Page 38 of The Second Chance Bus Stop

Lidhult

Yesterday I finished another fruitless meeting at a care home in Mj o lby. This Sven—number four—had never been to London but told me all about his time in East Germany as an oboe player following

the fall of the Wall. I left with the link to his self-published memoir, which had it had some better publicity would have

saved me this visit. Five days left and all I have is question marks and one remaining Sven to track down. I asked Sophia

again whether her uncle could have maybe done some—any—travelling, and she, again, said no. Mum still hasn’t found a photo,

but then, what would I do with it if I had it? Put it on Facebook with an appeal for help? I don’t want to disappoint her,

to see what disappointment does to a fragile brain, but it’s starting to look inevitable.

I have found a café with enough space inside so no one should mind if I sit there for half a day.

I try the oddest-looking Swedish cake I can find: a green marzipan-covered log with dark chocolate dipped ends called a hoover.

I spent the morning catching up on everything back home.

Bills and a phone consultation with Mum’s neurologist. The doctor told me again to make a list of options in the event her decline starts to speed up, so that I have it on hand as a safety net, a coping strategy for us, even if we are a long way away from needing it.

Can’t help thinking he’s doing the tea/coffee choice thing I do with Mum.

Attempting to give me a sense of control where there isn’t any.

At midday I get a message from Sophia asking what time I’ll be back that evening because she’s had a good day and feels able

to eat a proper meal rather than cereal. My spirits lift instantly. It can’t be denied any longer. I’m seriously, and ridiculously,

attracted to the girl I’m currently travelling through Sweden in a mobile home with.

We left the van parked this morning so I’m taking an almost-empty bus back. I call Zara because when you’re in the woods (literally)

you can’t see the trees.

‘I need you to come up with a plan B because plan A is not working.’

‘No luck with the Svens?’

‘None whatsoever. So far they were all either missing, happily married, or never left Sweden. Nothing matches up with what

my mum’s said.’ I wonder if Zara can hear the desperation in my voice.

‘Well, there’s one more on your list, right? So not all hope is lost.’

‘Maybe not, but hope is dwindling at a somewhat rapid pace.’

‘I’m sorry, Blade.’

‘I know, me too.’ I pause for a minute, not sure where to go from here. ‘How’s Mum though? Everything going okay?’

‘Oh yeah, all’s well here—we get along swimmingly, much to no one’s surprise. But she could do with a bit of good news from

you. Anything positive to share?’

‘I mean aside from striking out on the Sven front, Sweden is beautiful, all the driving has been fine, and admittedly it’s been a bit of a lifesaver having this RV to drive around. Not just for me but Sophia too, she—’

‘Oh, the fellow traveller! Yes, how’s it going with her?’

‘What do you mean? We’re just driving around Sweden together. She’s off working every day.’

‘Oh, come on, Blade. You’ve been all over the scenic countryside with someone who by all accounts sounds kind, smart, funny

and not bad-looking. What do you mean you’re “just driving around”?’

‘Well, I mean, yes, she’s all those things.’ And more. ‘But this is work for her, remember? Not like she’s here entirely by

choice.’

‘Uh-huh, sure.’ Her sarcasm is practically dripping through the phone.

‘Seriously. And I need to stay focused on Sven. Not some cute passenger.’

‘So she is cute—I knew it!’

I try and eye-roll loud enough that she can hear. ‘There’s no point, Zara. I’ll be back in London in a few days anyway, back

to Mum, and she’ll be back in her flower shop. Besides, I can’t get involved with anyone.’

‘Why?’

‘You know why.’

‘No, actually.’ Zara takes on her usual stubborn tone of voice. ‘I know that the last time you dated—’

‘I was almost engaged.’

‘Yes. I recall it with regret. Maybe things didn’t go well...’

I shake my head at this understatement of epic proportions.

‘And I know you feel you are a son above all else, and we all commend you for it, the way you prioritise and sacrifice. But

that doesn’t mean you can’t ever date again. There’s still plenty of life left.’

But that’s the thing. People don’t get it—I’d choose Mum over everything, every time.

I tried to mix, to have a life alongside caring for her, but it just doesn’t work.

Have you ever been left behind? I want to ask Zara.

Have you made space in your very complicated life just to lose it all?

Do you know how it feels? Because it doesn’t sound

like you do. And I don’t want to feel that again.

‘You’re just scared to be in that position again. To have to choose your mum over a girl. So you figured out how to maintain

your emotional boundaries. But there’s a world in which that’s not a choice you’ll have to make.’

I know that she’s right. But I am scared. Because what if I’m only human, what if I do have to make that choice again and

I pick wrong? What happens if I don’t put Mum first because I love someone else more?

Zara’s voice brings me back.

‘She’s fine now, but she has been having more hallucinations. She’s had me crawling on all fours checking under furniture

for a dead rat.’

‘Not again.’

‘I tried Febreze, but the odours they promise to tackle in the ads apparently don’t include imaginary dead rodents.’

‘Make her leave the room and come back in—that sometimes helps.’

‘Have done. Then the rat just moves rooms. It’s like she has to live it until it’s over, no way to break it. The only thing

that helps her relax is if I actively look for the rat.’

‘What if I’m just living another of her hallucinations right now? I’ve played along, but when will this episode involving

Sweden and Sven end? What if it’s all in her mind? She doesn’t even have a picture, no return letters, no phone number.’

‘I’m not telling you this to cast doubt on this mission or to worry you, Blade.

I’m telling you because you need to prepare yourself, no matter what happens in Sweden.

Even if you find Sven, she’s going to continue to get worse and at some point it’ll be too much, for both of you.

Look into options for her care.’ I think back to my call with the neurologist and realise that Zara is the second person who’s told me this today.

I get off the bus and start walking along the road. I take my time getting back, kicking at rocks and sticks along the way

like a child. The sense of failure hangs over me. I gave up everything to care for her, and I can’t even manage it any longer.