He cut off the connection and leaned over the steering wheel.
This is the third embolism she has had in two months. And each time her level of consciousness drops.
How could she do this to him? What more did she want from him to convince her to stay?
He wouldn’t be able to stand the loneliness in the flat. Not tonight.
He looked over his shoulder and backed up. He didn’t know where he was going.
Only one thing.
If she didn’t touch him soon, he would go crazy.
Eva had a hard time remembering the last time she had left work early, if ever. The biggest advantage of the fact that Henrik worked at home was that he could collect Axel from day-care or dash over there on short notice if the boy was sick. This went without saying ever since she became a partner and also contributed the major part of their common income. But she tried never to get home later than six.
Today she was going to surprise him and come home earlier than usual.
No one could claim that she got very much done that day. With her eyes on structural efficiencies and profitability calculations, the grinding anxiety had constantly intruded on her thoughts. She had a feeling of unreality. He had suddenly put in question the only thing she had never questioned.
The family.
Everything else was replaceable.
She raised her eyes from the computer screen and looked out the window. The only thing she saw was the facade on the other side of Birger Jarlsgatan. Another office full of other people; she had no idea what they were working on, she didn’t know a single one of them. Most of the daylight hours, day after day, year after year, they spent thirty metres from each other and saw one another more than they saw their own families.
A nine-hour workday, if she didn’t work through lunch, and half an hour’s travel time in rush-hour traffic. It gave her scarcely an hour and a half each day with Axel, an hour and a half when he was tired and cranky after eight hours with twenty other children at the day-care centre, and she was tired and cranky after nine hours of demands and stress at her job. And then at eight o’clock, after he went to bed, she and Henrik would have their time together. The grown-up hour. That was when they were supposed to sit in peace and quiet and see to it that their relationship was fantastic, talk about their day, take an interest in each other’s work, what had happened, share their thoughts. And then somehow manage to make heartfelt love with each other when they finally tumbled into bed. According to the Sunday supplements, that was how they should ensure their marriage would last. And then, of course, plan short romantic trips and get a babysitter so they could have their own gilt-edged time together. If there had been a slave available who could go grocery shopping, drive Axel to swimming lessons, get involved in the parents’ group at the day-care centre, prepare dinner, wash clothes, call the plumber and ask him to fix the leak underneath the kitchen counter, do the ironing, make sure all the bills got paid on time, clean the house, open all the window envelopes and take care of all the family’s social contacts, then it might have been possible. What she wanted most of all was to be able to sleep an entire weekend. Undisturbed. To see whether there was any possibility of getting rid of the exhaustion she felt, the weariness that permeated marrow and bone and longed only for things to get done without her participation.
She thought about the seminar the company held last autumn. ‘Taking responsibility for your life.’ She had felt energised afterwards; many truths had been uttered that sounded so simple though she had never thought of them herself.
Every moment I choose whether I want to be a victim or the creator of my own destiny.
Full of inspiration she had hurried home to tell Henrik about her experience. He had sat silently and listened, but when she offered to get tickets for the next lecture the man would be giving, he wasn’t interested.
What would you do if you were told you had six months left to live?
That was the question he opened the seminar with.
When it was over it hung in the air unanswered.
She still had done nothing about finding an answer.
On the way home she took a detour past Ostermalms Market Hall, bought two lobsters at Elmqvist’s Fish Shop and then continued on to the wine shop on Birger Jarlsgatan.
She had booked the trip during lunch and had the tickets sent by courier to the office.
Everything was going to be fine again.
It was only four thirty when she got home. Axel’s jacket lay flung on the floor inside the front door, and she hung it up on the elephant-shaped hook that she had put up for him at the proper height.
She heard Henrik’s voice from the kitchen.
‘I have to go now. I’ll try to ring you a bit later.’
She took off her coat, hiding the bags with the lobsters and champagne inside the closet, and went up the stairs.
He was sitting at the kitchen table reading
‘Hi.’
‘Hi.’
He kept looking at the newspaper. She closed her eyes. Why couldn’t he even make an effort? Why did he always leave the responsibility to her?
She tried to push aside her annoyance.
‘I came home a little earlier today.’
He raised his head and glanced at the digital clock on the microwave oven.
‘I can see that.’
‘I thought I’d drive Axel over to Mamma and Pappa’s and let him sleep there tonight.’
This time he looked up at her. A quick, embarrassed look.
‘Oh? Why?’
She tried to smile.
‘I’m not telling. You’ll see.’
For an instant she thought he looked almost scared.
‘Axel!’
‘I have to work tonight.’
‘Axel! Do you want to stay at Grandma and Grandpa’s tonight?’
Quick steps came running from the living room.
‘Yes!’
‘Come on then, let’s get you packed.’
The familiar drive out to Saltsjobaden took only fifteen minutes. Axel sat quietly and expectantly in the back seat, and the temporary calm was enough for her to realise that she was nervous. She and Henrik hadn’t slept together since they were in London, and that was almost ten months ago. She actually hadn’t thought about it before now. Neither of them had taken the initiative and so neither of them had been rejected. They probably just hadn’t felt like it, it was no worse than that. And of course Axel always slept between them.
She drove up and parked on the paved driveway. Axel jumped out of the car and ran the short distance up to the porch.
She looked at her childhood home through the windscreen. Large and secure, the yellow turn-of-the-century house with its white gingerbread trim stood where it had always stood, surrounded by gnarled, well-pruned apple trees. In a couple of months they would be covered with white blossoms.
In a couple of months.
By then everything would be back to normal.
All she had to do was muster enough energy to fight a little harder.
Suddenly it occurred to her that she had to ring up the garage and make an appointment to have the winter tyres removed.
The front door opened and Axel disappeared inside. Eva climbed out of the car, took Axel’s bag from the back seat and went towards the house.
Her mother came out on the porch.
