The Best Intentions (10 page)

Ernst:
Schubert knew something about space, time, and light. He put together unimaginable elements and breathed on them. In that way they became comprehensible to us. The minutes tormented him, and he freed them for us. Space was cramped and dirty. He freed space for us. And the light. He lived in the cold, raw shadows and turned the gentle light toward us. He was like the saints. (
Falls silent. Silence
.)

Anna:
I suggest we take a walk to Fyris bridge before we go to bed.

Ernst:
It's raining.

Anna:
Only drizzling. Henrik can take Papa's old raincoat.

Henrik:
I'd like that.

Ernst:
I certainly would not.

Anna:
Come on now, Ernst, don't be silly.

Ernst:
You and Henrik can go. I'll stay at home and finish off what's left in the bottle.

Anna:
I
want
you to come too. Not only do I want you to, but I
insist
that you come. Just so you know.

Ernst:
Anna is her mother's daughter. In every way.

Anna:
My brother lacks the most elementary sensitivity. It's a pity.

Ernst:
I really don't understand what you're talking about now.

Anna:
Exactly. Exactly that.

So they walk through the drizzling rain of the summer night, Anna in the middle, quite small and plump, with the tall young men on either side of her. They link arms and slowly stroll along. No streetlights on to disturb the night light. They stop and listen.

The rain rustles in the trees.

Anna:
Ssh! Can you hear? A nightingale.

Ernst:
I don't hear any nightingale. For one thing, they don't come this far north, and for another, they don't sing after midsummer.

Anna:
Quiet now. Don't talk all the time.

Henrik:
Yes, it
is
a nightingale.

Anna:
Ernst, open your ears!

Ernst:
Anna and Henrik hearing nightingales in July. You're lost. (
Listens
.) Well I'll be damned, if it isn't a nightingale after all!

At about two o'clock that morning, flashes of lightning can be seen against the blind in the maid's room. Sometimes there's a faint rumble of thunder. The rain rustles, sometimes a little louder, sometimes dripping and faint. Suddenly it can be so quiet, Henrik can hear his heart pounding and his pulse beating in his eardrums. He can't sleep, anyhow. He's lying on his back with his hands behind his head, his eyes wide open. That's it. So that's how it can be. For
me,
too, Henrik! The opening into the room that used to be tightly closed gets wider and wider. It is like vertigo.

Someone is moving about in the kitchen, and the door opens, creaking noticeably. This is no dream. Anna is standing in the rectangle of light. He can't see her face, and she is still dressed.

Anna:
Are you asleep? No, I knew you weren't asleep. I thought I'd go in to Henrik and tell him what's happened.

She stays in the doorway without moving. Henrik doesn't dare breathe. This is serious.

Anna:
I don't know what to do about you, Henrik. It's not just that you are here with me. But it's much much worse when you're away from me. I've always . . .

She falls silent and ponders. Now it's presumably vital to be truthful. Henrik is about to say something about his confusion and the closed and open room, but it's too complicated.

Anna:
Mama says that the most important thing is to keep one's emotions under control. I've always been sensible about that. So I think I've become a little self-confident, actually.

She turns her head away and takes a step back. The dawn light from the kitchen window falls on her face, and Henrik can see she has been crying. Or perhaps she is still crying. But her voice is calm.

Anna:
One can't — Mama and other people, my half brothers, for instance, say I have inherited too much cleverness from both Mama and Papa. I've always been rather proud when I've been praised for my cleverness. I've thought that was the way life should be, and that was how I wanted it. I certainly don't need to be afraid. (
Long silence
.) But now I'm afraid, or to be quite honest, if what I feel is fear, then I'm frightened.

Henrik:
I'm afraid, me, too.

He has to clear his throat. His voice has dried up somewhere along the way. Now, right now, his heart stops, quite briefly, but stops all the same.

Henrik:
Besides, my heart stopped. Just now.

Anna:
I know what it's like, Henrik. We're in the middle of a crucial moment. Can you imagine anything so amazing and puzzling? Time stops, or we think time stops, or “your heart,” as you say.

Henrik:
What shall we do?

Anna:
There are really only two possibilities. (
Soberly
.) I say to you: Go away, Henrik. Or: Come into my arms, Henrik.

Henrik:
You think both alternatives are bad?

Anna:
Yes.

Henrik:
Bad?

Anna:
Of decisive importance.

Henrik:
Can't we play a little?

Anna:
Besides, I don't even know what sort of person you are.

Henrik:
I'm not in the slightest peculiar.

There is a note of terror, comical terror. Henrik has not much self-insight, never has had, and never will have. Anna shakes her head with a smile: “Now you can see for yourself how risky this can be!” She steps over the threshold and into the room, sits down on the end of the bed, and smooths out her skirt. Henrik struggles up into a sitting position.

I don't think you kn anything about anything. I think you're I can't find any other word for it at the moment.

Henrik:
Obscured?

Anna:
You just keep repeating what I say all the time. Tell me the way you want things to be.

Henrik:
I'll tell you exactly. I have never, and I say
never,
and I swear it's true, I have never in my life had a day and an evening and a night like this day, evening, and night. I swear. I know nothing else. I am confused and grateful and frightened. I think all this will be taken away from me. It's always like that. It has always been like that. I am empty-handed. That sounds dramatic, but it's true. I think, quite simply, why should any of what I've had today fall to my lot? Do you understand, Anna? You and Ernst live in your world, not just materially, but on all levels. Inaccessible to me. Do you understand, Anna?

Anna slowly shakes her head and looks at Henrik with sorrowful eyes. Then she smiles and gets up, goes over to the doorway, and turns around.

Oh, well. I suppose we can postpone the decision for a few hours, or even days or weeks.

When she has said that, she smiles indulgently and says good night. Then she closes the door, which creaks loudly.

