She could see that he hesitated, taking an unwashed coffee cup from the counter and putting it in the dishwasher. Then he came back and sat down at the table.
Husband and wife, face to face across their familiar kitchen table.
A sudden calm.
It was now that they should talk. A businesslike pause in the hurricane that permitted them to approach each other, as if they were going to talk about some other couple. All the questions would finally be answered, all the lies admitted. Reality would be unveiled and the truth would stand there raw and naked. What would happen afterwards was like an unspoken agreement and unimportant right now.
As long as the truth was finally told.
‘Her name is Maria.’
Maria.
‘And where did you meet her?’
‘She’s a graphic designer at Widman’s.’
‘How long have you known her?’
He shrugged.
‘Maybe six months.’
‘Why haven’t you told me about her?’
No reply.
‘Why did you call her last night?’
‘How do you know I did?’
‘Does that really matter? You did call, didn’t you?’
‘Yes. I rang her up last night. She’s . . .’
He broke off and shifted position on the chair, looking as if he would like nothing better than to get up and leave.
‘I don’t know. She’s nice to talk to.’
‘About what?’
‘Everything.’
‘About us?’
‘Yes, that has probably come up.’
She felt sick again.
‘So what did you say?’
‘Well, I suppose I’ve told her the truth.’
‘Which is?’
He took a deep breath, revealing his reluctance.
‘I’ve said that we, well, that I, what the hell, she’s nice to talk to, that’s all. She’s a fun girl.’
A fun girl.
We don’t have fun any more.
Maria.
Her husband had called Maria from Widman’s last night at one thirty in the morning. He had called and talked with Maria while she lay alone in the bedroom with her hopeless questions and her lacy underwear.
Bloody hell.
What had he said? Had he told her about the champagne she had bought and about the trip? The mere thought made her want to throw up. Somewhere there was a woman who knew more about their relationship than she did herself, who possessed information about her life that even she couldn’t find out. She felt betrayed, abandoned. At a disadvantage to a woman she had never even seen.
Reality was encroaching. The pause was over.
‘And how do you think that makes me feel? That you sit there telling her everything about me and our relationship?’
He glanced longingly at the door to his office, but she had no intention of letting him off the hook.
‘Don’t you understand what it feels like? If you think we have problems then I’m the one you ought to talk to, not her.’
A brief silence. Then the indifference in his gaze again.
‘I have the right to talk to whoever I want, you have nothing to do with it.’
There was a stranger sitting across the table.
Maybe he had always been one. Maybe she had never really known him. She had merely lived in the same house with him for fifteen years but never knew who he actually was. She simply didn’t understand his rage. Why couldn’t he at least understand how bad he was making her feel? Or if he did, why didn’t it matter to him? Why did he keep striking when she was already vanquished?
He got up, and now there was something new in his eyes. Maybe it was utter disgust that she saw.
‘You’re just jealous that I’m having fun.’
‘Oh, is that what you think? Do you sleep with each other too?’
She had to know.
This time he snorted.
‘No, what the hell do you think? Just because we like talking to each other and having fun. You can save your fucking fantasies for your fucking business strategies.’
He went to his office and slammed the door.
Two years ago they had replaced the glass in that door, working on it together.
Maria at Widman’s. She’s a really fun girl.
She saw that the geranium in the kitchen window needed watering, and she got up to fetch the watering can. And then she mustn’t forget to pay that bill for Axel’s swimming lessons.
She stood there holding the watering can and staring out the window. A van was parked in the neighbour’s driveway, and two men were busy unloading a large assortment of well-packaged appliances. Boom or bust. How different things could be just a few metres away.
She took her handbag and went downstairs to the front door.
‘I’m looking for Maria.’
She was standing outside amongst the trees in the park. Ringing from inside the house had felt impossible. The mere thought of standing amongst their things and hearing this woman’s voice at the same time was inconceivable. She didn’t really know why, but for some reason she felt a tremendous urge to hear her voice. This Maria at Widman’s who knew things about her that she didn’t even know. What had Henrik said? What had he told her? Somehow she had to regain her equilibrium, create her own advantage.
‘You’re looking for a Maria?’
‘Yes, Maria.’
If you have several, then pick the one who’s the most fun and who likes to stick her nose into things that are none of her business.
‘You must have the wrong number.’
‘Isn’t this Widman’s Graphics?’
‘Yes it is, but there’s no Maria here.’
She hung up and stood there. The adrenaline was pumping through her body but had no means of release. What, there was no Maria?
In her confusion she went round the corner of the house and saw the van pull out from the neighbour’s driveway. She went in the front door and continued into the bathroom, letting her clothes drop to the floor.
Why was he lying to her? Why did he say that he was talking to Maria at Widman’s when she didn’t exist? She couldn’t really ask him, didn’t want to admit she was snooping, for goodness’ sake. She had no intention of giving him the satisfaction of knowing that she had stooped to something like that.
She found them behind the shower gel Axel had given her for her birthday. Mostly she was surprised at his carelessness. Or had they been left there intentionally, as an open declaration of war? Perhaps someone who was so much fun and so good to talk to wanted to consolidate her new territory, make a show of strength as she took over.
He was lying to her.
That pig was lying to her, and the contempt for his cowardice aroused a new impulse inside her. A feeling she had never experienced before.
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