Authors: Camilla Läckberg
‘But what are we going to do?’ Now the desperation was mixed with passion and she abruptly turned towards him.
With his face close to hers he said, ‘We’re going to live our lives. Day by day, hour by hour. We’ll do our jobs, we’ll laugh, we’ll do everything that’s expected of us. We love each other.’
‘But . . .’ Her protests were stopped by his mouth on hers. The capitulation that followed was all too familiar. She felt his hands all over her body. They left burning traces behind, and she felt the tears coming. All those years of frustration, of shame, of passion, were contained in those tears. Lars greedily licked them up and his tongue left wet tracks on her cheeks. She tried to turn away, but his love, his hunger, was everywhere and would not let her break free. Finally she gave in. She cleansed her mind of all thoughts, the entire past. She responded to his kisses and clung to him as he pressed his body to hers. They tore off each other’s clothes and fell to the kitchen floor. Far away she could hear herself screaming.
Afterwards she always felt as empty as ever. And lost.
‘Patrik seemed very subdued yesterday when he came home.’ Anna cast a glance at Erica as she concentrated on driving.
Erica sighed. ‘Yes, he’s out of sorts. I tried to talk to him this morning when I drove him to work, but he wasn’t very talkative. I’ve seen that expression before. There’s something he’s worried about, something at work that’s eating him. The only thing I can do is give him time; sooner or later he’ll start talking.’
‘Men,’ said Anna, and a shadow passed over her face. Erica sensed the change in her sister and instantly felt a knot in her stomach. She lived in eternal fear that Anna would fall back into apathy again, that she would lose that spark of life that had now been awakened in her. But this time Anna managed to dismiss the memory of the hell she’d been through, the memory that so insistently kept forcing its way into her thoughts.
‘Does it have anything to do with that accident?’ she said.
‘I think so,’ said Erica, looking around cautiously before she entered the roundabout by Torp. ‘At any rate he said that they’re investigating some discrepancies that have emerged, and he said the accident reminded him of something.’
‘Of what?’ Anna asked. ‘What could a car crash remind him of?’
‘I don’t know. That’s just what he said. But he was going to look into it further today at work, try to get to the bottom of it.’
‘I assume you didn’t have a chance to show him the list.’
Erica laughed. ‘No, I didn’t have the heart to show it to him when he was so down. I’ll try to sneak it in this weekend when I find the right moment.’
‘Good,’ said Anna. Without being asked she had taken on the role of chief planner and boss of the wedding project. ‘The most important thing you have to point out to him is what he’s going to wear. We could go look today, and you can pick out some things you want him to try on, but that part won’t be easy without him.’
‘Well, what Patrik’s going to wear isn’t a problem. I’m more worried about myself,’ Erica said gloomily. ‘Do you think they have an extra-large department at the bridal shop?’ She turned into the car park at Kampenhof and unfastened her seat belt. Anna did the same and then turned to Erica.
‘Don’t worry, you’ll look fantastic.’
‘I’ll believe it when I see it,’ Erica said. ‘Prepare yourself – this isn’t going to be fun.’ She locked the car and led the way down the shopping street, with Maja sitting in the pushchair. The bridal shop was on one of the small cross-streets, and she had rung them in advance to make sure they were open.
Anna said nothing until they reached the shop. She squeezed Erica’s arm just as they entered, trying to infuse a little enthusiasm. It was a wedding dress they were shopping for, after all.
Erica took a deep breath when they closed the door behind them. White, white, white. Tulle and lace and pearls and sequins. A short woman in her sixties wearing too much make-up came towards them.
‘Welcome, welcome!’ she chirped, clapping her hands in enthusiasm. Erica cynically thought that the shop owner must not get very many customers, considering how glad she was to see them.
Anna stepped forward and took charge. ‘We’d like to find a wedding dress for my sister here.’ She pointed to Erica and the woman clapped her hands again.
‘Oh, how wonderful, are you getting married?’
No, I just want to own a wedding dress. For my own amusement, Erica thought sourly, but she kept the comment to herself.
Anna looked as if she could hear what Erica was thinking and was quick to jump in, ‘The wedding is on Whitsun Eve.’
‘Good heavens,’ said the woman in astonishment. ‘Then you’ll have to hurry, hurry. Only a bit over a month left. It’s none too soon to be looking for a dress.’
