Chapter 43-44

                                                                        43.

"When you run into someone who is disagreeable to others, you may be sure he is uncomfortable with himself; the amount of pain we inflict upon others is directly proportional to the amount we feel within us."

                                                                                                Sydney J. Harris

At seven she had called home; she had heard the stress in John’s voice and how the kids were talking very loud in background. “I want to talk to mommy” Jack screamed and John had tried to make him get dressed first. Jack had started howling and Kristin urged John to give the phone to him. As soon as Jack got the phone he sounded as happy as can be and talked about how he was going to bring his stuffed dog to pre-school for “show and tell”. Anna on the other hand, still mad at her for not being allowed to come, refused to talk to her.

As her mother got ready for work and then left, Kristin ate breakfast slowly, read the paper, took another piece of toast and then another. Spread on her mother’s homemade strawberry jam in thick layers and washed it down with two cups of coffee. Then she decided to walk out to see Jonas on the farm.

She walked through town, passed the church and Main Street, and then she crossed the bridge and she was out of town. When she was a child the three miles out to the farm had been like going to the other side of the world but now the farm showed up faster than she remembered. Jonas had cleared some of the old pine trees around the farm and you could clearly see it from the road. When Jonas was old enough to take over and the tenants lease was up, he moved in. In the beginning he was alone and worked two or three jobs to be able to keep the farm. Then he met Heidi, seven years older than him, married with a three month old daughter and she left everything for him. Two years later they were married, and she was pregnant again. Now they had profiled themselves as one of the first and few organic farmers in the area. Their farm stand was widely popular and renowned.

The cows had been released from the barn for the spring and grazed the green pasture. Two of them started to jump and run. Still the joy of being free for the summer was left in their bodies.

When she came closer to the farm the dogs came running. They started to bark loudly and ran around her in circles. Anyone who didn’t know them would be terrified but Kristin crouched down and let them lick her face.

“Hi Freya,” she said and petted the bigger one.

“Hi Hedda.”  The smaller one tried to climb up on her lap. She was an exact copy of her great-grandmother Esther. 

She heard the door open and her brother stepped out on the porch.

“Kristin?” His voice was filled with disbelief.

She got up and the dogs ran to Jonas.

“Hi brother.”

They stood and looked at each other for a while.

I should come here more often.  

“When did you come? Did you come alone?” He stepped down on the gravel and she walked right into his arms. His hug reminded her of grandpa and her father at the same time. Her shoulders fell down and she leaned her forehead against his chest.

“Has something happened?” Ever since he became old enough, tall enough, strong enough he had been her protector even though she had four years on him.

She let go and looked up at him, her father’s blue eyes and her mother’s curly hair, a shade darker but still red.

“Let’s go inside.”

The house was warm, the hallway cramped with kid’s clothes and kid’s shoes and a couple of toys. Jonas walked out in the kitchen and she followed.

“You want some coffee?” Not as much a question as a statement.

“Sure, where is Heidi?”

She couldn’t see her sister-in-law anywhere.

“She is upstairs nursing Albert. He loves that mama milk.”

“They all do,” she said and sat down by the table. Watched her brother move around in the kitchen, put on the coffee, get some cups from the cabinet. Now this house was his as much as grandpa’s.

“How are Holly and James?”

Jonas put the cups on the table together with the milk and a plate with cookies.

“They are good! Holly likes second grade and James seem to enjoy Kindergarten. How are Anna and Jack?”

“They are good.” They looked at each other over the table; she could tell that Jonas was waiting for her to tell him why she was here. He lifted his head and looked at the ceiling.

“I think Heidi is done.”

The ceiling creaked and then the stairs squeaked and Heidi came into the kitchen. She stopped dead in the doorway, her dark blonde hair was a mess and her big blue eyes flew open.

“What? Kristin? When? Why didn’t you tell me?” Heidi pointed a finger at Jonas. He shook his head.

“I didn’t know, she just showed up.”

Heidi looked over at Kristin to confirm the story and Kristin nodded.

They sat around the table, Kristin and Jonas drank coffee and Heidi drank her fourth glass of milk. They had made a little small talk but she could tell that Jonas was still waiting for her to say why she was there.

“I feel in love with another man.” She looked down at the table when she said it but then she lifted her head and looked at both of them. Both stared back at her, no one said anything for a moment. Then Heidi started to smile.

“Wow! Did you cheat?”

Kristin nodded.

“Sis!” Jonas said seriously at first but then he started to laugh.

“What happened?” Heidi asked curiously.

“Well, I met him at a museum and we got this strange strong connection at once.”

Heidi looked excited and amused.

“And then we saw each other twice and then I freaked out and put some pressure on him and he freaked out and won’t even talk to me anymore”

“What?” Jonas looked perplexed, “What do you mean?”

“I got this feeling that I was not the only one maybe,” she had to think about it, “and I felt so close to him that I got that feeling. You know…” she looked over at Jonas, “the feeling we used to get right before dad was about to leave.”

He nodded and she could see the little boy he once was within his eyes.

“I don’t know if he would disappear, but I got so scared he would because I felt so close to him. And when I asked for a little reassurance that, you know,  he wouldn’t just leave. Well then he vanished.”

“Vanished?” Now it was Heidi’s turn to look confused.

“He won’t answer when I call, he won’t answer my texts and he won’t answer my emails”

Jonas stood up suddenly, his cheeks got red and he narrowed his eyes.

