The Drowning

looked at him and said in a cold voice:

‘I’m the only one Alice needs.’

That was the end of the discussion.

In the meantime, he kept getting fatter, and he was constantly eating. It was as if his craving for food had taken on a life of its own. He stuffed into his mouth everything he could get his hands on. But it no longer drew any attention from Mother. Occasionally she would cast a disgusted glance in his direction, but she mostly ignored him. It had a been a long time since he’d thought of her as his beautiful mother and yearned for her love. He had given up, accepting the fact that he was someone that nobody could love; he didn’t deserve to be loved.

The only person who loved him was Alice. And she was a monstrosity, just like him. She lurched about, slurring her words, and she couldn’t manage even the most basic tasks. She was eight years old and couldn’t even tie her shoes. She was always following him like a shadow. In the morning when he left to catch the school bus, she would sit in the window to watch him, the palms of her hands pressed against the glass and a wistful expression on her face. He didn’t understand it, but he didn’t try to make her stop.

School was a torment. Every morning when he got off the school bus, it felt like he was on his way to prison. He looked forward to the classes, but the rest filled him with terror. They were always after him, teasing and punching him, vandalizing his locker and yelling taunts at him in the schoolyard. He wasn’t stupid; he knew that he was the perfect scapegoat. His fat body made him guilty of the worst sin of all: he was different. He understood it, but that didn’t make things any easier.

‘Can you find your dick when you have to piss, or does your stomach get in the way?’

Erik. Perched on one of the tables out in the schoolyard, where he was surrounded by a bunch of eager hangers-on, as usual. He was the worst of the lot. The most popular boy, handsome and self-confident. He talked back to the teachers and had ready access to cigarettes, which he smoked and also handed out to his followers. He didn’t know who he detested most. Erik, who seemed driven by sheer wickedness and was always looking for new ways to hurt him. Or the sneering idiots who sat next to Erik, filled with admiration for their popular classmate and basking in his glory.

At the same time, he knew that he’d give anything to be one of them. To be allowed to sit on the table with Erik, accept the cigarette he offered, and comment on the girls going past, who would respond with delighted giggles and flushed cheeks.

‘Hey! I’m talking to you. Answer me when I ask you a question!’ Erik got down from the table, and the two others watched him with excitement. The athletic one, Magnus, actually met his eyes. Sometimes he thought he saw a glimpse of sympathy in the boy’s expression, but if so, it wasn’t enough to make Magnus risk falling out of favour with Erik. Kenneth was simply a coward and always avoided looking him in the eye. Right now he was staring at Erik, as if waiting to follow orders. But today Erik didn’t seem to have the energy to cause any trouble, because he sat down again and said with a laugh:

‘Get out of here, you disgusting fatso! If you hurry up and take off now, you won’t get a beating today.’

He wanted nothing more than to stand his ground and tell Erik to go to hell. With precise and powerful movements, he would give Erik such a thrashing that everyone standing around would realize that their hero was heading for a fall. Then with great effort Erik would lift his head up from the ground, with blood running from his nose, and look at him with new respect. After that he would have a place in the group. He would belong.

Instead, he turned tail and ran. As fast as he could, he lumbered across the schoolyard. His chest hurt, and the rolls of fat on his body jiggled up and down. Behind him he could hear them laughing.

Erica drove past the roundabout at Korsvagen, with her heart in her throat. The traffic in Goteborg always made her nervous, and this particular junction was the worst. But she got through it without a problem and then drove slowly up Eklandagatan, looking for the street where she needed to turn.

Rosenhillsgatan. The block of flats stood at the end of the street, facing Korsvagen and Liseberg. She checked the address and then parked her car right in front. She glanced at her watch. The plan was to ring the doorbell and hope that someone was at home. If not, she and Goran had agreed that she’d spend a couple of hours visiting with him and his mother before trying again. If that proved necessary, she wasn’t going to get home until late in the evening, so she crossed her fingers that she’d be lucky enough to find the current tenant at home. She had memorized the name from the phone calls she’d made on her way to Goteborg, and she found it at once on the building intercom. Janos Kovacs.

She pushed the button. No answer. She tried again, and then she heard a crackling sound and a voice with a strong accent said: ‘Who is there?’

‘My name is Erica Falck. I’d like to ask you a few questions about someone who used to live in your flat. Christian Thydell.’ She waited tensely. Her explanation sounded a bit fishy, even to her own ears, but she hoped the man would be curious enough to let her in. A buzzing sound from the door showed that she was in luck.

The lift stopped at the second floor, and she got out. One of the three doors was ajar, and peering at her through the gap was a short and slightly overweight man in his sixties. When he caught sight of her enormous belly, he lifted off the safety chain and opened the door wide.

‘Come in, come in,’ he said earnestly.

‘Thank you,’ said Erica and stepped inside. A heavy aroma from many years of cooking spicy food reached her nostrils, and she felt her stomach turn over. The smell wasn’t really unpleasant, but her pregnancy had made her nose sensitive to particularly pungent odours.

‘I have coffee. Good strong coffee.’ He pointed towards a small kitchen right across the hall. She followed him, casting a glance inside what appeared to be the only other room in the flat, functioning as both living room and bedroom.

So it was here that Christian lived before he moved to Fjallbacka. Erica felt her heart beating faster with anticipation.

‘Sit.’ Janos Kovacs more or less pushed her down on to a straight-backed chair and then served her coffee. With a triumphant whoop he set a big plate of cakes in front of her.

‘Poppy-seed cakes. Hungarian speciality! My mother often sends me packages of poppy-seed cakes because she knows that I love them. Have one.’ He motioned for her to help herself, so she took a cake from the plate and tentatively bit into it. Definitely a new taste, but good. She suddenly realized that she hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast, and her stomach rumbled gratefully as she swallowed the first bite of cake.

‘You’re eating for two. Take another, take two, take as many as you want!’ Janos Kovacs pushed the plate closer to her, his eyes sparkling. ‘Big baby,’ he said with a smile as he pointed at her belly.

Erica smiled back. His good humour was infectious.

‘Well, I’m actually carrying two, you see.’

‘Ah, twins.’ He clapped his hands with delight. ‘What a blessing.’

‘Do you have children?’ asked Erica, her mouth full of cake.

Janos Kovacs lifted his chin and said proudly, ‘I have two fine sons. Grown up now. Both have good jobs. At Volvo. And I have five grandchildren.’

‘And your wife?’ said Erica cautiously, glancing around. It didn’t look as if any woman lived in the flat. Kovacs was still smiling, but his smile was not as bright.

‘About seven years ago she came home one day and said, “I’m moving out.” And then she was gone.’ He threw out his hands. ‘That’s when I moved here. We lived in this building, in a three-room flat downstairs.’ He pointed to the floor. ‘But when I had to take early retirement, and my wife left me, I couldn’t stay there any more. And since Christian met a girl at the same time and was going to move, well, I moved in here. Everything turned out for the best,’ he exclaimed, looking as if he truly meant it.

‘So you knew Christian before he moved?’ asked Erica, sipping her coffee, which was delicious.

‘Well, I wouldn’t say that I really knew him. But we often ran into each other here in the building. I’m very handy.’ Kovacs held up his hands. ‘So I help out when I can. And Christian couldn’t even change a light bulb.’

‘I can imagine,’ said Erica, smiling.