Inger Frimansson: Good Night, My Darling

She talked to Flora; the whole time, she talked to her. She had fastened Flora’s seatbelt, and was now approaching the Vällingby roundabout.

“Do you know where you are, Flora? It’s been awhile since you were outside. Do you think it looks familiar, farther on, by the small houses between Åkeshov and Ängby? They’re in the middle of building noise barriers, yes, so the people won’t be bothered. We never have to worry about that kind of thing; we’re never bothered. We have always kept to ourselves. We have enjoyed peace and quiet, haven’t we, dear Flora? Do you know that Martin, the one with the walker, he thinks that he’s being held prisoner. To think what it would be like to always long to get out. Maybe I can set up some kind of system; get a minivan and drive around picking up old people who are all by themselves and want to get a little joyride. Wouldn’t that be a great idea? You’ve always said a person needs a mission in life. I thought you could come home for a while; it’s been so long since you were home. You haven’t been home since you got sick, little Flora. Won’t it be nice to come see the old place, even though you wanted to sell it? But we’re not going to do that, of course. The house is going to stay mine. I am going to live there. It’s my house, but now you can come and visit, now you are my guest. What a generous step-daughter you have, Flora. Didn’t you hear what Gunlis said? Every resident should have someone like me. Do you see the palace there, Hässelby Palace? So beautiful and frozen it looks, Hässelby Palace. This part is just the same as always; nothing much has happened here in Hässelby Gård. What does the thermometer say there? 100 degrees? They’re crazy. I wonder if that thermometer has ever shown the right temperature. You can fly to the moon but can’t get a thermometer to work. Do you think I’m talking too much? Yes, I am, I’m sure, but I have to speak for two now, you understand; you can’t speak so I have to speak in your place. Look, there’s the cemetery, where Mamma and Pappa are buried. Look how well-kept it is. There was a burial yesterday. They throw away the flowers afterward, the wreaths and the coffin arrangements, what a great waste. I wonder what will happen with you, I mean, if there is any special kind that you want. I’ve been thinking about graves and maybe it’s better with ashes spread in the minneslunden , the field of remembrance; that could be nice, too. The forest on our left, it was huge when I was a child; the perspective changes. I played there sometimes. I found a dog there once, but I think it was already dead, I remember that strange smell, though then I didn’t know how death smelled. OK, hold on, we’re turning on to Strandvägen. The bathhouse is gone, that fine bathhouse, and the water slide that was here for a while; nothing like that is left. But you know that. Flora, do you see the ice? It looks thick and like it can bear weight, but you have to be careful; a few hundred meters out it’s open water. But look here to the right. They’ve torn down one of the summer houses, the one that was so rotten and ramshackle. Now there’ll be another villa. They’re tearing down all the old stuff. Now we’re getting there, Flora. Are you happy?”

She drove up to the house and parked. The old woman sat straight and unmoving. When Justine loosened the seat belt, she fell straight to the side, and Justine had to catch her and lay her down across both seats while she unbuckled the seat belt. Then she lifted Flora’s tense body and carried it up the stairs.

“Sorry that I can’t go any faster; my foot hurts. Do you remember when I broke it? Do you? After that it’s never been the same. No, I’m not complaining. I can both walk and run, but I twist it easily and sprain it… No I really am not complaining, not like you. I can come and go just as I please. How does it feel now, Flora? I’m going to put you in your favorite chair, where you sat with Pappa all those years ago. You can look out into the mist if you want. You can imagine that it’s summer and you’re sitting on the balcony and the sun is round and hot, and Pappa is in the boat down there. I’m just going to take off my jacket and lock the car. If the phone rings, answer it. No, that was stupid of me, just plain thoughtless of me. Sorry.”

She took a long time. She made coffee and prepared a coffee tray. The bird was in her room; the door was shut. She heard him cawing in there, how he heard her voice and wanted out.

Flora sat just where she’d been left, her head slightly turned toward the window.

“Would you like some coffee? I can help you. Open your mouth and sip. Is it too warm? No I don’t think so. Are you sitting here and thinking about old times, how we used to have it, you and I?… What is that? The sound you mean? I have a pet living here, you know; you met Rattie yesterday. I call her that even though she’s not a rat. She was with me in bed last night for a little while, but I was afraid I might suffocate her, so I put her back in her cage. She was warm and soft. I have a bird, too. You’ll meet him in a minute, but drink up now; he’s such a bother when we’re eating…”

A sharp ring, the telephone.

“Is it you?” she said breathlessly.

“I guess I should always answer yes to that kind of question,” said a hearty voice. “Jacob Hellstrand, the agent.”

“I don’t have time and I’m still not interested.”

“I have developers who are ready to pay whatever you ask. You’d be crazy not to grab this kind of offer.”

“Don’t you understand that no means no!” she yelled, and slammed down the phone.

She went to Flora. Flora’s saliva was running down her chin and on to her neck. Her pupils glowed and burned.

Justine stuck her face right into Flora’s.

“Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. Have you ever heard that passage, Flora? Jesus said it, and it’s a good rule to follow, even today.”

She lifted up the old woman, carried her in her arms like a child.

“Let’s go for a tour of the house; that must interest you. Here’s the kitchen, just as it was; here’s the blue room. I’ve honored your memory, as you can see. And then the basement, oh yes… we’re going there, too. Do you remember what you had down there, Flora? Do you remember what was hiding behind that door? Do you remember?”

Flora had begun to make noises. She threw her head around; the high-pitched wail intensified to a muddled, long drawn-out howl. They had come into the room with the washtub. Justine climbed carefully up onto the cement block where the tub was standing. She lifted Flora slightly into the air and then lowered her gently into the tub.

Then she went to get the bird.

She was at the funeral director’s when the telephone rang. They had a fine, thorough conversation, the coffin had been ordered and they had chosen some beautiful songs that the old woman would have liked. It would be a simple ceremony, simple but dignified. The director had promised to sing, and he knew someone who played the flute.

“And how would you prefer the obituary?” he asked, right as she stood up to go.

She gave him a weak, sorrowful smile.

“Let’s not bother with it. I’ll write to those concerned. It will be more personal that way.”

But the telephone rang. She had long since given up hope.

“I got your little note,” he said, and happiness flowed into her like honey. But she was silent.

“Justine? Are you still there?”

Everything broke through; she had to place the receiver to one side. She heard his voice, how he called and pleaded.

“Yes, I’m here,” she said at last.

“You don’t have to ask for forgiveness! Like you wrote in your note. Not at all, it’s me…”