“What a fucking asshole! Do you want me to come with you and talk to him?”

She knew he was serious but she had to smile.

“Well it’s kind of hard to get hold of him since he lives in a building with a doorman.”

“Oh, is he rich?” Heidi asked with interest.

“A bit I guess.”

Jonas still looked pissed off.

“But I could wait outside his building a whole day,” he said and grounded his teeth.

“I know, brother, I know. Thank you but I don’t think it will go over too well.”

“I could bring Brian.”

Now both Kristin and Heidi laughed. Brian, Jonas’ best friend; 6 feet 6 inches and 220 pounds with a lot of experience breaking noses.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

“Ok.” Jonas sat down again; he took a cookie and shoved the whole thing in his mouth.

“What does he do?” Heidi asked.

“He is a history professor and writes scholarly books”

First, both of them looked bewildered and dumbfounded, and then they started to laugh.

“Of course sis!”

They laughed so hard that she started to laugh too.

“How old is he?” Heidi snorted.

“He’s 52.”

Both of them started to laugh even harder. Jonas and Heidi, Heidi and Jonas, she didn’t know two more compatible people. If they ever argued, both of them started to laugh midway through the argument.

“But sis, if you are going to cheat I though you would do it with a hot 30 year old and not some old college professor.”

Kristin shook her head and rolled her eyes.

“You two clearly don’t understand.”

But she wasn’t angry; it actually felt nice to laugh at the whole fucking mess. After some more coffee Jonas needed to tend to the farm and Albert woke up so Heidi started to nurse again. Kristin decided to go out in the woods.

She walked behind the house, down the crooked trail. She still knew every bend, every root, and every rock. Each step brought her a sense of calm. Her feet pounding the same ground as she did as a child, her mother did as a child and her grandmother did all those years ago. The birds were chirping loudly, fearlessly, happily high up in the trees. Spring is here, spring is here, spring is here.

The river was filled with fresh clear water from the spring rains and from snow that had melted. The gravelly bottom; a beige gold treasure glistening in the sun. She took off her shoes and her socks and rolled up her jeans. The water was numbingly cold and shot shock waves of pain up her legs. But the joy in the streaming water pushing against her legs and the round pebbles under her feet were worth the pain. The pain was soothing, physical pain instead of emotional pain. She picked up a white stone, round as a tiny bird egg; it fit perfectly in the cup of her palm. Next to it was a small dark brown stone, the same color as her father’s hair; she picked this one up too and placed both in her pocket.

She walked for a few minutes and then she stopped. The maple tree was still there, hanging heavily over the water. Perhaps a little greyer, a little bit older looking but still there. She climbed up the riverside and walked up to the beginning of the big branch. Stroked the uneven, rough bark with her hand; it tickled her palm in a sensory satisfying way. 

“Hello, brother tree.”

She climbed out on the branch and lay down. Her feet almost touched the water now but she still felt completely safe lying there. She took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly, put her head down and relaxed. Listened to the river purling and the wind caressing the almost bare branches of the deciduous. And let this moment fill her with rest from fretting thoughts.

                                                                 44.

 

Sometimes, when one person is missing, the whole world seems depopulated. .”

                                                               Alphonse Marie Louis de Prat de Lamartine

“Her sister drowned.”

“Her daddy is gone.”

“Her grandpa died.”

“Poor girl! Look at her!”

First day of school for Kristin, three weeks later than the others. She had begged to go back before but her mother had refused until now. But today they were back at school and mommy was back at work, finally. Kristin had hated to watch her mother walk around in her robe all day crying, she had almost wished she was back at Mrs. Henke.

The days were still summer warm but the nights had started to get cooler. Fall was not far away, some of the smaller trees had started to turn yellow and in the morning she had to wear a sweater.  But in the afternoon the sun was still warm enough to walk in her t-shirt.

Last year at this time, grandpa, daddy and Kristin had gone Canadian goose hunting. Early in the morning, when the sun had started to show and smoke rose from the lake they stepped into the boat. The silence was never-ending. Kristin had sat close to daddy in the front of the boat, spooked by the stillness and the upcoming hunt.

Grandpa and daddy were different than usual. Serious, quiet and focused. They chewed tobacco and didn’t say much. When the guns went off Kristin covered her ears and closed her eyes. She didn’t want to look at the dead geese. She couldn’t stand the instant transformation in the animals. One second alive and the next nothing but a limp nonentity covered in ruffled feathers.

Everything was different this year. Everything! She walked slowly down the hallway, tried to not hear what the others were saying. Tried to not see how they looked at her. Tried to pretend it didn’t bother her.

At lunch time she fled, didn’t even bring her bag. Ran out in the clear September day, ran down the street. Ran away from all those eyes, all those words.

The library was quiet. Smelled of old paper and books, and as always she felt instantly soothed.  The light came in through the big windows and made the dust in the air sparkle like little stars of gold. She walked across the wood floor, making no sound with her sneakers. No one was here now, everybody was in school. She searched through the shelves until she found “Alice in Wonderland”. She took out the book, looked at the cover, and touched it tenderly.

Then she went over to the one and only couch they had in the library. Took off her shoes, sat down cross legged and started to read. Not until she was sure everybody had gone home from school did she put down the book and leave.

Jonas was already home, laying on the floor with his cars.

“Did you eat something?” she asked.

He shook his head.

