Milk Teeth Read online

  “I can deal with this. Hurry, before Pesolt wakes up.”

  They finally pulled themselves together.

  As they drove off, I closed the door and turned the key in the lock. I leaned exhausted against the wood.

  Meisis came downstairs. She looked at me sleepily.

  “Did you go out?” she asked, rubbing her eyes.

  I crouched down in front of her and pulled her toward me.

  “There’s someone in the living room,” I said, “but you mustn’t be afraid.”

  I took her by the hand and led her in. When she saw the red-haired girl, she tore herself away from me and rushed toward the sofa.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Meisis asked.

  “She had an accident. But she’s alive.”

  I crouched down next to her and wanted to know from her who the girl was. Meisis pressed her lips together.

  “Tell me everything you know right now.”

  “Metta.”

  “What?”

  “That’s my sister, Metta.”

  I had to sit down. “Your sister? But why is she here? Where did she come from?”

  “She was here the whole time.”

  “Here in the territory?”

  Meisis’s nod was reluctant. “She hid. She’s good at hiding. No one’s as good at hiding as Metta.”

  “You knew she was here the whole time?”

  “It was Metta’s idea. I wanted to hide, but I was always found. And our supplies were all gone. Metta said I had to be found, so I could eat properly again, so I would be able to keep going with her.”

  “Keep going where?”

  “To the sea. Away from the heat. Everything’s burned in the place where we came from.”

  “You managed to flee out of the dead territory?”

  “Metta knew that we couldn’t stay there. She knew before anyone and then we set off on our own because no one would listen to us.”

  “The others stayed?”

  Meisis nodded.

  “Why did you want to go to the sea?” I asked.

  “Metta said that everything will burn here too.”

  “Our territory is safe,” I said insistently.

  Meisis shook her head.

  “But the sick animals come from the sea. They’re fleeing from there,” I said.

  “Metta says that the sea is our last chance.”

  I got up. I felt dizzy, almost as if I had lost my balance.

  “I have to find Edith,” I said, leaving the living room. I went up to the second floor and tried to open Edith’s bedroom door. It was locked. I tried pulling down on the handle again, but it wouldn’t open. I called Edith’s name and knocked. I heard no sound from the hallway.

  The crowbar was hanging on the wall in the shed. I took it off its hook and went back upstairs. I needed the briefest moment to pry open the door.

  The light was burning, illuminating the room. I approached the wardrobe mirror and faced myself. My gaunt body didn’t feel like it was my own. Lips dry and cracked. The sun had further bleached my hair. Freckles like dirt on my skin. For the first time, I thought I resembled Edith.

  I carefully opened the wardrobe doors. The roller suitcase was inside. I pulled it out. It couldn’t be empty, it was too heavy for that. I laid it on the bed and opened it. A few of Edith’s dresses were carefully arranged inside it and a bag of her jewelry, as well as the white fur coat for Meisis. I took all of it out. Right at the bottom, I found two T-shirts and a pair of trousers that belonged to me. Something shifted in my rib cage. Edith had packed to flee. After everything that had happened, she had held on to the idea that all three of us would be going together. I could clearly picture how hopefully she had packed everything in the suitcase. I had to turn away. My throat tightened.

  “Have you found Edith?” Meisis asked me when I came downstairs. I shook my head.

  “She must be taking a walk,” I said, trying not to sound anxious.

  71.

  I felt feverish. I sat up feeling dazed. The light fell brightly into the room. The sun must have just come up. I got up and went downstairs. Edith’s room was unchanged. I opened the bathroom door; the tub was empty. The kitchen too showed no indication that Edith had returned.

  I fetched onions from the pantry, cut them into large pieces, and slid them into a pot. While I was pouring water into it, I heard meowing. I went to the window and looked outside. Next to the pool, a cat was sitting in the grass, looking toward the house and emitting high, plaintive cries.

  “We should let it into the house,” said Meisis, who had appeared in the doorway. “She’s looking for Metta.”