I can see them sitting in the dining room at the large cleared table with its lion feet. They have the superintendent of traffic's chessboard between them. The protective sheets have been removed from two of the windows. It is raining quietly and persistently. I see Ernst, too, standing in the doorway in a raincoat, his student cap in his hand, saying he
must be off to the meteorological institution for a while, because the professor wishes to speak to him. “Dinner at five o'clock,” mumbles Anna, moving a bishop. “Bye, then, and good luck,” says Henrik, rescuing his queen. The hall door slams, and quiet descends. Somewhere in the building, a piano is being played, slowly and hesitantly.

Anna suddenly knocks the chessmen over and hides her face in her hands, then peeps through her fingers at Henrik and giggles. Henrik leans over the board and tries to reinstate the chessmen. After one lame attempt, he sits still and watchful.

Anna:
We needn't tell everyone that we . . . well, that we're thinking of . . .

Henrik:
No, of course not.

Anna:
I'm suddenly terrified when I think about that we don't know the slightest thing about each other. We ought to sit at this table for a hundred days and just talk and ask questions.

Henrik:
It wouldn't be enough.

Anna:
We decide to live together for the rest of our lives and know nothing about each other. That's a little unusual, isn't it?

Henrik:
And we haven't even kissed.

Anna:
Shall we kiss now? No, that can wait.

Henrik:
First we must state our failings.

Anna
(
laughs
): No, I don't dare. You'd run away!

Henrik:
Or you.

Anna:
Mama says I'm obstinate. That I'm selfish. Pleasure-loving. Impatient. My brothers say I've a damned bad temper and get angry about nothing. Well, what else can I think of? Ernst says I'm coquettish, that I love looking at myself in the mirror. Papa says I'm lazy about things I
must
do, cleaning, cooking, doing boring homework. Mama says I'm much too interested in boys. Well, as you hear, there's no limit to my failings.

Henrik:
My greatest failing is that I'm confused.

Anna:
Surely that's not a
failing.

Henrik:
Yes, that's just what it is.

Anna:
What do you mean?

Henrik:
I'm confused. Understand nothing. I just do what other people tell me. I don't think I'm particularly bright. If I read a complicated text, I find it difficult to understand what it means. I have so many feelings. That also confuses me. I've nearly always got a guilty conscience, but mostly don't know why.

Anna:
That sounds difficult.

Sorrow and uneasiness. What kind of strange game is this? Why are we going on like this? Why don't we kiss each other? Today's a celebration, isn't it? They sit in silence and avoid each other's eyes.

Henrik:
Now we're both miserable.

Anna:
Yes.

Henrik:
It's loneliness that frightens us. If we're together, we find the courage to understand and forgive our own and each other's failings. One should be careful not to start at the wrong end.

Anna:
Shall we kiss each other now, so that we're happy again?

Henrik:
Wait a while. I've something important I must tell you. No, don't laugh, Anna. It's necessary that I tell you that . . .

Anna:
Oh, I'm sick of all these stupidities!

She places herself opposite him, takes his head in her hands, turns his face upward, leans over him, and kisses him ardently. Henrik lets out a moan; her fragrance, her skin, the small, strong hands holding him fast, the hair welling over her shoulder.

He grasps her around the waist and presses her to him, his forehead against her breast. She doesn't let go of his head, and they stagger, joined together. They stay like that a long time, not daring or able to free themselves from the embrace. What will really happen after this? What will happen to us?

Anna:
. . . I suppose we're engaged now.

She frees herself and pulls her chair up next to his. They are sitting opposite each other, but now the table is no longer between them and they are holding each other's hands. They are disturbed and try to subdue their breathing and their hearts. Henrik is also in great distress. He ought to say what he must say, but he can't. She senses something is wrong and searches his face.

Anna
(
smiles
): . . . now we're engaged, Henrik.

Henrik:
No.

Anna
(
laughs
): Oh, aren't we engaged?

Henrik:
I knew from the very beginning it would be wrong. I must go away. We'll never see each other again.

Anna:
You have someone else.

(
Henrik nods
.)

Anna's face turns ashen, and she puts her forefinger to her lips, imposing silence on them. Then she quickly runs her left hand over Henrik's forehead and lets it rest on his shoulder for a brief moment. Then she goes around the table and sits at the short end behind Henrik's back. She stays there, biting a nail, not knowing what to say.

Henrik:
We've been living together for almost two years. She was as lonely as I was. She likes me. She's helped me many times. We've got on well together. We're engaged.

Anna:
You've nothing to reproach yourself for. Not
really.
You might possibly have said something last night, but everything was so unreal then. I understand that you said nothing. What about our beautiful future now? What do you really want?

Henrik:
I want to live with you. But I didn't know that yesterday. Everything has changed — like this!

He gestures with his hand, which then falls heavily and disconsolately onto the table. Then he turns to her and shakes his head.

Anna:
So you mean you're thinking of abandoning — whatever her name is — whoever she is?

Henrik
(
pauses
): If you want to know, her name is Frida. She's a few years older than me. She's also from the north. She works at the Gillet Hotel.

Anna:
What does she do?

Henrik
(
angry
): She's a waitress.

Anna
(
chilly
): Oh — a waitress.

Henrik:
Is there anything wrong with being a waitress?

Anna:
No, of course not.

Henrik:
You must have forgotten to name one of your more serious failings. You are clearly conceited.
You
thought up this business of our
future together. Not me. I have always been prepared to live in reality. And my reality is gray. And dull. Ugly. (
Gets up
.) Do you know what I'm going to do now? Well, I'm going home to Frida. I'll go home to her and ask her forgiveness for my stupid and foolish betrayal. I'll tell her what I said and what you said and what we did and then I'll ask her forgiveness.