The cabinet was starting to get empty but there was some bread left and some sugar. In the fridge she found some butter and applesauce. She took a big blob of butter and melted it in the pan, and then fried the bread and put sugar on top.

Jonas sat by the kitchen table talking about something. She didn’t really listen; she was so hungry she couldn’t pay attention. She put two slices of bread on a plate and some applesauce on top and set it in front of Jonas. She took the last three slices herself and sat down.

“Do you have any homework?”

Jonas nodded.

“What is it?”

He blushed and looked down at the table.

“Math,” he said quietly.

She knew Jonas hated math; no matter how much anyone helped him and explained it he just didn’t get it.

“Give it to me and I will do it.”

He lifted his head and smiled at her.

Second grade math was easy; it only took her 15 minutes to do it. Then she did her own homework. If things were like they should be, if things were like they used to be she would have left the house now. Gone over to Karen’s or to the playground, but today she didn’t feel like it.

She lay on the floor with Jonas and played with his cars until mommy came home.

“Is daddy coming back?”

Her mother didn’t meet her eyes, only shook her head.

“I don’t know.”

And Emma is not. Grandpa is not. They are gone, gone, gone!

She didn’t say anything. Took the notion and pushed it deep into her stomach, far away from her heart. Pushed, buried it, and covered it up. Until it turned impregnable, diamond hard, heavy.  Until she didn’t feel a thing.  Then she stood up, looked at her mother. She seemed distant now, the color of the wallpaper bleached and the voices from the TV muffled.

“Ok,” she said and went into the bedroom. Laid down on the mattress, decided that she would never let herself be close to anyone again, because losing them was too hard. She closed her eyes, and fell soundly asleep.

But she was only a little girl, a child of barely 12 years and of course she didn’t have true understanding of how a human soul functions or what a human soul needs. She did what was wisest at that moment; she did what she had to do to survive. A soul can only take so much pain, and so much loss. And as you know by now she had more in only a few child years than could fit into a normal life time.

But sometimes what we do to survive is merely life support and not a full, true life. And one day, it might take 10 or 20 or even 30 years, someone shows up with the key, a blowtorch or a soft hand and cracks the diamond hard protective shell. Perhaps it is a friend, perhaps a lover or it might be a child.

Because what she didn’t know, is that every soul needs true belonging, pure closeness and warm tenderness.

What will happen when the starving soul is set free?  Let me tell you this; if a soul likes the taste of all this it is impossible to rein her back in. She will only want more!

And she won’t be a beggar child pleading with her hungry, enormous eyes.

She will be a wolf sensing the deer in the wind. The mouth waters and she will hunt that deer down until she can sink her teeth in the warm meat, over and over again. The mouth full of hot bubbling blood.

 

Chapter 41-42

                                                                   41.

“Just how close to the bone and the skin and the eyes
And the lips you can get
And still feel so alone
And still feel related
Like stations in some relay
You're not a hit and run driver, no, no
Racing away
You just picked up a hitcher
A prisoner of the white lines on the freeway”

Joni Mitchell

 

Her mother had made bean soup, another step in her mother’s new health conscious life. First it was no more alcohol, then the cigarettes and now it was no more meat. After the dinner they had sat down on the couch, Kristin sat and looked at the pictures of the grandchildren. Jonas’ two oldest and Anna and Jack. Infants in their parents’ arms, toddlers with ice cream smeared all over their faces and all four of them on the stoop of her mother’s house. Jonas’ children with reddish blonde hair and hers with dark blonde.  Her mother was a far better grandmother than she ever was a mother. Perhaps it was easier without the constant responsibility.

Her mother had asked questions about Robert and Kristin had answered and eventually said that she felt like a fool for believing him.   

“This is your gift; despite all the odds you still believe that people are good. And you still believe that the world at its core is good.”

Kristin smirked and moved away from her mother, curled up in the corner of the couch and looked at her. Almost surprised by the gray hair and the wrinkles around her mother’s eyes.

“I don’t think like that.”

“I believe you do. You trusted this man that you hardly know because you saw good in him.”

Kristin smirked again.

“Yeah, and that did me no good. Only children think like that.”

“If we all were more like children the world would be a better place.”

Kristin wanted to argue against this but she couldn’t really find an argument that suited.

They both sat absorbed in their own thoughts until her mother spoke again.

“And to lose Jimmy was nothing compared to losing Emma,” her mother’s voice faded.

The grief was still there, in her mother’s eyes, her mother’s hands. The emptiness a dead child leaves behind. The hollow that never can be filled. The longing for the smell, the touch, the presences of the one lost.

 Her mother sat quiet for a long time, looking at her hands. Then she lifted her head and looked at Kristin.

“It was good that he left so I could become my own person. When I was strong enough, he came back and he never left again.”

“But ten years!”

Her mother laughed again.

“It was all worth it.”

“But in ten years I will be almost fifty.”

Kristin sighed but her mother laughed.

“Fifty can be pretty hot,” she said, “trust me, I just lived through it”

Kristin blushed; she didn’t even want to consider what that meant.

“Sometimes I think,” she stopped and searched for the right words, “that he thought I was like his ex-wife.”

Her mother looked at her questioning.

“That I would only take and never give and that he would have to sacrifice himself for me.”

Her mother smiled tenderly again.

“Sweetheart, in a relationship both have to be allowed to give and take. One can’t only take and never give. And we all have to sacrifice some.”

Her mother stood up and stretched.

