Chapter 36
Christmas in Skavboke was usually a very special time for Sander.
The comforting peace of the holiday arrived gently, tenderly, like a wave of calm over the countryside on the afternoon of December twenty-third.
Cars returned home and fell silent; the last school day of the year was over, and everything lit up.
It brought a remarkable sense of belonging, to know that everyone else in the village, and maybe the whole country, was doing exactly the same thing and feeling the same way as he did.
But something happened when they lost Mikael. Death extended its rays like a dark sun and Sander had started to think strange thoughts.
Almost nothing was more important than words, in his view; words not only described the world but shaped it, created it, and therefore they could also change it.
But words weren’t enough. He was beginning to understand that now.
The word fear must have been invented by someone who didn’t know what it was to be afraid; rage by someone who had never been angry.
It’s the same with the word love. It’s just something you can use to fill an empty space in your mouth, a silent maw that needs to be plugged.
Sander, as it would turn out, was not the only one who felt this way; it was as if the whole village had begun to lose faith.
He wondered what caused all of this, why it happened at all and why it was happening to him in particular, at this particular moment in time, but he couldn’t come up with any explanation.
Maybe that was why he finally said it out loud, at the dinner table:
“I’m going to apply to Stockholm University for this fall. My grades are good enough.”
They were shocked into silence, both his dad and mom.
But he didn’t wait for them to catch up.
Instead he told them about the department head from Juridicum, Magnus Ardelius, and as he spoke it felt more and more unnatural, almost cruel.
Mean. As though his longing to get away was a violation of an agreement he hadn’t previously been aware of, but which was now becoming painfully clear.
“I think that’s wonderful,” his father said at last, his voice subdued. “That’s great news, in the midst of all this awful stuff. Isn’t it, Eva?”
Sander’s mom was staring vacantly at nothing. She had put down her silverware. “What do you want us to say? Thanks for telling us?”
“You don’t have to say anything.”
“This is all great to hear, Sander.” His dad smiled, but only his lips moved. The rest of his face was stiff and firm. “I’m sure we’re just a little surprised, is all.”
“You don’t have to help me,” Sander said.
“But we want to, of course. When will you leave, if you get in?”
“I don’t know, exactly, yet. In August, I assume, but I suppose it depends on housing and stuff. We don’t know anyone in Stockholm, do we?”
“We hardly know anyone outside Skavboke,” his mom said helplessly, and the words landed nowhere, not with anyone.
—
Afterward, he tried to assess how it had gone. About as he’d expected, he decided, and he felt the walls of the house starting to move, pulling closer to him. Away, he thought once more. I have to get away.