Chapter 13
The bass notes of the loud music coming from next door infuriate ?ke Carlsson, seated in his favorite armchair in the living room.
It is well after eleven, and he can barely hear the TV show he is watching. The kids have opened the windows on the side of the house facing his, and the pumping racket is driving him crazy.
They don’t seem to understand that some people actually live here all the time.
Not everyone in ?re wants to party.
“Aren’t you coming to bed? You got up so early.”
?ke turns his head and sees his wife, Karin, gazing at him with concern. He picked up Peter and the grandchildren from the airport this morning; they landed at nine fifteen, so he had to leave home at seven.
He glances crossly in the direction of the neighbors’ house.
“As if I’d be able to sleep with that racket going on.”
Karin waves a dismissive hand, but ?ke ignores her.
“They think they can behave however they like, with no regard for anyone else.”
“Are you maybe overreacting a little?”
“I saw them when they arrived. Spoiled brats from Stockholm who believe they can have whatever they want.”
“They’re students—they don’t realize how loud it sounds.”
“Are you trying to defend them?” ?ke glares at his wife.
“Calm down,” Karin says. “If Peter can sleep through it, I’m sure you can.”
They have been married for over thirty-five years, and she ought to know better than to correct him. The fact that Peter went to bed early is irrelevant, but there’s no point in saying so.
His wife pulls her robe more tightly around her body. “I’m only thinking of what’s best for you.”
?ke lets out a snort. “I’ve got a good mind to go over there and unplug their speakers. That might teach them to behave like decent folk!”
Karin rolls her eyes as she tucks a strand of gray hair behind her ear.
“Wouldn’t it be better if we just went to bed?” she ventures. “Your bedroom is on the other side of the house; I’m sure it won’t be as loud there.”
“You go up,” ?ke says. “I won’t be long.”