“I really have to get ready for bed.”

She took the two water glasses and the small bowl with nuts and turned around to go to the kitchen.

“I was so angry when I was small.” Kristin blurted out and her mother stopped. She turned around and looked at her, tilted her head to the side and looked sad again.

“I know, rightfully so sweetheart. We put too much responsibility on you. We were not very good parents.”

Kristin felt suddenly hot, she blushed and stuttered.

“You were ok.”

Her mother laughed.

“Sweetheart, I know we weren’t and you don’t have to try to make me feel better.”

 Her mother turned around and walked out in the kitchen.

The extra bed room was cramped with boxes and things in every empty space.

“Sorry about this,” her mother said and moved some of the things away. “I decided to start to go through some of the boxes from papa. I f I had known you would come…”

“It’s ok.”

Kristin dropped the sheets on the bed next to a stack of red notebooks with black backs.

“Your grandmother’s diaries.”

Kristin picked one up and opened it. On the front page was the year 1952 written in black.

“Have you read them?”

Her mother shook her head. 

“No, not yet.” she yawned big, “I’m going to bed. Good night.”

 Her mother left and Kristin moved some more boxes to the other side of the room, opened the window an inch and pulled down the shade. Put on the sheets on the bed and sat down.  She didn’t feel ready to sleep just yet. Looked around the room for something to read and her eyes landed on the notebooks she had moved to the dresser.

She started to look for 1956, the year her grandmother was pregnant with her mother.

1956 started on January 10th.

Dear Diary,

Almost 4 months this time but on New Year’s Eve I started to bleed a little. I didn’t tell Albert, didn’t want to worry him before I was sure. We had dinner guests and everybody was having a jolly time. The Anderson’s and the Vogt’s were here, there was an abundance of snow but they had left the cars at home and simply taken the one horse open sleighs.

What a beautiful evening we had, but when I went to the WC ,I saw a few blood stains. Cranberry red against the white.

I was hoping that it was the excitement of the evening, I took it a little slower after that but the next morning I had a horrible stomach ache. The New Year had to start so sadly.  Albert called the doctor and he told him that I should be on bed rest. But no use; we lost this baby too.

What kind of woman am I who can’t even carry a child to full term? Others have one child after another but I can’t even keep them until they are strong enough to live by themselves.

I know Albert is upset but he won’t show me. He is a God given man and I wish I could give him the child he yearns for.

Yours Truly Kristin

Kristin starred at the name, of course she knew she was named after her grandmother but she had never felt that this woman was real until now.

And now I am almost the exact age she was when she had my mother and I already have two of my own.  

She read up until April, read about the life on the farm, the love between her grandparents and her grandmother’s desperate wish, longing, struggle for a child. Didn’t even remember the sleeping pill, turned off the light and fell asleep immediately.

She laid so close, her face pressed against his neck. Her hand on his naked shoulder. Her body fit perfectly next to his. Her toes touched his. Flawless ease! The light that came in through the curtains was summer light, northern light. Light as a feather! She could smell the cold water from the sea and heard the seagulls cawing. She moved carefully away from him to not wake him. Pulled on his sweater and tiptoed out in the kitchen.

The pony stood outside the kitchen window and looked at her under his brown mane. She stepped out in the wild grass and walked up to the horse. He looked at her, didn’t move at all when she reached out her hand. Gently she scratched him under the mane.

She woke up, stared out in the dimly lit room, the early morning sunlight found its way around the shade.

Fuck! Only a dream!

                                                                         42.

“I am alone; I am always alone, no matter what.”

Marilyn Monroe

 

Jonas and Mrs. Henke were watching TV. Kristin sat on the porch with Mrs. Henke’s cat in her lap. The cat had curled up and slept deeply, she absentmindedly caressed the shiny fur. The evening grew darker by the minute and there was a slight chill in the air. School had started yesterday but Kristin and Jonas didn’t go. Too soon, too early, you need time to rest, the grown-ups had said. Kristin hadn’t seen Karen since before grandpa’s funeral, and she missed her.  Mrs. Henke had kept them busy with chores, outings and games. She had asked her grandchildren to come and play; they had been playing stick ball on the field behind the house for hours until Jonas and Kristin fell into bed and slept like logs. Kristin had never been surrounded by many people and never had this much adult attention and supervision in her whole life.

But now she was finally alone, her fingers moved over the cat’s back, felt the tiny vertebrae in the spine and the fine ribs, thin as a thick sewing needle. The cat moved a little and started to purr, she felt it through her pants into the flesh. It felt good, a friendly motor produced by content.

Mommy had come over for dinner the last two days, she looked tired and pale and only stayed for a few hours. Kristin kept her distance, when she came too close to mommy she got angry. She wanted to go up to her and hit her in the face, and you don’t do those things.

A car turned the corner and came driving up the street, the street lights caught the blue glimmer from the hood and Kristin’s heart jumped in her chest. She craned her neck and looked at the blue Buick.

Grandpa! Grandpa! Grandpa!

The car passed the house and she felt foolish and alone. She pushed the cat down from her lap. Surprised the cat woke up half way down, looked at her with contempt and walked into the house.

She leaned her forehead against the window panes that stood half open to let the air in, pressed harder and harder until it hurt. Then she pressed some more. The pain was warm and sharp.

“What are you doing?”

Jonas sounded confused.

She turned her head and looked at him; he had on his pajamas and had his stuffed tiger in his hand.  

