Broken

Alvar shook his head, he was confused. He could not remember the last time he ate, but he did not feel hungry. Only giddy, it felt as if he was floating.

'I'll take you downstairs to the canteen,' Lind said resolutely. 'If you're going to get through this, you'll need a decent meal.'

'But,' Alvar faltered, 'I need to explain myself. It's such a long story, you see, I need time!'

Lind looked at him.

'You'll have all the time in the world, Eide, I give you my word, but you need to take care of yourself. You look exhausted, you've ended up in a difficult situation.'

There was no point in protesting. Alvar closed his mouth. Suddenly it felt good that someone else was taking charge. He, who up until now had never wanted to let go, now surrendered completely to his commanding, confident lawyer in the dark suit. It was a totally new sensation, a feeling of falling, of melting like butter, becoming pliable. Because could it get any worse? He had a vision of himself lying on a bed with his hands behind his head. A small window with bars in front of it. A desk, a simple chair, a shuttered door. Uprooted from the community. Though it occurred to him then that he had never been part of the community.

'The canteen makes first-class sandwiches,' Lind said. 'And Magda, the cook, can make a cup of coffee that will wake us both up. Come on, let's go. We can talk while we eat.' Lind nodded in the direction of the door; Alvar got up from his chair and followed him. Together they went down the corridor, Alvar with his head bowed, Lind with his chin up. They took the lift, they stood close to each other. A faint smell of aftershave filled the tiny space.

'Everything can be explained,' Lind said. 'There's a logical explanation for even the most incomprehensible action.'

'Exactly!' Alvar burst out. 'If only they'll believe me. If only they can understand!'

'It's my job to make sure they believe you, but I'll obviously need your help.'

Alvar nodded. The lift had stopped, they exited. Lind strode into the canteen, he knew his way around and was completely at ease. Alvar trailed after him, while he looked fearfully at the other diners. But no one even glanced at him twice, they had their own problems to contend with, he thought.

'Here, Eide. By the window,' said Lind, pointing.

He had stopped at a table for four; now he pulled a chair out for Alvar. This tiny gesture moved him, he had never been attended to in this way. It made him study Lind furtively.

'What can I tempt you with, Eide?' Lind asked. 'Rissoles? Prawns? Roast beef?'

'Rissoles, please,' Alvar said modestly. Suddenly he felt starving. He remained at the table while Lind went over to the well-stocked sandwich counter. He poured two cups of coffee, paid, and returned. Carried the laden tray with the greatest of ease. Alvar stayed in his seat, staring at Lind's well-groomed hands; his fingers were long, his nails completely clean. No ring on his finger, though that meant nothing, the man was probably married and had children like everyone else. No, a little voice told him, not this man. He is different. His feelings took him by surprise; he stared down at the table. Grabbed his knife and fork, he could not think of anything to say.

Lind sat down. His manners were exquisite, as though he had been a winner his entire life, someone who could cope with anything life threw at him.

'So this Katrine Kjelland,' he said, 'whom it appears you knew, if I've understood it correctly, for a whole year. Do you blame her?'

Alvar looked up. He shook his head fiercely.

'Oh, no,' he said sincerely, 'I don't blame her for a second. She was a lost soul. She was trapped in the mire and she couldn't get out. That's how I look at it.'

Lind kept watching him. Alvar felt that his bare head shone like a bowling ball. Lind frowned.

'But she put you in a very difficult situation, surely we can agree on that?'

While he waited for Alvar to reply, he cut off the corner of his open prawn sandwich and put it in his mouth. His teeth were white and flawless.

'Well,' Alvar pondered, 'I suppose it takes two. I was naive. I always have been.' He stuck his knife into the rissole, it was very tender.

'That's not a crime,' Lind said with emphasis. He washed down the prawn with a mouthful of coffee. 'And your intentions were probably good.'

'Good intentions?' Alvar looked at him across the table. Every time he looked into those green eyes, he felt perplexed. Because everything about this man seemed so familiar. He sensed a kind of trust, as if they were on the same side. And so they were, but there was something more than that, something that made him blush.

'You bought drugs for her,' Lind said, 'because you couldn't bear to see her suffer. That's a good intention, don't you think?'

Alvar nodded. He drank his coffee and wiped his mouth with a napkin.

'I've always kept people at a distance,' he admitted. 'I can't bear it if they suffer. I can't bear the responsibility. I'm a coward deep down. The mess I'm in now stems from my own cowardice. It's my only explanation, my only excuse.'

Lind studied him closely. His green eyes grew sharp.

'Why don't you blame her at all?' he asked directly. 'She forced her way into your life, she exploited all your weaknesses. She manipulated you, emptied your bank account, slept in your bed, drank your coffee, died on your sofa?'

Alvar dropped his knife and fork.

'But she had no proper control over herself,' he said, trying to make excuses for her. 'Everything she did was controlled by heroin. Addicts are not themselves, you know that.'

Lind listened, resting his chin on his hand.

'True,' he conceded. 'In a way you were victims of each other. You both did something right, you both did something wrong. I want the blame shared, Eide, what do you say to that?'

Alvar hesitated. 'Sharing the blame? Only one of us is alive, surely that says it all?' Suddenly he felt utterly despondent. Lind chatted on undisturbed.

'Her family doesn't hold you responsible; they could see where she was heading. They don't blame you,' he said softly.

'I don't understand,' Alvar said. 'How can they be so magnanimous given what's happened?'

Lind looked at him sternly. 'It was her lifestyle that killed her,' he stated. 'Not you, Alvar Eide. Don't you see?'

'I contributed,' he argued weakly. 'I went to Bragernes Square and I was careless. I should have checked what it was I bought for her. Suspected that it might be harmful. I was just trying to ease my own discomfort, I'm actually very selfish.'

'But she took the pills herself,' Lind said. 'She grabbed them and washed them down with water.'

'While I was watching her,' Alvar said. 'Passively. Terrified. And what happened afterwards is unforgivable.'

'Tell me about it,' Lind asked him.

Alvar looked down. 'I felt deeply ashamed. It's a well-known feeling for me, I grew up with it. It's in my veins, let me put it that way. It was like being dragged along by the current. The feeling that I could never hold my head up high again.'

Lind pushed his plate aside and kept listening to him.

'How people would gossip, the story splashed all over the front pages. Suggestions that I might have been taking advantage of her, but I didn't!'

'I know,' Lind said calmly.

'But worst of all was the fear. As I sat in the car driving through town with her dead body on the back seat, I suddenly had the feeling that I didn't know myself at all. That I had a cunning and devious side to me that I had never known about until then.'

'You're not cunning and devious,' Lind said softly.

Alvar folded his hands in his lap. 'I probably won't manage very well in prison,' he said feebly.

'If you're convicted, I'll make sure it's a suspended sentence. We will claim mitigating circumstances.'

'No,' Alvar shook his head in despair. 'You won't be able to get me off this one. I'm touched that you have faith in me, but I'm a grown man of forty-two and she was a sixteen-year-old girl. The jury will expect a certain degree of maturity, which I clearly don't possess. And that's humiliating, it's unbearable.'