from the
woman by explaining that there was a time limit, that this was temporary, that it would come to an end. She had used time in order to cope with the pain of separation.
Around a child, people come and
go, objects appear and are taken away, surroundings take shape and disintegrate. And no ex planation is given, because how can you explain
the world to a child?
So she had used the words. Words call forth and secure
that which has gone
away. With her lists she had ensured that whatever she had once known would come
back.
She looked up at me. Her eyes were full of tears, but she
was not crying, it
was like she was coping with the sorrow.
Wordlessly her face told me that we belonged together. That we both knew something about
loss. Even she—who had so much more than I had ever had—even she already knew that this was a world where people and things were taken away from
you; where you are shifted from where you
want to be; where someone switches off
the light and you tumble into fear. There may be no harm in tended, but it is unavoidable.
I suppose that, up until that moment, I had not really
understood that she
was a person. I had thought of her, rather, as something especially precious that you
could protect in the way that you had never been protected.
Now I saw that in a way she was like me. Much more
pure and precious, but still, in a way, like
me.
Then the thought occurred that maybe I could be of benefit to her anyway, that I still might be
able to reach her.
I do not know how long we sat there. It came to the point where she slowly curled up and went to
sleep. I carried her to bed. I sat down and looked at her. I thought about what she had
said, and why.
She had said it to conquer her sorrow at the woman's
absence.
But she had said it to me.
I waited in the
grounds for several hours. It was very cold, even though I had the blanket. Flakkedam came before it was light, he let
himself out of the entrance and left it open, then he started on his tour of the rose bed. When he had gone I
slipped inside. August was fast asleep. The window had been left open.
The smell of gas was gone.
FIFTEEN
K atarina let three days go by after my visit. I knew she had not forgotten us or
given up. I did not see her when she came. Suddenly she was just there, behind me, in the playground.
"Don't look
around," she said.
I checked out the
teacher on duty anyway.
"They're
forgetting us," she said.
I had had the same thought. That was the way of the
rule. They had so many to keep an eye on. As
long as you kept a low profile, in time you would be forgotten. It was the best
thing that could happen.
"You two have third period
free," she said. "We can meet at the clinic."
The clinic was Hessen's clinic. Which was out of bounds and impossible
to get at.
"It's Wednesday," she said. "The door on the ground floor
will be open, they'll be bringing in the milk."
During free periods you could do homework or read a book of your choice, but you could not leave
the classroom. I let fall a remark about having to go to the toilet, just in case the
channel to the office was
open. And August had to come with me, since I had been ordered never to leave him behind
in the classroom.
Outside, I did not say where we were going, he would
have re fused. I just
twisted his arm up his back and frog-marched him along. He put up no resistance.
The door to the south staircase was open. We ascended to
the fifth floor
without meeting a soul.
The clinic was not locked, it could not be locked. I had
talked about this to Hessen—we talked openly about things like that, as part of my personal insight into
my illness. When the clinic was set up
she had expressly requested that the lock be removed, so that people would not feel cooped up. She had said that
this should be the one place in the school where you felt most free and
welcome.
I opened the door and went in. Katarina was sitting on a
chair over by the
window.
There was
woman by explaining that there was a time limit, that this was temporary, that it would come to an end. She had used time in order to cope with the pain of separation.
Around a child, people come and
go, objects appear and are taken away, surroundings take shape and disintegrate. And no ex planation is given, because how can you explain
the world to a child?
So she had used the words. Words call forth and secure
that which has gone
away. With her lists she had ensured that whatever she had once known would come
back.
She looked up at me. Her eyes were full of tears, but she
was not crying, it
was like she was coping with the sorrow.
Wordlessly her face told me that we belonged together. That we both knew something about
loss. Even she—who had so much more than I had ever had—even she already knew that this was a world where people and things were taken away from
you; where you are shifted from where you
want to be; where someone switches off
the light and you tumble into fear. There may be no harm in tended, but it is unavoidable.
I suppose that, up until that moment, I had not really
understood that she
was a person. I had thought of her, rather, as something especially precious that you
could protect in the way that you had never been protected.
Now I saw that in a way she was like me. Much more
pure and precious, but still, in a way, like
me.
Then the thought occurred that maybe I could be of benefit to her anyway, that I still might be
able to reach her.
I do not know how long we sat there. It came to the point where she slowly curled up and went to
sleep. I carried her to bed. I sat down and looked at her. I thought about what she had
said, and why.
She had said it to conquer her sorrow at the woman's
absence.
But she had said it to me.
I waited in the
grounds for several hours. It was very cold, even though I had the blanket. Flakkedam came before it was light, he let
himself out of the entrance and left it open, then he started on his tour of the rose bed. When he had gone I
slipped inside. August was fast asleep. The window had been left open.
The smell of gas was gone.
FIFTEEN
K atarina let three days go by after my visit. I knew she had not forgotten us or
given up. I did not see her when she came. Suddenly she was just there, behind me, in the playground.
"Don't look
around," she said.
I checked out the
teacher on duty anyway.
"They're
forgetting us," she said.
I had had the same thought. That was the way of the
rule. They had so many to keep an eye on. As
long as you kept a low profile, in time you would be forgotten. It was the best
thing that could happen.
"You two have third period
free," she said. "We can meet at the clinic."
The clinic was Hessen's clinic. Which was out of bounds and impossible
to get at.
"It's Wednesday," she said. "The door on the ground floor
will be open, they'll be bringing in the milk."
During free periods you could do homework or read a book of your choice, but you could not leave
the classroom. I let fall a remark about having to go to the toilet, just in case the
channel to the office was
open. And August had to come with me, since I had been ordered never to leave him behind
in the classroom.
Outside, I did not say where we were going, he would
have re fused. I just
twisted his arm up his back and frog-marched him along. He put up no resistance.
The door to the south staircase was open. We ascended to
the fifth floor
without meeting a soul.
The clinic was not locked, it could not be locked. I had
talked about this to Hessen—we talked openly about things like that, as part of my personal insight into
my illness. When the clinic was set up
she had expressly requested that the lock be removed, so that people would not feel cooped up. She had said that
this should be the one place in the school where you felt most free and
welcome.
I opened the door and went in. Katarina was sitting on a
chair over by the
window.
There was
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