Once again Erica swallowed a sarcastic remark as she felt Anna’s hand on her arm. The woman motioned for them to step further into the shop and Erica followed hesitantly. This situation felt so . . . odd. She had actually never set foot inside a bridal shop before, so that might explain the unfamiliar feeling. She looked around and her head started to spin. How in the world would she be able to find a dress here, in the midst of this sea of fluff?
Anna once again picked up on her mood. She pointed to an easy chair and told Erica to have a seat. Erica put Maja on the floor. Then Anna said in an authoritative voice: ‘Perhaps you could bring out a few different designs for my sister to look at. Not too many frills and flounces. Simple and classic. Although perhaps with some small detail that adds a touch of elegance. Don’t you think?’ She sent a glance at Erica, who couldn’t help but laugh. Anna knew her almost better than she knew herself.
Dress after dress was brought out. Sometimes Erica shook her head, sometimes she nodded. Finally they had a rack of five dresses to try on. With a heavy heart Erica stepped into the changing room. This was
not
her favourite pastime. Seeing her body from three angles at once, while the merciless light illuminated all the parts hidden beneath winter clothes, was a nerve-wracking experience. Especially when Erica noticed that she probably should have used a razor here and there. Oh well, too late to do anything about it. She cautiously put on the first dress. It was a strapless sheath, and she knew when she pulled up the zipper that it was not going to be a success.
‘How’s it going?’ called the woman in her most enthusiastic voice from outside the drapery. ‘Do you need any help with the zipper?’
‘Yes, I think I do,’ said Erica, stepping out of the changing room reluctantly. She turned her back to them so that the woman could zip her up, and then she took a deep breath and looked at herself in the full-length mirror. Hopeless, utterly hopeless. She could feel the tears well up in her eyes. This wasn’t the way she had imagined herself as a bride. In her dreams she had always been exquisitely slim, with a firm bosom and glowing skin. The figure staring back at her from the mirror looked like a female version of the Michelin man. Rolls of fat bulged around her waist, her complexion was winter-weary and lacklustre. The bodice had also pushed up some odd sausages of fat and skin in her armpits. She looked terrible. She swallowed her tears and went back in the changing room. Somehow she managed to get the zipper undone without help and then stepped out of the dress. On with the next one.
This one she could get on all by herself, and she went out to show Anna and the shop owner. This time she couldn’t hide how she felt; she could see clearly in the mirror how her lower lip was quivering. Some tears oozed out and she wiped them away in annoyance with the back of her hand. She didn’t want to stand here crying and feeling embarrassed, but she couldn’t help how she felt. This dress also fitted badly. Again it was a simple design, but with a halter neck, which at least removed the rolls under her arms. Her stomach was the biggest worry. For the life of her she couldn’t understand how she’d be able to get into good enough shape to feel happy on her wedding day. This was supposed to be fun, wasn’t it? It was something she’d looked forward to her whole life. Standing here selecting and rejecting and trying on one fantastic wedding dress after another. Imagining how everyone’s admiring gaze would turn towards her when she walked down the aisle with her bridegroom. In her dreams she had always looked like a princess on her wedding day. More tears ran down her cheeks, and Anna stepped up and put a hand on her bare arm.
‘What is it, sweetie?’
Erica sobbed, ‘I’m, I’m . . . just so fat. Everything looks horrible on me.’
‘You don’t look fat at all. There’s a bit left over from your pregnancy, that’s all, and we can fix that before the wedding. You have a fantastic figure. I mean, check out this décolletage, for instance. I would have killed for that when I got married.’ Anna pointed into the mirror and Erica reluctantly looked in that direction. First she saw her pathetic face with the streaks of tears on her cheeks and a red, swollen nose. Then she moved her eyes down and yes, maybe Anna was right. There was actually a very nice cleavage visible there.
