Betrayal

they should rent a movie that evening. But there was a mountain between them. And how he was going to get over that mountain he had no idea. Even less what might be waiting for him on the other side.

‘Why aren’t you at work?’

He hadn’t meant to sound like he was snooping, but he could hear that it sounded like an accusation. And it was more than clear that she was searching for a suitable answer, since she didn’t really have one.

‘My throat is a little sore.’

She said it on her way back up the stairs, without looking at him. And he knew she was lying. When she was gone he put down the bouquet and quickly took off his jacket, looked at himself in the hall mirror and ran his fingers through his hair. He couldn’t remember the last time he had bought her flowers, or whether he had ever done so before. But if he were to be successful with what he had decided to do, then he would have to try and overcome the distaste he felt. He had one single goal, but his feelings were fighting for space inside of him. Anger, fear, confusion, decisiveness.

He took the bouquet and went up the stairs.

She was standing by the kitchen table stacking up sheets of paper. A calculator and a pen. The folder they got from the real estate agent where she put all the bills and loan papers related to the house.

The fear again. Stronger than the anger.

‘What are you doing?’

She didn’t have time to answer. She looked up at him and saw the blood-red bouquet. Stood there mute and stared at it as if she were trying to identify what it signified. And then, finally, after an uncomfortable pause when all he felt was his own heart pounding, she finally managed to grasp what the bouquet was.

‘Did someone send you flowers?’

‘No, they’re for you.’

He held the bouquet out to her but she didn’t move. Not a hint of a reaction. Everything felt hollow. Not a move to step forward and take them. Her indifference made him suddenly feel so embarrassed that it was too much for him, and he wanted to scream out all his accusations right in her face. Crush that false mask devoid of feeling that she hid behind and force her down on her knees. Make her confess. But he had to be smarter than that to manage all this.

He swallowed.

‘Shall I put them in water?’

His words got her moving, and she went to the cupboard over the refrigerator where she kept the vases, hesitated briefly when she couldn’t reach them, and went back to the kitchen table to get a chair. She didn’t say thank you when he handed her the bouquet. Didn’t look at him either. Just took the flowers from his hands, turned and went to the sink. He stood looking at her back as she slowly and carefully clipped the ends off the roses and arranged them one by one in the vase.

Perhaps she had already made her decision and stood there preparing herself. Perhaps she would turn around soon and tell him the truth, that she had made up her mind while he was gone. Admit that she had met another man and wanted to live with him instead. He had to forestall her, make her understand that he was ready to fight for what they had, that he would change if she just gave him a chance. He had to make her understand that her decision was based on false assumptions.

He suddenly felt like crying, going over and throwing his arms around her. Stand close behind her and tell her the truth. Once and for all get rid of all the lies and, with them out of the way, be able to feel close to her again. When had they stopped talking to each other? Had they ever been able to talk the way he and Linda had done? Why had it been so easy with her and not with Eva? They had known each other for fifteen years, after all. She knew more about him than anyone else. He couldn’t stand not having her friendship any more. They shared far too many memories. And they shared Axel.

Dear Eva. I’m sorry. Forgive me.

It didn’t happen. It was a superhuman task to give voice to the words, to admit his infidelity and his lies even though she was no better herself. He refused to expose himself that way, or at least he didn’t intend to do it before he had some idea how she would react, whether she intended to reject him or not. But he had to try to approach her, he was in a hurry now, he had to try to reach her before it was too late. Before she turned around and announced her decision.

‘I’ve missed you.’

She didn’t turn around but her hand stopped halfway between the sink and the vase.

He could hear how strange the words sounded. As if even the room were reacting. It was so long since anything like that had been said within these walls, and he wondered whether what he said was true. Was it longing for her he had felt? In the strict sense of the word. Yes, it was. The longing for her loyalty.

‘I’ve been thinking while I was away, as you told me to do, and I would like to beg your forgiveness for being so disagreeable lately. And then I got to thinking of that trip you booked to Iceland. I would very much like it if we went on it together.’

Her hand was once again moving between the sink and the vase.

‘I cancelled it.’

‘We can book another one. I can do it.’

Eager, bordering on desperation. A wild attempt to break through, get a first response that would point out what way they were heading. And he hated the fact that he was once again subject to her will, her decision. In a second he was re-acclimatised and robbed of the ability to take action, which he had discovered was something he could do over the past six months.

The phone rang. She reached it first even though he was closer. He had hesitated because he thought they should let it ring.

‘Eva.’

She gave him a quick look when she heard who it was. As if she was close to being exposed.

‘I haven’t got to it yet, can I call you a little later?’

Hadn’t got to what?

‘Good, I’ll do that. See you later.’

She hung up and put down the phone.

‘Who was that?’

‘Pappa.’

She was lying without looking at him again. It was him – the other man.

Somehow he had to rise up from his position at the bottom. He was the one who had been unpleasant lately. She could continue in peace and quiet to hide behind what was right – wounded and unapproachable, forcing him to make up with her. Somehow he had to get her to confess. But not by accusing her. Then she would only be on her guard and also have a legitimate reason to strike back. No, he had to get her to reveal herself.

She had returned to the roses, although they were all standing as if to attention in the vase.

He decided to try a long shot. It should produce some kind of reaction.

‘Janne says to say hello, by the way.’

‘Mm-hmm. How are they doing these days?’

‘They’re fine. He said he saw you at some lunch place a while back.’

‘Oh, he did?’

‘You didn’t seem to see him. He joked and wondered what sort of lamb meat you were out to lunch with.’

With the vase all arranged in her hands, she turned round.

‘Lamb meat?’

‘Yes, there was some young man you were eating with.’

‘I don’t remember that, when did he say it was?’

She walked towards the living room with the vase. He followed her.

‘A week or so ago, maybe. I’m not sure.’

‘It couldn’t have been me. He must be mistaken.’

Cool as a cucumber. He didn’t know her at all. Had she always been able to lie this easily? Maybe it wasn’t the first time she had an affair behind his back; she had had plenty of opportunity over the years. All these business trips and all the overtime she worked. Even if she hadn’t eaten lunch with him, the words ‘lamb meat’ should have