Authors: Karin Fossum
"But she wanted to come here to be with you," Berg said.
Gunder hid his face in his hands. "And I was going to give her the best of everything!"
"I think you have," Berg said. "She has a beautiful place. If you had sent her back with her brother, you might have regretted it. You had to choose between two desperate solutions. That happens sometimes. No one could blame you for anything."
Gunder let these words sink in. Then he raised his head and looked at the vicar.
"I wonder what God's purpose was in all this," he said, subdued now. A flash of anger crossed his face.
Berg looked from the window at the treetops outside. The leaves were falling. "So do I," he said.
After a while Gunder pulled himself together. "In India the
kids play soccer between the graves," he remembered. "It looked nice. As if it was natural."
Berg had to smile. "It would be nice. However, that's not for me to decide."
***
Gunder went home. Stood for a while at the foot of the staircase. Finally he made up his mind. He went upstairs and took out Poona's clothes, which were in a box. Slowly and filled with reverence he took out one garment after another and hung them in the wardrobe in the bedroom. The wardrobe, which up until now had been full of gray and black clothes, looked completely different. He put her shoes at the bottom of it. He carried her toiletries bag to his bathroom. Put her brush next to the mirror. A little bottle of perfume found a place beside his own aftershave. Afterward he sat at the kitchen table and looked out at the garden. The day had clouded over and everything was gray. He had hung a bird feeder outside the window. He must put food out first thing in the morning. His head was buzzing. What would life with Poona have been like? Was she looking forward to it as much as he was? Or was he just a well-off man and her key to a comfortable future, as his sister had said? Now he would never know if what they had done had meant anything to her. If she would have been a loving wife, a loyal companion. Or whether she was just happy at the thought of leaving poverty behind in Mumbai. How could he know for sure? His future, the one he was struggling to imagine, would be made up of guesswork and fantasies. Of how he had hoped it would be. And he had not even told her that he loved her. He had not dared. How he regretted that now. He wanted to shout it from the highest mountain so that everyone would hear: Beloved, beloved Poona!
What is love? His despairing thought. It was nothing but an ardent wish.
He rested his head on his arms and groaned. Trapped in enormous pain. What must Poona have been thinking when she could not find him at the airport? And then: Where was Marie now? And what would she need?
***
The next morning, as he was making his coffee, he saw the mailman's green van. It had stopped at Gunder's mailbox. He waited until the van was out of sight and then he wandered down the driveway. One letter. He went into the kitchen and opened it. It was Poona's letter to her brother. The original, in Indian, and a translation for him. Sejer had enclosed a note. He found his glasses, put them on, and struggled to keep his hands steady. As he started reading, it brightened up outside. A cloud slowly unveiled the bright October sun. The grass glistened. There was a thin sheet of ice on the birdbath. A spotted woodpecker landed outside the window. It dug its claws into the bird feeder and started to hack away at the fat and the seeds that Gunder had put out not ten minutes ago. A male, Gunder thought. The back of its head shone in the sunlight, red as blood. He read the letter slowly. Everything inside him felt still.
***
Dear brother Shiraz,
It is a long time since we saw each other. I am writing now on an important matter. And you must forgive me that I have not considered you.
I am a married woman. It happened yesterday. He is a good man, loving and decent. He carries me like you carry a child you want to help and protect. His name is Gunder Jomann.
Mr. Jomann is big and strong and handsome. True he does not have much hair and he is not very fast when he acts or thinks. But his every step is well considered and his every thought is sincere. He has a house and a job in the country where he lives. With a garden and fruit trees and all sorts of things. It is cold there, he says, but I am not
afraid. He has an aura of light and warmth. I want to be there forever. I am not afraid either of what you might say, dear brother, because I want this more than anything. I will travel to his country and live in his house. For the rest of my life. There is no man on earth who is better than Gunder Jomann. His hands are so strong and open. His eyes are blue like the sky. A quiet strength exudes from his strong, broad body. Life with him will be good. Be happy for me!
Be as joyful as I am for everything that has happened.
Your sister, Poona