One
It’s raining outside, storming. An ideal Monday. And I’m crying alone in the corner of my studio. There is no reason, no proper explanation for why I am so utterly down, sitting here on the floor of this almost-empty room for another day, or maybe two. Here I sit because I can’t do anything else.
On the windowsill, there is a flowerpot made of clear glass, filled with seawater and a half-dead white tulip. I paint the walls, the floor, and the ceiling with dark blue watercolor. During the day, I look out the window. From my brother’s old apartment, there’s a view of the sea. Nowadays, my brother lives in a small cabin by the water in Umeå. He said he’s searching for peace of mind there.
During the day, you can see the river from here, stretching almost as far as the eye can see. It flows into the sea. There are sharks in the sea. I’ve never seen them, except in pictures. Pictures are everywhere. I had them too, but after my ex-girlfriend turned five, she took them with her to Umeå. I haven’t seen her since. Ahead lies a world I have to figure out. I must understand everything – draw the outlines, accomplish something – to get somewhere. From here. I need to clear my head – get to clear waters. A time or space where there is no uncertainty, only flow that carries you along, a sense of life! A glimpse of the future. It has to happen now. If I don’t sleep at all, no tomorrow – no different tomorrow – can be taken away from me. If I lose it, after the night comes Monday again.
Two
I have this apartment at least until my brother returns from Umeå. I have a brother, a mother. My brother said he’s coming to visit in the next few days with his kids. He’s doing important work there in Umeå, tagging sharks with small plastic rings. Outside, you can see the river and somewhere far away, the sea, where there are hungry sharks. They are somewhat unfamiliar to me – that is, insignificant. I’ve never had to face them directly. In my mind, it feels like autumn, and outside, it’s snowing.
I watch TV, just like I did in my old home. A nature documentary. There are monkeys, and they are bouncing behind some bush. No, rather, the cameraman is behind the bush, and the monkeys are doing something on the savannah. As I watch them move back and forth in front of the camera, I find myself daydreaming. Annye was a beautiful English-African girl I fell in love with when I was an exchange student in Scotland – years and years ago. It could have been something, I think – and pop the bubble – I remember concluding even then that a distance of several hundred kilometers might pose some challenges to the relationship. Unless I had decided to take her with me as a stowaway on an oil ship, I should have dared more. But Annye could smile. She had warmth inside. Tomorrow I have to leave, I don’t want tomorrow.
I smile. I walk outside, the dark streets are empty. Somewhere, Turkish music is playing, belly dancing music. Someone sings along in Swedish and English. It’s already getting dark, and the asphalt glistens. It’s still raining, but it’s warm. On the street, there’s an old streetlamp, and Annye is painting it brown and green. The lamp post has small metal protrusions, apparently to help when changing the bulb. I grab the lowest one, climb towards the dim light, and before I realize it, all I see is brightness…
Three
I wake up. I sit in the corner of the room, for another day or two. It’s raining outside, I just am. Depressed, maybe… I don’t know… And I’m not. Lightning strikes. I don’t recognize the words that force their way inside me as I look at the deep blue river. It feels good. Blue – and yellow. “Not like the Swedish flag, but like the starry sky – the space between the moon and the stars, the deep blue sea of the soul.” – My father used to say that (back when my mother was still well), he was into astronomy, always saying things like that when we sat in his studio with mugs of hot chocolate. He wasn’t really an astronomer, more of a poet. Those were good times.
I look at all this around me, and lo… I laugh at what I feel. I am part of something I understand, part of something that could never understand me, but of which I know almost everything. This world could not matter less. Time doesn’t exist after all.
Three
– Mom, can’t I come with you to work?
– No, we’re going to daycare nicely now, mommy is in a hurry.
– But I don’t want to go to daycare – Hey mom, look! Is that an angel?
– What? Ugh, where do you come up with these things? – No whining now, mommy is already in a hurry. But what on earth…? No – now we’re leaving, give mommy your hand right now.
– Hey mom, don’t pull! There’s no need to be afraid of angels! Just look how beautiful it is!
– Don’t do this to mommy! EERO, hey don’t start playing! I’ll be late for work! Good heavens! Eero! EERO, where are you?!
– Mom! Don’t leave me! Mom-iii-i….
– Mommy’s here, stay where you are, mommy’s coming to help! (God, what was the number for the police…)
– Mom, we don’t need the police here.
– And who are you? Good heavens, where have you taken my son??
– I’m right here, mom. Can’t you recognize me? Let’s go home now, so you can rest a little.
– I’m not your mother! Where is my son? My God! I’m calling the police right now! Where is my phone?!
– Mom, you haven’t had a phone for two years. The doctor said your values have dropped enough now that we can go home – so you can finally see Pekka and Matti-Ilkka after all this time.
– But my phone… Oh, who are they? Wait, I need to go to work too and…
– Oh, for heaven’s sake, don’t you get it… no, forgive me, mom. I just can’t handle this sometimes. Pekka and Matti-Ilkka are your grandsons, and I’m your son, Eero, do you remember? You don’t need to go to work, you haven’t needed to in two years! Just come along.
Typed and finalized March 26. 2000