  I reluctantly agreed. Meisis opened the back door. The cat pushed past her legs and went into the living room.

  “She helped Metta hide,” Meisis told me.

  “The cat?”

  She nodded. I turned back to the soup and stirred it. Without looking up, I said, “Why didn’t you tell me the truth?”

  Meisis didn’t reply. I put the lid on the pot and turned to her.

  “I’d like to know this instant.”

  “Metta said I couldn’t tell anyone about her.”

  “Not even me?”

  “I was scared.”

  “Scared of what?”

  “That you would tell the others about her.”

  I looked at her, wounded by what she’d said.

  “I’m sorry.”

  I wanted to take the pot off the stove, but my hands were shaking too much.

  “You used me,” I said.

  “That’s not true,” Meisis protested, but I didn’t want to hear it.

  “I have to go find Edith,” I said, pushing past her and going into the garden. The sunlight was so harsh it hurt my eyes. I fled into the forest, kept walking, barely taking notice of the way I was going. I found the clearing only by chance. There it was, undisturbed. I stepped out from between the trees. Within the circular area the scent of the pine forest thickened. That’s how it had always been, that was why I built my den here. In this clearing, I felt closest to the forest.

  “Skalde?” I heard Meisis calling. I didn’t respond. Blood was rushing in my ears. Meisis stepped out from behind a tree. The only thing between us was the clearing. We looked at each other. It felt like years had passed since the last time we had been standing here.

  “Never lie to me again, you hear,” I shouted.

  Meisis nodded and came over to me. I stayed where I was.

  “I promise,” she said when she’d reached me. She held my gaze.

  “Good,” I said, and after a long pause: “Let’s go back to the house.”

  As we entered the living room, Metta was conscious. She was sitting up on the sofa. In her lap was the cat, purring. Metta didn’t seem surprised to see us. I remained wavering in the doorway.

  “How are you feeling?” Meisis asked, crouching down by her sister.

  “Did I have an accident?” Metta asked. Meisis nodded.

  “You’re safe here,” I said, trying to smile. Metta reciprocated. “You should take it easy another couple of days. You probably have a concussion.”

  Metta held her head and felt the wound, where a scab had already formed. “Thank you,” she said.

  “I didn’t do much.”

  “You took in Meisis.”

  “Yes,” I said, and didn’t know what to do with my hands.

  72.

  At noon, Edith still hadn’t shown up. I was gripped by a strong feeling of unease. I paced back and forth. Metta had fallen asleep, and the cat was likewise dozing, but Meisis wasn’t able to sit still. She was constantly lifting her head and looking at the door.

  “I’m going to go look for Edith,” I said, putting on my shoes.

  Meisis jumped up. “I’ll come with you.”

  “Don’t you want to stay with Metta?”

  She shook her head. “She’s safe here in the house. I want to help you.”

  She went into the living room. Through the open do
or I could see her lean down to her sister and talk to her in whispers. The intimacy between them pained me, I couldn’t deny it, and it made me feel ashamed.

  The pickup was in front of the house, where I had parked it the day before. There were squashed flies stuck to the windscreen. They reminded me of burst blackberries. I got behind the wheel. Meisis climbed into the passenger seat. She put her feet in the too-big sneakers up on the dashboard. I folded down the sun visor, started the engine, and drove off.

  It was a particularly hot day. I could feel the sweat running down my back underneath my T-shirt. Elder-flower was in bloom all over the territory. The heavy buds hung rotting on the trees. Meisis had one arm out the half-open window. The airstream churned her hair. A fly had flown in and was circling us, buzzing. I couldn’t scare it away.

  I was driving so slowly, I could look at the landscape carefully both left and right. Meisis too twisted her head so nothing escaped her.

  We turned into the road where the three cherry plum trees stood, and I knew it immediately. My stomach tightened. I blinked; water lunged before my closed eyelids. A shot reverberated. The pickup got slower and slower. My hands went slack. We came to a stop right in front of the trees.

  The noontime heat lay heavily over the land.

