Little Star

After the comparative calm of the studio it was something of a shock, in spite of everything, to emerge onto Gotgatan, which was busy with Sunday shoppers and people out for a stroll. Teresa breathed in the cold air and tried to clear her brain. Then she felt a hand come down heavily on her shoulder; she caught a movement at the corner of her eye and turned around just in time to catch Theres, who was on the point of falling over.

People gave them odd looks as they stood there clinging tightly to one another, with Theres’ face pressed into Teresa’s chest. Teresa whispered, ‘What is it? What’s the matter?’

Theres’ body shuddered as she let out a single long breath of air that went right through Teresa’s top and spread warmth across her skin. She held Theres more tightly and they stood there without moving for a long time. Then Theres straightened up just enough for her mouth to come away from the fabric, and said, ‘They eat.’

‘Who? The people in the studio?’

‘They take. They eat.’

Teresa groped for Theres’ hand to support her, and found that the hand was clutching the note Max Hansen had given her. When Teresa touched her she opened her hand and the crumpled note fell to the ground. Teresa looked at it, lying there in the wet and the dirt, and a fierce rage flared up in her stomach as she saw how it all worked.

They take. They eat.

In an email Max Hansen had indicated that he would very much like to see the film Teresa had taken from his camera destroyed. Teresa had replied that she had thrown it away. But she still had it, and she remembered exactly what she had seen. How he had wanted to exploit Theres, take something from her, eat her, swallow her, documenting the whole thing so that he could relive it all over again.

The same thing had happened in the studio, only in a way that was deemed generally acceptable. Theres had something they wanted. They would suck it out of her, package it up and sell the result to the highest bidder, and the only thing Theres got was that bit of paper lying in the slush.

They take. They eat.

Teresa hadn’t seen it. She had been misled by the way the people at the studio had behaved as if it were all a matter of course, and the simplicity with which Theres seemed able to sing just about anything.

She hadn’t understood. That it cost. From Theres’ behaviour in public places she had realised that Theres found it difficult to be surrounded by adults. Now she had spent a whole day in that situation. In cramped, silent rooms.

When Teresa tried to hug Theres again, she made a feeble attempt to pull away. Teresa let go, and caught her eye instead. Theres’ eyes were a pale, transparent blue, not unlike the zombies in Dawn of the Dead. As if someone had stuck needles in them and sucked out the colour.

They take. They eat.

Teresa bent down and picked up the five-hundred-kronor note. She ignored Theres’ half-hearted resistance and led her towards Medborgarplatsen.

‘Come on,’ she said. ‘We’re taking a taxi.’

Teresa had never hailed a taxi before, but the driver seemed to find it perfectly natural as she waved at him, and stopped to let them climb into the back seat. Teresa told him the address and showed him the crumpled five- hundred-kronor note, just to be on the safe side.

Theres shuffled as far into the corner as she could, wrapped her arms around her body and closed her eyes. She looked so small and pitiful that Teresa was overcome by a new feeling: tenderness. She wanted Theres to rest her head on her knee, she wanted to stroke her hair and whisper: everything’s fine, you’re safe, I’m here.

Instead she simply sat there with her hands clamped between her thighs watching Theres, who appeared to have fallen asleep. An enormous, tranquil happiness came into her body. Grew. And grew. When they passed the Globe Arena she felt as if she might disintegrate with happiness. She had never seen the Globe before. She had never been in a taxi before. She had never sat beside the sleeping form of someone she loved before. She had been living in the shadows.

For the want of any other chance of contact with Theres, she took out her MP3 player and listened to ‘Fly’ at full volume, their version. It wasn’t that it was better than the one that had been recorded in the studio. It was infinitely better.

Theres had recovered somewhat by the time they got back to Svedmyra, and was able to make her way up to the apartment without help. Outside the door she stopped, turned to Teresa and said in a weak voice, ‘I’m not going to make a CD.’ Then she opened the door.

Jerry was home. When he asked what they’d been doing, Theres just shook her head and disappeared into her room, where she flopped down on the bed and fell asleep again.

As Teresa headed for the door of the apartment, Jerry blocked her way. He folded his arms and said with a menacing air of calm, ‘I want to know what you two are up to.’

‘Nothing.’

‘Teresa. If you want to come here to visit Theres again, then I want to know what you’re up to. Whatever it is. Just don’t lie.’

‘My train leaves soon.’

‘I noticed you turned up in a taxi. Take another taxi. Otherwise you’re not welcome here anymore.’

‘That’s not your decision.’

‘Yes, it is.’

Teresa had to tip her head back so that she could see Jerry’s face. It wasn’t as closed and harsh as his voice suggested. More troubled. She asked, ‘Why do you want to know?’

‘Why do you think? Because I care about Theres, of course.’

‘So do I.’

‘I believe you. But I want to know what you’re doing.’

Teresa wasn’t capable of making up a story, that had never been her strong point. So she told him. She left out the part with Max Hansen in the hotel room, and gave a brief account of their songwriting and today’s studio session. How exhausted Theres had become.

When she had finished she looked Jerry in the eye. There was neither displeasure nor pleasure there. They stood like that until Teresa just had to look away. Then Jerry gave a brief nod and said, ‘OK. So now I know. Shall I ring for a taxi?’

‘Yes…please.’

While Jerry was making the call Teresa went over to the bedroom and stood for a while, resting her head on the doorpost, watching the sleeping Theres. A cold, slimy unease writhed in her belly, where happiness had bubbled such a short time ago.

Never to see you again.

Jerry could make that decision, as easily as taking a breath. He could lock the door, unplug the phone or move away with Theres, and they wouldn’t be able to do a thing about it. They had no power over themselves.

‘I think it’s probably time you made a move,’ Jerry said behind her.

Teresa detached herself from the doorpost like a piece of ivy being ripped off a wall. She went towards the front door with her head lowered; she wanted to ask, ‘Can I come again next weekend?’ but her pride made it impossible. Instead she straightened her back, looked at Jerry and said, ‘I’ll be back next weekend, OK?’

Jerry shook his head and grinned. ‘Of course. What else would you do?’

Teresa didn’t really understand what was behind his remark. There was something odd about it. But she grasped the fact that she could come back. Since she was about to burst into tears of relief, she quickly turned away, opened the door and ran down the stairs.

When she got home she locked her bedroom door, took out Max Hansen’s DVD and watched it. She had expected-had been afraid, to some extent-that the sight of Theres’ naked body would have some effect on her. That was partly why she hadn’t watched the film apart from the glimpses while it was still in the camera.

But it didn’t happen. She thought Theres was beautiful with and without clothes, and that was all there was to it. When Max Hansen’s bare backside came into view, Teresa began to wonder whether she might be asexual. The whole business of sex just seemed unnecessary and ugly. Max Hansen down on his knees, Theres backing away, Hansen grabbing hold of her, pushing his face into her crotch. So undignified.

However, she watched what followed with keen interest. Theres picking up the glass and snapping the stem.