Integrity. Anna Borgeryd
Vera. ‘Well, I don’t know about that. I don’t know if I think it means that you have to love.’
Vera bit her lip. Solveig started on the hem of the dress and puffed as she bent double down to the floor: ‘One thing I think I have learned in life is that everything we do because we have to, becomes… half-hearted, or even dies.’ She straightened up again, pushing the white curls from her worried, wrinkled forehead.
‘Oh, this isn’t going to work. Should I stand on a stool?’ Vera pointed and Solveig nodded lightly. Vera fetched a wooden, blue-painted stool from the kitchen. She stood on it and soon the pinning resumed, this time with Solveig working at a much more comfortable level.
‘Weren’t you and Gustav married?’
‘Mmm.’ Solveig’s lips were tightly clamped together around lots of pins.
‘But what do you think that you promised him then – and what did he promise you? Didn’t you promise to love each other until “death did you part”?’
Solveig sat quietly until she had used the rest of the pins she was holding in her mouth. Finally, she answered calmly: ‘I love him still, even though death has parted us. But that is not because I promised once upon a time. I saw it more as if we had promised to be kind to one another, to support each other and to wish each other well, even when we faced adversity. Or perhaps particularly then.’ There was a sad look in her eye and she was quiet for a minute before she continued.
‘In any case, I don’t think one can… what is it everyone says these days?’
The old woman thought for a minute as she adjusted some pins and checked that the right and left sides were the same length. Then she found the words.
‘Achieve. I don’t think one can just achieve love. It can’t be forced. It just comes when it comes – and exists when it is nurtured. So! Climb down!’
She reached out with her hand so that Vera could hold it as she carefully stepped down from the stool. What had initially felt like a tent in shades of green that could fall off at any minute had now, with the help of a considerable number of well-placed pins, been formed around Vera’s fine-boned frame and shortened to exactly the right length. Even at this stage, it was an impressively precise piece of work.
Vera took the stool back to its place. She realized that her and Adam’s love had not been nurtured particularly well. Maybe it was my fault? Maybe her mother had been right and she shouldn’t have gone abroad with Basic Needs after Adam changed his mind and didn’t want to? The months apart had definitely not been a recipe for success.
‘It feels like there is something… wrong with my internal compass. I was so sure that I had made the right decision. But then everything turned out wrong. So now I am trying to do something entirely different. The exact opposite of very wrong ought to be at least a little bit right, anyway?’ pleaded Vera.
‘A completely new man?’ asked Solveig neutrally.
‘A different project. A completely different job.’ The reply came fast and Solveig looked at Vera attentively. Then she leaned back in her wheelchair looking pleased. Softly, she turned Vera towards the mirror and caught her eye in the reflection.
‘Look. You look like a siren of the forest.’
Vera saw that it could definitely be called a pretty, full-length dress now. She looked lovely, but still very much herself. She was comforted. She had felt backed into a corner, faced with unacceptable choices. But now, looking at herself in the well-fitting party gown, she actually felt hopeful. Perhaps there are choices that are both possible and not unsustainable after all? Vera sat down on the sofa and gave Solveig a spontaneous hug.
‘Thank you so much!’
‘Oh! Watch the pins,’ smiled Solveig.
Vera wrinkled her forehead, ‘But maybe you can show me? I don’t know, how do I sew all this so that it comes out right?’
Solveig smiled kindly and stroked Vera’s arm lightly. ‘With my old eyes, it’s too dark for me to sew right now, but I can have it done by Wednesday if you come back and try it on.’
‘But that’s too much to ask!’
‘Not too much for you.’
15
1 PIECE OF DRYER LINT
For the lint opener: Walk up to a woman, stop, wordlessly remove lint (hidden in the palm of your hand) from her clothing, ask, ‘How long has that been there?’, then hand her the piece of lint.
Neil Strauss, ‘The Game’
One evening, as Peter sat eating a sandwich studiously, Vera came in holding a piece of paper full of handwritten notes. She looked deep in thought. She put her notes down and opened the pantry. Peter took the piece of paper and began to read. In the middle were the words ‘Redeeming reproduction’ with a circle around them. Around that were lines to other words, which were also surrounded by lines to still more words and sentences.
‘What is this?’
She started when she saw him. Peter took that as a good sign.
‘It’s my mind map,’ she answered and opened a cupboard. Peter looked at the swarm of notes and found something interesting at the bottom left of the page.
‘Okay. What have you discovered that can destroy all of Sweden, or wait, the whole planet?’ A peculiar nervousness made him sound more teasing than he had meant.
Vera had taken out a bowl and a spoon, crisp flat-bread, milk and homemade lingonberry jelly. She crumbled the flat-bread into small pieces in the bowl. ‘I don’t claim to have discovered the undervaluing of reproduction.’ She dropped dollops of lingonberry jelly on the pieces of flat-bread. When she had poured milk into the bowl, she looked up at Peter.
‘But what do you have to say about a career as an unpaid stay-at-home dad? And as long as you’re home, you may as well take care of your old, sick father-in-law as well?’
Are you suggesting that I should stay home with our kids? He was only 24 years old and, sure, he had always thought that he wanted a couple of kids, some time in the infinitely distant future, after 30. But now Peter was taken by surprise by an unexpected feeling – he found himself strangely attracted to the idea. He felt an impulse to ask the question aloud, but realized that the possibility of having children together was not the right place to begin.
She put the milk in the refrigerator again and closed the door. She walked right towards him, and he felt his pulse quickening. For no sensible reason, he stood up, holding the piece of paper, taking advantage of the fact that he was bigger and stronger. Vera tried to reach her notes a couple of times, and he noticed that she smelled of something mild, good – some soap or other. Peter wanted to make it last longer, but Vera seemed irritated.
‘But I guess you have never taken care of anybody in your whole life?’
Of course I have! Peter thought, but, strangely enough, he could not come up with a single good example. She collected herself and stepped away from him:
‘This is ridiculous. I’m not going climb all over you.’
It sounded like a statement of intent. As she took her snack and left, she nodded towards her carefully written notes, ‘But those are really important. Give them back when you are finished playing.’
Peter stared after her at a loss as she walked away, then at the flat-bread and lingonberry jelly that she had left behind. He took a bit of the bread, dipped it into the jelly and put it in his mouth.
The taste sensation was new and unexpectedly complex; the lingon was tartly sweet, but the crispy bread was rich and a little salty. Remarkable.
He still hadn’t managed to communicate sensibly with Vera, and he didn’t know what he should be doing differently.
She didn’t