Karin Alvtegen - Shame

Your friend Vanja

Maj-Britt slowly lowered the letter and felt for the first time in more than thirty years a need to pray to God. What Vanja had written was disgusting. May the Lord forgive her for the words she had just been tricked into reading.

The individual presentations had continued, taking up most of Thursday afternoon. Mattias had set the bar, and the rest of the participants had risen to the challenge. None of them wanted to be relegated to mediocrity by telling a boring story; they hadn’t ended up in positions of authority for nothing. One fascinating account after another passed for review. Monika could only listen half-heartedly. It wasn’t until she finally concluded her account and everyone’s attention shifted to the person who was next that she realised fully how much energy it had taken. Any energy she had left was devoted to keeping herself upright in her chair. So much time had passed since she had confronted that memory; on the occasions when she had been forced to do so, she had merely passed over it quickly and left all the details in merciful shadow.

Unfamiliar voices followed, one after the other, separated only by the sound of applause. She participated in that as well, clapping her hands when necessary to avoid drawing attention to herself. And the whole time she was aware that he was sitting there. Right next to her sat someone who had the personality she so evidently lacked.

Someone who always made the right choice. Someone who had that trait so deeply engrained in his character that doubt never arose, not even in the presence of death when terror blinded reason.

She had turned her head to look at him once, wanting to know whether it was also visible in his face. Wanting to see how a person looked who was everything she had always dreamed of being, the person she could never be because what she had failed to do could never be made right. Her brother was dead forever, and she would always be the one who hadn’t turned off the sauna and hadn’t taken those two extra steps.

That night had revealed the deficiency in her character, and since then not a day had passed that she didn’t feel it grating inside her. Her choice of profession, all her prestigious belongings, her way of driving herself relentlessly to obtain better results; all were a way of trying to compensate for the defect she carried inside her. To justify the fact that she was alive while he was dead. Through her struggle she had achieved much, but there was one fact she could never change: knowing that in the depths of her soul she was an egotistical and cowardly person. It was something you either were or you weren’t. And after it was proven that that’s what she was, she didn’t deserve love either.

Even though she was still alive.

After the meeting she went to her room. The others had moved on to the bar, but she couldn’t face it. Couldn’t face the socialising and the small talk and pretending that everything was fine. She sat on her bed and weighed her mobile phone, still switched off, in her hand. She wanted so badly to hear his voice, but he would be able to tell that something was wrong and she wouldn’t be able to explain. And the experience this afternoon had once again triggered all her doubts. He didn’t know who she really was.

She was utterly alone; not even Thomas could share her shame.

The guilt. She had never allowed herself to mourn. Not deeply. Because how could she permit herself to do that? She had missed Lasse so terribly after she was left all alone with their mother. Missed him in a way she hadn’t thought possible. He had always been there, and she had taken for granted that he would always continue to be there. There was nobody who could take his place. But her grief was so abject that it would desecrate his memory. She didn’t have the right. Instead she did everything in her power to make her mother’s loss more tolerable, tried to be happy and helpful, cheer her up as best she could. She envied her mother’s right to indulge and wallow in sorrow without any obligations towards those who were still alive. Her sorrow was noble, genuine, not like Monika’s, which served equally to hide the truth that was impossible to bear.

The betrayal. Horrified, she had realised that life outside their home would go on as if nothing had happened. Nothing was turned upside down or changed after the unthinkable happened. The same people were on the bus in the morning, the same programmes were on TV, and the neighbour was still adding an extension to his house. Everything continued without the rest of the world caring that he was gone, or even noticing. And her own life went on as well. The memory of him would one day lose its solid contours and fade; the emptiness would remain but the world would be changed so that the empty space he left would be less noticeable. The path he would have taken would grow narrower and narrower and finally vanish in obscurity, transformed into wondering about who he might have become and how his life might have turned out. And she could do nothing to prevent what had happened.

Nothing.

Success, admiration, status. Every day of her life she had been ready to trade all she had ever achieved for the opportunity to do it over.

Because what death demanded was unreasonable. What it demanded was that she should fully understand. And accept the inevitable truth. Never again.

Never again.

Never again, ever.

She ate in her room. Just before dinner she had called Åse and complained of a headache. Fifteen minutes later there was a knock at her door and there stood Åse with a tray full of food.

‘I told the guru that you were eating in your room. Hope you feel better soon.’

She fell asleep the minute she lay down, and slept for almost nine hours. She slipped off into sleep to escape her guilty conscience at not ringing Thomas as she had promised. Don’t ever leave me alone with a silent phone again. I don’t know if I could stand it .

When she woke up she keyed in his number even though it was really too early.

‘Hello?’

She could hear that he had just woken up.

‘It’s me… I’m sorry for not calling you yesterday.’

He didn’t answer, and his silence scared her. She tried to think up an excuse but had none that was acceptable. And she didn’t want to lie. Not to him. He had every reason in the world to say nothing. She knew far too well how she would feel if he was the one who went away on a course and didn’t call.

I ask only one thing, and that’s for you to be honest, that you tell me the truth so I’ll understand what’s happening .

She closed her eyes.

‘Forgive me, Thomas. I had a tough day yesterday and afterwards I locked myself in my room; I couldn’t even go to dinner.’

‘Good grief. That sounds like a fun course. What was so tough about it?’

There was a hint of something in his voice, and she knew at once that what she had said was just making the whole thing worse. She had failed him by not calling and sharing her day with him, preferring to handle it on her own.

As usual.

She was going to wreck this too. Her cowardice would once again claim its due and rob her of what she wanted most of all. The only thing he required was honesty, and that was the one thing she was incapable of giving. Her secret would fester like a sore, keeping them apart. It was actually within reach, the dream that she had given up all hope of realising. No success in the world could measure up to the strength his love could give her. And yet it wasn’t enough. She couldn’t help the fact that she was not a heroic person, but at least she could muster the courage required to explain things to him.

As long as we’re honest then neither of us has to be afraid. Don’t you think?