Karin Alvtegen - Shame

Someone clinking a glass brought all the conversations to a halt, and all eyes scanned the room for the source of the sound. The course leader had stood up.

‘I just wanted to check that we’re all gathered together. I have a question I’d like you to think about, and that is whether you might consider extending the day by two hours tomorrow so that we can squeeze in all the scheduled events. I’m afraid that, otherwise, we would have to cancel the stress management lecture.’

According to the programme the course was supposed to be over at lunchtime. She had promised to pick up her mother at three and drive her to the cemetery.

‘All those who would consider staying please raise your hands.’

Almost everyone’s hand went up. Åse’s too. The only other person besides Monika at their table who didn’t was Mattias. Åse noticed, remembered her responsibility as driver and lowered her hand.

‘So you’re in a hurry to get home?’

Monika didn’t have a chance to reply before the course leader continued.

‘It looks as though most of you don’t mind staying, so that’s what we’ll do. As for now, I wish you a pleasant dinner.’

Åse had a frown on her face.

‘Wait, I just have to check on something.’

She got up and left without further explanation. Mattias drank the last dregs from his glass.

‘I’d like to skip the stress management and have a few free hours at home instead. I know the others I drove up here with are also in a hurry to get home.’

So he had shared a lift too. He must belong to the group that Åse had told her about when they first started their trip on Thursday morning. Monika decided that it was the first and last time she wouldn’t bring her own car. If she ever drove to a course again, which under the present circumstances she strongly doubted, she would make sure she wasn’t dependent on someone else. It was out of the question to call her mother and postpone the visit to the cemetery. She had already used up what little grace she had left.

Åse came back and sat down in her chair.

‘No, it didn’t work out, their car was already full. I thought you might be able to ride with the others from the city if you were in a hurry, because they’re leaving early too. But it doesn’t matter, I’ll skip the stress management too.’

That part of the course was the reason Åse had come in the first place, and now it was Monika’s fault that she would miss it. How she hated these eternal visits to the grave. She wished she could have told Åse that it didn’t matter; that she would stay the extra two hours if it was important. But she knew what that would mean. Weeks of indignant silence as her mother managed to amplify Monika’s guilty conscience, wordlessly accusing her of always thinking of herself first. And when her mother came so close to the truth, life was intolerable. Her only way out was to beg and cajole her to get things back to normal. She wouldn’t be able to manage that now. Not now that she had decided to risk confessing everything to Thomas. It was either-or.

‘I’d love to be able to say that I can stay, but I have to make a house call on a patient tomorrow afternoon.’

She felt herself blushing and pretended that she’d got something in her eye to have a chance to hide her face. She sat there on her chair, lying, and once more it was clear. She was incapable of making sacrifices, while Mattias never hesitated.

‘If you’re in such a rush to get home, you can take my place in the other car, so Åse can stay for the stress management. I can’t imagine that Daniella will start talking precisely before four o’clock.’

It was hard to acknowledge the gratitude she felt.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Absolutely. I just wanted to go home, but it was nothing important. I’ll stay and ride back with Åse.’

And so the decision was made.

Nothing had changed around them. Everything looked just as it had the moment before. Sometimes it’s quite astounding how a crossroads that will change a person’s life isn’t noticed at the moment it appears.

She had stayed in bed for two days. Not for a second had she dared to sleep. The only times she managed to get up were to empty her bladder and open the balcony door for Saba. All her energy went into keeping the thoughts at bay. Like malicious insects they invaded her reality, and she flailed wildly to keep them off her. Vanja’s memories and insinuations forced her again and again to the periphery of the world she had made her own. A flat of sixty-eight square metres or an illuminated circle of light with a sharply defined perimeter. A limited area formed by the interpretation of the truth that was tolerable. Out there everything was white. A white void where nothing existed. But now she found herself time after time standing at the very edge of the illuminated circle facing the whiteness, and suddenly she realised that something was moving out there, that there was more. In all that whiteness outside it was suddenly possible to discern shadows. Shadows of something that would not quite materialise but was coming closer and closer.

Vanja’s letter was burned to ashes on the balcony. And yet it hadn’t helped. Vanja was a mentally deranged woman who recounted events that had never happened, and distorted beyond recognition what might have occurred. All the other thoughts and speculations that had been recounted to Maj-Britt were so repulsive that she wished she had never read them. Even though her own relationship with God had been fairly strained, even non-existent, she definitely did not intend to blaspheme. And that was precisely what Vanja did! She blasphemed so terribly, and since Maj-Britt had read her words, she was guilty too. She had to get Vanja to stop sending those letters. Not even the consolation of stuffing something in her mouth remained as an escape for her. And during the past week that pain in her lower back had been so intense that it made her feel nauseous.

It was two days since she fell out of bed and Ellinor had rescued her. Today Ellinor would be coming back. Maj-Britt had decided during the night what she would do to be rid of her obligation and the hint of atonement that had resulted. She had already undressed. In only her underwear she now lay waiting for Ellinor to arrive. Once Ellinor saw her disgusting body she would back away in repugnance and lose her power. She would be ashamed of her reaction, which she would not be able to hide, and thus Maj-Britt would regain the advantage and her right to display her loathing.

Writing paper and a pen had been lying on the night-stand for twenty-four hours, right next to the note with Ellinor’s mobile number, and no matter how much it went against the grain, she was forced to admit that it felt good to have that note lying there. If anything should happen again.

She detested that feeling.

The fact that Ellinor could offer her something that she didn’t want.

Four crumpled-up attempts at letters lay on the floor. Saba had sniffed them curiously a couple of times before realising how pathetic they were and losing interest. Her hatred for Vanja was so strong that the words wouldn’t come. What she had done was unforgivable. To crash into a world where she was not welcome and turn everything upside down. To lay claim to someone’s time as if her warped opinions were worth any consideration whatsoever.

Maj-Britt reached once again for the pen and began to write:

Vanja ,

I am writing this letter with a single purpose: to persuade you not to write letters to me!

That was good. That’s how she should start. Actually, she also wanted to stop there, since that was the only thing she wanted to say.

Your speculations and thoughts do not interest me; on the contrary, I find them extremely repulsive.