Karin Alvtegen - Shame

‘Not that it makes any difference, but… did you say anything about me?’

There was a brief pause. Monika was on tenterhooks. What if Åse had managed to ruin everything?

‘No…’

She was staring into space. Then she got up and walked towards the computer in her office; she was halfway there when Åse asked the question.

‘But how are you feeling now?’

She stopped. Her eyes fixed on the wall above the computer screen. Åse had broached the question so cautiously, almost timidly, as if she scarcely dared utter it.

‘How do you mean?’

She sounded sharper than she intended.

‘Well, I just mean that I thought you might have known that… or maybe you had thought that… but there really isn’t any reason for…’

For about half a minute Åse did her best to try and erase her question in a long ramble about unrelated trivia. Monika stood quite still. Her guilt belonged to her; it was nobody else’s business. But the question made her see that Åse had also recognised it and that it was absolutely essential to keep Åse away from Pernilla. She couldn’t risk having Åse running over there and sooner or later revealing that everything was actually Monika’s fault.

‘Are you still there?’

Monika replied at once.

‘Yes, I’m here. I was just thinking.’

‘I don’t know quite what to do. I’d like so much to help her in some way.’

Monika sat down at the computer and logged on to the Internet, going to the Council’s home page. She typed ‘crisis group’ in the search box and got a hit at once. She scanned the screen quickly. The hibiscus on the windowsill needed water. She went over and pressed her finger into the dry soil.

‘The fact is, Åse, that I think the best thing you can do for her is leave her alone. There’s nothing you can do. I’m telling you this as a doctor because I have experience with these matters. You have to try to distinguish between what’s good for her and what’s really only for your own sake.’

Åse was silent and Monika waited. She wanted to have Pernilla to herself. She was her responsibility and no one else’s.

Åse sounded almost bewildered when she continued.

‘Do you really think so?’

‘Yes. I’ve been through this before in similar cases.’

Silence again. She pinched off a dry leaf and headed for the kitchen.

‘Try to get hold of yourself, Åse, your family needs you. What happened can’t be undone, and the best thing you can do is to try and get on with your own life and realise that nothing was your fault.’

She went over to the worktop and opened the cupboard concealing the rubbish bag. She crumbled the dry leaf in her hand and let the pieces fall amongst the rest of the rubbish.

‘I’ll call you in a few days and see how you’re doing.’

And then they hung up.

But Monika never would call. It would be Åse who rang next time.

Monika was in a bad mood after their conversation. Things were happening there in Pernilla’s flat that were beyond her control. It was time to make the next move. Time to step into her new role in earnest. She went out into the hall and put on her coat and boots.

In the car she felt relieved, now that she was on her way. The thing was always to pick the direction that was most difficult; after she had chosen a goal the rest was merely a matter of taking action. And she was good at that. Her task had pushed out the hopelessness inside her, and now she was filled with resolve. Everything had taken on meaning again.

She didn’t hesitate when she went in the main door this time, just checked the doorknob’s shape with her hand and knew that it would soon feel like an old acquaintance. She continued past their door and halfway up to the fourth floor, pausing only briefly, with her ear against the door panel when she went by. Everything was quiet inside. She sat down on the stairs, folding her coat in half under her for protection from the cold stone. An hour passed. Every time she heard someone coming she stood up and pretended she was on her way up or down, whichever seemed the most natural. One time the same man came back who had left an hour earlier and they agreed with a smile that they had to stop seeing each other like this. Monika had just folded up her coat to sit down again when the door finally opened.

She was completely out of sight and saw only the feet of the person who came out. Women’s shoes. The door was closed without anything being said, and the stranger’s feet headed for the stairs. Monika followed. The woman was in late middle age with her hair up and wearing a beige coat. When she reached the main door Monika had caught up, and she smiled when the woman held the door open for her. She thanked her and walked to her car.

She had already saved the number on her mobile; copied from the Council’s home page.

‘I’m calling about Pernilla Andersson, whom you’ve been helping the past few days.’

‘Ah, yes, of course… yes, that’s right.’

‘She asked me to ring and thank you so much for the assistance and tell you that you don’t have to come anymore. She has friends who are taking over now.’

The man in the crisis group was glad that they had been of use and asked her to tell Pernilla not to hesitate to call again if she needed any further support or help. Monika didn’t think it would be necessary, but thanked him politely for the offer.

It was important that it be done correctly.

Really important.

She sat in her car for half an hour before she returned to their door. She stood there for a minute, breathing quietly, then scrupulously assumed her professional role, although leaving her top button undone. She was there as a friend, not as a doctor. It was as both Monika and Doctor Lundvall that she had to fulfil this task, but she needed her professional demeanour. Because what she was now about to do required more than her private persona.

She knocked lightly on the door, not wanting to wake anyone who might be sleeping. When nothing happened and a long time had passed, she knocked a bit harder, and then she heard footsteps approaching.

Just listen. Don’t try to comfort her, just listen and be there .

She had attended several courses about how to deal with people suffering from grief.

The door opened. Monika smiled.

‘Pernilla?’

‘Yes.’

She didn’t look the way Monika had imagined. She was short and slim with short dark hair. She was dressed in grey jogging trousers and a knit jersey that was much too big.

‘My name is Monika, and I’m from the crisis group.’

‘Ah, I didn’t think anyone was coming today. They said they were short-staffed.’

Monika smiled even more broadly.

‘We worked it out.’

Pernilla left the door open and went into the flat. Monika took the first step over the threshold. She could feel it at once. Feel the relief. It was as if something was suddenly released, and for a second she was worried that it would make her weak again. Just to see Pernilla with her own eyes, form her own picture of her face and be allowed into her presence made everything easier to bear. She could accomplish something here. Make everything less unforgivable. But she had to proceed cautiously, couldn’t be in too much of a hurry; Pernilla had to be given the chance to understand that she could be trusted. That Monika was here to help her, and solve all her problems.

She hung up her coat and left her boots by the door. There were several pairs of men’s shoes there. Gym shoes and Oxfords that were much too large to fit Pernilla’s tiny feet. Left behind, never again to be needed. She passed a bathroom door with a little red ceramic heart on it and continued into the flat. The kitchen was to the right, and at the other end of the hall was an entrance towards what seemed to be the living room. She looked around carefully, not wanting to miss a single detail in her effort to get to know the woman who lived here. Her taste, her values, the sort of qualities she preferred in a friend. She would take as much time as was needed; the only hurry was to sort out the most dangerous traps. If Pernilla rejected her she would be lost.