“Nothing!”

“Mrs. Henke wanted to know if you want some hot chocolate.”

You can take your fucking hot chocolate and flush it down the toilet.

“Ok,” she said and stood up.

“Kristin wants one too,” Jonas called out as he walked back into the house. “We are going to watch Dukes of Hazzard.”

Mrs. Henke put a tray on the coffee table with three cups of hot chocolate and a plate of cinnamon rolls. Jonas curled up on the couch next to Mrs. Henke. Kristin stared at the TV, saw the red car flying across the screen, sipped her hot chocolate and wished she wasn’t there.

She wasn’t sure where she wanted to be. There was nowhere to long for anymore. No one to long for, either. No one who would come driving in the middle of the night. No horses on the farm anymore. No dogs. No grandpa.  She was all alone!

She sniffled and Mrs. Henke looked over at her. Kristin stared at the TV, stared and stared until her eyes hurt. Kept them wide open, not even blinking, until they had dried out.

 

 

 

 

Chapters 37-40

37.

“You know I've seen it before
This mist that covers your eyes
You've been looking for something
That's not in your life
My intentions are true
Won't you take me with you
And baby you can sleep while I drive”

Melissa Etheridge

 

Three days had passed since she went to the city and talked to Robert, or according to him ambushed him. The first day she had been so filled with excitement she had skipped down the street and every person she had met smiled at her. The day after she had been exhausted, both mentally and physically and now on day three, she still waited for resurrection.

They sat by the TV and watched a show on HBO, the kids were already sleeping and Kristin’s mind was not really there.

“I need to go home!”
The words surprised her. She hadn’t meant to say them but as soon as she heard them she knew they were true.

“What?” John said.

“I need to go home.”

“Sure, we can go in the summer.”

“No! I need to go now, soon.”

“What?”
John pulled his eyes away from the TV.

“I need to go home! I need to see my mother, my brother, and my friends. I need to go home!”

“But,” he said, before he could continue she cut him short.

As they were speaking, a plan had developed in her mind.

“I will rent a car and I will leave on Thursday after I have dropped off the kids at school.”

“But…”

“You have to talk to your parents to see if they can take them in the afternoon and you just have to take Friday off.”

“What is this about?”

"I need to go home.” She knew she would start to cry soon. “I am lost! I need to go home and figure some things out.”

And here came the tears.

“Lost?” John looked perplexed.

“Yes, lost! I feel like I don’t know who I am anymore. Where I belong. I need to think. I need to see my own people. I need to walk in the woods and think.”

John looked even more perplexed.

“Ok,” he said. “When will you be back?”
She saw how that worry frown started to develop on his forehead and he had raised his shoulders.

“Monday, in time to pick up Jack.”

John’s shoulders dropped but the frown stayed put.

“Has something happened?”

She shook her head.

“No,” she hesitated for a moment, looked over at the TV, the same actress who did the voice of the female spy car in Jack’s favorite movie was under a lot of stress. “I don’t know. I am just thinking a lot lately. About my life, about things.” She shook her head again.” I don’t know.”

“Ok.” John pulled the “ok” into a question.

She didn’t know what to say, how to explain without saying too much.

“Maybe it is an early 40 year old crisis.”

John’s eyes darted over to the TV again, and she knew she wouldn’t have to explain anything more.

"You will talk to your parents?”

“Sure," he said.

Before she went to bed she turned on the computer, looked at the grey dot next to Robert’s name. The dot that used to be green but now always was grey.

Grey as in: not online.

Grey as in: I don’t want to talk to you.

Grey as in: I rejected you.

Grey as in: I think you are a crazy, needy lunatic.

Grey as in: I played you and fucked you and now I don’t want you anymore.

Grey as in: Leave me the fuck alone!

 She took a deep breath and decided to open a new email account. She didn’t want to stare at that grey dot anymore. After mission accomplished she went out on her Facebook page. Her friend Sarah had made a playlist for her younger sister’s engagement party and asked Kristin to listen and say what she thought about it. Two songs in, she had to close it, the love songs made her cringe. And hurt, a heavy ache in her stomach.

This is ridiculous! I am an almost 40 year old Bella Swan! Pull yourself together woman!   

Sat with the bottle of sleeping pills in her hand, put on the lid, opened it again, put the lid back but ended with taking one of the small pills anyway.

Only a little longer, I need my sleep. I am not ready for hours of nightly dwelling. I just want to sleep!

 

 

 

 

                                                                          38.

 

"Life is something you have to take care of-don't you realize that?"

 Astrid Lindgren, Ronia, the Robber’s Daughter

Mrs. Henke and Mary, mommy’s best friend had been over at their apartment every day since grandpa, well since grandpa, left, died, passed away. Mary and mommy sat in the kitchen and talked in whispers, let the children tend to themselves. Kristin and Jonas were outside all the time, the apartment was a trap of darkness and sorrow and a mother who didn’t eat and barely talked to them. Outside there was sunshine, and the woods with its everlasting trails and distractions.

 If it wasn’t for Mrs. Henke they would have been two hungry, dirty tangles of confusion and neglect. But she brought over a big pot of food every afternoon, showed Kristin how to put enough in another pot and heat it for dinner and lunch the day after. She made them shower, brought home their clothes and washed them and argued with mommy and Mary about that wanting the children to come home with her.

“I’ll gladly take them,” she said and put her big hands on her hips.

