I don’t want any more tea. I don’t even want to be here. Mom doesn’t listen. She tucks me in and tells me to rest. Don’t fight it. You won’t get better faster by fighting it.
A few days ago, I felt more alert. Then I got worse. Today I feel better again, but my body is weak. I can sit up on the side of my bed for a minute or two, but no longer. It’s absurd.
I feel so alone. But I have friends waiting for me in Stockholm. People in my life who care about me. It makes me happy. I wonder what Mom has told Johanna. I asked her to call and tell her I’m here, that I’m sick. And Fredrik must be wondering why he hasn’t heard from me. My phone is gone, don’t know where I put it. I’m not strong enough to search for it, and Mom can’t find it anywhere. She’s turned the house upside down looking for it, and she says I’m careless. I’m sure I didn’t lose it. It’s too important. But I’m too tired to argue with her.
The flowery sofa next to my corner window. Dad bought it for me secondhand, even though Mom freaked out and thought it was ugly. I’ve sat there so many times, looking out and dreaming.
I crawl over the floor, drag myself onto the couch, panting from exertion. I want to enjoy the daylight before it disappears.
I see Gunilla on the other side of the hedge. I try to lift my hand and wave. Can’t. I look down toward the front side of the property. Remember how I used to play there when I was little. The mailbox. Just looking at it upsets me. I don’t know why, but memories and emotions from my childhood are coming back to me. Images float to the surface and then disappear again.
Is it because of therapy? Because of Stella? Maybe it’s these days in this horrible house. Or is it fever dreams?
Something has happened that makes me remember. But I’m not sure if I want to.
Stella
Milo has been in a hit-and-run accident.
He lost consciousness and has been taken by ambulance to Astrid Lindgren Children’s Hospital.
I tell Henrik and put my coat on again. I grab my purse and run out to my car. Henrik is right behind me. When we get to the emergency room, Milo has not yet woken up. The doctor there tells us Milo has an injury to his temple, probably the part of him that hit the sidewalk as he fell. He has scratches on his face and arms and legs. His left leg is broken in several places. That’s all they tell us. We sit in the waiting room. Henrik is pale, clenching his jaw. I’ve called my mom and his parents. I told them what’s happened and that we’re at the hospital, waiting for more information. Damage to the skull and brain swelling have to be ruled out.
I browse through the brochures. Stare out the window. Browse through brochures again. Walk down the corridor. Sit down. Flip through a newspaper. Have no idea what I read. Stand up, read the signs on the wall one at a time. The hospital needs more blood donors.
GIVE BLOOD.
LIFE: 1 DEATH: 0
An unpleasant slogan. I don’t want to think about death.
I do the same procedure, same round, same brochures, same newspaper, same window.
Henrik stays on the sofa, immobile. I sit down next to him and lean my head against his shoulder. I tell him everything will be fine, Milo will beat this. Henrik doesn’t answer, but takes my hand.
We have been here forever. Maybe longer. When we see the doctor walking down the corridor toward us, Henrik squeezes my hand so hard it hurts.
Milo has a concussion, but no life-threatening injuries. He’s awake, and we can see him now.
Milo is lying in a hospital bed in the middle of the room. He looks so small. Whatever skin isn’t black and blue on his face is pale and colorless. He has a bandage wrapped around his head, and his arms are covered with bruises. I can see that his left leg is swollen under the yellow hospital blanket.
“Mom,” he says in a weak voice. I stroke his cheek and kiss his forehead.
Henrik whispers that he loves him.
“Does it hurt?” I ask.
“Everywhere.”
I call for the nurse. She comes in and smiles widely, introduces herself as Ellen. She chats with Milo, explains what she’s doing, and gives him something for the pain.
His leg has to be operated on, but not tonight; Ellen tells us that Milo needs to sleep. It would be good if we got some rest, too. She leaves the room.
“How could a person hit a child and then just leave?” Henrik whispers. “It’s unthinkable. Milo could have died.”
I don’t have any answers.
Evening turns to night. Milo sleeps deeply. Henrik is leaning back in his armchair, his eyes closed.
