Studio Sex aka Studio 69 / Exposed

'Yes, it's ironic,' the press secretary said. 'The death business is your responsibility in the cabinet. As far as arms sales are concerned. I suppose it wasn't meant literally.'

***

It was evening by the time she woke up. Sven was sitting next to her on the bed, watching her.

'Welcome home,' he said, and smiled.

She returned the smile. She was thirsty and had a headache.

'You sound as if I've been gone for ages.'

'It feels like it,' he said.

She pushed away the bedcover and got out of bed, feeling dizzy and queasy. 'I don't feel well,' she mumbled.

She staggered out to the bathroom and took a Tylenol. She opened the bathroom window to get some air. The rain had eased off but not stopped completely.

Sven came and stood in the doorway. 'Shall we go and get a pizza?'

She swallowed. 'I'm not really hungry.'

'You've got to eat something. Look at you, you've gotten so thin.'

'I've been busy.' She walked past him and into the hallway.

He followed her out to the kitchen. 'I heard they gave you a hard time on the radio.'

She poured herself a glass of water. 'Have you started listening to the current affairs program with debate and analysis?' she said tartly.

'No. Ingela told me.'

She paused with the glass next to her mouth. 'The sperm bucket?' she said with surprise. 'Are you seeing her?'

He got angry. 'That's such a mean old nickname. She hates it.'

Annika smiled. 'It was you who came up with it.'

He grinned. 'Yeah, right.' He chuckled.

Annika drank the water in big gulps, and he came up to her and hugged her from behind.

'I'm cold. I've got to put some clothes on.' She wriggled free.

Sven kissed her. 'Sure. I'll call Maestro in the meantime.'

Annika went into the bedroom and opened her closet. The clothes she'd left here were creased and smelled musty. She heard Sven call the local pizzeria and order two quattro stagioni. He knew she didn't eat mussels.

'You'll stay here now, won't you?' he called out to her after hanging up.

She searched through her clothes. 'Why do you think that? My contract lasts until the fourteenth of August. I've got a week and a half left.'

He leaned against the doorpost. 'Do they still want you, though, the way you were disgraced like that?'

Her cheeks were burning. She rummaged deeper inside the closet. 'The paper doesn't give a damn about what they say in a ridiculous radio program like that.'

He came up to her and hugged her again. 'I don't care what they say about you,' he whispered. 'To me you'll always be the best, even though all the others say you're worthless.'

She pulled on a pair of old jeans that were too big for her now and an old sweater.

Sven shook his head disapprovingly. 'Do you have to look like that? Haven't you got a dress?'

She closed the door of the closet. 'How long will the pizzas be?'

'I mean it. Put something else on.'

Annika stopped, breathed. 'Come on,' she begged him. 'I'm hungry. The pizzas will get cold.'

Eighteen Years, Ten Months, and Six Days

I long to return to the light and bright times. When days floated into shadowy nights like a spirit: clean, clear, fragrant, and soft. Time was a hole, weightless. The elation, the first touch, the wind, the light, and the feeling of absolute perfection. More than anything else in the world I want that moment to return.

His darkness blocks out the horizon. It isn't easy to navigate in the dark. The circle is round and evil. I bring out in him the darkness that cloaks our love in a fog. My steps grow unsteady and I stumble on our path. His patience gives out. I pay the price.

But we are the most important thing

there is

to each other.

Monday 6 August

The water boiled over and then, pouring it into the filter, she spilled some and scalded herself.

'Shit!' she cried out, jamming her burned finger into her mouth.

'Did you hurt yourself?'

A drowsy Patricia was standing in the doorway to the maid's room, dressed in T-shirt and panties, her hair tousled.

Annika was immediately gripped by a pang of guilt. 'Oh, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to wake you up. I'm really sorry.'

'What's the matter? Did something happen?'

Annika turned around and poured the rest of the water on the coffee. 'My job's hanging by a thread. Do you want some coffee, or are you going back to bed?'

Patricia rubbed her eyes. 'I'm off tonight. I'd love a cup.'

She put on a pair of shorts and disappeared into the stairwell to go to the bathroom. Annika quickly blew her nose and wiped her eyes. She took out a couple of slices of bread from the freezer, put them in the toaster, and put cheese and marmalade and margarine on the table. She heard Patricia come back in and close the front door.

'What happened?'

Patricia was staring at Annika's legs, and Annika herself looked down at them.

'I was chased by a lynch mob last Thursday. They almost set fire to the car as we were driving away.'

Patricia gaped. 'Jesus, sounds like a James Bond movie!'

Annika laughed. The toaster clicked and threw the slices up in an arc, and as they caught one each, Patricia laughed too.

They sat down at the kitchen table and made breakfast. Annika missed the morning paper. She looked out the window; the rain was pattering on the windowsill.

'So how was the countryside?'

Annika let out a sigh. 'Just what you'd expect in this weather. I spent Friday night with Sven, my boyfriend, and then I went to my grandmother's. She's got a cottage that's part of Harpsund. She can rent it for as long as she likes, as she was the housekeeper there for thirty-seven years.'

'What's Harpsund?'

Annika poured the coffee. 'It's an estate between Flen and Halleforsnas. A man called Hjalmar Wicander donated it to the government when he died in 1952. The condition was that the prime minister could use it as a recreational residence.'

'What's a recrea… residence?'