Page 103 of The Living and the Dead

So he sank.

76

Five years went by. Five Midsummers, Christmases, New Years, birthdays; five years of weekdays linked together like the cars of a train. He graduated, got a job, and gained weight. Went to the new gym in Sannarp and lost it again, tried to go on dates and have relationships but found he was always happier on his own.

This was what those five years did to Sander: transformed him into the person he had, perhaps, been all along.

Then came something he didn’t expect. It was as if he found a previously undiscovered hatch inside himself. A new portal opened. He tried to take possession of it bit by bit, until his old self letgo.

A conquering of sorts.

Then he unexpectedly saw her again, one Thursday at the Coop. Sander had stopped to buy laundry detergent and a new dish wand on his way home from the library. She didn’t see him. He had time to notice that there was no ring on her left hand. Which didn’t mean much, really. But maybe it was something.

When he picked up the phone that evening, he wasn’t sure if she’d even answer.

“Hello?” came a clear, soft voice in his ear.

“Hi. This is Sander Eriksson.”

“Sander Eriksson,” said Olivia. “It’s been ages.”

“Yeah, I know.” He laughed without knowing why. “I saw you today. At the Coop on Gamletull.”

“You did? But you didn’t say hi?”

“I didn’t know if I…Should I have?”

“Did you want to?”

Seconds ticked by. His heart began to pound.

“Yes,” he said.

“Then I guess you should try again,” she said. “Next time you see me. At the Coop on Gamletull.”

“On Saturday, maybe?”

She didn’t respond for a long time—was she waiting for him to retract the question? When he didn’t, she said: “At seven?”

“At Coop?”

Sander heard her smile.

“We can grab a drink somewhere.”

Olivia was still angry at him. During the awkward period when Sander was still trying to convince Felicia to stay, his guilt wore Olivia’s face. He grew cold and dismissive toward her. Nothing fair about that. But does fairness have any place in love? He doubted it. Now, five years on, he felt changed. She noticed it. And he suspected she understood, too, even if she had been hurt.

Perhaps it was impossible to fix everything that had once broken. But in time, they found their way back to each other.

Two years after he saw her at the Gamletull Coop, he proposed. They bought the house on Backavägen three years later, and soon Albin and Josefin arrived. How lovely to find that people could bond over welcome changes, too, he thought. He was so happy, perhaps for the first time.

77

One autumn morning in 2017, Sander was sitting on the terrace his wife thought should be glassed in, reading in the newspaper about a lecture that was planned at the college that same night. “Law for a New Era” was the headline. Olivia was in the bathroom, and the kids were still asleep. He sat there in the chilly sunshine with no one to turnto.

By this point in their marriage, problems had arisen. Or rather, reappeared. Perhaps that was the right word. He and Olivia had started going to couples’ therapy, and the previous day’s session was still on his mind. In front of their therapist, a very likable man in his sixties who always wore clogs, Olivia had blurted a frustrated heap of words:

“He closes himself off, he doesn’t share his feelings. He doesn’t talk. I think it has to do with all the stuff that happened when he was young. It’s a trauma he hasn’t processed. I’ve tried to help, but he can’t do it.”