Maj walked into the living room. As she was sitting down, she spied the keys — the standard one for the front door and the long one for the garage. They were centered on the flower-patterned tablecloth. She stood and stared at them for a moment. She would never toss keys on a table. Never! Leaving keys on a table brings bad luck — everybody knew that.
Her heart beat like tiny, quick feet. Had Lovisa been here? Had her granddaughter borrowed the keys for some reason? No, not for a while. Had Anneli used them? No, not for days. Her hand trembled as she reached for them. They belonged in her purse. She’d recently gotten a large purse, which could be slung on her back like a miniature backpack, and it had a pocket for keys. She always put her keys back into her purse after she’d used them.
She felt a dizzying sense of anxiety as she walked over to the window. She could see the lights from the AstraZeneca building on the other side of the canal. She liked the way they glittered on the water, making her think of Manhattan. Farther up the hill, she could see the apartment buildings in Ronna. They were part of the “million homes” scheme. These days very few people spoke Swedish as their native tongue, and Ronna was a known immigrant area and as infamous as Rosengård in Malmö — neighborhoods with a greater percentage of criminal activity, including shootings and murder. The name sounded harsh to her ears, even though she knew the original meaning was pleasant. Ronna meant running water.
A rhythmic throb made her turn her head — a boat, one of those large container ships, heading between Lake Mälaren and the Baltic Sea. The lantern at the prow seemed to her a sharp, glowing eye. The tower of its bridge passed by a bit later. She had a childish desire to wave and call out: Here I am! Can you see me? Hello!
When Lovisa was small, Maj had often taken her in her baby carriage and walked along the side of the canal on the way to the locks. She’d pick up Lovisa and show her to the men in their orange overalls. They’d wave and make faces at her. Boat was one of the first words Maj had taught her. Yes, in fact, boat had been her very first word.
The vessel passed and the water was now as smooth as a pool. Maj felt exhaustion wash over her. She moved away from the window and into the bedroom, turning off the lights as she went. The stairs to the basement level were a huge, gaping maw of black.
Once she’d returned to her bedroom, she realized she’d forgotten to brush her teeth.
“Don’t care,” she muttered to herself, a flutter of defiance in her chest. She took off her dirty nightgown and found a new one. She stood and stared at her naked body in the mirror with a sense of resignation. Thin limbs, a stomach poking out, and breasts that no longer did. Her pubic hair had almost disappeared. She grunted and shut her eyes.
The bed creaked as she settled into it. She pulled her nightgown over her feet to warm them. Her body finally began to feel heavy. She took a few deep breaths and was just about to drift off to sleep when the noise returned. A bang and then scraping sounds, as if someone were moving around the house. She heard it clearly coming from the basement hallway. She opened her eyes and lay fully awake. Anxious. Empty.
Could it be the cats? No. The cats were always silent. Mama and Kitten. The thought rose as a scream, desperate and silent, inside her mind: Mama, Kitten, come here and be with me!
A dog could defend itself. Defend her too. Cats lacked that kind of loyalty.
She hesitated before turning on her bedside lamp.
Had she forgotten to lock the front door after all? She had checked, hadn’t she? Or had she just thought she’d checked? The papers were filled with reports of burglaries in Södertälje. People were supposed to stay alert.
“Hello?” she called out. “Anyone there? Come and show yourself!”
For a moment, she thought it might be Hasse. She slipped back in time and Hasse was returning home after a night out with the guys: a night that lasted into the wee hours of the morning. They’d meet in someone’s garage and work on their cars together. She could see him standing on the hallway rug, wearing his grubby, oil-stained overalls, his large hands hanging at his sides.
After his death, she’d seen him a number of times. Not imagined him — she’d seen him. Once he was sitting on the side of the bed with his face, filled with love for her, turned in her direction. She hadn’t been the least afraid. Another time, he was on the stairs to the basement. He’d stood and watched her without saying a word.
“Hans? Hasse?” she’d whispered, and it felt as if all the blood had drained from her head so quickly that she became dizzy. “Hans? Is it really you? Are you here?”
She’d grabbed the railing and begun to walk down. “Wait for me! I’m coming!” Then a bolt of lightning had seemed to go through her skull — sharp, fire-red flames. She didn’t dare mention the visions to anyone. One day, she read about the phenomenon in a magazine. It was called änkesyn — widow’s vision — and it was fairly common. Nothing to worry about.
Her feet felt like blocks of ice. Where were her slippers? She usually put them beneath the chair where she hung her clothes. She couldn’t find them. Strange. She always put them there, side by side, beneath the chair. In bare feet, she snuck into the hallway. The floor had loose gravel on it, small grains that pressed into the soles of her feet.
“Kitties? Mama Cat? Kitten?” her voice cawed like a crow.
She almost reached the bottom of the stairs.
“You’re imagining things!” she said aloud to herself. “Pull yourself together! Otherwise you’ll find yourself in a home whether you like it or not!”
She walked back up to the main level for the third time that night. At least I’m getting my exercise!
As soon as she reentered her bedroom, she understood something was wrong. Hasse’s bed. She always kept his bed made. His cover was thrown back as if he’d just gotten up to pee. She caught her breath and then let out a dry, rattling cough. She was truly frightened now. Her entire body was shaking.
Is Hasse here? Is my dead husband here in the house? She moaned and her hand went to her throat. What does he want? Does he want to hurt me?
I have to call someone, she thought. Anneli, I have to call Anneli.
She stared at Hasse’s bedcover as she headed to her nightstand. Her red cell phone had extra-large buttons so she could easily make out the numbers. Anneli had gotten it for her. Normal phones were too difficult to use.
She picked it up, but her shaky hand dropped it immediately. It hit the wooden floor with a bang.
She knelt down to look for it, quickly realizing it was unusable as it had broken into two pieces. She pushed the two halves together and put it back on the nightstand. Tomorrow she would see about getting a new one.
For now, she had to pull herself together. She glanced over at Hasse’s bed. There had to be a logical explanation. There always was. Perhaps she had moved the bedcover herself without noticing it. She might have gone into Hasse’s bed instead of her own. She missed him, she was freezing, she longed to be with him. It must be that simple.
She moved his pillow to her bed and propped it up behind her back. In this half-sitting position, she eventually fell into a fretful, dreamless slumber.
Maj woke up at dawn. By the subdued gray light, she judged it to be about six. She got up, dressed in her long pants and the thick sweater she’d knitted many years earlier, before her arthritis had gotten too bad. She brewed some coffee and opened a can of cat food.