Inger Frimansson - Good Night, My Darling

In the bank window to her right, she saw a photo of a house that was for sale. This is where the real estate agent wanted to place her house, too. She got angry just thinking about it.

She hadn’t been here for a while. The library was being rebuilt; the personnel and the books were at another location for the duration. She stopped next to the pet store. A large guinea pig sat all alone in a big cage, displayed in the store front window. Once the store had been filled with all kinds of animals and was owned by a woman who called the animals her friends. They had been her whole life. Finally, she was forced to sell after contracting an allergy.

Impulsively, she went into the pet store. A man was standing at the counter, pricing cans of fish food.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“That guinea pig.”

She looked toward the cage. The animal had his front paws on the bars and sniffed at the air.

“He looks lonely.”

“He’s a she.”

“ She looks lonely, then.”

“Yes, we’ve sold all the other small animals and birds. Just that guinea pig is left. We are going to concentrate solely on reptiles in the future. Snakes and lizards and the like. It’s very popular these days.”

“Really.”

“Do you want the guinea pig?”

“When I was little, I really wanted a pet. A girl in my class had a guinea pig. They weren’t sleek like this one, but black and full of cowlicks. They had babies, I remember. They used to toddle around on the floor after their mamma.”

“These little guys are pleasant and peaceful. They don’t need much.”

“They don’t?”

The man opened the refrigerator door and rustled a plastic bag. The small animal was ready and began to shriek with a heart-rending voice.

“She thinks she’s getting some lettuce.”

“Isn’t she then?”

“I guess.”

He held out a piece of lettuce to the guinea pig who elongated herself to grab it with her teeth.

“It’ll be hard to lose her,” he said.

“Are you fond of her?”

“No, not really, but nobody seems interested. If someone doesn’t take her soon, I’ll have to feed her to the snakes.”

“You can’t do that!”

“Eat or be eaten, the law of the jungle.”

“How much does she cost?”

“Tell you what, if you really want her, you can have her.”

“I can have her?”

“Sure. You really seem to like animals.”

“Well… thanks. I just need to get some groceries.”

She bought raw liver and two kilos of ground innards at the meat section. She picked up a large package of eggs, some onions, and two packages of white tulips. At the produce section, she took lettuce and a whole heap of vegetables, cucumbers, carrots, tomatoes.

The cashier joked with her.

“If I didn’t see all that meat, I would swear that you’ve gone vegan,” she laughed. “Those militant vegans. I’ve read how they set sausages free.”

“I’m on the side of the sausages,” Justine joked back.

“And how is your mother?”

“Well, it is what it is. Unchanged.”

“Well, we all have our fate. To think that she was always so attractive and well-dressed. I used to admire her so much. I remember as if it were yesterday. She was so rich and distinguished, one would think, and yet she would come and shop here, a normal grocery store.”

“Yes.”

“There was something humble about her. She never acted stuck-up or superior. A wonderful woman, Mrs. Dalvik.”

Justine packed up her groceries.

“You probably go and visit her, right? Can you be so kind and say hi from Britt-Marie? If she’s able to…”

“Oh, yes, I can say hi to her from you.”

The bird flew toward her the minute she entered the house. He landed on the cage, tilted his head to the side, and looked curiously at the guinea pig.

“This is the new member of our family,” she explained. “She was nearly fed to the snakes, but I saved her at the last minute. If you are nice to her, maybe she’ll be your playmate.”

The bird plucked itself beneath one of his wings, apparently uninterested. A soft, downy feather fell onto the guinea pig’s back.

She put liver and eggs into his bowl. He flew there directly. She carefully lifted the guinea pig, felt her small paws with her fingertips.

“You look like a rat,” she whispered. “If you had a tail, it would be hard to tell the difference. I think I’m going to call you Rattie. Yes, Rattie’s the perfect name for you.”

She let the animal to the floor, and it scurried directly to the cabinet and tried to squeeze underneath it in order to hide. The bird flew there. He was bloody and sticky around his beak.

“Be nice to Rattie!” she scolded. “You are going to be friends, keep that in mind!”

He shook himself, took a few hops, and pecked lightly with his beak on the guinea pig’s round back. Rattie whirled around and raised herself onto her hind legs.

“It’ll be fine,” she said. “You’ll get used to each other.”

At eight o’clock, she called the hotel. A man’s voice answered. She asked to speak with Hans Peter.

“He’s not here.”

“But… doesn’t he work there?”

“Yes, but he’s not here now.”

“Why not? Did he say why?”

“Can I take a message?”

She hung up the phone.

She woke up many times during the night. The same dream; it returned in quick sequences. Hans Nästman, with a cleanly washed, thinned face. He stood next to her bed; he didn’t move, just stood there. When she tried to get up, she found that she was chained to the bed with a rattan rope. Hans Nästman smiled and showed all his teeth. It’s over, Justine; you are to come with me now, and not make a fuss.

“You can’t prove anything!” she screamed. “Get out of here, leave me in peace!”

He took a step toward her; his hand had neither skin nor fingernails.

“Nothing needs to be proven, my friend. Now Hans Peter Bergman is also missing, and that’s enough to take you in.”

She woke up from her own screaming. There was flapping and screeching in the room. She turned on the light and saw the bird flying around in panic. He calmed down in the light, landed on his branch, still thin and frightened.

She had to get up. She had to call, call home to Hans Peter.

It was a quarter to three. No one answered.

The day was quiet, without sun. Dry snowflakes in the air. She took the guinea pig with her in the car. She wrapped the animal in a blanket, and it rolled up and went to sleep almost immediately.

She came to the ward and went to the desk. A nurse sat, flipping through a binder.

“Good morning. I’m Justine Dalvik, and I thought I’d visit my mother.”

“Your mother?”

“Flora Dalvik.”

“Oh, yes, Flora. Good morning. It’ll be great for her; every change is so welcome to our residents.”

“How’s she doing?”

“Very well. Yesterday she was up the entire day.”

The nurse was named Gunlis. Justine didn’t recognize her. Gunlis closed the binder.

“I’m fairly new here. I don’t think we’ve met before. I’ll take you to her. What do you have there, by the way?”

“A little guinea pig, which I’ve just gotten. I wanted to show Mamma, I hope that there’s nothing against it.”

“Oh, no, quite the opposite. It makes things a little more human in the ward, a little less clinical, if I may speak freely. I’ve always advocated for it, but it’s hard to make changes in the daily routine. Wouldn’t it be wonderful with a house cat wandering around visiting the residents, who rubbed their legs in a friendly way, who jumped in someone’s lap and began to purr? I think the residents would have greater quality of life if things were less sterile.”