Hell Fire

28 March 2005

Bonnie always felt sad in March.

She had often wondered why, but in March it was as if she was in no man’s land: it was no longer winter but not yet spring or summer. The weather was unpredictable and the light was gray with rotten snow. Roadsides were dirty, as forgotten garbage from the previous autumn emerged once again. One day it was freezing and there were snowstorms, the next the sun shone generously and all the snow melted again. It was hard to know what Simon should wear; he had to take his winter clothes and rain gear, waterproof boots, and a hat and mittens. There was a spare set of clothes in his bag, and some more on his peg under the snail.

One morning in late March, she stood outside Erna’s door and rang the bell. Even though Erna was always up and often unlocked the door before Bonnie arrived, she still gave three short rings to announce her arrival, to say it’s me, Bonnie. But that morning, the door was locked. She realized that Erna hadn’t been sitting in the window watching out for her. She stood on the step for a while, baffled and worried. She might have fallen and broken her hip, or worse. Or perhaps one of the children had been to collect her and had forgotten to notify Ragnhild in the office. Bonnie put her ear to the door and listened in case the old woman was lying on the floor, calling out, but there wasn’t a sound to be heard in the house. Maybe she had overslept and was sleeping so heavily that she hadn’t heard the doorbell. Bonnie gave three more short rings and stood there waiting. Then she did what they agreed upon, an agreement she had with practically all her clients. Erna had a spare key, so Bonnie went around to the back of the house and found it under the flowerpot where it was always kept.

She let herself into the hall. She stood there and listened. Erna was not in the living room nor was she to be seen in the kitchen, although the light was on. Bonnie’s heart started to thump and she called her name — quietly and carefully at first, then louder. She was most scared to go into the bedroom, but when she did it was clear that Erna was already up. Or had she not gone to bed the night before, could that be it? She might have fallen down the steep stairs into the basement, tumbling down onto the cement floor with her fragile bones. No, that didn’t seem right. So she turned to the only other place: the bathroom. The door was ajar. At first all she saw was the white tiles, the ones that Erna insisted she scrub with a toothbrush, so that she could clean the discolored gray grout as well. Erna was lying on the floor beside the bathtub. She was wearing an old lacy yellow top, but her thin body was naked from the waist down. The strip light on the ceiling was flickering and it made Bonnie feel dizzy. Was she about to faint? Erna’s feet were big and swollen. Bonnie noticed a web of blue veins on the inside of Erna’s thigh. She was lying on her stomach with her arms out, and a large gash was visible on her forehead. A small amount of blood had pooled on the white tiles.

Bonnie leaned against the door frame for support. She saw that there was water in the bathtub and realized that Erna must have fallen and hit her head on the edge of the bathtub.

She got down on her knees to feel for a pulse, but there was nothing beating under the thin skin. So she went into the living room and took the crocheted blanket from the sofa, went back to the bathroom, and put the blanket over the dead body. She had never seen Erna naked, so pitiful and exposed. All her energy gone. I’m going to die one day too, Bonnie thought. Someone will come into the room and find me when it’s all over. I hope to God I’m never found in this state.

In the evening, she had to explain to Simon why she had come to collect him so soon after she had dropped him off. She wanted him to know the truth about life and death. But she was careful all the same.

“You know that she’s going to be buried in the ground, don’t you?”

Yes, Simon knew that because they’d talked about death at daycare. Kaja had tried to explain that dead people weren’t there anymore. They weren’t sleeping, they weren’t dreaming, they couldn’t see, they didn’t breathe, and they would never wake up again. She said that death was another country and that anyone who was alive could only imagine it.

“The coffin is very beautiful,” Bonnie explained. “It’s got silk and velvet inside, and the person is all dressed up for their final journey.”

“Where are they going?” Simon asked.

“To eternity,” Bonnie replied.

“Where’s that?”

“We don’t know. But I think it’s very beautiful there. I think it’s a bit like a big garden full of flowers. And you get to meet all the other people who are dead.”

“But how do they know how to get there?”

“Oh, they just know,” Bonnie said. “But when we’re alive, we don’t know. It’s like a special surprise for all of us, don’t you think?”

Simon was happy with that. But after he had gone to bed that evening, Bonnie sat up thinking about her own death, which of course she knew nothing about.