FABIAN CAME TO WITH a severe pain in his neck and a throbbing headache. He was thirsty and sweaty. He wanted to swallow, but his sandpapery mouth made it impossible. It was bright, too bright to try opening his eyes. He tried to gather his thoughts, but eventually admitted to himself that he had no idea what had happened or where he was.
He thought back through the most recent events he could recall. It had been a record-breakingly miserable summer, so they’d decided to take a last-minute trip to somewhere warm: him, Sonja, and the kids. They went to Mallorca — Illetas, in fact. He last remembered being in a deck chair by the pool.
He tried to move his head, but his stiff neck refused. He must have fallen asleep with his head in a strange position, or maybe it was sunburn. Perhaps that would explain why he was so confused. He really didn’t like going on seaside holidays. This damn heat was only making his headache worse, and the screaming kids all over the place weren’t helping. Couldn’t they at least have an age limit in the pool area? If this were his hotel, he would have banned kids altogether.
He thought about taking a dip. Maybe that was just what he needed. Then he would have a beer to make him feel at home. The bright lights were making him squint. Where was everyone else? He could see their deck chairs and wet towels. Kerstin Ekman’s Blackwater was lying open on Sonja’s chair. She’d already made it halfway through. He must have been out for hours.
He stood up and waited out a head rush for a few seconds before approaching the pool. Children kept sneaking by and jumping in, trying to splash as much water as they could on the sunbathing hotel guests, but now it was his turn.
It was important for the dive to look decent without making it seem like he was trying too hard: people were probably watching him. He sucked in his stomach, put his hands above his head, jumped in. His legs were straight and together. The cool water surrounded his body. His hands struck something hard, then his forehead. He heard something crunch in his neck. The water turned red.
A German-speaking man tried to help him out of the pool; he wanted to get him to lie down. But he didn’t want any help. He didn’t want to bleed in the water. He only wanted to get away from the pool and the sticky warmth; away from Sonja and the kids; away from everything.
Someone placed a glass of water to his lips and he opened and closed his eyes. Everything was spinning out of control. He saw a familiar female face. She looked good. He was sure they had met before. Was this all just a dream? No, he could clearly remember diving into the pool, hitting his head, and noticing how the blood dripped into big splotches on the deck when the German tried to get him to lie down. He put his hand to his forehead, but he didn’t feel a wound.
Was he even alive? He felt something around his neck. Then he heard a voice. He’d heard it before, but he couldn’t place it. Fabian... Fabian... He opened his eyes again and saw the same woman. Everything was moving behind her. What was her name again? Lilja... Irene Lilja. That should mean that he was alive, unless he was dead at the same time? Theodor... he had to get home and take care of Theodor. He tried to get up, but Lilja pressed him back down onto the hard stretcher.
“You have to lie down until we get there.”
“Get where?”
“The emergency room. It will only be a minute now. The best thing you can do is relax.”
But he didn’t want to relax, much less go to some ER and wait for hours to be helped. He didn’t need any help.
“I’m fine. I just have to get home to Theo.”
“It’s just the anesthetic,” Lilja said, patting his forehead. “Just take it easy and try to relax.”
He screamed at her, telling her she was wrong and that he had to go home to Theo, his son, but she refused to listen. She smiled calmly and repeated over and over again that he should take it easy, reminding him that everything would work out. He wasn’t supposed to see it, but he did: she banged on the window to the cab of the ambulance. Then he hit her again. For the second time in twenty-four hours he hit her in the face.
She went quiet and held her reddening cheek.
Finally, she was listening.
*
HE COULDN’T REMEMBER HOW he got out of the ambulance and up the front steps, or if Lilja tried to stop him, or if the door was locked. All he remembered was suddenly standing in his own basement, looking at Theodor lying on the floor.
Lifeless.
A woman was straddling him, pressing her mouth to his. Who was she and what was she doing? He was dead. The woman rose and started rhythmically pressing both hands against his rib cage.
“Fifteen... sixteen... seventeen...” she counted in Danish.
Only then did he realize that she was the police officer from Copenhagen. What was she doing in his house? He tried to ask, but she didn’t respond.
“She can’t talk right now,” Lilja said from behind him.
He turned around but she was already on her way back upstairs. He had no idea how long he watched the Danish policewoman try to bring his dead son back to life.
It was as if time had gotten stuck, and suddenly the paramedics were just there. He watched them open their bags, take out their equipment, and hook up tubes and wires of various colours. They inserted a tube attached to a squeeze bag into Theodor’s mouth, cut his clothes off, and spread something gooey on his chest. The Danish policewoman was lying on the floor beside him, exhausted. Lilja squatted beside her and gave her something to drink.
He heard a loud beeping noise while two paddles were placed on that very young chest. Theo’s body bowed up from the floor and fell back down, lifeless, without a pulse. One paramedic made sure that the wires were connected correctly and another squeezed the bag.
How long did it continue? Fabian had no idea.
All he knew for certain was that it was his own fault.