Karin Alvtegen - Shame

But it never worked to go back the same way. That was the problem. It was a one-way path.

He stood there with his hoe and the woven basket next to him, trimming the garden path. It didn’t look like it really needed it, but that had never made any difference. It was the joy of doing the task that was the goal. Maj-Britt knew that because they had told her. But she also knew that it was important for the garden to be perfect, and that wasn’t something they needed to say. It was important to be exacting about everything that was visible. Everything that was seen outwardly. You were responsible for the unseen yourself, and there the Lord was the absolute judge.

Her father stopped hoeing when she opened the gate. She took off her cap and brushed back her hair from her high forehead.

‘How did the practice go?’

She had been to choir practice. In any case that was what they believed. For a year there had often been extra choir practice at the oddest times, but now her double life had become a strain. Continuing to hide the truth began to feel impossible. To keep sneaking around with the love she felt. She was nineteen and had made her decision. For months she had been gathering her courage, with Göran supporting her. Today they would lay all their cards on the table, but until that moment he stood out of sight a short distance away.

She looked around the garden and then caught sight of her mother. She was down on her hands and knees by the flowerbed outside the kitchen window.

‘Father, there’s something I need to discuss with you. You and Mother.’

Instantly, her father got a worried furrow between his eyebrows. This had never happened before. That she took the initiative for a conversation.

‘Nothing’s happened, I hope?’

‘Nothing dangerous that you have to worry about, but I have to tell you something. Could we go inside for a bit?’

Her father looked at the gravel path at his feet. He wasn’t really finished yet, and he hated to interrupt a task before it was completed. She knew that. She also knew that this wasn’t the best situation for the conversation that was to come, but Göran was standing out there on the road and she had promised. Promised to give them finally the opportunity to create a life together. A real life.

‘Go on inside. I just have to get someone I want you to meet.’

Her father looked at once through the gate. She saw it in his eyes. Would have known it even if her eyes had been closed.

‘Do you have guests with you now? Because we’re busy…’

He looked down at his work clothes and ran his hands over them hastily as if that would make them cleaner. And she was already regretting it. Bringing home guests without letting her parents prepare themselves was against the unwritten rules of their home. This had turned out all wrong. She had let herself be talked into something that was bound to fail. Göran had such a hard time understanding how it was. Everything was so different in his own family.

‘Inga, Maj-Britt has a guest with her.’

Her mother stopped weeding the flowerbed at once and stood up.

‘A guest? What sort of guest?’

Maj-Britt smiled and tried to radiate a calm that she didn’t feel.

‘If you just go on in we’ll be there in… Is fifteen minutes all right? And you don’t have to make coffee or anything, I just want to introduce…’

She had intended to say ‘him’ but wanted to wait with that. Things were bad enough already. Her mother didn’t reply. Just brushed off the worst of the dirt from her trouser legs and hurried in through the kitchen door. Her father picked up the basket and hoe to put them back in the shed. It was obvious. He was already annoyed at being interrupted. He looked around when he crossed the lawn to make sure that nothing else was lying outside making a mess.

‘You could bring in Mother’s tools over there.’

It was not merely a suggestion, and she did as he said.

They stopped on the steps for a minute and held hands. Göran’s hand was damp, which was unusual.

‘Everything will be fine. By the way, I promised my mother we’d ask if they’d like to come over for coffee someday so that they can finally meet. Remind me, so I don’t forget to say it.’

Everything was so easy for Göran. And soon it would be for her too.

She put her hand on the doorknob and knew that now was the time. It was now or never.

She had made up her mind.

No one met them in the hall. They hung up their jackets and heard the water running in the kitchen and then the slapping sound of someone wearing thin-soled shoes approaching. Her mother appeared in the doorway. She was wearing her flowered dress and her black shoes that she only wore on special occasions. And for a moment Maj-Britt thought they might understand what a solemn occasion this was. That they were doing it for her sake.

Her mother smiled and held out her hand to Göran.

‘Welcome.’

‘This is my mother, Inga, and this is Göran.’

They shook hands and her mother’s smile grew wider.

‘It’s nice of Maj-Britt to bring one of her friends home, but you really must excuse us for not preparing anything. I had to fix something from what we have.’

‘But that’s not necessary. Really.’ Göran smiled back. ‘I just wanted to come by and say hello.’

‘Nonsense, of course we have to offer you something. Maj-Britt’s father is waiting in the living room, so you can go on in and I’ll be there in a moment with coffee. Maj-Britt, please help me in the kitchen.’

Her mother left and for a moment they looked at each other. Squeezed each other’s hands hard and nodded. We’ll get through this. Maj-Britt pointed towards the living room and Göran took a deep breath. Then he silently mouthed the three words that filled her with new courage. She smiled and pointed first to herself and then to him and nodded. Because she really did.

Her mother was standing with her back to her, pouring boiling water into the coffee filter. They had taken out the fine china and the elegant porcelain coffee-pot with the blue flowers on it. She suddenly had a guilty conscience. She should have warned them that they were having company instead of subjecting them to this. She saw that her mother’s hand was shaking. She seemed suddenly in such a hurry.

‘You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.’

Her mother said nothing, only let a little more water run over the side of the saucepan and mix with the black sludge in the coffee filter. Maj-Britt wanted to go into the living room. She didn’t want to leave him alone in there with her father. They had decided that they would do this together. As they would everything else from now on.

She looked around.

‘What can I do?’

‘So he sings in the choir?’

‘Yes. First tenor.’

Not a sound was heard from the living room. Not even the slightest murmur.

‘Should I take this in?’

Maj-Britt pointed at the little tray with the sugar bowl and jug. The same pattern as the coffee-pot. They had really made an effort.

‘Fill it with cream first.’

Maj-Britt took cream out of the refrigerator; by the time she had filled the jug, the coffee had finally run through the filter. Her mother stood with the coffee-pot in one hand and with the other she straightened her hair.

‘Shall we go in then?’

Maj-Britt nodded.

Her father was sitting at the table in the living room, wearing his best black suit. The sharp ironed pleats on the white tablecloth stuck up from the tabletop but were held down by the blue-flowered china cups and the plate with eight types of little cakes. Göran stood up when they entered the room.

‘What a feast. I didn’t intend for you to go to all this trouble.’