  “Why are we stopping?” Meisis asked. I didn’t give her an answer. My hands slipped from the steering wheel. I turned my head and looked through the rolled-down window at the cherry plum trees. The fruit had become ripe in the meantime. Some of them were even already rotting, even though they were still hanging on the branches. The drone of the wasps drifted over to us. But other insects had also been lured by the tree. I could clearly make out a swarm of flies circling over a spot on the ground, rising up from it over and over again, to then once more settle on it.

  First, I noticed the dogs. They were cowering in the high grass in the shadow of the trees. There were a lot of them; they must have come from the surrounding farms.

  I slowly opened the door. My body felt numb, yet I managed to put one foot in front of the other. I made my way over to the trees as if in a trance. From someplace far away Meisis called after me. I didn’t turn around, kept going toward the spot where the buzz of flies was concentrated. The dogs didn’t move; the only sign of stirring they showed was a deep growl, but it wasn’t meant for me.

  Edith’s twisted body was almost invisible in the high grass. She was lying on her stomach. The black fur of her coat shimmered dully. Her light hair covered the ground like an open fan. The yellow-and-red cherry plums in their sweet juice all around her. Everything crawling. The buzz of the flies was overwhelming. I crouched down next to her and turned her body onto its back. Her face was as white as paper, her eyes rolled upward. Blood crusted on her mouth. Blood on her stomach, her chest. Already dry. Three clearly identifiable bullet wounds. From her coat pocket poked the edge of a plastic bag. I pulled on it. It was filled with plums. Flies here too. I immediately dropped the bag.

  I thought of the word PROVISIONS and saw before my inner eye Edith, Meisis, and me swimming with this plastic bag through endless waters. The red and yellow of the fruit glowed. How we reached the other bank, dripping, the bag still in my hand, and how we climbed up the embankment and made off in the direction of the coast.

  I blinked and felt for my throat, around which I still wore the keys to the cellar and the pantry. The buzzing of the insects had slipped to a back section of my mind. I heard it as if I were underwater. I wrapped my arms around Edith’s body, lifted it up, and carried it across the road to the pickup. Meisis looked out the window, chalk white. I heaved Edith onto the truck bed, tumbled to the front of the car, and slid into the seat. The dogs had followed me; they had positioned themselves behind the truck. There must have been more than twenty of them. As I drove off, they followed us. Meisis didn’t make a sound. She sat as if petrified. It felt like someone else was operating the gas pedal, the clutch, the gear stick. The truck was driving itself, while I sunk further and further into my own body.

  I came to with someone sprinkling water in my face. Gösta was bent over me. She lowered the hand holding the glass. It was shaking.

  “Get out of the car,” she said, opening the door. I pushed myself from the seat and slipped into her arms. She hauled me through the front garden, past the dogs that were standing in a row next to the path to the house. The elderflower wasn’t yet in bloom here. The scent appeared to have fallen out of time. As we were about to cross the threshold, I turned to the truck.

  “Edith,” I said, pointing at the truck bed, but it was empty.

  “I know”—Gösta gently pulled me onward—“she’s inside.”

  I tried to swallow, but I couldn’t. My mouth was dust-dry. Gösta brought me into the kitchen. Meisis was sitting at the table; behind her stood Len, resting her hands on the back of the chair. Blood was on her fingers. I fell into a chair opposite her. At the sink Gösta filled two glasses with tap water and put them down in front of us. I reached for one, but my hand slipped from it.

  “What exactly happened?” Len asked.

  Meisis and I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t take my eyes off the glass of water.

  “Damn it, girls, you have to talk to us,” Gösta said.

  I tried once more to reach for the glass. This time I managed it. In a motion that seemed to last an eternity, I led it to my mouth. I took a sip and put it back down.

  “She must have climbed the tree,” I said, “to pick plums.”

  Len’s forehead rumpled.

  “They’re Pesolt’s trees. He shot her,” I said.

  I wanted to take another sip from the glass, but my hands failed. I folded them in my lap.

