Studio Sex - Studio Sex Part 47
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Studio Sex Part 47

November, she thought. Nearly two months away. She had some time to think and refuel her energy supply. Clear out the apartment in Halleforsnas, draft-proof the windows in the apartment on Hantverkargatan. Go to the Museum of Modern Art, catch a musical at the Oscars Theater. See Grandma, hang out with Whiskas.

She suddenly missed her cat. But she couldn't have him with her in the city. He'd have to stay with Grandma.

She had to break up with Sven.

There it was- the thought that she'd been putting off all summer. She shuddered in the wind and pulled the jacket tighter around her. The summer was definitely over, time to get the winter clothes out.

She walked along Drottningholmsvagen, kicking at the wet leaves that were piling up on the sidewalk. Not until she was right next to the park did she look up at the foliage.

The vegetation sat brooding on the Kronoberg hill like a big, moldering mass.

She slowly walked up to the cemetery. The damp made the fence shine. The air stood still, the wind didn't reach here. The sounds of the city were muffled and drifted away.

Annika stopped by the entrance gate, put her hand on the padlock, and closed her eyes. All at once, the glow of the summer returned to her: the heat and the dizziness of the day Josefin lay in there among the graves; the sunlight dancing across the granite stones; the vibrations from the subway deep below.

How futile, she thought. Why did Josefin Liljeberg live? Why was she born? Why did she learn to read, count, write? Why did she worry about the changes in her beautiful body? For what purpose- only to die?

There has to be a meaning, Annika thought. There has to be a purpose to it all. How can we go on otherwise?

"Hi there! What are you doing here?"

Annika groaned inwardly. "Hi, Daniella. How are you?"

"I'm fine, just fine," Daniella Hermansson chirped. "We've been to the park, but it got a bit too cold. Skruttis is starting day care on Monday. We both feel a bit nervous about it. Don't we, Skruttis?"

The kid just looked up sadly at them.

"Do you want to come up for a cup of coffee? It's time for Skruttis's afternoon nap, so we could talk."

Annika remembered Daniella's weak coffee. "Some other day." Annika smiled. "I'm on my way home."

Daniella took a quick look around and stepped closer to Annika. "Listen, you're in the media," she said in a stage whisper, "did they ever catch the guy who did it?"

"Who killed Josefin? No, they didn't. Not for the murder."

Daniella sighed. "It's awful that he should be walking free."

"The police know who he is. They're going to bring him in anyway, for something else. He'll go to jail."

Daniella breathed a sigh of relief. "God, that's so good to know. Well, we never thought it was Christer."

"Not your neighbor either, the lady with the dog?"

Daniella giggled, a nervous and conspiratorial little laugh. "Now listen, you mustn't tell anybody about this, but Elna had already found the body at five in the morning."

Annika felt herself stiffen, forcing herself to look friendly. "Oh, how's that?"

"You know her dog, Jasper? Sweet little thing. Anyway, the dog went off inside the cemetery and chewed the girl a bit, and Auntie Elna was beside herself. She didn't dare call the police, for fear they'd put Jasper in jail. Did you ever hear of such a thing!" Daniella chuckled.

Annika swallowed. "No, actually, I haven't."

Skruttis started bawling. He wanted to get moving.

"There, there, darling. We'll go home and eat a banana now. You like that, don't you, little friend?"

The woman moved off down Kronobergsgatan toward her building. Annika looked at her for a long time.

There's an explanation for everything, she thought.

She slowly started walking in the opposite direction, toward the fire station. As she rounded the street corner, she saw the police cars blocking the whole street. She stopped.

They're early, she thought. I hope they find the books.

She took another way home.

Nineteen Years, Eleven Months, and One Day Roughness against naked skin, the air full of dust, the oxygen used up: my living space shrunk to the size of a coffin. The ceiling presses against my brain, my knees and elbows get scratched.

Deep hole, dark grave, smell of dirt.

Panic.

He says that I've misunderstood it all, that I've got the wrong sense of proportion. It's not my life that's too small, I'm too big.

His love is infinite. He still loves me. No one else could give me what he gives me. There is only the one condition.

He says he will never let me go.

Sunday 9 September Her decision matured during the night. She was determined. She would break up with Sven. There was another life, she had found her way out.

The situation filled her with sadness and a sense of loss. She and Sven had been a couple for so long. She had never made love with another man. She cried a little in the shower.

The rain had stopped and the sun was pale and cold. She made coffee and called the railway station to check the departure times. The next train to Flen was in an hour and ten minutes.

She opened the window in the living room, sat down on the couch, and looked at the slow billowing of the curtains. She was going to stay here. She could live her own life.

Annika had put her jacket on and was getting ready to leave when she heard keys jangling in the front door. She stiffened, but relaxed when she saw it was Patricia. "Hi. Where have you been?"

Patricia closed the door quietly behind her, her hand staying on the door handle for a moment before she looked up at Annika.

"How could you?" she said in a stifled voice.

Her face was blotchy, her eyes red with weeping. Annika was dismayed at first, then realized what had happened.

"You sold me out. You blew the club sky-high. How could you?" Patricia came toward her, her mouth twisted, her hands like claws.

Annika tried to stay calm. "I didn't blow the club."

"It must have been you."

Patricia lunged forward and gave Annika a shove, throwing the keys on the floor. Annika stumbled backward.

"I did it to help you!" Patricia screamed. "You needed the money so I fixed you up with a job! How could you do this to me?"

