The Fire Witness

50

Elin usually runs eleven kilometers a day in the workout wing of her apartment. Some days she watches the television suspended from the ceiling; other days she listens to music. But today she just runs and looks out over the rooftaps, toward St. Olaf’s steeple. All she can hear is the thump of her shoes, the humming motor of the treadmill, and her own breathing. After an hour her running shorts and sports bra are soaked in sweat.

She remembers when Vicky Bennet came to her house. Nine years ago. A little girl with messy blond hair.

As a teenager, during a trip to France to learn the language, Elin had contracted chlamydia. She didn’t take it seriously, and by the time she saw a doctor, the bacteria had made her sterile. She didn’t worry about it much back then; she didn’t think she’d ever want to have children. And for years, she thought it was great that she never had to worry about birth control.

But she and Jack had been married barely two years when he started to talk about adoption. Every time he brought up the subject, she said that she didn’t want kids. They were too much of a responsibility.

Jack was in love with her in those days, and he pushed. So Elin said they’d volunteer to help children temporarily, children who were having difficulty at home and needed to get away for a while.

Elin had called Stockholm’s social services in the Norrmalm district, and less than six weeks later, after two lengthy interviews, a social worker rang to say that she had a child who needed a great deal of security and peace for a while.

“She’s only six years old. I think it might work out. Well, you’ll have to try it out. As soon as she is settled with you, we can arrange psychotherapy for her,” the woman said.

“What has happened to her?”

“Her mother is homeless and mentally ill. The authorities stepped in when they found the girl asleep on a subway car.”

“How is the girl? Is she well?”

“She was dehydrated but otherwise fine. The doctor said she’s healthy. I’ve tried to talk to the girl myself, but she’s extremely withdrawn. She appears nice, though.”

“What’s her name? Do you know?”

“Yes, Vicky. Vicky Bennet.”

Elin Frank quickens her pace. The treadmill hums, her breathing grows more labored.

Afterward, she stretches at the ballet barre in front of the large mirror. She avoids looking at her own eyes. Her legs feel heavy. Finally she kicks off her shoes and heads for the shower. She lets the stream of warm water pummel her back until her muscles begin to relax, but then her anxiety returns. It’s as if hysteria has crept beneath her skin. She wants to scream or sob and never stop. Instead she turns the water to cold and forces herself to stand beneath the flow until her temples throb from the chill. Then she turns off the water.