There’s a pair of shoes here. I’ll be damned if they aren’t nice. I think I’ll take them up to my old lady and get off easy this time.
Then the widower finds his key, and they walk up the stairs together. The worker goes first. He has his tool bag in one hand and Alma’s shoes under his arm. When they are four flights up, the widower invites him in for a drink. The shift worker is exhausted. Soon he will be very drunk. And when he leaves, he forgets the shoes. Then the widower empties the garbage on the floor. He puts Alma’s shoes at the bottom and buries them underneath the trash. After that, he rinses his hands and has another drink.
He isn’t afraid when he goes into the room. He only turns on one of the ceiling lights, and under the light he hangs the red dress back in the closet. He also picks up the hat.
When someone is dead, there is someone left behind to mourn. When a wife is dead, the widower stays behind to mourn. When a mother is dead, a son is left behind to mourn. If they don’t mourn, one pretends that they do. This is called decency. To be decent is to leave people alone. And to pretend they are doing what others want them to do.
They are left alone for the first few weeks. And unless they contact a friend, they are completely alone. The son doesn’t contact anyone. So he is alone. Sometimes he calls his fiancée, but anytime she mentions that she has a headache, he hangs up. Still, it is true. If the father is lonely, then there really isn’t anyone who notices. Sometimes his sisters call. But if the line is busy, they wonder who is calling. Then they tell everyone what they suspect. And everyone believes them because they never liked Alma. Because of this and because he is mourning, no one else calls him.
Sometimes the sisters do get through. This happens more often than not, but they never tell anyone this. Whenever the son answers, they never ask to speak with the father. They only ask what he is doing. Whenever he tells them that the father has gone out to get the paper, they ask whether he left a long time ago. Five minutes ago, he always says. They don’t like this answer. They like to be right. They like being right more than they like knowing the truth. Besides, they know the son is lying. They can always tell when people are lying, but never when people are telling the truth.
They live together in a single-room apartment with a kitchen on Hantverkar Street. The ugly one works at the consul’s. The beautiful one is a waitress. The beautiful one has been married twice. The ugly one has never been married. This is why they don’t like each other. But whenever they call their brother, they always call together. Then they only have one thought and only one ear. Sometimes they put the phone down and start whispering. When they speak to the son, that is. One evening, after they stopped whispering, the beautiful one says:
Do you have anyone to clean for you?
No, he answers, we don’t have anyone to clean for us.
Then the ugly one must have yanked the phone away. In any case, she is the one who shouts:
She should probably come and clean. That’s the least she could do!
He doesn’t ask who. If he asks who, they would whisper for a bit. Then they would lie. So he tells them that they will try to clean for themselves. As best they can. They don’t like his response. The ugly sister, whom he considers nice because she had cried, doesn’t like the answer because she thinks it’s inappropriate. She can tolerate almost anything, but nothing inappropriate. Because such is not tolerated at the consul’s. And when she had cried, she did it because it was inappropriate not to cry, not because she was compassionate. Sometimes being appropriate is the same thing as being compassionate. But it can just as often be the same thing as being mean. And now she is being mean. He holds the receiver firmly against his ear as her meanness spits through it. But it doesn’t come out the other end. It’s lodged inside him and aches.
I feel so bad for you, my boy, she says. Your mother is dead and you have no father. I feel so sorry for you, my boy.
Malice has a tender voice, a silky, flattering voice. Nothing else in the world has such a silky voice. And how it hurts! With pain, he nearly screams into the receiver.
Don’t feel bad for us. And we do clean. Papa cleans out the closet every other night.
Now it’s silent on the other end. Then the beautiful one speaks. She is not mean. Concerned is what she is.
What’s he doing in the closet? she quickly asks.
Then he starts to describe everything that has been going on late at night. He explains about the shoes. Then it’s quiet for a while. After that, he explains about the dresses. Then it’s quiet for a lot longer. The beautiful sister comes back on the line. She is very concerned now. She has been concerned the entire time. She is beautiful and knows what men do for beautiful women.
We’ll come and help you clean, she says. But don’t tell Knut. It’s to be a surprise.
And it certainly will be a surprise. But not much will be cleaned. The sisters arrive at seven the following evening. The father and son are both home at the time. They had just eaten pea soup. Then they had some coffee. They told each other how good they thought it was. But neither of them really thought that. Which is why they repeated it.
Before the aunts come in, they look behind the door as if they were expecting someone to be there. The father notices and is annoyed. He gets upset with the ugly sister, even though they are both looking.
What are you staring at? he asks and turns on the light for them in the entrance.
Nothing at all, the ugly one answers.
And in a way, it was nothing. In a way, it’s also nothing they are staring at when they scan the room with their coats still on. They aren’t staring at anything, yet almost immediately they notice that the flowers are wilted and that Alma’s portrait is gone. The closet doors are not ajar. But had they been even remotely open, they could have peeked inside. But now they can’t peek inside without staring. So they don’t look at all. But as they take off their coats in the entrance, the young and beautiful one starts whistling. The other one doesn’t whistle. She has never learned how. Nor is it appropriate. The widower is annoyed and asks them why they are whistling. The beautiful one replies that she is simply whistling. Which is precisely what she is doing.
There’s a lot of whistling. But there’s not a lot of cleaning. Yes, they throw the wilted flowers away, and, yes, the ugly one sweeps the used matches, dried mud, and a white streetcar ticket from the floor, and of course, she dusts here and a little there over the cabinets and the picture frames. But as soon as she’s in the room by herself, she puts the rag down and looks at other things for a while. She looks, for instance, at the photographs on the bookcase. One picture is missing. It was one of Alma. But the ones in which she was not alone are still there. Then she tries looking through the dusty glass of the bookcase. When Knut comes into the room, she tells him that the books ought to be dusted. Then the brother says that he has lost the key. He lost it somewhere in the snow in the yard. Then she asks why the key was even in the yard. He doesn’t answer. Instead, he turns on the radio. But no one listens to it.
In any event, they spread a fresh tablecloth on the table. Coffee will be made after the ugly one cleans the kettle. The beautiful sister rinses a cup for herself. The ugly one washes three more. Then the beautiful sister waters the flowers in the room. Not all of them, but the five that the water is able to reach. Then she stands on a chair and adjusts the pendulum clock. He would rather do it himself, but because it is she, he doesn’t say anything to her—but also because he had forgotten to do it himself. When she stretches out her body to pull the hour hand down to eight, he tells her that she has beautiful legs. The sister laughs and says that her shoes aren’t worth much.