Margit Sandemo - The Ice People 32 - Hunger

This unexpected outburst consumed all her energy. She closed her eyes, breathing heavily and with difficulty. “I beg your forgiveness,” she said.

“You shouldn’t have to ask for forgiveness for all the faults of humanity. And you’re neither ugly nor stupid. You shouldn’t feel guilty for not liking him. You did what you could to make sure he was all right. What did he ever do for you?”

She thought for a moment. “Nothing.”

Oh, how wonderful it was to have the chance to talk about it. All that pent-up anger ... She desperately tried to overcome her sense of guilt, because her father had most certainly been bad! Although the fault must lie mainly with her ...

“I had a feeling that he hadn’t done anything for you,” said the doctor in a kind voice. “In which case you shouldn’t be talking so much about the punishment of the Lord. Your father had a good life, didn’t he?”

“Yes. At least ...”

She tried to articulate what she was trying to say. He helped her.

“At least on the face of it. How he felt about himself inside is something no one will ever know. Meanwhile you were really struggling, weren’t you? What kind of a god is it that you believe in, by the way? One that rewards those who are evil and punishes those who are helpful? No, that doesn’t make any sense at all!”

She tried to consider what he said but felt so woozy by then that her thoughts started to get muddled.

“I had planned to follow in their footsteps ...”

“You mean you father’s?”

“No, no. My brothers. To America. But they never answered my letters.”

“So that’s where your siblings are! Is it long since they left?”

“Twenty years.”

Christoffer paused for a moment. “You’ve been very lonely, haven’t you?”

He should never have said that! Not those particular words in such a compassionate tone of voice! A lump began to dissolve in Marit’s throat and her frozen soul, and the deep sob that resulted was terribly painful. It wore and tore in her aching body, she screamed from pain and Christoffer Volden attempted to stop what he had initiated. He could have bitten his tongue off for having said those inconsiderate words.

He frantically tried to get her mind onto other things. He told her about what it would be like at the hospital, told her how she would get a chance to rest. She would get food and nourishment and she wouldn’t have to fear anything, he would tend to her the whole time.

Her consciousness vanished in a whirling stream that subdued the pain. “Don’t leave me,” she whispered. “I’m so afraid. Stay with me!”

She thought she heard him say “I won’t leave you,” but that could have been wishful thinking. Then everything grew darker and darker around her, the lamplight faded, it was as though she was sinking down into the pain, the dull, throbbing pain.

Christoffer shut his eyes helplessly. He knew her life was hanging by a desperately thin thread. “Dear God,” he whispered inaudibly. “If you are familiar with the notion of justice, then let this poor woman live a little longer! Let her live for her own sake and not for others. She doesn’t deserve to die without getting anything out of life.”

Actually, Christoffer was mistaken there. For in the last few hours Marit had encountered something that up until now had not been her fate: sharing the company of another human being. Kindness and thoughtfulness. Her relaxed hand was still resting in his, as though he was a safe anchor.

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