Карин Тидбек - Amatka

They were always kind. The doctors, the nurses, the technicians. It was always with the same polite care that they showed her to her room, established that it was time, examined her. A nurse held her hand and gently pushed her shoulders back into the chair when she panicked. They tried to comfort her, telling her that it was normal to be nervous, that she was such a good girl, while they attempted to plant a little parasite inside her.

The sound of footsteps made her open her eyes again. It had grown darker, and the waves had abated. A figure stood a few steps away. In the fading light, it was hard to make out features, but the posture made it look like an old woman in a pair of overalls. She was holding the end of something resembling a stick, or a pipe, which she’d plunged into the water. The woman turned. It was too murky to see her face. She nodded at Vanja and turned back toward the lake.

When the water whitened, the old woman raised her arms so that the end of what she was holding hung just below her chin. She supported her elbows on her stomach and remained standing like that while the water froze. Vanja tried to keep her eyes open, but the drowsiness was overpowering. She managed to raise her eyelids a couple of times. The woman was still there, unmoving.

When Vanja managed to open her eyes one last time, all she could see was the woman’s silhouette against the light from Amatka’s plant houses; the lake was a still, black expanse, inseparable from the night. The woman took a deep breath and put her lips to the thing she held in her hands. Vanja felt rather than heard the note vibrate through her body. It continued for a long time. Finally, the sound faded. The woman straightened and pulled the pipe up. It ended in a narrow funnel. The woman slung the pipe over her shoulder and left.

It was warm between the blankets. The rocks around her were comfortable if Vanja just adjusted her position a little. She leaned back, turned her head, and closed her eyes again.

It happened at dawn. Something like a chorus of discordant flutes rang out. Vanja turned her head. A group of people were approaching across the ice. She couldn’t quite make them out; their shapes wavered as if in a heat haze. She was so tired. Her eyes fell shut again.

The beach bathed in the light of morning. She must have slept through the breaking of the ice. Her neck ached. When she stood up, the hangover hit her.

Nina sat by the kitchen table with her head in her hands. If she’d been sitting there all night, or if she’d just sat back down, was impossible to say. The bottle and the cups were cleared away, in any case. She turned toward the door when Vanja entered.

“Where have you been?”

“By the lake.”

“All night?”

“All night. I fell asleep.”

“How stupid can you get?” Nina stood up. “You walk off just like that and don’t come back. Do you think that’s fair?” She was standing in front of Vanja now, gripping her shoulders. “And you can’t just spend the night there. People have disappeared that way, Vanja.”

Vanja looked down at her shoes. Nina let go of her shoulders and rubbed her face.

“I’m sorry,” Vanja said. “I didn’t know you’d be worried.”

Nina lowered her hands and stared at Vanja. “You are stupid.”

Vanja stared back. “I don’t understand.”

“Yeah, that much is clear.” Nina took one of Vanja’s hands in hers and trailed her fingertips over the red knuckles. “You’re all chapped.”

She abruptly let go and went into the bathroom. After rummaging around for a moment, she came back out, a jar in her hand. “Sit down.”

Nina sat down next to her, opened the jar, and dipped a finger in it. She took one of Vanja’s hands and rubbed cream into the knuckles with light, circular movements. Vanja’s skin stung as the cream sank in. Nina’s hands worked their way down her fingers. Where she touched the delicate fold between the fingers, little warm jolts traveled up Vanja’s wrist. Her consciousness narrowed down into the point where their bodies met. Vanja extended her hand, and Nina’s fingers wandered up to the thin skin on the inside of her wrist. She didn’t dare look up.

Nina leaned over until their faces nearly touched, so close that Vanja felt the warmth radiating from her skin. Then her lips brushed the corner of Vanja’s mouth. Just once, gently. She pulled back a little.

Vanja touched the spot where Nina had kissed her. It almost hurt. “I didn’t think.”

There were no more words. Instead, she leaned forward.

Later, when they lay curled up face-to-face in Nina’s bed, and Nina’s hand traced the contours of Vanja’s face, the cuff of her sleeve tickling Vanja’s cheek, Vanja said: “What do you dream about at night?”

Nina smiled weakly and ran her fingers through Vanja’s hair. “Oh, you know. About Sevenday and playing with the girls. About going to work. Or about going to work naked.” She raised her eyebrows. “Or about being naked with someone… like that shy beauty from Essre.” She chuckled. “You’re blushing!”

“No, I’m not.”

Nina stopped laughing, but the corners of her mouth twitched. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

Vanja smiled a little and shook her head. She made another attempt. “Have you ever dreamed about something that doesn’t, I mean, that doesn’t belong here?”

Nina stiffened. “Why would you ask me that?”

“I was just wondering.”

Nina rolled over onto her back. She stared at the ceiling.

“I think everyone has,” Vanja said. “Sometime.”

“I don’t understand why you want to talk about it.”

Vanja hesitated. “Not sure.”

Nina glanced at her. She extended an arm and pointed at the poster on the wall. As morning comes we see and say: today’s the same as yesterday. “Today’s the same as yesterday,” she said.

“Today’s the same as yesterday,” Vanja echoed.

“Full stop.” Nina rolled back onto her side and pulled Vanja toward her. She was solid, tangible. Vanja sank into her spicy-sweet scent.

The slam of the front door woke her. She glanced at the clock. It was almost three. Beside her, Nina stretched languidly.

“I have to go,” Vanja said. “I have to make a telephone call at four.”

“To whom? Your supervisor?”

Vanja nodded. “It’s some sort of debriefing. I’m supposed to get new assignments for the final week…” She paused. “This is my final week.”

Nina slid an arm around her waist. “Stay a while longer,” she mumbled into Vanja’s neck.

“I really have to be there at four.”

“No, I mean stay here. Quit that job. Stay here with me.”

“Is that what you want?”

“I just told you.”

Vanja sat up. “I need to think.”

“I don’t like the sound of that.” Nina pulled her arm back.

“No, I mean…” Vanja picked at the cuff of her shirt. “I need to think.”

“I’ll try not to worry while you do, then. Off you go.”

Vanja walked in a slow spiral through the streets toward the center. Soon, she would board the train and go home. Everything would be just like before, the days lined up in perfect uniformity: she would go to work, go home, go to bed. She would go to the leisure center on Sevendays and watch the others play games and dance; day after day after day, just like she always had, until she retired and moved into the home for the elderly to await death. Without Nina.

At five minutes to four, as she stood at the commune office’s reception desk with a large, black telephone in front of her, she had made up her mind. She read the wall posters while the receptionist shuffled papers on the other side of the desk.