Annika held up her hands and backed into the living room. "Patricia, please, I didn't want to hurt you, you know that. I wanted to help you, help you get away from that club and the degradation-"

"Don't you see what's going to happen?" Patricia screamed. "He'll finger me! He's been fucking all the other girls there, they've all been with him! I was Josefin's friend, he's got no loyalty toward me. He's going to drag me down with him! Oh, my God!"

She cried out loud, and Annika grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. "No, that won't happen. The other girls will tell the truth. Go to the police and tell it like it is, they'll believe you."

Patricia threw her head back and gave a loud, shrill laugh. "You're so naive, Annika." Tears streamed down Patricia's cheeks. "You think that truth will always prevail. Grow up! It never does."

She broke away and rushed into her room, threw her things into her bag, and came out again, dragging the mattress behind her. It got jammed in the door. Patricia tore at it and cursed.

"Please, don't leave," Annika said.

The mattress came loose and Patricia nearly fell over. She was shaking with sobs, pulling at the foam-rubber mattress.

"I'm staying here. I got a job at Kvallspressen. You can stay for as long as you like."

Patricia had reached the front door and stopped dead. "What did you say? You got a job?"

Annika smiled nervously. "I got hold of a lot of information that I ran past the deputy editor, and he hired me again."

Patricia let go of the mattress, turned around, and walked up to Annika. Her black eyes were on fire. "Fuck you," she hissed. "Fuck anyone who stabs their friend in the back."

"But it had nothing to do with you, or the club..."

"And you ratted to the police, you fucking bitch! How the hell else could they know that the books were there just then? You sold me out, your friend, for a fucking job!" Patricia shrieked. "You are such a stinking piece of shit! Fuck you forever!"

Annika backed, hearing her own words inside her head. Jesus, Patricia was right. What have I done, what have I done?

The woman ran back to her mattress, pulled it along, and left the apartment without closing the door. Annika rushed up to the window and saw Patricia running across the yard dragging the mattress over the gravel. Annika pressed her forehead against the cold glass. Slowly she walked over to Patricia's room. A glass lay on its side on the floor, and hanging on the wall was Josefin's pink suit. Annika felt the tears welling up.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

The numbness stayed with her all the way to Flen. Unable either to feel or eat, she saw the farmsteads of Sormland fly past. The rhythmic beat of the wheels of the train became an incantation in her mind: Your fault, Patricia, your fault, your fault, your fault, your fault...

She covered her ears with her hands and shut her eyes.

At least the bus was waiting at the railway station. It left for Halleforsnas a few minutes later, passing Mellosa and stopping at the builders' merchant in Flenmo.

This may be the last time I go home when I come here, she mused.

Her mother wasn't particularly happy to see her: "Come on in. I've just made coffee."

Annika sat down at the kitchen table, still dazed and ashamed.

"I've found a house," her mother said, putting another cup on the table.

Annika pretended not to hear, just looked out at the roofs of the works.

"It's got a carport and a pool," her mother went on, a bit louder. "White brick. It's big, seven rooms in all. There's space for you and Sven."

"I don't want to live in Eskilstuna," Annika said without looking at her mother.

"It's in Svista, outside Eskilstuna- you know, Hugelstaborg. It's a nice area. Respectable people."

Annika blinked away the image before her eyes, closing her eyes tight in irritation. "What do you want with seven rooms?"

Her mother stopped puttering around. She sounded hurt. "I want to have space for you all, for you and Sven and Birgitta. And for my grandchildren, of course."

Annika hadn't thought about her sister in ages. Her mother must be really deluded if she thought they could all live together like a happy family. She got to her feet as her mother winked knowingly.

"Then you'll have to rely on Birgitta," Annika said. "I won't be having any kids for a while yet."

She walked over to the counter, took a glass out of the cupboard, and filled it from the tap. Her mother's gaze followed her, somewhat reproachful.

"Doesn't Sven have a say in that, then?"

Annika spun around. "What do you mean by that?"

Her mother bridled. "Some people think you push him around. Moving up to Stockholm just like that, without discussing it with him."

Annika turned white with rage. "What do you know about that?"

Her mother fumbled with a pack of cigarettes. She had to try the lighter a few times before she got it to work. She took a deep drag and started coughing immediately.

"You don't know a thing about me and Sven," Annika said while her mother coughed. "Are you saying I should have turned this opportunity down for his sake? Should my career and living be dependent on his whims? Is that really what you think? Huh?"

Her mother had tears in her eyes when she got her breath back. "My, my, I really should quit." She attempted a smile.

Annika didn't return it. "Of course I think you should concentrate on your job. You're very talented. Though it's a hard life up there, everybody knows that. No one's blaming you for failing to make it."

Annika turned around and filled her glass up.

Her mother came up to her and patted her arm awkwardly. "Annika, don't be mad at me."

"I'm not mad at you," Annika said in a low voice without turning around.

Her mother hesitated. "Seems like it sometimes."

Annika turned around and looked at her mother with tired eyes. "I just don't understand why you keep thinking that you're going to move into a fancy villa in Eskilstuna. You don't have the money. And what would you do if you did? Would you commute to work at the supermarket here?"

Now her mother turned her back. "There are plenty of jobs in Eskilstuna," she said sullenly. "Honest and scrupulous checkout assistants don't grow on trees."

"Why don't you start by finding a job then? You're starting at the wrong end by looking at luxury houses, surely you must see that?"