“I want my children here with me. I already lost one,” Mommy cried and rubbed her eyes.

“I’m not taking them forever, Linda, only until you feel a little stronger.”

Her mother shook her head.

“She wants them around!” Mary said and glared at Mrs. Henke with contempt.

Mrs. Henke sighed and looked at the floor, but the next day she tried again. Kristin wondered what the difference was since her mother had always been willing to give them up for a few days or a couple of weeks. And she wished her mother would say “yes”.

 

Again she sat in the church with her hair in a French braid, a stiff dress and a soreness in her stomach. She begged the white rabbit to come once more, save her from another funeral. But it didn’t matter how hard she begged, no rabbit came running down the aisle this time. She turned in the pew so many times that her mother eventually grabbed hold of her arm and squeezed hard. After that Kristin stared up at the stained glass window and counted the blue pieces. Anything to keep her eyes off the brown coffin.

If the church had been full at Emma’s funeral it was nothing compared to this time, and the women had out baked and out cooked themselves. One dish after another was lined up, anything for Pastor Berger who had married or baptized almost everybody who was there. Mommy sat by a table with a dazed look on her face. Kristin knew that the doctor had given her something, some kind of pill and she had seen her mother swallow it down this morning. Jonas had the same look on his face as when he had been watching too much TV, he wasn’t completely present.

Kristin walked over to the table with the food, took one plate and decided it would be for mommy. Took some potato salad, a slice of roast beef, a roll, all the while listening to the whispers that moved through the air like smoke.

“He should have retired when he had the chance. Don’t understand why he insisted on working. Pastor Andersen would gladly have taken over full time.”

“What will happen to the poor children now, without their grandfather? Their mother..” the woman didn’t finish her sentence, only sighed and rolled her eyes.

“How can such horrible things happen all at once? In our little town?” This woman sniffled into a handkerchief instead of rolling her eyes.

“A stroke they say, not strange with all the responsibility he had with a daughter like that.” These two women had their heads together. 

“And why is that man doing the service? We all know.” The woman next to the one that was speaking looked over at Kristin and put a hand on the speaking woman’s arm to quiet her.

She looked over at Pastor Hemstad, he stood by himself, he wasn’t a stranger but he didn’t fully belong either. He was younger than grandpa; his hair wasn’t completely grey yet. He had been in their apartment and talked to their mother yesterday, but Kristin had hardly seen him. She had taken Jonas with her to the playground and stayed out until it was almost dark.

She walked with the plate towards their table and the man lifted his head and looked at her.

And he had eyes just like hers, greenish, brownish, yellowish. She tilted her head to the side and met the man’s gaze. His eyes widened for a short moment, and then they stood looking at each other for maybe 20 seconds until someone came and grabbed his arm and started to talk to him. She put down the plate in front of her mother and walked back to the food, filled another plate, this time for Jonas. Got a plate for herself and sat down by their table. She had filled it to the top and started to eat. There was something comforting with the whole routine; the familiar food and the people around them. The creamy potato salad with dill, the slightly hard meatballs, rolls with butter and of course a gigantic cake with sweet downy cream. It all embraced them from the inside out.

After a couple of hours Mrs. Henke came to their table, put a hand on mommy’s shoulder, squeezed it gently. She didn’t get much of a reaction.

“You are staying with me tonight, dears,” she said to them and moved her hand to Jonas’ head.

“Where is mommy staying?”

Mrs. Henke caressed Jonas’ hair.

“She is staying with Mary.”

Kristin looked over at Mary who sat with her husband and two girls by another table. They rarely went to Mary’s place, they were never invited to any parties and she knew it was because Mary didn’t like her father. People seemed to either love her father or hate him.

They walked the few blocks from the church to Mrs. Henke’s little white house. She opened the cast iron gate and let the children in. They walked down the graveled path, past the pruned bushes, the orange and yellow marigolds. So familiar, how many times hadn’t Kristin walked here. The asters bloomed in pink and purple cascades along the house’s white walls. 

 She knew this garden as well as grandpa’s; before Emma, Mrs. Henke was her and Jonas’ babysitter. They had spent countless days in the shade under the cherry tree, on the screened porch or in Mrs. Henke’s kitchen. One of Kristin’s first memories was sitting in the kitchen window waiting for grandpa to come and get her. She remembered seeing the blue Buick turning the corner and how her stomach had relaxed.

So familiar, but today everything was seen as through a thin mist or film, not entirely real.  Everything was the same but utterly different.

 

 

                                                                               39.

“Oh Maggie, I wished I'd never seen your face

You made a first class fool out of me

But I'm as blind as a fool can be
You stole my heart but I love you anyway

I'd never seen your face

I'll get on back home, one of these days”

Rod Stewart

The City was far away by now. The road had started to wind through the landscape. No more straight highways! No more traffic jams! No more roadside shopping malls! Nothing but smooth lakes covered in water lilies. Straight pine trees. Mighty maples and oaks, with 500 year old trunks, no storm could break them. Pastures with grazing cows; dappled in black and white.  She was close to home!

The road made a sharp turn and then Big Lake was in front of her. She followed the shore line for about fifteen minutes before she had to turn to the right and after only a few minutes she was on the outskirts of town. She passed the road down to the beach, crossed the bridge over the river and then she was in the town center.

