actually have done the world a big favor.
When the piece ended, he changed CDs and put on some piano music by Eric Satie. The melancholy notes filled the hall as he grabbed the hose and started washing the car. He didn't much enjoy the splashing about with water; it was the final phase he looked forward to: waxing and polishing the paintwork until it sparkled and gleamed. He passed his hand over the car roof. He felt sure everything would turn out all right.
Thomas put the children to bed just after half past seven. Annika had read a story to them about a girl who goes to daycare and her mother. In the book, the mother tells the daycare nurses about her boss who no one would obey, and they all think it's hilarious.
'It's okay to bully bosses everywhere, even in children's books,' Annika said.
'I guess it is,' Thomas said, opening the paper on the business pages.
'I mean, look at this,' Annika said and held out a glossy women's magazine. 'Answer all these questions to find out what your work situation really is like. Take question fourteen: 'What's your boss like?' The alternatives are: weak, incompetent, pretentious, useless, and arrogant. What kind of attitude is that? And look here, on the next page they give you advice on how to become a boss yourself. The moral is that everyone who becomes a boss is an idiot and that everyone who isn't a boss wants to be one. That's not how it is.'
'Of course not,' Thomas said, turning over the page.
'But the whole of society rests on these myths!'
'You used to be quite a fault-finder with your bosses at the paper, have you forgotten?'
Annika put the magazine on her lap and gave Thomas a reproachful look.
'Oh, come on, they were the wrong people in the wrong positions.'
'See…?' Thomas said and continued reading his paper.
Annika sat thinking while the weatherman talked about the holiday weather. Everywhere in the country would have a white Christmas Eve, but on Christmas Day rain would approach from the west, which could mean showers on the west coast by late Christmas Eve.
'You had a hard time in your job before you began to find your feet, didn't you?' Annika said.
Thomas put down the paper, switched off the TV with the remote, and reached out his arms to Annika.
'Come here, sugar,' he said.
There was a deafening silence with the TV turned off. Annika left her armchair and went over to Thomas on the couch, leaning her back against his chest, her feet on the coffee table. Thomas put his arms around her and caressed her shoulders, blew on her neck and kissed the hollow by her collarbone. She felt a tingle down below, maybe they'd have the energy to make love tonight.
Right then, Annika's cellphone rang, the tinny tones traveling from her bag and into the TV room.
'Don't answer it,' Thomas said and nibbled on Annika's ear lobe, but it was too late. Annika had already lost the mood and was sitting upright on the couch.
'I just want to see who it is,' she mumbled and got up.
'You've got to change that ring,' Thomas said from behind. 'What is that tune it's playing now?'
Annika didn't recognize the number on the display. She decided to answer.
'Annika Bengtzon? Hello, this is Beata Ekesjo, we met this morning in Satra Hall. You said I could call you…'
Annika groaned inwardly, damned business cards. 'Sure,' she said shortly, 'what's it about?'
'Well, I was wondering what you're going to write about me in the paper tomorrow.'
'Why do you ask?' Annika said and sat down on the seat in the hallway.
'I was just wondering. It's important it comes out right.'
Annika sighed. 'Can you be a bit more precise?' she said and looked at her watch.
'I could tell you more about myself, how I do my work and things like that. I've got a lovely house, you're welcome to come and have a look.'
Annika heard Thomas switch the TV back on.
'As things stand now, I don't think that's going to happen. As I'm sure you appreciate, there's limited space in the paper. You may not be quoted at all.'
There was a few seconds' silence.
'Are you saying you're not going to write about me at all?'
'Not this time.'
'But… you talked to me! And the photographer took my picture.'
'We talk to a lot of people we never write about,' Annika said, trying hard to sound reasonably nice. 'Thanks again for giving us your time this morning, but we won't be publishing any parts of our conversation.'
This time the silence was longer at the other end of the line.
'I want you to write what I said this morning,' the woman said in a low voice.
'I'm sorry,' Annika said.
Beata Ekesjo exhaled. 'Oh well, thanks anyway.'
'Thanks. Goodbye,' Annika said and switched off. She hurried back to Thomas on the couch, took the remote from his hand, and turned the TV off.
'Where were we?' she said.
'Who was it?'
'A woman I met this morning. About my age. Seems a bit loopy. She's the project manager for the building work at Satra Hall.'
'She must have a pretty tough job. At least statistically speaking,' Thomas said. 'Younger women in male- dominated workplaces have the hardest time of anyone.'
'Is that so? Has that been statistically established?' Annika said with mock earnestness.
'Yes it has, actually, smartass!' Thomas shot back. 'I read it in a report that just came in. Surveys show that it's women who take traditionally male jobs who have the hardest time in the labor market. They're bullied, threatened, and are subjected to sexual harassment more often than all other men and women. A survey at the Nautical Department at Chalmers University of Technology showed that four out of five female applicants had been harassed because of their gender,' Thomas reeled off.
'How do you remember all this?' Annika was interested now.
Thomas smiled. 'It's the same as you remembering the details of Berit Hamrin's stories. There are more examples, the army being one of them. Many women quit the military, despite having joined voluntarily. One of the main reasons they give is problems with male colleagues. Female managers actually have worse health, especially if they're hassled by colleagues.'
'That's something we should write about,' Annika said, trying to get up.
'Yes, you should. But not just now, because right now I'm going to give you a massage. Off with your sweater, that's it. And then this, take it off…'
Annika protested feebly as Thomas took her bra off. 'The neighbors will see…'
Thomas got up and turned off the light. The only light in the room was coming from the swaying street lights far below. The snow was still falling, snowflakes as big as the palm of a hand. Annika reached out and pulled her husband toward her. They went about it slowly, staying on the couch, licking each other's clothes off.
'You drive me crazy,' Thomas mumbled.
They moved down on the floor and started making love, infinitely slow at first, then hard and loud. Annika screamed when she came. Thomas a little less loud. Afterwards, Thomas fetched a duvet, and they moved back onto the couch, wrapping their limbs around each other. Exhausted and relaxed, they lay in the dark, listening to the evening sounds of the city. Far below a bus shrieked to a halt, the neighbor's TV was on, someone bawled and cursed down in the street.
'Christ, I'm looking forward to some time off!' Annika said.
Thomas kissed her. 'You're the best,' he said.
