They decided against replying to the text.
But if she asks me to stay, I will, he thought several times as they had their coffee, talked and shared a pipe. I don’t give a toss about the repercussions; I’ve got to behave like a moral human being. I can’t damn well leave a frightened kid out in the middle of the forest.
If she asks me, that is.
Expressly asks me.
But she didn’t. Maybe she came close to it, he couldn’t really judge. Several times he thought he detected the question in her eyes, but it was never put into words. He made her promise to stay a couple more days, at least. She took some persuading, but in the end she agreed. Once he had said goodbye and climbed into the car, it struck him that she had only done it to avoid discussing the matter. Perhaps she would be gone when he returned the next morning?
It was an almost unbearable thought. That was how it suddenly felt. Unbearable. What the devil is happening to me? thought Ante Valdemar Roos as he turned out onto the Rödmossen road. What’s become of my old life?
He could see in his mind’s eye how it would be the next morning.
He saw himself feel for the key in its hiding place, unlock the door, come into the newly painted and utterly empty house. Just a note on the table: I decided to go after all. Thank you Valdemar. Good luck with Lograna and everything else. Hugs from Anna.
Christ almighty, he thought. It can’t turn out that way. Life can’t be that fucking awful. Not even mine.
And the painted walls, which would forever remind him of those strange days they’d spent together.
A week – it was the previous Monday he had discovered there was somebody living in the house, but it was only on the Wednesday she’d plucked up the courage to show herself.
She had played the guitar and sung for him. No one else had ever done that for him, especially not a woman. He had cried and she had let him cry without asking questions.
As tears go by.
He shook his head and clenched his teeth until his jaw ached. He didn’t know why, but he found himself grasping the steering wheel more tightly too, and saw that his knuckles were turning white – and then his father popped up again.
That walk in the forest. The tall, straight pines. The rocks and the clumps of lingonberry bushes. This is where we see the elk.
Never better than this.
I’m falling apart, thought Ante Valdemar Roos. I’m close to breaking down.
She stayed at the window for a good while after he drove away. She was trying to find some approximation of a stable feeling amongst all those that were swirling round inside her. A centre of gravity.
But nothing seemed in the mood to stabilize, everything just went on spinning and dancing like specks of dust in a ray of sunlight. It was only once she had sat down at the table again and poured herself another cup of coffee that she was able to hold on to anything concrete. It wasn’t much, but at least it could be put into words.
The first thing was a question: What the hell shall I do?
The second was an exhortation: Make up your mind, Anna Gambowska!
The third was an old song: Should I stay or should I go?
She couldn’t remember the name of the group, but it didn’t matter. That was just the way of things: whatever agonies you were suffering, whatever acts of folly or states of wretchedness you had got tangled up in, there was always some hackneyed pop song to match the occasion.
But no wonder, really. Everything in music was about life and death and love, and when it came to the crunch in real life, it was as serious there, too. Just as serious and just as hackneyed.
Should I stay or should I go?
And go where, if she opted for the latter?
It was the same old question. Though now it was suddenly so much worse, if Steffo really was on his way. Anything at all, she thought, I can bear anything at all except seeing Steffo right now.
That, at any rate, was a feeling that felt pretty stable.
The worst thing was that she could so easily imagine him tracking her down. He was that sort of person. He would relish it in his own perverse way. Go online, search for Lograna. Find it on the map, pack his rucksack with some beer and hash, hop on his scooter and set off.
Stay or go?
How far could it be from Örebro to Lograna? Two hundred kilometres? Three hundred, maybe? One thing was for sure, it wouldn’t be too far for Steffo once he’d set his pig-headed mind on it.
If Steffo comes here then that’s the end for me, she thought. There are no two ways about it. I shall give up.
She went outside and lit the pipe. It was already starting to get dark and the sky was covered in thick cloud, which helped the darkness come all the quicker, of course. Once she had taken a few puffs her conversation with Marja-Liisa came into her mind.
It helped the darkness come all the quicker.
Go, she thought. I daren’t stay another night.
And if Valdemar had genuinely wanted her to stay, she asked herself, why had he left her? He must have realized she was scared. She didn’t want to admit it to herself, but she knew this was what tipped the scale for her.
He didn’t really want her to stay.
And why should he? What was she imagining? She had painted the walls and done her share. Paid her debt of gratitude and now they were quits.
So go it was.
She swallowed down the lump in her throat and went indoors.
And it was only a short while later, as she was in the living room packing her rucksack, that she looked out of the window and noticed two things.
One was that it had started to rain.
The other was that there was a scooter parked on the road, a short distance away.
She hadn’t heard it. He must have freewheeled the last bit, she thought. That was typical of him, too.