 She drove up Main Street, saw the big sign on Eddie’s Ice Cream, “We are  now open”, she got a green light at the intersection and drove past the bank, the barber, the jewelry store and saw that the tobacco store had closed finally. She turned left at the end of the street and drove past the bakery and the church; her eyes became filled with tears. Passed her old school, turned to the right and stopped at the library, stepped out and took a deep breath in. The air was cool, clean, and crisp.

Ten or twelve four year olds were gathered in a circle around her mother. Her mother whispered as the boy in the book sneaked through the dark forest. Kristin stood still and watched as her mother read. Not until her mother had finished the book did she notice Kristin. Her eyes flew open in surprise and then she looked worried. Kristin shook her head and mouthed, “Everything is fine.”

After he mother had played “ring around the rosey” and “I am a tea pot” and made the kids sound like their favorite animal was she done.

 

“Sweetheart!” she said and hugged Kristin. “You are too skinny.” She put a hand on Kristin’s ribs and shook her head. “Did you come alone?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Why?”

Kristin shook her head.

“Not now mom.”

He mother looked worried but stopped asking questions.

“I’m working until four today, do you want to go home and wait?” Her mother put her hand in her pocket. “Did you bring your key?”

“Yes, I did. Is there anything to eat?”

“Meatloaf and mashed potatoes from yesterday.”

Kristin gave her mother a kiss on the cheek and left.

Drove another few minutes to the small house her parents had bought when her father had returned. The daffodils were blooming along the path and the forsythia had opened up. She went inside, heated the leftovers and sat on the stoop and ate in the sun. When she was finished she started to yawn. Every muscle in her body felt heavy and limp and she barely made it to the couch before she fell asleep.

She slowly woke up, felt confused at first before she remembered where she was. She heard her mother in the kitchen setting the table with cups and plates and she smelled coffee. Put her feet on the floor and stood up, the whole room swayed and she had to sit down again. She sat for a few minutes before she was able to get up and walk to the kitchen.

“Did I wake you up?” Her mother put a plate with two Danishes on the table and poured the coffee as Kristin sat down by the table.

“It’s ok,” she rubbed her face, “I slept for over an hour anyway.” Her mother brought out the milk and Kristin filled up her cup of coffee until the coffee was more beige than brown.

“How are Anna and Jack?”

“They are fine.” She took a danish from the plate and bit into it. “They wanted to come but I…” She stopped and looked out the window. One of the neighbors came walking by with her dog. A big Dalmatian who pulled hard on the leach.

“How’s John?” Her mother took a danish and dipped it in the coffee. Kristin let out a deep sigh and looked at her mother.

“I,” then she stopped and searched for words; cheated, was unfaithful, fell in love. “I met another man.”

To Kristin’s amazement her mother’s face showed no shock.

“Ok and what happened?”

“I fell in love and I had sex with him and now he won’t talk to me.”

Her mother drank some coffee and then she reached out her hand and put it on Kristin’s arm.

“Start from the beginning.”

So Kristin started with the museum and the instant connection, the hour long chats, their two meetings and how he seemed to vanish. Her mother sat quiet for a long time.

 “If he really wants you he will come back. Maybe not now, maybe not soon, maybe it will take several years. But if you have a true connection with someone you come back, in one way or another.”

“You waited 10 years! I don’t know if I can do that mom.”

Her mother smiled at her.

“I’m not saying he is right for you or that he will come back”

“But how will I know?”

“You won’t honey.” her mother’s voice was soft as usual. “You can simply let him go too, that is always an option.”

She stood up agitated.

“Don’t you think I have tried? But not one day has passed without me thinking of him”

“But isn’t it easier now?” her mother asked.

Kristin wanted to scream “no no no”, but she knew she would be lying when she thought of the first few days when it felt like she was ripped apart.

“Yes,” she said, “it is easier now but it is still hard.”

“He must really have touched you, sweetheart.”

She nodded, closer and closer to crying.

“Yes! And I don’t understand how it all happened. And I don’t understand how he can stay away. Did I mean nothing?”

Her mother shook her head and looked at her with sympathetic eyes.

“I don’t know but I do know that it takes two to tango.”

“So you are saying he only played with me?”

“I don’t know!” Her mother put in a little pressure in her voice this time. “I don’t know this man but if he doesn’t come back I would suggest, that yes, he only played you.”

Kristin started to cry, tired and feeble.

“But why?”

Her mother laughed a little now.

“Men have all different reasons to play a woman. For sex, for company, for the fun of it.  And you, sweetheart, you are a very smart, beautiful, extraordinary woman that any man should be lucky to spend time with. And some men know exactly what to say and what to do to get what they want.”

Kristin looked down at the floor, looked at the grain of the wood, followed the pattern with her eyes and said quietly.

“Well then he is the best actor in the world or I am the worst fool.  Because I can’t help but think that he actually liked me. At least for a while.”

“Of course he liked you! He might just not be ready for what you can give. Only a man free of demons, haunting ambitions and ego can fully love a woman.”

Kristin couldn’t help but smile and roll her eyes a little. Her mother didn’t seem to be offended, she just smiled.

“You know it is easy to desire and fall in love, but to truly love you have to let yourself go. And he might not have the guts to do so. Or maybe he has done it and been hurt, it is scary to love.”

Kristin sat down again and pulled her legs up on the chair and put her arms around them.

“Sometimes the whole thing feels like one big mistake. I mean, what is the point to like someone when they won’t even acknowledge your existence?”

