Unspoken

that,” she cried, sounding annoyed. “Don’t make me feel even more guilty than I already do!”
    “So that’s how it is. You just call me up and tell me it’s over, after you’ve said a hundred times that you love me, and that you’ve ‘never felt this way about anyone else,’ ” he said, doing a terrible impression of her by raising his voice to a falsetto.
    “Then in less than a minute you tell me that I have to understand, that I shouldn’t make things worse than they already are, and that I shouldn’t make you feel guilty. Thanks a fucking lot. How considerate of you. But you think you can just crush me underfoot like a cockroach. No problem at all. First you throw yourself into my arms and tell me that I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you—well, except for your kids that you’re always talking about—and then you think it’s perfectly all right to just call me up and say it’s over!”
    “It’s good that you brought up the part about my children,” she said, her voice icy cold. “That just confirms what I’ve suspected all along! You think it’s a nuisance that I have kids! Unfortunately, they’re part of the package, you know.”
    “Don’t go saying that Sara and Filip have been some sort of obstacle, damn it. As you know, I’ve been fully prepared to take care of both you and the children. I’ve been daydreaming about moving to Gotland and maybe getting a job at the radio station or at one of the newspapers. The children would live with us, and I’ve thought about what my relationship would be with them. I wouldn’t force things. I’d take it easy. I would just be there for them and do the best I could. That’s what I’ve been thinking. And that maybe they would eventually get to know me and want to be with me, that we would play soccer and build tree houses and things like that. I love you—don’t you understand that? Maybe you don’t realize what that means. It’s so damn easy for you to bring up the whole issue with the children. You’re using Sara and Filip as some kind of fucking shield so that you won’t have to change your life!”
    “Great,” she said sarcastically. “You said their names. I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you do that! So now you seem to think it’s time to show some interest in them. Well, it’s a little late for that.”
    Johan sighed in resignation.
    “Think whatever you like,” he said. “But I’m sure that’s exactly how things stand. You simply don’t dare break things off with Olle. You’re too scared. You should at least acknowledge this to yourself and stop putting the blame on anything else.”
    “You think you know everything,” she snapped, now sounding on the verge of tears. “Maybe a lot of things have been happening over here that you don’t know anything about. Everything is so easy for you, but life can be very complicated. I hope you’ll learn that someday. You don’t know shit about what I’ve been going through.”
    “Well, tell me! You’ve shut me out for weeks now. I’ve called and called, and the closest I can get to you is by talking to Viveka. How can I do anything if I don’t know what’s going on? Tell me what it is, and I’ll help you. I love you, Emma. Can’t you get that into your head?”
    “No, I can’t. I can’t tell you what it is,” she said in a stifled voice.
    “What do you mean? What can’t you tell me?”
    “Nothing, Johan. I have to go now. Merry Christmas, have a nice holiday, Happy New Year, and have a great life!”
    She hung up.
    Karin Jacobsson woke to find herself tied to a bed. A rope had been wound around her body, and she was completely immobilized, as if she were in a vise. Her arms and legs were numb, and her head hurt. She tried to get her bearings in the room as best she could from her immovable position. She was in a child’s bedroom that she recognized from her previous visit. On the table was an old-fashioned Parcheesi game with different-colored wooden cones as markers. There were chairs with homemade cushions covered with a tiny flower pattern and a Strindberg lamp. A polished hardwood floor, white cotton curtains at the window. How idyllic and homey it all was.
    The house was quiet. Who had hit her?
    What had happened to Knutas and Leif?
    She listened for any sounds but couldn’t hear a thing.
    How long had she been lying here? She had arrived at about eleven thirty. Through the window she saw that it was still overcast