“Are you asleep?” I wonder.
“No,” he says, stretching and looking at me. “Impossible to sleep.”
“Do you want to come with me for a bit? Maybe we can find some coffee somewhere.”
We run across a nurse in the hallway who shows us to a kitchen. I take two mugs, put one in under the coffee machine, and press the button. When it’s done gurgling, I hand it to Henrik, who’s sitting on a sofa against the wall. I grab the other mug and sit down next to him.
“I understand if you’re angry with me,” he says after a while.
“Why would I be angry?”
“Because I let Milo walk there by himself,” he answers. “Because he was hit by a car and injured. Because he was alone.”
“A few weeks ago, I would have let him walk there alone. He’s been doing that lately.”
“The last time I saw you, you felt like shit. What happened?” he asks.
I tuck my legs under me on the sofa, take a drink of my coffee, and consider how to answer.
“I don’t want to be afraid anymore,” I say.
“So now we just go on like usual? We just forget everything?”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“Good. Because you think I’m sleeping with Jennie.”
I look up at him, see the challenge in his eyes.
“I know you’re not,” I say. “I was wrong.”
“I thought you trusted me.”
“I do.” I take his hand. “I was doing so badly. I was terrified. I panicked.”
“Why do you always have to be so damn dramatic?”
“When you left me that afternoon, I hit bottom. I had an episode. Realized I would never know what happened to Alice. I’d acted terribly to Milo, and I was so scared that I’d pushed both of you away.”
Henrik rubs his eyes. “Why Jennie?”
“Because she texts you and calls you so often.”
“She works for me. As you may remember?”
“I didn’t know that. Maybe because she’s young and super hot? Because she’s into you.”
“Stop.”
“Maybe because you sent me a text that was meant for her?”
Henrik wrinkles his forehead, as if he has no memory of that. “Did I?”
“Maybe because I saw a picture of the two of you on Instagram that night?”
“What kind of picture?”
“You didn’t even want to sleep next to me.”
“I didn’t want to wake you up!”
We fall silent as two assistant nurses pass by and look in at us. After they pass, I shrug my shoulders.
“Doesn’t matter. I’m tired of being afraid. Everything has ended up so distorted.”
I put my mug on the table and scoot up next to him. He puts his arm around me, draws me closer.
“I’ve missed you,” he says. “What happens now?”
“With Isabelle, you mean?”
“Yes.”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“There’s nothing more I can do.”
I draw back so I can look at him, his arm still around my shoulders.
“She never wants to see me again.”
Milo is asleep when we return. His breathing is deep and regular. We stand in the darkness looking at him.
Stella
Milo’s voice wakes me up. I’ve been lying curled up on a cot in an uncomfortable position, and my lower back aches. I sit up and see Henrik sleeping in the armchair next to the hospital bed.
“Mom?” Milo’s voice is weak. “It hurts.”
I sit on the bedside next to him.
“I’m here.”
“I missed you, Mom.”
“I missed you, too, sweetie.”
I bend over him, kiss his forehead and breathe in his scent. “I’m so sorry for what I did. Can you forgive me?”
Milo hugs me, sniffles.
“Your hair is shorter,” he says, observing me.
“Maybe time you cut that mop, too?” I touch a strand of hair that is sticking out from beneath the bandage.
Henrik stretches and sits up. His chin and cheeks are covered with stubble, his eyes tired. I stroke his cheek, and he leans his head against my hand.
Soon a new nurse comes in and tells us Milo is going to have his operation this morning.
“Unfortunately, you won’t be able to eat any breakfast,” she says.
“It doesn’t matter,” Milo says. “I’m not hungry anyway.”
Henrik reminds Milo of the Super Hero game we used to play when he was little. What power would we choose if we were superheroes? What power is best when you have an operation? Not feeling any pain maybe. Super healing powers? The power to make time go by quickly?
“I’d wanna go back in time and skip all this,” Milo says. “Never get run over in the first place.”
Milo says it was raining so hard he barely saw anything. And it was dark. He heard a car behind him, and he turned around. It slowed down, then suddenly it accelerated. Drove straight into him.