Unspoken

saw lights on in all the windows. A good sign; it meant that everyone was home. He was looking forward to a peaceful evening at home, but he found anything but an idyllic family scene when he opened the front door.
    “Like hell I will! I don’t give a shit about what she says!”
    Nils pounded up the stairs and slammed his door. Petra was sitting at the kitchen table. Lina was standing at the stove with her back turned, clattering the pots and pans. He could see from the way she stood that she was angry.
    “What’s going on?”
    Knutas asked the question even before he took off his coat.
    His wife turned around. Her throat was flushed, and her hair was sticking out in all directions.
    “Don’t talk to me. It’s been a hell of a day.”
    “So what have you two been up to?” asked Knutas, patting his daughter on the head. She instantly leapt up from her chair.
    “What have the two of us been up to?” she shot back at him. “You should be asking what he’s been up to. My so-called brother!”
    And then she also pounded up the stairs.
    “I had an awful day at work, and this is more than I can stand,” said Lina. “You’re going to have to deal with it.”
    “Did something bad happen?”
    “We’ll talk about it later.”
    He hung up his coat, took off his shoes, and then took the stairs in a couple of bounds. He summoned both children to the bedroom and sat down on the bed with them.
    “Okay, tell me what’s going on.”
    “Well, we were supposed to help set the table, but first we had to empty the dishwasher while Mamma cooked,” said Nils. “I took out the silverware basket and started emptying it. But then Petra came and said that she wanted to do it.”
    “That’s not what happened!”
    “Quiet! I’m talking right now. That is what happened. You yanked it out of my hands even though I had already started.”
    Petra began to cry.
    “Is that true?” asked Knutas patiently, turning to his daughter.
    “Yes, but he always gets to do the silverware basket, just because it’s easier. I thought it was my turn. I wanted to trade jobs, but he wouldn’t. Then Mamma got mad and said that we should stop fighting and then Nils said that I was stupid.”
    Nils’s face flushed with indignation.
    “Yes, but I’d already started! You can’t just come and yank it away from me! And then Mamma started yelling at me that it was all my fault!”
    Knutas turned to his daughter.
    “I agree that you can’t just come and take away the silverware basket if Nils has already started to empty it. At the same time, Nils, you need to take turns when you empty the dishwasher from now on. And keep in mind that your mother is tired, and it’s not much fun for her to listen to you fighting when she’s trying to cook. And don’t call your sister stupid, Nils.”
    “Okay, I’m sorry,” he said sullenly.
    Knutas put his arms around both children and gave them a hug. Petra relented, but Nils was still mad and pulled away.
    “Come on, it wasn’t that bad.”
    “Leave me alone,” snapped Nils, giving his father an angry glare.
    Knutas took Nils aside, and after some persuasion, his son reluctantly agreed to come downstairs for dinner.
    Lina looked tired and worn out.
    “So what happened?” asked Knutas when peace had once again settled over the household.
    “Oh, we had a problem at work. I’ll tell you later.”
    “But we want to hear about it, too,” objected Petra.
    “I don’t know. . . . It’s such an awful story,” cautioned Lina.
    “Please, Mamma. Tell us.”
    “Well, okay. A woman who was supposed to give birth to her first child came in this morning with labor pains. Everything looked fine, but when she started to push, we couldn’t get the baby out. Anita thought we should give the mother an epidural to ease the contractions, but I wanted to wait.”
    Tears welled up in her eyes as she talked. Knutas reached for her hand under the table.
    “Then the baby’s heartbeat suddenly got fainter, so we had to do an emergency cesarean. But it was too late. The baby died. I feel like it was my fault.”
    “Of course it wasn’t your fault. You did the best you could,” Knutas assured her.
    “Oh, that’s so sad. Poor Mamma,” said Petra, trying to console her.
    “I’m not the one you should feel sorry for. I’m going upstairs to lie down for a while.” Lina gave a big sigh and got up from the table.
    “Shall I come with you?” asked Knutas.
    “No, I’d rather be alone.”
    Usually