Read Online Shadow by Karin Alvtegen - Free Book Online Page B

moment her eyes were on his, and he shrank from the sudden contact.
    ‘What do you mean, you don’t understand? What is it you don’t understand?’ She quickly wiped her cheeks and rubbed her hand under her nose, almost urgently, as if she had just tossed a hand grenade and knew that the time she had left was limited. And yet he could see that she hesitated. That she wanted to say more but something was holding her back.
    ‘I can’t go on like this any more.’
    He swallowed. The spilled coffee was soaking into the newspaper and turning the news brown. He wanted to fetch a cloth but didn’t dare move.
    ‘We never do anything together, we don’t even talk to each other. It’s as if Ellen and I were living here alone. You’re never home. And when you are, then… We…’
    She broke off. Looked down at the table and held her hands up to hide her face. She got up and went to get the kitchen roll. She blew her nose and ran a finger under her eyes. She had always been particular about her appearance,but right now she was dissolved, exposed, and he saw that she was suffering.
    He was used to her anger; the sudden outbursts of wrath that justified him in keeping his distance and holding his armour intact. Now she had stepped straight through it. She had stopped fighting and acknowledged her weakness, begging for comfort and understanding.
    He preferred her anger.
    She came back to the table. Her tears had stopped flowing but her face was swollen. White streaks ran down her cheeks and mascara had smeared under her eyes.
    ‘We never touch each other.’
    Her voice was shy and he saw that she was blushing. Her throat was flecked with crimson and she lowered her eyes, fiddling with a well-manicured fingernail at the wet heap of crumbs that he cursed himself for ever noticing. He could feel his heart pounding. Everything he had avoided talking about for years suddenly took shape as a terrible bonfire between them. In his confusion he raised his arm and glanced at his wristwatch, and although her eyes were focused on the tabletop she noticed the gesture.
    ‘Are you in a hurry or something?’
    ‘No, no, not at all.’
    He picked up his coffee cup and noticed his hand was trembling.
    Across the table, she took a deep breath as if to take a running start.
    ‘I’m prepared to fight for Ellen’s sake, but I haven’t the strength to do it alone.’
    A few seconds passed in silence. The revulsion he felt was so intense it made him feel sick.
    ‘I have a suggestion,’ she said.
    Now came the fear. To be forced into the bedroom and be expected to have sex with her.
    ‘I want you to start going to therapy.’
    ‘What?’
    The phrase came so unexpectedly that his fear temporarily vanished.
    ‘Therapy? What sort of therapy? Why should I do that?’
    She didn’t reply. Just looked at him for a moment too long, then released him and went back to her pile of crumbs.
    ‘I’ve been going for six months, and it’s helped me. Maybe it would be good for you too.’
    The astonishment he felt was genuine.
    ‘You’ve been going to therapy?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
    ‘I didn’t think you’d be interested. We don’t usually tell each other things in this family. We’re seldom even in the same room, and you never answer your phone.’
    The caustic dig moved them quickly to familiar ground, where he at once found his footing. These endless reproaches. He worked his arse off to make ends meet, and yet she was never satisfied. Their spacious five-room flat, for which the seller had accepted a considerably lower price because their name was Ragnerfeldt. She seemed to have forgotten the difference between rights and privileges. He had pulled off the trick of putting food on the table by spreading memorable words through his lectures and starting up organisations to improve the world. He was useful. Both to the world and to his family. It was thanks to him that Axel Ragnerfeldt’s unique prose was now associated