  “Pesolt didn’t really do this?”

  “A couple of weeks ago Meisis and I were there and tried to harvest them. He threatened to shoot us if he saw us near his trees again.”

  Meisis wiped her wet face.

  “My God,” Gösta said, balling her wrinkled hands into fists. “Pesolt’s gun used to be mine.”

  It took a moment before I understood what Gösta had said. “Your gun?” I asked.

  “They wanted to pin stuff on me too. I handed the gun over to Pesolt. He’s had his eye on it for a while, I knew that. That’s how I could convince him to finally leave us alone.”

  “You gave Pesolt your weapon?”

  “We had no other choice,” Len jumped in to Gösta’s aid.

  “I vouched for the child, remember? If I hadn’t done that, I would never have had to have given him anything.”

  I sank back down in my chair. “Sorry,” I said.

  Gösta nodded. “You’re right. But I would never have thought he would use the gun.”

  I stared at the grain of the table. “Where’s Edith now?” I asked.

  Gösta made a head motion toward the living room. “We’ve laid her on the sofa.”

  I nodded and got up.

  “Where are you going?” she asked.

  “To get Edith, and then we’re going home,” I answered decisively.

  “Wouldn’t you rather stay here?” Len asked. “What’s there for you at the house?”

  “Edith has to be buried.”

  “That can wait.” Gösta stood in my way. “Stay. No one will suspect you’re here.”

  “We’re not safe anywhere anymore. Not even here,” I said, giving Meisis a sign that we were going. She jumped up and took my hand. Together we pushed past Gösta and Len into the hallway.

  The light in the living room was diffuse. On the television was the same recording that I’d watched with Gösta months before. It seemed unfamiliar to me now. Edith’s dead body was laid out on the sofa. I bent over her and lifted her up. She was light. It made me think of driftwood. I carried her through the narrow hallway. Meisis walked ahead of me and opened the front door. The sunlight dazzled me. I screwed up my eyes and staggered down the stairs. I laid Edith on the truck bed. Her mouth was slightly open. Blood shimmered on her teeth.

 
“Take this at least,” called Gösta. She rushed out of the house and handed me a blanket. Together we wrapped Edith’s corpse inside it. Meisis stood silently nearby.

  “Be careful,” Gösta said as a farewell.

  I wanted to shake her hand, but she took a step toward me and hugged me. I could feel every bone through her clothes. She pulled Meisis to her too. Len stepped through the door and came over to us.

  “Chins up,” she said.

  I kissed her on both cheeks, and we got into the pickup. As we drove off, they waved after us. The dogs followed us, barking.

  73.

  We found the house just as we had left it. Meisis helped me to carry Edith’s dead body inside.

  “When it’s dark, I’ll start digging a grave,” I said, standing in the kitchen in front of the window. The dogs sat in the shade of the house and didn’t stir. The water in the pool had turned brown. The surface lay so undisturbed that the sky was reflected in it. I tried to imagine that Edith was swimming in it, but the water remained still.

  I stood at the window until the sun went down. The shadows grew longer, and the blue became lost in the black.

  Outside, the dogs greeted me. They followed me to the shed, from where I fetched the shovel, and walked behind me to the lilac bush in front of the house. There I began to dig a grave. My movements were mechanical. The numbness had returned. If I closed my eyes, I saw the cascading mass of water. The shot was now clearly audible. Around me, the dogs dozed.

  Metta and Meisis came outside. They brought me a flashlight and helped me to dig. We worked in silence. All that could be heard was the sound of the shovel in the dry earth. The sweat made our clothes stick to us. Time and time again, Meisis went to the pump and fetched water, which we hastily drank. We didn’t take a break.

  It took till sunrise. The hole was around a meter and a half deep. Smeared with earth, we stood there while the sun rose over the pine forest.

  Together with Metta, I fetched Edith’s corpse from the house and we lowered her on the sheet into the bottom of the pit. We laid her jewelry and her clothes in the grave too, her swimsuit last of all.