy porridge.

She thought about the animal. She was not going to make it there today.

The man had pulled his chair closer to their table. The other girl and her grandmother had left.

“Can you sing?” the man asked, smiling at Justine. His lips were dry and thin. His tie was fastened by a dark green stone which shifted color when he moved.

She stared at her spoon. It was sticky all the way up the handle.

“All girls can sing,” the man continued.

Flora giggled. She sounded like a child, her white teeth as tiny as a baby’s.

“If you sing, I’ll give you a crown,” said the man, and he placed his hand on the table. His hand had short black hair and wide flat nails. He drummed a bit with his fingertips. “Child!”