Karin Alvtegen - Shame

When she parked outside Pernilla’s building she sat in the car for a while to collect herself. She saw that fat dog again. Only a few metres from the balcony where it lived the dog was doing its business, but as soon as it was done it wanted to go back inside. Somebody opened the balcony door, but it was dark in the flat so she couldn’t make out whether it was a woman or a man.

Pernilla was sitting on the sofa watching TV. She had put on Mattias’s big pullover again, and Monika saw that she had been crying. In front of her on the table lay a stack of opened envelopes. Monika put down the bags. The hope that she would feel better again as soon as she got back inside the flat had been satisfied, and she felt all her resolve returning. She sat down next to Pernilla on the sofa. It was time to take the next step.

‘How’s it going?’

Pernilla didn’t answer. She closed her eyes and hid her face in her hands. Monika stole a look at the envelopes on the table. Most of them were addressed to Mattias, and they all looked like bills. This was a golden opportunity that mustn’t be wasted.

‘I realise it must be tough to open all his letters.’

Pernilla took her hands away and sniffled a little. Pulled up her legs and wrapped her arms around them.

‘I haven’t been able to open the mail for a while, but I did it while you were out shopping.’

Monika got up and went into the kitchen to get some paper towels, which she handed to Pernilla when she returned. Pernilla blew her nose and crumpled up the paper into a ball.

‘We won’t be able to afford to stay here. I always knew that, but I just couldn’t think about it.’

Monika sat in silence for a while. It was this information she had waited for Pernilla to confide in her.

‘Forgive me for asking, but were you covered by insurance? I mean, accident insurance?’

Pernilla sighed. And then the whole story came out. The one Mattias had told and which it was now all right for her to know about. This time the account was more detailed. Monika memorised every detail, every number, noted precisely all the particulars in her well-trained memory, and when Pernilla had finished talking Monika was familiar with the whole problem. The loan they had been forced to take to pay their bills after Pernilla’s accident had not been a normal bank loan, but a Finax loan with an interest rate of 32 percent. And since they had not been able to afford any amortisation, the principal amount increased each month and was now up to 718,000 kronor. Pernilla’s only income was her disability pension, and even if it were possible to obtain a housing allowance, she wouldn’t be able to make ends meet.

‘Mattias had just started a new job and we were so happy about it. We would have had some tough years but at least we could begin to pay off this bloody loan.’

Monika had already thought out what she would say when this occasion arose, and now the time was finally here.

‘You know, I was just sitting here thinking about something. I can’t promise anything, of course, but I know that there’s a programme that you can apply to when something like this happens.’

‘What sort of programme?’

‘I’m not quite sure, but I was helping someone else after a death in her family, on behalf of the crisis group, and she got help from that programme. I promise I’ll look it up tomorrow morning.’

Pernilla shifted position and turned towards her. For that moment she had Pernilla’s full attention.

‘Well, if you have time and feel like doing it, that would be very kind.’

Her heart was beating in a nice, steady rhythm.

‘Of course I can arrange it. But I’d need documentation. Loans, insurance, your living expenses, that sort of thing. How much your rehabilitation costs. Chiropractors, massage. Do you think you could get all that together?’

Pernilla nodded.

And while Monika stood in the kitchen sautéeing chanterelles, Daniella playing at her feet, and Pernilla coming in now and then to ask about some papers she wondered whether Monika would need, she felt for the first time in ages a strange feeling of serenity.

For three days no one from the home help agency had called. Neither Ellinor nor anyone else. She had enough food to last, there was no danger of that, but she began to wonder a little. Maybe Ellinor had been so angry that she hadn’t even arranged for a replacement, thought she’d leave the problem to Maj-Britt to solve as best she could. That would be just like her.

But at least there was food. After three days, with no replenishment needed. She hadn’t called the pizza delivery in weeks. Something had changed, and she suspected that it had to do with the pain she was feeling. And the blood in her urine. It just wasn’t possible to eat like she did before; her desire for food had vanished like everything else. Her dress that she had been afraid she would outgrow had suddenly become roomier, and sometimes she even imagined that it was a little easier to get up out of the arm chair. But despite all that she was sadder than ever, and she had lost all her incentive.

She stood at the living-room window and looked out over the courtyard. That woman she didn’t know was out there at the swings with the child again. With endless patience she pushed the swing, over and over. Maj-Britt looked at the child but couldn’t focus on the image. So many years had passed. The memory had lain untouched so long, yet it had not lost any of its sharpness. Everything had been much simpler when the details hovered within reach. What good were memories that were impossible to endure?

‘Is it really true?’

She wondered at once how she ever could have doubted. How in her wildest imagination she could have believed that he might not be happy. She had worried that he might think it was interrupting his plans for a musical education, that he thought it would be all right to wait a bit. But now he stood there beaming with joy and was simply happy that he would soon be a father. She was already in her fourth month. Anyone who wanted to could quickly figure out that it had happened before the wedding, but that didn’t matter anymore. She had chosen sides and did not regret it.

Things had turned out just as her father had predicted that day. Her parents hadn’t even come to the wedding, even though it was held in the church only a few hundred metres from their home. Maj-Britt wondered what they were thinking when they heard the church bells ring. She found it so peculiar. That the same God who in her home had damned Göran’s and her love, only a few hundred metres away would bless their marriage.

The bridegroom’s side of the church was full, but on the bride’s side sat only Vanja. In the middle of the front pew.

She loved Göran and he loved her. She refused to accept that there could be any sin in it. But sometimes doubt would come over her when she thought about the folks at home who no longer wanted to have anything to do with her. Then it was hard to stand firm and hold fast to her conviction that she had done the right thing. Because everyone was gone. They had purged her like a weed from their lives and their community. She had been a part of the Congregation since the day she was born, and when everyone disappeared they took the greater part of her childhood with them. Nobody was left who shared her memories. She would miss the fellowship, being included, being able to take part in the strong community. Everything she was used to, knew about, felt at home with, everything was gone and she was no longer welcome. There was nothing to go back to, should it be necessary one day. Or to visit, if she was struck by homesickness.

Even though the anger was still strong, she sometimes felt a lump in her throat when she thought about Mother and Father. But then she began to think the way Vanja had said: Don’t let them destroy this too. Show them instead!