father’s and Flora’s. A violent rage came over her. She flung open the closet door and ripped out everything that had belonged to Flora: her dresses, her shoes. The clothes carried memories, and Flora appeared, materialized, her mouth white and closed.
She lifted one of the dresses, it had been hanging so long that the cloth had puckered, was fragile. She grabbed the fold, and with one pull, she ripped it all the way to the waist seam. She kept going, from the bottom up, until the skirt was nothing but long strips. But Flora’s hand came to her; it slapped her head, hard and ringing.
“You’ve never been completely normal. Take your clothes off so I can hit some sense into you. I’m going to stuff you into the wash tub… You’ll sit there until you learn how to become nice and compliant, you spoiled little monkey, until you do exactly what I want.”
Flora was still there inside her; she was in the memories of the house. She would never let go of her grip. Even in her look, there was a certain strength beneath the fear, Justine had seen it when she had visited, a triumphant scorn.
Justine’s body began to shake; her throat became thick and harsh. She had to leave and drink some water.
Then she got some plastic garbage bags, She threw everything into them: shoes, jewelry, clothes. Everything which could remind her of Flora.
Then she saw her father’s suits, and she stepped into the closet and burrowed her face into them. She was crying now, bellowing and ugly; then she ripped them off their hangers and stuffed them into the bags as well.
The next afternoon, she drove back to the nursing home. She had slept heavily and without dreams. She had drunk quite a bit of wine before she finally could fall asleep. She felt feverish; her forehead hurt her as though a clamp was tightening around it.
Gunlis appeared in the hallway. Her eyes were bloodshot. “Well, good day to you again!” she said, and yawned. “Oh, excuse me!”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m also a little tired. But I thought I would let Mamma come home for a short time today. Would that be all right?”
Gunlis placed her arm around her.
“That’s a silly question. If more of our residents had relatives who cared, the world would be a very different place. Wait here, and I’ll get her ready.”
Justine sank onto a bench. The floor was as shiny as a mirror; it appeared to be unbearably long. Farther down the hallway, a man with black skin was pushing a cleaning cart.
A hunchbacked, very wrinkled man came out of one of the rooms. He came shuffling toward her, supported by a walker. He stopped right in front of her.
“Nurse… do you work here?”
“No,” she said, turning red.
“You ought to be glad of that. This is not a good place.”
Gunlis had returned.
“What’s going on, Martin? Is there a problem?”
“I want to go home; that’s the only thing I want. Why do you keep me imprisoned here?”
Gunlis shook her head.
“My dear Martin, we’re not keeping you prisoner here.”
The man spat. The spit landed on the nurse’s shoes, a brown, sticky gob.
Tears came to her eyes.
“Martin!”
He glared at her threateningly.
“Don’t you touch me; you can be contagious. The radioactive material is spreading with the speed of the wind. It’s spreading and is going to kill us all…”
Gunlis grimaced. She disappeared into the washroom, Justine heard her flush and rinse with water. A girl with a ponytail came out from Flora’s room.
“Are you the one who’s picking up Flora?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve dressed her and placed her in her wheelchair.” “Great.”
“Can you take her down yourself?”
“Certainly. I’ve done it before.”
Flora was wrapped in a blanket. A coarse knitted cap was on her head. She stared at Justine; her eyes never left her. Gunlis came out just as Justine was starting to leave.
“Forgive me,” she said. “I lost my head for a moment. I’m still a bit tired, I’m afraid.”
“It’s not so pleasant to be spat upon.”
“He can’t help it. He thinks he’s a prisoner. I wish that he also had someone who would come and take him on fun outings. Or what do you think, Flora?” She bent down and adjusted the knit cap. “Have a great day, you two!”
Chapter SIX
She talked to Flora; the whole time, she talked to her. She had fastened Flora’s seatbelt, and was now approaching the Vallingby roundabout.
“Do you know where you are, Flora? It’s been awhile since you were outside. Do you think it looks familiar, farther on, by the small houses between Akeshov and Angby? They’re in the middle of building noise barriers, yes, so the people won’t be bothered. We never have to worry about that kind of thing; we’re never bothered. We have always kept to ourselves. We have enjoyed peace and quiet, haven’t we, dear Flora? Do you know that Martin, the one with the walker, he thinks that he’s being held prisoner. To think what it would be like to always long to get out. Maybe I can set up some kind of system; get a minivan and drive around picking up old people who are all by themselves and want to get a little joyride. Wouldn’t that be a great idea? You’ve always said a person needs a mission in life. I thought you could come home for a while; it’s been so long since you were home. You haven’t been home since you got sick, little Flora. Won’t it be nice to come see the old place, even though you wanted to sell it? But we’re not going to do that, of course. The house is going to stay mine. I am going to live there. It’s my house, but now you can come and visit, now you are my guest. What a generous step-daughter you have, Flora. Didn’t you hear what Gunlis said? Every resident should have someone like me. Do you see the palace there, Hasselby Palace? So beautiful and frozen it looks, Hasselby Palace. This part is just the same as always; nothing much has happened here in Hasselby Gard. What does the thermometer say there? 100 degrees? They’re crazy. I wonder if that thermometer has ever shown the right temperature. You can fly to the moon but can’t get a thermometer to work. Do you think I’m talking too much? Yes, I am, I’m sure, but I have to speak for two now, you understand; you can’t speak so I have to speak in your place. Look, there’s the cemetery, where Mamma and Pappa are buried. Look how well-kept it is. There was a burial yesterday. They throw away the flowers afterward, the wreaths and the coffin arrangements, what a great waste. I wonder what will happen with you, I mean, if there is any special kind that you want. I’ve been thinking about graves and maybe it’s better with ashes spread in the
She drove up to the house and parked. The old woman sat straight and unmoving. When Justine loosened the seat belt, she fell straight to the side, and Justine had to catch her and lay her down across both seats while she unbuckled the seat belt. Then she lifted Flora’s tense body and carried it up the stairs.
