Some Kind of Peace by Camilla Grebe & Åsa Träff

Author:Camilla Grebe & Åsa Träff
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Free Press

Sometimes I think about my last days with Stefan. The spring of 2005 was difficult. A splinter of uncertainty had wedged its way into our relationship, an insight that chafed at me. The unpredictability of life? Maybe that was the problem. My body had regained its normal boyish shape. The slight swelling of my belly, so well concealed to everyone except Stefan and me, was gone. I was empty again.

We had moved into the cottage on Värmdö. Maybe that could be our project now. A substitute for the child that never came. In the beginning everything was fine. We worked on the renovation together from morning to evening. We could be silent for days on end, lost in deep concentration, and forget mealtimes as we worked, two sweaty bodies, side by side. There were only brief exchanges:

“Do you have the level?”

Then silence.

Then Stefan started to become increasingly passive. I think he took the loss of the child harder than I did. He withdrew from me and others more and more. His daily runs got longer and longer.

“It can’t be good for your body to run five miles every day,” I said to him, but he didn’t answer.

He withdrew into himself and would not let me or anyone else in. At work, he seemed to function well, but more and more often he came home exhausted and went straight from the door to bed, where he then lay awake with eyes shut tight until I came to lie down beside him. I crept up behind him, closer, always closer, and fell asleep tormented by the feeling I had deserted him, because I knew he couldn’t sleep.

Morning. Stefan continued to lie quietly with his eyes shut tight, but I knew he was awake. My hand sought his—he pulled back. My cheek searched for the soft support that was his shoulder—no comfort.

“Stefan, how are you, really?”

“Fine.”

“Really…?”

“It’s okay. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I know it’s not okay. You’re not sleeping like you should, you’re losing weight, and you’ve gotten… completely… so damn… passive. You sit on that couch for days on end. It’s like living with a dead person.”

Looking down at our newly sanded floor, Stefan only shrugged. I saw no sign of emotion in his face that could have given me some clue as to what he felt or thought. His gaze was expressionless and directed at the wall behind me.

“I think you’re depressed. I mean, it’s not so strange, is it, after what we’ve been through? I see that kind of thing every day, and you must, too, in your job? I really think you have to do something about this, for your sake and for mine, but… mostly for our sake. It doesn’t feel as though we can… talk to each other anymore. I could give you the name of a good therapist, or you can talk to a colleague about getting some antidepressants prescribed. I don’t know—”

“Shut up!”

Stefan interrupted me with a shout. He suddenly jumped out of bed and I could see spit spraying from his mouth as he continued.

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