A Nearly Normal Family(26)

24


I hadn’t told Stella that I was planning to visit during confirmation camp. Maybe that was stupid of me. Of course I should have mentioned it, but to me it was an obvious thing to do. I was the pastor of one of the organizing congregations, the camp had been launched on my initiative—naturally I wanted to visit the youngsters.

When I arrived at the camp, the confirmands had just finished grilling hotdogs. Several of them had changed into swimwear; some were up to their waists in the water, shivering; others were jumping in from the dock. The two female camp counselors were watching from under a tree, while Robin was splashing around in the lake, his hair wet, a delighted grin on his face.

I lingered up on the grassy slope for a while. It was like standing in front of a piece of art. The happiness and fellowship painted the scene in the loveliest of colors.

The kids didn’t have time for me. Several of Stella’s classmates said hello, but most of them barely noticed my arrival.

I walked down to the counselors under the tree and shook their hands. They told me everything was going fantastically well. The group was wonderful to work with, and there had already been a number of interesting and openhearted conversations.

None of them mentioned Stella, which I took to mean that she, too, was behaving herself. I had already made up my mind not to worry, but now that it became clear to me that nothing had gone wrong, I noticed relief washing through my body.

But things changed when Stella realized I was there.

She came wading out of the lake with her wet hair hanging in thick ropes. Once on the beach, she wrapped a towel around her body.

When she caught sight of me, her eyes went dark.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m just checking in on everyone.”

I attempted a gentle smile.

“Let me be!”

She vanished up the hill with flip-flops slapping.



* * *



Robin convinced me to stay for dinner. There was a separate room where we could sit and Stella wouldn’t have to see me.

The cooks at the camp were truly skilled, and the food was exquisite. After dinner I asked if it would be okay to stick around for a while. I would soon be heading for home, but there were a few things I needed to prepare before services the next day.

“Of course,” Robin said.

After a few hours of obligatory socializing, it was pleasant to be alone with just my computer and my own thoughts. I’m a fairly social person, but at heart I would probably consider myself an introvert. I’ve always held privacy to be holy, even within my own family. The right to one’s own space in life is, to me, as important as the opportunity to open up and speak about everything. I think it’s been a frequent help to Ulrika and me that we’ve always had the chance to retreat and have some alone time. A requirement to constantly share everything can so easily become stifling. It’s often said that people are herd animals, but we mustn’t forget that we have the need for solitude as well.

As I completed my preparations, dusk began to steal over the lake. Time had flown by, and my undertakings had been more demanding than I’d expected. And since Ulrika was working in Stockholm, there was no real reason for me to rush home. All that remained was to bid farewell to Robin. I was hoping to avoid Stella to keep from annoying her even further. It was largely thanks to Robin that the camp was having such success once again, there was no denying it. I was so pleased that everything had gone well. A great weight had lifted from my chest, and I enjoyed every crisp breath on my way across the courtyard.

The camp was held at a conference retreat center that was made up of three separate long buildings. The main building contained the dining room, kitchen, and common room; directly across the courtyard was the dormitory. Not far off, partially hidden behind the trunks of tall beeches, was the smallest building, where the counselors slept when they weren’t on night duty.

The confirmands appeared to be enjoying free time. Some were out on the lawn, but most of them were keeping to the dormitory.

“Have you seen Robin?” I asked one of the female counselors.

“I think he went to the counselors’ cabin.”

I hurried through the small grove of trees. The teens’ laughter echoed off the evening sky.

I approached the door and knocked. There was no response. Perhaps Robin was on the toilet? Or in the shower? I tried the handle, but the door was locked. Surely he hadn’t fallen asleep?

I rounded the corner of the building and peered through the window, but all I saw was an empty bed. With little hope, I moved on to the next window. The curtain was down, but I could see faint light coming from inside thanks to a small gap. Robin must be sleeping. I leaned forward to knock but was startled as I realized I could see straight into the room through the gap. There, in the dark, sat two people who were staring at each other in panic.

That brief glimpse was all it took. Three years have passed, and I can still evoke that unpleasant image whenever I want. Presumably it will never go away.

The image of Robin and Stella scrambling to get their clothing back in place.





25


By Thursday morning, Stella had spent five nights under lock and key. I pictured her on a dirty bed in a cramped, dark jail cell and my heart ached. During breakfast I paced back and forth across the kitchen, harping on all my worries.