Karin Alvtegen - Shame

‘Wow, what a lot of food is left.’

‘I can finish eating it all if that would make you feel better.’

She bit her tongue, that wasn’t what she meant to say, but the words had come out by themselves. She regretted saying them, but the mere thought that she wanted to take them back disturbed her. She was indebted. In future that would be intolerable.

Ellinor appeared in the doorway.

‘I was just surprised, that’s all. I mean about the food. You aren’t sick or anything, are you?’

Maj-Britt looked at the letter. That was where it came from. All she had left unread, and the things she had read but had never wanted to see. Not even food soothed her anymore.

‘Is there something you want me to buy for next time?’

‘Meat.’

‘Meat?’

‘Just meat. Forget about the rest of it.’

She was back in her easy chair while Ellinor cleaned around her; Maj-Britt was doing her best to pretend she didn’t exist. She was aware of Ellinor’s worried glances but didn’t care. She knew that she wouldn’t get her wish fulfilled; buying nothing but meat was something that Social Services would never agree to. She had waged a long battle to get any extra rations of food at all, but this would definitely cross the line.

But meat was the only thing that could deaden the thoughts that had now invaded her again.

Ellinor was at the front door when she suddenly turned round and came back.

‘You know, I think I’ll leave you my mobile number on the nightstand by your phone. If it should happen again, I mean.’

She disappeared into the bedroom but came right back.

‘I’ll see you the day after tomorrow then.’

She vanished into the hall and when she opened the front door she called back towards the flat, ‘By the way, I put the earplugs you ordered on the kitchen table. See you!’

Maj-Britt didn’t answer, but to her dismay she felt like crying. A thick lump in her throat made her frown and she hid her face behind her hand until Ellinor had gone.

Ellinor was puzzling. Maj-Britt could not for the life of her understand the friendliness that never diminished no matter how she behaved. There was every reason to be suspicious, because there must be something that Ellinor was expecting in return. She was like one of those advertising flyers that came through the letter-box, some even printed in type that looked like handwriting, as if it were sent solely to her. Dear Inga Maj-Britt Pettersson. We are pleased to make you this fantastic offer . The better the deal seemed, the more reason to be suspicious. There was always a catch, carefully concealed in the gush of kindly language; the harder it was to discover, the greater reason for caution. Nothing was ever done out of sheer kindness. There was always a profit motive. That’s how the world worked, and everyone did their best to get a piece of it.

Ellinor was like an advertising flyer.

There was every reason to mistrust her.

She took the picker-upper and reached out for the letter. It had been lying like a magnet there on the desk, waiting for her to capitulate. Now she could no longer resist it. Her hands trembled as she unfolded the rest of the letter.

I’ll never forget the time I questioned your father’s faith. Now I don’t understand how I dared. We had just read in school that Christianity wasn’t the biggest religion in the world, and I remember how surprised I was by that. If there were more people who believed in a different God then maybe they were the ones who were right! Jesus, how angry he was. He explained that those sorts of thoughts would land me in hell, and even though I didn’t believe him, it took a long time to get over his words. It was the first time I experienced God as a threat. He said that everyone who didn’t acknowledge Jesus Christ as the Son of God was not welcome in the Kingdom of Heaven, and I wanted so much to ask about all those people who lived before Jesus was born. Whether it wasn’t a little unfair to them, since they hadn’t even had a chance, but I never dared ask. It was enough to have been damned once that day .

I always thought it was so strange that we human beings were ‘sinful’ and that in church we were supposed to pray to God to forgive us our sins whether we thought we had committed any or not. I remember you tried to make me understand that it wasn’t only sins we committed consciously that counted, but also the original sin we were born with. ‘Through the carnal conception because of our sinful seed.’ I will never forget those words. They were so upsetting that I didn’t reject them until many years later when I realised that ‘the carnal conception’ was the only way for us to propagate. I decided that God probably wanted us to do it, since He had taken so much trouble creating us .

When we were growing up, sex was something that boys were ‘unfortunately’ interested in and that we girls understood that sooner or later we would ‘have to learn to tolerate’, but that we absolutely mustn’t ‘give in’. We weren’t supposed to wonder why it got so confusing when we reached our teens and boys were the only thing we thought about and we actually wanted to ‘give in’ a little, of our own free will. I wish that amongst all the warnings and all the scare propaganda they had added a little footnote and explained that it’s quite natural for all people to feel desire and want to reproduce .

Another strong memory from my childhood was the time we found those magazines in your father’s desk drawer. For the life of me I can’t remember what we were doing in there, but I assume it was my big idea. I was always the one who decided we should do things we weren’t supposed to do. Those magazines were quite tame by today’s standards, but finding them at your house was like discovering the sign of Satan in the church, and you were utterly terrified. You were convinced that someone had broken into your house and put them there, but nothing on earth was going to make you say anything to your parents. Do you remember how we put the magazines on the floor and then hid under the bed? I can still picture your mother’s legs when she came into the room, and her hand when she picked them up. And I especially remember how upset we were afterwards when she just put the magazines back where we found them . Now that I’m an adult I think it says a great deal about how strong our desires actually are, when not even your father with his strong faith had the power to resist them .

Today the times seem to be quite different, at any rate that’s the impression I’ve got from TV and magazines. Now sexuality has to be so awfully ‘accepted’ that it seems to have been transformed into a commercial leisure activity which requires both a manual and assorted equipment. But from this distance it seems mostly to be a matter of realising yourself and developing your ability to have stronger orgasms, and the fact that there should be a little love thrown in doesn’t seem to be that important. It all seems a bit sad. But what do I know, here in my prison celibacy?

My, how long this letter has gone on, but I’m so glad that we have made contact again. I knew that it was fate that my letter would reach you!

Now it’s time for lights out, and tomorrow I have an exam. I’ve been given the perk of ‘studying long distance’ (a strange expression, but in my case you couldn’t think up a more fitting description). I’ve finished 15 modules in theoretical philosophy and have just begun my second year in the history of religion. If only I pass the test tomorrow!

Give my warmest greetings to the rest of the family!

All best wishes,