Shame Read Free

liked my parents, you would. It’s a shame you never got a chance to meet them.’
    She hadn’t been able to go back there. Couldn’t face the shame of showing herself up there, not the way she looked, so the house would have to stay the way it was. There was probably no hope of getting much for it, way out there in the sticks. It must have been the Hedmans who forwarded the letter. They had stopped writing to ask whether she intended to sell the house or at least do something about the furniture, but she assumed that they still looked in at regular intervals. Maybe mostly for their own sake. It might not be very pleasant living next door to a dilapidated and deserted house. Or else they had cleared it out on their own initiative and had stopped communicating because they had a guilty conscience. You couldn’t trust anybody nowadays.
        
    She looked around for something to cut open the envelope with. She couldn’t possibly wedge her finger into that tiny gap. But the claw on her picker-upper worked just fine, as usual.
    The letter was hand-written on lined paper withholes down one side and looked like it came from a college notebook.
    Hi Majsan!
    Majsan? That was a bit familiar.
    She swallowed hard. Deep in the convolutions of her brain a tiny scrap of memory detached itself.
    She instantly felt a desire to stuff something in her mouth, the need to swallow something. She looked around but there was nothing within reach.
    She resisted the temptation to turn over the sheet of paper to see who had written it; or maybe it was just the opposite, maybe she really preferred not to know.
    So many years since she had last heard that nickname.
    Who had travelled down through the years, uninvited, and forced themselves in through her letterbox?
    I know you must be wondering why I’m writing to you after all these years. To be honest, I have to admit I was a little hesitant to sit down and write this letter, but now at least I’ve decided to do it. The explanation will probably sound even more peculiar to you, but I might as well tell you the truth. I had such a strange dream a few nights ago. It made a big impression, and it was about you, and when I woke up there was something inside me that told me to write this letter. I have learned (at long last and after hard lessons) to listen to strong impulses. Well, so much for that …
    I don’t know how much you know about me and how my life has turned out. But I can imagine that people talked about it a good deal back home, and I understand perfectly if you don’t want to have any contact with me. I’m not in touch with anyone in my family or anyone else from back home. As you can tell, I have plenty of time to think about things here, and I think a lot about when we were growing up and everything we took with us from those years, and how much it affected us later in life. That’s why I’m so curious to hear how you’re doing these days! I sincerely hope that everything worked out and you’re doing well. Since I don’t know where you are now or what your married name is (for the life of me I can’t remember Göran’s last name!) I’m going to send this letter to your childhood home. If it’s meant to reach you I’m sure it will. Otherwise it will just circulate around for a while and keep the post office busy which I’m sure would be a good thing since I hear they’re having hard times .
    In any case …
    I hope with all my heart that in spite of your difficult years growing up your life has turned out well. I never fully understood until I was grown up what an awful time you must have had. I wish you all the best!
    Drop me a line if you feel like it .
    Your old best friend, Vanja Tyrén
       
    She heaved herself up out of the chair. The sudden burst of anger gave her an extra push. What sort of nonsense was this?
    In spite of your difficult years growing up?
    She’d rarely seen the like of such impudence. Who did she think she was, really, assuming she had the