Her mother reached over and caressed the hair out of her face.

“It is never a mistake to love someone. Yes, it might hurt but love is never a mistake, never wrong.”

“Oh mom,” she said and that sinking feeling in her stomach came back. Her mother got up and sat down on the chair next to her and put her arm around her. She leaned closer and rested her head on her mother’s shoulder. They sat quiet for a moment.

“Maybe he simply couldn’t take the pressure.”

“The pressure?”

“Yes like your father; as soon as I put pressure on him he left. But if I hadn’t let him leave so many times he would never have come back in the end. I know he had many women, played them all but in the end he came back to me.”

“Did you know he would come back every time?”

Her mother smiled and shook her head.

“No, not at all. That last time he left,” she stopped and sighed, “I knew it was different because he left without a word, like he was ashamed of something”

“But how did you manage?”

Her mother huffed a little.

“What was I supposed to do? Lie down and die? I had you, I had to keep going.”

Kristin groaned, and she could hear how much she sounded like a teenager.

“But it feels like I will die”

“I know! You are like me, always have been. So romantic, perhaps close to stupidity.”

Her mother still smelled of Dove soap, the way she always had.

“But dad always said I was like him.”

“Of course he did, he adored you so. He knew how tender you were so he tried to give you some hardness. He thought it would protect you.”

“So I am not a wolf?”

“Do you feel like a wolf?”

Kristin moved away from her mother and stood up again, she looked out the window, thought about all the anger she felt as a child. How her father’s voice had been something to hold onto when things were hard. A way to defend herself.

“No,” she hesitated, “I am not sure,” she leaned against the kitchen counter. “I think I feel more like one of those old gnarled pine trees by the ocean. The ones that have been beaten by the wind for years, beaten but never broken. They only bend and adapt after the beating wind.”

Her mother smiled again.

“And they get more beautiful and intriguing the more the wind beats.”

Now it was Kristin’s turn to huff.

“Yeah I guess. I have to call home.”

She took her cellphone and walked outside, it was already 5:30. She got the answering machine so she left a message saying she would call tomorrow morning at seven. The evening was chilly and bright; she opened the door grabbed her fleece and called out to her mother.

“I will just take a short walk to stretch my legs.”

“Ok, I will start with dinner then.”

She walked five blocks and then she turned around and walked back. She realized she felt a sense of relief, the distance to home and Robert made her relax.

 

 

                                                                            40.

“No one bites back as hard
On their anger
None of my pain and woe
Can show through

But my dreams
They aren't as empty
As my conscience seems to be”

Pete Townshend

 

And she hated the lake and wished it would freeze over. Hated it with all her guts and all her bones. Hated the smell of it, the clear water and the greyish beige sand. Hated the fact that people still were swimming in the water. Hated the arcade and the smell of hot dogs and French fries. And the trees that gave shade and the kids playing at the waterline. And the families who spent one last warm day at the lake.

 Hated the whole damn thing! If it wasn’t for this lake she would still have a sister, and her daddy wouldn’t have left and grandpa would still live out on the farm.

She took a big rock and threw it in the water, broke the smooth surface, circle after circle, bigger and bigger. Then it healed itself again.

“I hate you! I fucking hate you!”

She took a bigger rock and threw it in the water. The water splattered up on her but then the lake was still again like nothing had happened.

“I hate you!”

She went further up the side, into the trees and searched for something bigger. Eventually she found a small tree that had fallen sometime during last winter. Some of the roots where still attached to the ground but most of them were up in the air. She grabbed the trunk and started to pull. Nothing happened, it didn’t move an inch.

“Fuck!” she screamed and kicked the tree. “Stupid! Stupid! Stupid tree!”

She stood still for a moment looking at it, and then she bent down and started to dig in the dirt around the roots with her hands. The ground was dense and full of little stones but she dug anyway. Got her hands all black from the soil.

If you don’t have the physical strength you need a strong will and one thing she had was a will made of steel. She found a stone and started to chop the roots. Her hands hurt and she scraped her knuckles against the stone and the dirt. After a long sweaty exhausting time, she had been able to cut off all the roots that she could see.

She started to pull again and this time it moved slightly. Encouraged she took a better grip.  She was able to pull it all the way to the edge where it started to slope down towards the lake. By now her muscles were quivering and she could barely breathe. She slumped down on the ground and gathered her last bit of strength and started to push with her feet. The tree rolled down the slope and went into the water with a big gurgle.

When she came down to the water most of the tree was under the surface. She looked down at her hands, her feet, her legs, her whole body was covered in dirt and her scalp was itching from sweat.

The water laid there, smooth and still warm from the summer. Calling her to come in, soothe her warm sticky body.

“Not a chance! I will never swim in you again. I fucking hate you!”

She turned around and marched back to her bike, jumped on and rode half way up the hill and then stopped with her heart racing. She realized she was scared of the lake and she didn’t like to be scared. She hesitated for a moment then she turned the bike around again and went downhill.

The lake waited for her, she took off her shorts and her t-shirt then she walked slowly out in the water. Got nauseous and cold all over even though the water was warm and lovely. When the water reached half way up her thighs, she stopped. She could not make herself go out where she wouldn’t be able to feel the bottom under her feet anymore. Instead of diving in, she dipped her body in the water, rubbed away the dirt with her hands and jumped out quickly. Ran back up onto the beach and pulled on her clothes.  The dry clothes chafed her wet body when she rode home.