Karin Alvtegen - Shame

Nothing.

She was sitting in the kitchen, but it wasn’t her kitchen at home, it was the kitchen that belonged to the pastor and his family. She had been there for almost two weeks, sleeping in a cold room with two beds, and the pastor’s wife had slept in the other bed. She had not been left alone for a minute, and she had not been allowed to leave the room for a second except to go to the bathroom, which she was allowed to do each morning and evening. But not alone; the door was always left ajar, with the pastor’s wife waiting outside.

It was a big wooden house, and she didn’t recognise the sounds that inhabited it. Particularly at night. The sounds would creep unexpectedly into the room through the dark floorboards, and then she was glad she wasn’t alone. In the daytime she would have liked to be left in peace for a while. But that wasn’t allowed. She was being punished and she knew it was necessary, knew that it was for her own good. It was meant to help her after the game they had played in the woodshed. It was supposed to help her drive out those thoughts that came over her and made her do things she didn’t want to do.

Now she was sitting on a kitchen chair and watching the pastor’s wife setting out cups and plates on a tray. She felt that she ought to help but didn’t dare ask. In spite of the fact that they had spent every minute together the past few weeks, except for an hour now and then when the pastor himself had taken over, they didn’t really know each other. Much of the time had passed in silence, and the rest they had devoted to prayers and the Holy Scriptures. Maj-Britt felt gratitude towards the woman who was willing to sacrifice so much of her time to help her, but she was also scared of her. It was quite clear that the pastor’s wife didn’t actually like her but was acting out of a sense of duty. It was something that had to be done.

Maj-Britt inhaled the sweet fragrance of newly baked buns and glanced towards the window. It had grown dark outside. So many times she had stood on the other side, outside the fence down by the road, and looked towards the lovely house. Gazing at the illuminated windows and fantasising how it would feel to be allowed inside. In there on the other side, in the house that was so full of love that God Himself had chosen the man who lived there to preach His Word. And now she was sitting here in the kitchen. They had taken her in, opening their home and offering their time to help her and her parents to set everything right. She was filled with tremendous gratitude. They knew what she had done, and the first days she hadn’t dared look any of them in the eye. She had done all she could to try and repress the memory, how she was standing in her knickers with her trousers pulled down in front of Vanja and Bosse when her father had discovered them. Bosse had been the doctor and Vanja the nurse, and they hadn’t intended to do anything else, just pull down their pants one by one. The worst shame was admitting to herself that she had felt a tingling in her chest from excitement and curiosity. She hadn’t even felt sick when Satan had seized hold of her, but she didn’t dare admit to this. It would have to remain a secret that she would hide away forever, although it was impossible to keep any secrets from God. And maybe it was also impossible to keep any secrets from the pastor, because each night he had read to her: ‘Though evil is sweet in his mouth, and he hides it under his tongue, though he spares it and does not forsake it, but still keeps it in his mouth, yet his food in his stomach turns sour; it becomes cobra venom within him. He swallows down riches and vomits them up again; God casts them out of his belly. He will suck the poison of cobras; the viper’s tongue will slay him.’

And she had prayed all the more fervently that God might help her. For two weeks she had prayed to be chosen as the others in the Congregation had been chosen, that she too might be enfolded by His love and grace. She didn’t ask to understand, she knew that His ways were inscrutable, but she wanted so much to be able to obey! For Him to force her into submission so that she might be cleansed.

Now she was sitting here in the kitchen and didn’t know why, and since she didn’t have anything else to do she began to pray, the way she had learned she should do the past two weeks. The Lord’s grace must not be misused.

At regular intervals she heard the sound of china cups being returned to their saucers and the pling of the spoons as they slid beside the cups. The pastor’s wife had gone into the dining room and it was from there the sounds were now finding their way back to the cupboards from which the cups had been taken. Everything felt homey and safe. The aroma of the buns and the sound of the table being set. She had been let out of her room, and that must mean she had fulfilled their expectations, that they had been successful in curing her and now trusted her to rejoin the rest of humanity.

‘Maj-Britt, can you come here?’

She got up at once and went towards the dining room, from which the pastor’s wife had called. She was standing behind a chair at the end of the table, resting her hands on the chair back. It was a beautiful room. A large brown table in the centre of the room with twelve chairs around it and then four more along two of the walls. The third wall was covered by a gigantic china cabinet which matched the rest of the furniture, and by the fourth wall stood Maj-Britt in the doorway to the kitchen.

‘You can go and sit down there.’

She pointed to one of the chairs along the wall. Maj-Britt did as she was told. She wondered why the table was set with such lovely china and whom they were expecting for evening coffee. She almost felt a little thrill of anticipation, it had been so many days since she had seen anyone but the pastor and his wife. And she wondered whether Mamma and Pappa would come. Then she could show them that she had done penance and that their prayers had not been in vain. She could almost feel a hint of pride, nothing big or boastful, but more a slight sense of relief. She had managed to get rid of everything inside that had led her astray. Of course she had received help, but she was the one who had done it. Through her fervent prayers she had finally succeeded in taking control of the thoughts that were constantly slipping beyond the rules she had laid down for herself. God had finally listened and come to her aid. In His grace He had forgiven her and would not let her suffer anymore. Or her parents either, they would also be spared.

The pastor’s wife went over to the china cabinet and pulled out the drawer beneath the centre door. With her back to Maj-Britt she rummaged around and there were sounds of small things being moved about. Then she turned round with a spool of thread in her hand. A wooden spool with pure white thread on it.

‘Now take off your skirt and underwear.’

Maj-Britt didn’t understand at first what she had said. For a fleeting moment there was still only the smell of freshly baked buns and hopeful trust. But then the terror came sneaking over her. Her clothes didn’t need mending. What was the pastor’s wife going to use the thread for? Maj-Britt inspected her skirt, looking for a seam that had split, but she couldn’t find any.

‘Just do as I say and then sit back down on the chair.’

Her voice was kind and friendly. It didn’t match her words, and Maj-Britt didn’t understand what she meant even though she understood what she said. Then the pastor’s wife raised her arm above her head and pulled out an arm’s length of thread. On the way down she glanced at her watch.

‘You’ll have to hurry so I have time to finish setting the table.’

Maj-Britt couldn’t move. Take off her clothes, here in the pastor’s dining room? She didn’t understand, but she could see that the pastor’s wife was beginning to get impatient and she didn’t want to make her angry. With trembling hands she did as she was told and sat back down on the chair. The shame burned like fire. With her hands in her lap she tried to hide her secret place. Her clothes lay in a heap next to the chair, and it was hard to resist the urge to pick them up and run away.