Chapter 116
A memory, that was all Killian was now, once more, one of many.
That summer, Sander combed through every memory, one by one, as if he’d lost something and each memory was a box to search inside.
No matter how hard he tried, he came right back around, in a vicious circle, to Isidor Enoksson’s words: As high as heaven is over the earth, so great is His mercy to those who fear Him.
—
Mercy. Could it be?
Or maybe the operative word in that proverb, in Sander’s case, was fear.
Was this a sign too?
All Sander had done was reunite with his friend after such a long time, and like a storm all the fear and brutality came crashing right back in.
—
One Friday evening in late August, he stepped onto the lawn at home on Backav?gen.
The house was quiet, the kids were asleep and Olivia was on the phone with a colleague, talking about a meeting scheduled for the next day.
The sky was overcast. The day had been stuffy and humid and he’d had to suffer through the last few lessons of the week with a headache and very little patience. His back pain was starting to return.
Sander’s face had hardened with the years, just as Siri had suspected long ago that it would. When he peered into the mirror, he sometimes felt he was looking at a face that wasn’t his. Now it was starting to soften again.
Or maybe he was seeing it as it really was for the first time.
Another sign: he’d stopped having the dream.
The lawn had lost its color. Southern Sweden was suffering a drought, and on Backav?gen they respected the watering restrictions.
The news ran reports about forest fires in the nearby counties of Sm?land and V?stergotland.
He thought of those fires, picturing flames eating at trees and biting the ground, making all living things flee.
All living things flee. Yes, maybe for a while. But not forever.
Sooner or later, you have to turn back.
He went inside and up to the children’s rooms to press his lips to their foreheads. They were fast asleep, tangled up in blankets and dreams. He hoped they would be able to stay there for a long time.
He kissed Olivia on the cheek and said he was going out for a while, would be back later.
“Everything okay?”
He smiled and nodded, although he wasn’t entirely sure.
—
The right ashes were placed in the right grave. It had been an exhaustive task that ripped up more than just soil. Hampus Olsson’s mother was still alive. The media ran sweeping, bombastic think pieces, demanding to find out who was responsible, interviewing locals. It was excruciating.
But in one sense, it was very simple. They changed the date of death on Killian’s gravestone. They were all there to witness it together.
One year erased, another in its place. That was that.
Correction: everyone but Sander was there. But now, as he finally stepped into the cemetery in the twilight, he didn’t hesitate, he had climbed out of the car and simply put one foot in front of the other. Simple as that.
He’d died, Killian, and he’d come back. And died again. It was confusing and left out a lot of important details, but that was the short version of the story.
Many things would continue to be left out of the story. No one knew what Killian experienced during his years of invisibility. There should be a word for that sort of thing, but there probably isn’t.
Sander remembered the way to the grave. When he reached it, he simply stood there gazing down at it. If he was thinking any particular thoughts, he couldn’t say what they were; he only remembered the words that came out of his mouth.
“I’m sorry.”
He wasn’t expecting a response.
From the pocket of his jacket, he took a photograph. The last one he’d found in Killian’s backpack, of the two of them, eighteen years old. Inseparable.