Shame

she stood. The instant her head hit the pillow she was sleeping soundly, convinced that she had finally regained control.

30
    M aj-Britt was sitting in her easy chair in the twilight. The shadows grew darker in the flat and finally merged with their surroundings.
    Six months.
    At first she felt almost nothing. Six months was only a concept of time. Twelve months was a year and six months was half, there was nothing particularly remarkable about that. She counted on her fingers. October the twelfth. October the twelfth plus six months. That would be April. An autumn, a winter, but hardly any spring.
    October the twelfth.
    It had been October the twelfth many times before in her life, even though she couldn’t remember in detail what she had done on all those days. They had probably passed quite unnoticed like most of the rest. But this October the twelfth would be very special. It would be the very last one.
    She had sat there in the easy chair for a good four hours, which meant that the last October the twelfth of her life was already four hours shorter.

    It wasn’t leaving life that scared her. So much time and so many years had gone by without her having any use for them. It had been a long time since life had offered her anything that she was especially interested in.
    But to die.
    To be eradicated without leaving a single trace behind, not even the tiniest impression. As long as she had taken the future for granted, the possibility had always been there, it had been so easy to postpone. But starting now her time was limited; it was counting down and each minute was suddenly a perceptible loss. It was absolutely inconceivable that this was the same ‘time’ that for years had pushed its way forward in such abundance that she had no idea what to do with it. Pushed forward and past, becoming drowned in meaninglessness. She would vanish without leaving a single tiny trace.
    Her hands gripped the arm-rests harder.
    Whether she gave her permission or not, she would be forced to surrender herself to the great Beyond, to eternity, and no one knew what awaited anyone there.
    Imagine if they had been right. If what they had tried to imprint on her with such zeal was true. What if it was there the great Judgement awaited? If it was true, she knew all too well that her reception would not be a merciful one. It took no deep self-examination to realise which of the scales would weigh more. Maybe He would be standing there on the other side waiting, pleased and satisfied finally to have her under His power. Now that her right to choose had been used up and she unquestionably deserved a sort of retribution.

    There was no reason to live, but did she dare to die? How could she dare surrender to eternity when she didn’t know what it involved?
    The ultimate loneliness.
    For eternity.
    When so much was left undone.

    The darkness in the flat took over and her unease grew stronger. With each moment that passed it became more and more obvious. In some way she would have to balance out the scales.
    She saw the woman before her, the one who had stood there in her room a few hours ago and pronounced her death sentence, glancing furtively at her thin wrist with its expensive watch, and then with a frightened look hurrying off. Outwardly so irreproachable but so conscious of her guilt. When the next October the twelfth came she wouldn’t remember either Maj-Britt or this day. It would all have been lost somewhere in the jumble of other dying patients and days that were no different from any other. In peace and quiet she would be able to continue her life down here on earth, with all the time in the world to absolve her guilt.
    Maj-Britt would not be able to do that.
    Starting now, each second that passed uselessly was a lost opportunity.
    She got up. Saba stood waiting inside the balcony door, and she went over and opened it. There was a light in the window across the way where the man had lived, the one who now possessed the answer which all people down through the ages had sought.
    And she thought about Monika again. The guilt she bore.
    Two lives, each with too much weight on one side of the scales.
    It had suddenly become harder to breathe, and she realised to her horror how afraid she was. She was used to solitude, but to go alone to meet what awaited her …
    Our Father Who art in heaven …
    She turned round and looked towards the wardrobe. She knew that it lay hidden on the top shelf, untouched all these years, with the