Karin Alvtegen - Shame

Maj-Britt had to conquer herself. Then Monika Lundvall’s confession to the widow or a receipt for the money to Save the Children would be the only thing missing. When she had received proof she wouldn’t drag out her dying for as long as six months. She would see to it that things went far more quickly.

It was Ellinor who had arranged everything. For the first time Maj-Britt had picked up her telephone and used the mobile number that Ellinor had left on her nightstand. And Ellinor had been enthusiastic. She borrowed a car large enough and rang to find out about visiting routines. She told Maj-Britt that the woman she had talked to sounded almost glad about her enquiry, replying that yes, of course, Vanja Tyrén was allowed to have visitors, even unguarded, and that she would book one of the visiting rooms.

In the meantime Maj-Britt had been fully occupied trying to prepare herself. For two days she had tried to comprehend what she was about to do, and the fact that she actually intended to do it voluntarily. And she wouldn’t even be able to blame Ellinor if things went wrong.

It was an unreal moment when they stood ready inside her front door. Almost as if she were dreaming. Saba stood a bit further down the hall and watched them go out the front door, but she didn’t even try to follow because that door was not an exit for her. For her it was a strange opening through which people appeared at intervals and then went up in smoke again. But now her mistress was on the other side, and it obviously made her nervous. Saba came all the way to the threshold and stood there whining, so Ellinor crouched down and petted her on the back.

‘We’ll come back soon, you’ll see. This evening she’ll be back again.’

And with every cell in her enormous body Maj-Britt wished that it were already evening and that she could go back inside.

The city had changed. So much had happened since the last time she saw it. New buildings had shot up from green zones and familiar neighbourhoods, transforming her home town into a foreign place. And it had also grown. The entire residential section had spread out over the forest-clad hills to the south, extending the city limits by several kilometres. She hadn’t left the town in over thirty years and yet it was totally unfamiliar to her. Her eyes desperately tried to take in all the new impressions, but eventually she gave up and shut her eyes for a while to find some respite. Thoughts of Vanja were constantly on her mind. How she would react. Whether she was angry at her. But all the visual impressions helped her for the moment to dispel the worst of her nervousness.

She dozed for a while. She didn’t know how long they had been driving when she woke up as the engine was turned off. They were in a car park. She cast a hasty glance at the nearby compound, taking in the white buildings within a high fence, but couldn’t absorb anymore. She had tried to prepare herself as best she could for the attention that she knew her appearance would attract, but now that the time had arrived her discomfort got the better of her. Once again her courage deserted her. The mere thought of having to display herself to Vanja was enough. Having to expose her gigantic failure. Her throat hurt and tears welled up, and was unable to hide them although she felt that Ellinor was watching. The terror she felt at getting out of the car and having to reveal herself to strange people was just as strong as what she felt when she had done her thumb-verses and He had handed down His judgement. Her whole body was trembling.

‘There’s no danger, Maj-Britt.’

Ellinor’s voice was calm and comforting.

‘It will be a while yet before we have to go in, so we’ll just sit out here in the meantime. Then I’ll go in with you and see that everything is in order before I leave you two alone.’

And she felt Ellinor take her hand, and she let it happen. She gripped Ellinor’s slender hand and squeezed it hard. With all her heart she wished that a tiny insignificant bit of the self-confidence that Ellinor possessed could be transferred to her. Ellinor, who never gave up. Who, in her stubbornness and against all odds, had succeeded in stepping in to convince her, to prove to her, that there was something called goodwill. And didn’t ask for anything in return.

‘It’s time now, Maj-Britt. Visiting hour is starting now.’

She turned her head and was met by Ellinor’s smile. And to her astonishment she saw that the girl’s eyes were full of tears.

Maj-Britt’s new shoes were walking on wet tarmac. The tips shot out under the folds of her dress at regular intervals but she couldn’t look at anything else. The lower edge of a door that opened, a threshold, a black doormat, yellowish-brown linoleum. Ellinor talking to someone. The rattle of keys. A man’s black shoes beneath dark-blue trousers in front of her and more of the yellowish-brown floor. Some locked doors along the walls at the edge of her field of vision.

Not once did she raise her eyes but she could still feel all the eyes following her.

The man’s shoes stopped and a door was opened.

‘Vanja will be right down. You can go inside and wait.’

Another threshold and she managed to conquer this one too. They had apparently arrived. The man’s black shoes vanished out the door and bit by bit she raised her eyes to make sure that they were alone.

Ellinor had stopped just inside the doorway.

‘Are you okay?’

Maj-Britt nodded. She had made it here and tried to take strength from the triumph. But the ordeal had cost her; her legs wouldn’t hold up any longer, and she went over to a table with four chairs that looked sturdy enough to bear her weight. She pulled out one of them and sat down.

‘Then I’ll wait outside.’

Maj-Britt nodded again.

Ellinor took a step over the threshold but stopped there and turned round.

‘You know, Maj-Britt, I’m so terribly glad you’re doing this.’

And then she was alone. A small room with venetian blinds pulled down, a simple sofa group, the table she was sitting at and some pictures on the walls. The sounds continued to flow in from the corridor. A telephone rang, a door closed. And soon Vanja would come. Vanja, whom she hadn’t seen in thirty-four years. Who she thought had abandoned her and to whom she herself had now lied. She heard footsteps coming down the corridor and her fingers tightened their grip on the table edge. And then she was standing in the doorway. Maj-Britt saw how she involuntarily gasped. She remembered the wedding photograph, Vanja as bridesmaid, and realised how mistaken she had been. In the doorway stood an ageing woman. Her dark hair transformed to silver and a fine network of wrinkles on the face she had once known so well. The concept of time suddenly personified. In a single blow made so palpable that all those things taken for granted that were constantly happening now demanded their tribute, those things that had constantly etched their rings, year by year, whether they were used or not.

But it was Vanja’s eyes that almost took her breath away. She remembered the Vanja she had known, always with a gleam in the corner of her eye and a little mocking smile on her lips. The woman she saw before her bore an infinite sorrow in her gaze, as if her eyes had been forced to see more than they could stand. And yet she smiled, and in an instant the Vanja she had once known shone through in that unfamiliar face.

She gave no sign that revealed what she was thinking when she saw Maj-Britt.

Not a sign.

The guard stood in the doorway and Vanja looked around the room.

‘Hey Bosse, can’t we pull up the blinds a little? I can hardly see my way around in here.’

The guard smiled and put his hand on the door handle.

‘I’m sorry, Vanja, they have to stay like that.’