Shame

endure.
    If there were always someone else to blame.

23
    T he clock radio woke her at seven thirty and she didn’t feel the least bit tired. Her whole system was revving up even before she opened her eyes. She had fallen asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow and then slept dreamlessly for three hours. That was enough. The sleeping pills had not failed her, they effectively blocked all entry and prevented him from getting in. Then she was spared the piercing emptiness in her chest when she awoke and he was gone again.
    She left the radio on while she got ready and ate breakfast. In passing she was informed about all the murders, rapes and executions that had occurred in the world in the past day, and the information settled into some remote convolution of her brain as she put her coffee cup in the dishwasher. Pernilla’s papers were already packed into her briefcase. She had decided to call the clinic and say she wouldn’t be in before lunch.

    She was out much too early. It turned out that the bank wouldn’t open for another thirty minutes. Now to her annoyance she suddenly had an extra half hour, and to stand and wait outside the door was not a viable alternative. She had to do something in the meantime. In future she would plan a little better. See to it that she didn’t have this sort of unwelcome surprise that upset her planning. She headed down the street and scanned some display windows without seeing anything that interested her. She passed the news-stand, 7-year-old boy in ritual murder and woman (93) raped by burglar, saw that Hemtex was having a sale on curtain material, but didn’t notice the car that honked angrily as she crossed the street right in front of it.

    She was the first customer in the bank this morning, and she nodded at a woman she recognised. The woman waved and Monika took a number for ‘other matters’. Her finger hadn’t even left the button before a beep told her it was her turn. She went up to the window indicated. The man on the other side was wearing a tie and dark suit and couldn’t be older than his twenties.
    She placed her driver’s licence on the counter.
    ‘I’d like to check the balance in my account.’
    The man took her driver’s licence and started typing on his computer.
    ‘Let’s see. Is it just a savings account or do you want to know about your interest-bearing cheque account?’
    ‘The savings account and my money market funds.’
    Money had never really interested her. Not since she began making so much that she never had to worry. She had a high salary and worked a good deal, and she had no major expenses. Four years ago she had allowed herself to buy an apartment in one of the city’s newly renovated historic buildings, and her mother had expressed her utter dismay. Monika had never told her what it cost, but her mother managed to figure it out from the local paper, an article in which the reporter was shocked at the scandalous property prices. And her mother had leisurely inspected the apartment and found more defects than a professional surveyor.
    ‘Let’s take a look. You have two hundred and eighty-seven thousand in your savings account, and then you have a money market fund that at today’s rates is worth ninety-eight thousand kronor.’
    Monika wrote down the figures. Investing money had never interested her, but at some point she had followed the bank’s advice and put a little of her money into various funds. But it actually made her rather uncomfortable. In a bank account she knew what the interest was and wouldn’t be hit by any unpleasant surprises. The yield from a mutual fund was more uncertain, and she didn’t like taking risks.
    ‘Okay, what about the Asia fund then?’
    He typed in some more numbers.
    ‘Sixty-eight thousand five hundred.’
    Monika shifted her feet.
    ‘I’d like to cash in all of them and withdraw what I have in the savings account.’
    He gave her a quick look before his hand went back to the keyboard.
    ‘Would you like a cashier’s cheque or would you like the money transferred to an account?’
    She thought it over. Once more she was surprised at her lack of planning. It wasn’t like her to ignore details. In future she should think things through a little better.
    ‘If you put the funds into my cheque account, can I make transfers by phone to someone else’s account later? I mean even a large amount?’
    He suddenly looked unsure. Hesitated a bit with his answer.
    ‘Yes, technically you can