Now the shop owner chimed in. ‘The dress fits, you just don’t have the proper undergarments on. If you try a body stocking or a corset underneath, then that tummy will disappear in a flash. Believe me, I’ve seen much worse in my day. As your sister says, you have a marvellous figure. It’s only a matter of finding a dress to accentuate your curves. Here, try this one on and I’m sure you’ll start feeling more cheerful about everything. This one will fit you even better.’ She took one of the dresses from the rack in the changing room and held it out to Erica, who reluctantly stepped back inside. With a sceptical look on her face she pulled on the dress and went back out to the shop. She took a deep breath, exhaled, and then stood in front of the floor-length mirror as stoically as a soldier rushing back to the front lines. An astonished smile spread over her face. This one was something altogether different. It fitted . . . perfectly! Everything that had looked terrible before had been turned to her advantage in this dress. Her stomach still stuck out a bit too much, but no more than a good corset could fix. She gave Anna and the woman a surprised look. Enchanted, Anna just nodded, and the shop owner clapped her hands in delight.
‘What a
bride
! What did I tell you? This one is just perfect for your height and your figure!’
Erica looked in the mirror one more time, still a bit dubious. But she had to agree. She felt like a princess. As long as she got rid of some of those excess kilos in the weeks before the wedding, it would be just perfect. She turned to Anna.
‘I don’t need to try any more. I’ll take it!’
‘How lovely,’ the woman beamed. ‘I think you’ll be more than pleased. If you like you can leave it here until the wedding, then we can do one last fitting the week before. If it needs to be taken in or anything, we’ll have plenty of time.’
‘Thank you, Anna,’ Erica whispered, squeezing her sister’s hand. Anna squeezed back. ‘You are simply gorgeous in that dress,’ she said, and Erica thought she saw a tear in her sister’s eyes too. It was a beautiful moment. A moment they both deserved after all that they’d been through.
‘So, how’s it going so far?’ Lars looked around the circle. No one said a word. Most of them were staring at their shoes. All except Barbie, who was watching him intently.
‘Would anyone like to go first?’ He gave them a look of encouragement, and now at least some of them raised their eyes from their shoes. Finally Mehmet spoke.
‘Yeah, it’s going okay.’ Then he shut up.
‘Would you like to elaborate?’ Lars’s voice was gentle with just a hint of coaxing in his tone.
‘Well, I mean it feels great so far. The job is, like, okay and all . . .’ Mehmet fell silent again.
‘How do the rest of you like the jobs you’ve been assigned?’
‘Jobs?’ Calle snorted. ‘I stand there washing dishes all day long. But I’m going to talk to Fredrik about it this afternoon. I have to see about making some changes on that front.’ He gave Tina a meaningful glance. She just glared at him.
‘And you, Jonna, how has the week been for you?’
Jonna was the only one who still seemed to find her shoes incredibly interesting. She mumbled something in reply but without looking up. Everyone sitting in the circle in the middle of the big room in the community centre leaned forward to try and hear what she was saying.
‘Excuse me, Jonna, we didn’t hear that. Could you repeat it? And I’d appreciate it if you showed us the courtesy of looking us in the eyes when you talk to us. Otherwise it feels as if you’re not treating us with respect. Is that your intention, Jonna?’
‘Yeah, is it?’ Uffe put in, kicking her feet. ‘Do you think you’re better than us, or what?’
‘That isn’t very constructive, Uffe,’ Lars warned him. ‘What we want to achieve here is a warm and safe environment where you can all talk about your feelings and experiences in a secure and supportive setting.’
‘You’re using words that are probably too big for Uffe,’ Tina scoffed. ‘You’ll have to use simpler phrases if you want Uffe to keep up.’
‘Fucking cunt,’ was Uffe’s eloquent reply, and he glared at her angrily.
‘That’s exactly what I was talking about.’ Lars’s voice took on a new sharpness. ‘There’s no point in picking at each other like this. You’re all in an extreme situation that can be very trying emotionally. This is a chance to relieve the pressure in a healthy way.’ He looked around the circle, fixing his disapproval on one after the other. Some nodded. Barbie raised her hand.
‘Yes, Lillemor?’ She took her hand down.
‘First of all, my name isn’t Lillemor, it’s Barbie now,’ she said with a sullen pout. Then she smiled. ‘But I’d just like to say that I think this is incredibly great! We all get a chance to sit here and speak our minds. We never had anything like this on
Big Brother
.’
‘Oh, fuck off,’ said Uffe as he slumped in his chair and stared at Barbie. Her smile vanished and she lowered her eyes.
‘I think that was very well said,’ said Lars, trying to encourage her. ‘And you’ll have an opportunity for individual therapy as well as group therapy. I think we’ll conclude the group segment now, so maybe you and I . . . Barbie, can start on the individual therapy. Okay?’