‘To my Beloved! I am with you. Everything will be fine. A book to fill with memories of all the wonderful things that await us.’
Then he looked down at his palm and didn’t want to believe what he saw.
Disgusting, and tied with a light-blue thread, was a light-blond lock of that bastard’s hair.
Almost thirteen thousand kronor per month. Just in living expenses. The papers lay in piles spread out on the kitchen table in front of her: mortgage, electric bills, insurance. She could handle the operating costs and the mortgage herself, but she would have to change her habits radically. A cheaper company car. Buy wholesale at discount stores. Write precise shopping lists and buy economy size.
She looked at the folder the real estate agent had given them when they bought the house. A colour picture of a smiling house on the cover. A dark spot right above the chimney. Henrik had spilled his wine when they celebrated the occasion at the Café Opera’s sidewalk restaurant on the way home.
Eight years ago.
Her father had asked her to call a surveyor to ascertain the value of the house, and then she could figure out how much she would have to borrow. She would certainly see to it that all the papers were in order the day her husband finally dared to confess his betrayal. In an hour she would be able to withdraw the money and tell him to go to hell.
Suddenly she thought she heard the sound of a key in the door. He wasn’t supposed to come home until the following day, so she must be hearing things. It occurred to her that this had happened often in the past few days, that she heard sounds she didn’t recognise. Last night when she was in the shower she could have sworn that she’d heard someone upstairs. The balcony door was open and for a moment she had been afraid. Pulled her robe tight around her and went upstairs, looking through all the rooms and the cupboards too, to make sure the house was empty. Axel was staying with her parents, so it wasn’t him. For the first time she had a chance to feel what it would be like in the future. Alone in the house. Fear of the dark would upset her. And the other evening she was so sure that someone was standing on the balcony looking at her through the dark windowpane. She had to conquer the fear that was trying to ensnare her, she had to be strong.
Then she heard the sound of the front door opening. Someone came into the hallway.
‘Hello?’
‘It’s only me.’
Henrik. Why in hell was he home early?
There could only be one explanation. He had decided to confess and couldn’t contain himself a minute longer so he could relieve his guilty conscience. Now here he came, running home a day early and she hadn’t managed to finish everything. She had put the magazine article about Linda in Simon’s mother’s mailbox yesterday, she must have read it by now, but she hadn’t yet heard any reaction from the day-care centre. No urgent call to set up another crisis meeting. And it would be two days from now before she could take out the money she would toss in his face.
He couldn’t tell her before that!
She got up and went towards the stairs. She had to collect herself and appear normal, like the understanding housewife she was. Ask him how he was, if he was feeling well, seem glad that he was home early. Not make it easy for him to blurt out what he intended to tell her.
Halfway down the stairs she saw it, even though he was hiding it behind his back, and all her intentions toppled like bowling pins. How could he be so tasteless? He had never bought flowers for her before. Now, of all times, he came home dragging red roses, now that he was going to confess that he had been unfaithful, that he wanted a divorce. What the hell was going on inside that head of his anyway? Did he expect her to be happy? Did he think a bunch of bloody roses would justify his betrayal and make her forgive him? I see, you have a relationship with our son’s day-care teacher and want a divorce, so that’s it. Awfully sweet of you to finally buy me a few flowers.
She took a deep breath.
‘I thought you weren’t coming back until tomorrow night.’
‘No, I know. I changed my mind.’
She could see how nervous he was. A foolish smile flitted across his face.
Damn it, you could at least take off your jacket.
‘Why aren’t you at work?’
Because I called in sick and now I’m spending my days sabotaging your future. Just the way you sabotaged mine.
‘My throat is a little sore.’
She went back upstairs. Continued on to the kitchen table and started gathering up the papers. She didn’t manage to put away everything before he appeared in the room.
‘What are you doing?’
There was fear in his voice. The anger she had got used to encountering seemed blown away. Confused, she realised that the Henrik she knew, the one she had lived with for fifteen years but who had been unapproachable lately, was back. He was standing here in the middle of the kitchen trying to reach her.
She looked up at him. A scared little boy with a bouquet of flowers that was much too big held out in front of him. So pitiful, so utterly helpless.
But one thing she knew for sure, even though many other things were confused just now, she definitely didn’t want his flowers.
‘Did someone send you flowers?’
‘No, they’re for you.’
He held the bouquet out to her. Accepting the flowers would signal a defeat, a tiny opening for an approach, which she certainly did not intend to give him. She could see that her hesitation annoyed him; for some reason he was doing all he could to appear friendly. She wondered what his plan was. Were they supposed to make up and be good friends again and then he would drop the bomb?
She wasn’t going to make it that easy for him.
‘Shall I put them in water?’
She realised that she had no choice. That she would be acting far too disagreeably and would help him out by not accepting them.
She took down a vase and went over to him – saying thank you was beyond her. She took the bouquet and turned to the sink. Carefully she clipped off the ends of one rose after another and put them in the vase. He was still standing behind her; maybe he was preparing himself to disclose his confession. She had to stall him, only one more day, just until Linda’s past was revealed and she had a chance to get hold of the money. Her unresponsive behaviour would naturally strengthen his resolve that he was doing the right thing by leaving her, but that no longer mattered. So many times she had pursued him through the house in the past six months to get a conversation going. Now it was his turn to pursue her. And then neither of them would pursue the other. Ever. Not in this house or anywhere else.
‘I’ve missed you.’
Her hand stopped halfway between the sink and the vase. Of its own accord. As if just like the rest of her it didn’t understand at first what the words signified.
And then all at once she understood what this was all about.
The fear in his voice. The red roses. His silly but valiant attempt at reconciliation.
Something had happened during their trip.
Linda had left him and now he stood here terror-stricken, wanting his wife back. Not because he loved her, but because he had nothing else. That’s why he came home early. He and Linda had split up. That’s why she suddenly recognised him again, now that the strength he had gained from Linda’s infatuation had left him.