The Sandman

60

Saga takes the underground to Slussen, then walks the short distance to Stefan’s studio on Sankt Paulsgatan. At Södermalmstorg she buys a bunch of red roses, wondering if Stefan might have bought roses for her.

She feels relieved to have declined the difficult task of infiltrating Jurek Walter and the secure psychiatric unit.

She strides up the steps and unlocks the door, she can hear the sound of the piano and smiles to herself. She goes in, sees Stefan sitting at the piano and stops. His blue shirt is unbuttoned. He has a bottle of beer beside him and the room smells of cigarette smoke.

‘Darling,’ she says after a brief pause. ‘I’m sorry... I need you to know how sorry I am about what happened yesterday...’

He goes on playing, softly, radiantly.

‘Forgive me,’ she says seriously.

Stefan’s face is turned away, but she has no trouble hearing what he says:

‘I don’t want to talk to you right now.’

Saga holds out the bouquet towards him and tries to smile.

‘Sorry,’ she repeats. ‘I know I’m difficult, but I—’

‘I’m playing,’ he interrupts.

‘But we need to talk about what happened.’

‘Just go,’ he says loudly.

‘I’m sorry I—’

‘And close the fucking door behind you.’

He stands up and points towards the hall. Saga drops the flowers on the floor, goes up to him and pushes him in the chest, so hard that he has to take a step back, knocks over the piano stool and pulls his score down. She follows him, ready to hit him again if he hits back, but Stefan just stands there with his hands by his side, looking her straight in the eye.

‘This isn’t working,’ he says simply.

‘I’m a bit off balance right now, that’s all’ she says.

He picks the piano stool up and gathers his music together. Fear rises within her and she takes a step back.

‘I don’t want you to be upset,’ he says with an emptiness in his voice that transforms her fear into panic.

‘What is it?’ she asks, suddenly feeling sick.

‘This isn’t working, we can’t be together, we...’

He falls silent and she tries to smile, tries to function, but her forehead has broken out in a cold sweat and she feels giddy.

‘Because I was difficult last night?’ she manages to say.

Stefan glances up at her unwillingly.

‘You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, the most beautiful woman in the world... and you’re smart and funny and I ought to be the happiest man alive... I’m probably going to regret this for the rest of my life, but I think we should break up.’

‘I still don’t understand,’ she whispers. ‘Because I got angry... because I disturbed you when you were playing?’

‘No, it’s...’

He sits down again and shakes his head.

‘I can change,’ she says, and looks at him for a moment before going on. ‘But it’s already too late, isn’t it?’

When he nods she turns and leaves the room. She goes out into the hall, picks up the old stool from Dalarna and throws it at the mirror. The splinters fall to the floor, shattering again as they hit the hard tiles. She shoves the front door open and runs down the stairs, straight out into the radiant blue winter light.