Betrayal

‘No.’

His lips formed his reply by themselves. Like a projecting rock ledge in the plunge towards the abyss. What was he going to do there? On a ledge halfway between being in one place or the other.

‘How long have you felt this way?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Well, approximately? Is it two weeks or two years?’

As long as I can remember, it seems like.

‘About a year, I suppose.’

How would he ever dare explain? How would he ever have the courage to take the words in his mouth? What would happen when he told her that for seven months he was somewhere else every second of the day?

With her.

She who had utterly unexpectedly come storming into his heart and given him a reason to want to get up in the morning. Who gave him back his desire and his will. She who opened up all the doors inside him that he had barred shut long ago and who managed to find keys to rooms he didn’t even know existed. Who saw him as he really was, made him want to laugh again, want to live. Who made him feel desirable, intelligent, energetic.

Worth loving.

‘But why? And how did you think we could work this out?’

He didn’t know, didn’t even need to lie. In the bedroom lay his six-year-old son. How could he ever do what he really wanted to do and still be able to look him in the eye again?

And how would he ever be able to look himself in the eye again if he stayed and said no to the enormous love he had found?

Hatred passed through him for a moment. If it weren’t for her standing there a few metres away from him in the living room, then he could . . .

Full of accusations she would succeed in turning all the joy he felt into shame and guilt. Defile it. Make it seem base and ugly.

All he wanted was to be able to feel what it was like to live again.

‘We don’t have fun any more.’

He could hear how stupid that sounded. Fucking shit. She always made him feel inferior.

Her gaze felt like a physical accusation. He couldn’t move.

An eternity passed before she finally gave up and went towards the bedroom.

He leaned back and closed his eyes.

One single thing he wanted.

Only one.

That she would be here with him, hold him tight and say that everything was going to be all right.

For the moment he was saved, but only temporarily.

Starting now, their home was a minefield.

‘Is there anything else you need tonight?’

It was the night nurse standing in the doorway. One hand held a tray of pill cups and her other had a firm grip on the door handle. She looked stressed.

‘No thanks, we’ll be fine now. Isn’t that right, Anna?’

The last dregs of gruel ran through the probe into her stomach, and he stroked her brow lightly. The night nurse hesitated for a moment and gave him a quick smile.

‘Good night, then. And don’t forget that Dr Sahlstedt wants to talk to you before you leave in the morning.’

How could he forget that? It was clear that she didn’t know him.

‘No, I won’t forget.’

She smiled again and closed the door behind her. She was new on the ward and he didn’t know her name. There was a lot of turnover of personnel, and he had given up trying to remember their names. Secretly he was grateful that the hospital was chronically short-staffed. At first his constant presence had aroused irritation among the staff, but for the past year they had shown greater appreciation. Sometimes they even took it for granted, and once when he got stuck in traffic and was delayed, they forgot to change the bulging catheter bag. That made him even more aware that without him she would never get the rehabilitation she needed. If they couldn’t even remember to change the bag.

He pulled over the bed table on wheels and turned on the radio. The Metropolitan Mix. He was sure that somewhere inside behind her closed eyes she could hear the music he played for her. And he didn’t want her to miss out on anything. So that on the day she woke up she would recognise all the new songs that had come out. Since the accident.

He took the skin lotion out of the bedside table, drew a white stripe along her left leg and began to massage it. With even strokes he worked up from the calf, across the knee, and further towards the groin.

‘Today it was really fine weather outside. I took a walk down to Arstaviken and sat for a while in the sun by the boat club, there on our wharf.’

He carefully lifted her leg, put one hand behind her knee and bent it cautiously several times.

‘Good, Anna . . . Just think, later when you get well we can go down there together again. Take some coffee with us and a blanket and just sit there in the sun.’

He straightened out her leg and placed it on the sheet.

‘And all your potted plants are fine; the hibiscus has even started to bloom again.’

He rolled down the bed rails to reach her right hand. The fingers on her left hand had stiffened into a claw, and every day he checked the right one carefully to make sure it hadn’t done the same. So that she would be able to continue painting her pictures when she woke up.

He turned off the radio and began to get undressed.

The calm he had longed for began to spread through him. A whole night’s sleep.

Nowhere else but here with Anna did the compulsion vanish completely and leave his thoughts in peace. His sanctuary, where he was finally allowed to rest.

Only Anna was strong enough to make him dare resist. With her he felt safe.

Alone he didn’t have a chance.

He was only allowed to sleep here once a week, and he had had to nag them about it. Sometimes he was afraid that the privilege would be taken away from him, even though it was no extra trouble for the staff. The new ones especially, like the nurse tonight, seemed to think it was odd. It bothered him a little; was it so strange that they wanted to sleep together? Good Lord, they loved each other, after all.

In any case, he didn’t care what they thought.

He thought about the conversation he would have with Dr Sahlstedt in the morning and hoped that it wasn’t about the nights he slept with Anna. If they were taken away he would be lost.

He folded his jeans and T-shirt and put them in a neat stack on the visitor’s chair. Then he clicked off the bed lamp. The sound of the respirator was more noticeable in the dark. Calm, regular breaths. Like a faithful friend in the dark.

He lay down cautiously beside her, pulled the covers over them, and cupped his hand over one breast.

‘Good night, my darling.’

Gently he pressed his crotch against her left thigh and felt the preposterous arousal.

He wanted only one thing.

Only one.

That she would wake up and touch him. Take hold of him. And afterwards she would hold him tight and tell him that he never had to be alone again. That he didn’t have to be afraid any more.

He would never leave her.

Never ever.