Unspoken

they took the boat to Oskarshamn so they could drive around Skåne and stay in youth hostels. It poured the whole time, and her mother drank every single day. On the last evening they went to a Chinese restaurant, and her mother got to talking to a group of Danish tourists. They drank a lot and started making a ruckus. Her mother got so drunk that she fell off her chair and pulled the whole tablecloth down with her. Fanny wanted to sink right through the floor.
    She sat down at the kitchen table with her math books, wondering which restaurant they would go to. As long as it wasn’t too fancy. What was she going to wear? Now she really couldn’t concentrate on her math homework. Why had she said yes? Why was he inviting her out? Even though these thoughts were whirling around in her mind, she couldn’t help feeling flattered.
    Suddenly she heard keys rattling in the lock and then her mother’s voice in the entryway.
    “All right, Spot. Good dog. What dirty paws you have! Where’s the towel?”
    Fanny stayed where she was at the table without saying a word. She counted off the seconds: 1, 2, 3, 4 . . .
    Then it came. Four seconds this time.
    “Fanny. Fanny! ”
    Slowly she stood up.
    “What is it?” she called.
    “Could you come and help me, please? My back hurts. Could you rinse off Spot? He’s so filthy.”
    Fanny took the dog by the scruff of his neck and led him to the bathroom.
    Her mother kept on chattering. She was clearly having one of her “up” days.
    “We walked all the way out to Strandgärdet. I met a nice lady with a poodle. They just moved in. The dog’s name is Salomon—can you imagine that? Spot really liked him. We took off their leashes, and they both went into the water, even though it’s so cold. That’s why he’s so filthy, from rolling in the dirt afterward. God, I’m hungry. Did you go grocery shopping?”
    “No, Mamma. I just got home from school. We have a math test, and I need to study.”
    As usual, her mother wasn’t listening. Fanny heard her opening and closing cupboards in the kitchen.
    “Don’t we have anything in the freezer? Oh, look, this is great: fish casserole. I need to eat. How long does it have to be in the oven? Forty minutes. Good God, I’ll starve to death. Oh, I really have to pee. Oooh.”
    She came rushing into the bathroom and sat down to pee while Fanny resolutely rinsed off the dog’s dirty paws. Why did her mother always have to announce all her needs loud and clear so that everyone would know how she felt at every second? Her head was pounding with irritation.
    “Make sure you dry him off properly so he won’t catch cold,” said her mother as she wiped off her crotch.
    “Yes, Mamma.”
    How wonderful it would be if her mother showed the same concern for her daughter once in a while.
    When Fanny came out of the bathroom, her mother was lying on the sofa with her eyes closed.
    “Are you tired?”
    “Yes, I need to rest for a while before going to work. Could you put the casserole in the oven when it’s preheated?”
    “Okay.”
    She sat down in the kitchen. Her mother seemed to have fallen asleep. She acts like a big baby , thought Fanny as she set the table. It was four o’clock. She now had three hours left. Two to study, she hoped, and one to get ready.
    “What are you going to eat?” asked her mother when Fanny put the casserole on the table.
    “Nothing. I’m not hungry yet. I’ll fix something later.”
    “All right,” said her mother, who already seemed to be thinking about something else.
    Fanny was on the verge of telling her about the fun theater performance they had seen at school, but she could see that her mother wouldn’t be able to concentrate enough to listen. Just as well to keep quiet.
    His disappointment over the tape was still bothering Knutas as he drove the short distance home in the evening.
    He shivered in the ice-cold car. Lina was always complaining about the fact that he stubbornly insisted on keeping the old Benz, even though they could afford a new car. So far he had managed to fend off her ideas about buying a new one. It was too expensive and too much trouble to have two cars, and besides, there wasn’t room for more than one outside their house. And he would have a hard time giving up his Mercedes—there were too many memories and experiences attached to these comfortable old seats. It was as if he and the car felt a mutual affection for each other.
    When he parked outside their house, he