Shame

can still picture your mother’s legs when she came into the room, and her hand when she picked them up. And I especially remember how upset we were afterwards when she just put the magazines back where we found them . Now that I’m an adult I think it says a great deal about how strong our desires actually are, when not even your father with his strong faith had the power to resist them .
    Today the times seem to be quite different, at any rate that’s the impression I’ve got from TV and magazines. Now sexuality has to be so awfully ‘accepted’ that it seems to have been transformed into a commercial leisure activity which requires both a manual and assorted equipment. But from this distance it seems mostly to be a matter of realising yourself and developing your ability to have stronger orgasms, and the fact that there should be a little love thrown in doesn’t seem to be that important. It all seems a bit sad. But what do I know, here in my prison celibacy?

    My, how long this letter has gone on, but I’m so glad that we have made contact again. I knew that it was fate that my letter would reach you!
    Now it’s time for lights out, and tomorrow I have an exam. I’ve been given the perk of ‘studying long distance’ (a strange expression, but in my case you couldn’t think up a more fitting description). I’ve finished 15 modules in theoretical philosophy and have just begun my second year in the history of religion. If only I pass the test tomorrow!

    Give my warmest greetings to the rest of the family!

    All best wishes, Your friend Vanja
    Maj-Britt slowly lowered the letter and felt for the first time in more than thirty years a need to pray to God. What Vanja had written was disgusting. May the Lord forgive her for the words she had just been tricked into reading.

9
    T he individual presentations had continued, taking up most of Thursday afternoon. Mattias had set the bar, and the rest of the participants had risen to the challenge. None of them wanted to be relegated to mediocrity by telling a boring story; they hadn’t ended up in positions of authority for nothing. One fascinating account after another passed for review. Monika could only listen half-heartedly. It wasn’t until she finally concluded her account and everyone’s attention shifted to the person who was next that she realised fully how much energy it had taken. Any energy she had left was devoted to keeping herself upright in her chair. So much time had passed since she had confronted that memory; on the occasions when she had been forced to do so, she had merely passed over it quickly and left all the details in merciful shadow.
    Unfamiliar voices followed, one after the other, separated only by the sound of applause. She participated in that as well, clapping her hands when necessary to avoid drawing attention to herself. And the whole time she was aware that he was sitting there. Right next to her sat someone who had the personality she so evidently lacked.
    Someone who always made the right choice. Someone who had that trait so deeply engrained in his character that doubt never arose, not even in the presence of death when terror blinded reason.

    She had turned her head to look at him once, wanting to know whether it was also visible in his face. Wanting to see how a person looked who was everything she had always dreamed of being, the person she could never be because what she had failed to do could never be made right. Her brother was dead forever, and she would always be the one who hadn’t turned off the sauna and hadn’t taken those two extra steps.
    That night had revealed the deficiency in her character, and since then not a day had passed that she didn’t feel it grating inside her. Her choice of profession, all her prestigious belongings, her way of driving herself relentlessly to obtain better results; all were a way of trying to compensate for the defect she carried inside her. To justify the fact that she was alive while he was dead. Through her struggle she had achieved much, but there was one fact she could never change: knowing that in the depths of her soul she was an egotistical and cowardly person. It was something you either were or you weren’t. And after it was proven that that’s what she was, she didn’t deserve love either.
    Even though she was still alive.

    After the meeting she went to her room. The others had moved on to the bar, but she couldn’t face it. Couldn’t face the