The silence in the house was palpable; it gave her a feeling of unreality. Under normal circumstances there would have been a lot of commotion from the children and the dog, but now the links to the past had been broken; the traditions no longer existed. It was frightening not to know how the rest of her life was going to proceed. She still hadn't gotten used to the fact that Sara and Filip also lived somewhere else. Right now she longed for them and didn't want to wait until the next day to see them, as planned. After that they were going abroad on vacation with Olle for two weeks.
The divorce had been worse than she could have imagined. The fact that in the end she decided to have the baby, even though she and Olle had agreed to try saving their marriage, had at first made him furious. Over time he had realized that he had no other choice but to accept her decision, even though it made a divorce inevitable. Like two automatons they had filled out the papers and taken care of practical matters. He had moved into an apartment, and suddenly she was living alone in a big house with the children there only every other week.
As her belly got bigger and bigger, Olle had become more and more difficult. The slightest little thing could erupt into a problem, anything from how they were going to split up the Easter holidays to who should buy shoes for Sara or drive Filip to soccer practice. Everything had to be thrashed out ad nauseam. It felt as if Olle wanted to punish her. In his eyes she saw accusations and wounded pride.
At first Olle wanted to be so strong. The practical matters had to be handled in the most adroit manner, almost as if he were trying to make the divorce as gentle as possible for himself when he was faced with the fait accompli. But when almost everything had been worked out and decided, and the train started rolling in a new direction, his emotions finally caught up with him. To deal with his own pain, he shifted all the blame and responsibility onto her. He refused to have anything to do with the puppy that he had bought for her in an attempt to patch up their marriage. Fortunately one of Emma's women friends had taken care of the dog while she was in the maternity ward.
She had no plans for the summer. The children would be staying with her for a few weeks later on, but first they were going abroad with their father. He had rented a house in Italy for two weeks, along with a friend who was also a single parent. They were going to fly to Nice, rent a car, and stay in an Italian mountain village. If only he'd thought up fun things like that when we were married, she thought enviously. Now he decides to be creative and full of ideas.
Johan had mentioned that he wanted them to go somewhere together. Right now it felt impossible.
Through the bedroom window she caught sight of him as he came walking up the garden path. In his hands he was holding a paper bag and a bouquet of flowers. He noticed her in the window and smiled and waved.
Maybe it wasn't so strange that she didn't want to throw herself into a new living arrangement with Johan. That comforting thought suddenly took root, and she felt the guilt she carried on her shoulders lighten. One step at a time, she thought. One step at a time.
Johan had warned Pia that he would be arriving late for work. Nothing special was going on, and he longed to take a walk with Emma and their newborn baby. They went out through the gate and continued along the residential street. It was a quiet neighborhood with little traffic. That didn't stop Johan from looking several times in both directions each time they had to cross the street before he ventured across with the baby buggy. Emma, who'd been through all this before, was significantly calmer.
'Does it feel strange to be out with me and a baby buggy?' he asked. 'I mean, you and Olle have walked around here with the kids all these years, taking them to the playground, dropping them off at day care or picking them up, and spending time with the other parents in these houses.'
'No, actually it doesn't feel strange.' Emma looked surprised, as if it hadn't even occurred to her that this area belonged to her and Olle.
They walked in silence for a while. Johan was overwhelmed by the unfamiliar situation and felt no need to talk.
Last night he had driven Emma and their daughter home from the hospital, and it had been unbelievably hard to leave them. Emma didn't want him to stay overnight. It was still too early, she told him when he objected. He couldn't help feeling hurt. He hadn't yet spent a night in the house in Roma. That was one of the boundaries he longed to cross, one of the obstacles that Emma had set up and that stood in the way of their having a chance to strengthen their relationship.
They continued through the neighborhood. It was good for the baby to be out and get some fresh air. She looked so little as she lay under the cotton blanket. Her head was covered with a turquoise cotton cap even though it was seventy-seven degrees outside. Her dark hair stuck out from under the cap. When Johan poked his head inside the buggy and placed his cheek against her body, he noticed how rapid and light as a feather her breathing was.
He could see that Emma was tired. Her face was very beautiful- those high cheekbones, dark eyes, and distinct eyebrows that had enchanted him so much. Now her complexion was paler and her cheeks slightly rounder than usual. He liked that; it gave her a softer appearance.
He had loved her before they had the baby, and now, after the birth, his love had grown to a painful level.
They'd been through periods when he felt that there was a balance between them, that they loved each other equally, that Emma, too, wanted them to be together. Now he found himself at a disadvantage. Emma didn't want him in the house. Not yet, she said. The children had to get used to things; it was all too much for them at the moment, with the new sister and everything else. They would see each other when they could, which meant when Sara and Filip were staying with their father. Nothing had turned out as he'd hoped.
Johan had been looking forward to the baby's arrival, to taking care of Emma and the child and simply enjoying things. How wrong he had been. The fact that Emma had decided to have the baby didn't mean that she was ready to regard them as an established couple. She had explained to him that she just couldn't throw herself into a new relationship. So much had happened during the past year. Her whole life had been turned upside down. It would take time to digest and rearrange everything, to cut off all ties with her old life.
Now she was walking along beside him and looking very content, in spite of everything. He stopped pushing the buggy to stroke her cheek.
'I love you,' he said, feeling how true that was.
Emma looked away without saying a word. In the past she would have told him the same thing, or at least something similar.
They continued on toward the sports field as they chatted about all sorts of things, mostly about the baby and what name they were going to give her. Johan wanted her to be called Natalie, while Emma preferred Elin.
'But she looks like a Natalie,' said Johan. 'With her dark hair and brown eyes. Slightly exotic. She's going to be a real beauty-with us as her parents,' he added and grinned. 'Just picture a cute girl with long dark hair named Natalie.'
Emma couldn't help smiling. 'Maybe right now, yes. At the moment she has dark hair and eyes, but she could just as well end up blond and blue-eyed. Maybe then the name wouldn't suit her as well.'
'Oh, what does that matter? It's a beautiful name.'
'Sure, but I'm allergic to the idea of giving Swedish children names that try to be as international as possible. Names like Nicole, Angelique, or Yvette. We live in Sweden, not France.'
'Don't you think you're being a little narrow-minded? Did you know that one in five Swedes has foreign heritage? Sweden is no fair-skinned paradise anymore, with rye bread dancing the Hambo. It's multicultural. Even though I admit that the development seems to be happening slower over here on Gotland,' he teased, giving her a little poke in the side.
'I still think that Elin is nicer,' insisted Emma.
Johan stopped again and took her face between the palms of his hands.
'If you feel so strongly about it, then Elin it is-as long as you're happy.'
'But I want you to like it, too.'
'I do, I assure you I do. I'm so happy to have a daughter named Elin with you, believe me.'
WEDNESDAY, JULY 7
