A Nearly Normal Family(6)
Amina and Stella were quickly compatible on the court. With finesse and cleverness, Amina got the ball to Stella, who tore herself free from the line without ever yielding until the ball was in the goal. But that winner’s instinct had its downsides. Stella was only eight when things went off the rails for the first time. During a match at F?ladshallen, she received a pass from Amina, smooth as butter, and found herself alone with the goalie but missed the breakaway. Quick as a wink, she caught the ball as it bounced back and threw it full force at the goalie’s face from three meters off.
Chaos ensued, of course. The coach and parents of the opposing team rushed the court and fell upon Stella and me.
She didn’t mean to. Stella never aimed her rage at anyone but herself. Upset by the missed goal, she had simply reacted impulsively. She was full of regret to the point of being crushed.
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”
This became a recurring phrase. Almost a mantra.
Dino liked to say that Stella was her own worst enemy. If only she could conquer herself, there would be no stopping her.
It was just that she found it so darned difficult to control her emotions.
Aside from that, it was easy to like Stella. She was thoughtful and had a strong sense of justice; she was energetic and outgoing.
Amina and Stella soon lived in close symbiosis even off the handball court. They were in the same class, bought similar clothes, listened to the same music. And Amina was a good influence on Stella. She was charming and quick, caring and ambitious. When Stella began to slip, Amina was always there to get her back into balance.
I only wish Ulrika and I had taken Stella’s problems more seriously. That we had reacted earlier. I’m ashamed to admit it, but apparently our greatest hurdle was our pride. Ulrika and I both considered it a radical failure to turn to the institutions of society. It may seem egotistical, but at the same time it’s very human, and it might not have been entirely misguided. We had demanded a lot of ourselves, to be the best parents we could be, but we were unable to live up to our own requirements.
Perhaps it never would have had to go as far as it did.
5
When we biked home from Alexandra and Dino’s, the police cars were still at the school. It was frightening, that something like this could happen so close by. Apparently the body had been found at a playground by an early-bird mom who’d brought her small children to play. I shuddered at the thought.
Ulrika hopped off her bike in the driveway and hurried for the door.
“Aren’t you going to lock it up?” I called.
“Have to pee,” she mumbled, digging through her purse for her keys.
I led her bike across the paved path and parked it next to my own under the metal roof. I realized I had forgotten to cover the grill and found the protective casing in the shed.
When I came inside, Ulrika was standing on the stairs.
“Stella’s still not home. I called, but she won’t pick up.”
“I’m sure she’s working late,” I said. “You know they’re not allowed to have their phones on them.”
“But it’s Saturday. The store closed hours ago.”
That hadn’t occurred to me.
“I’m sure she just went somewhere with a friend. We’ll have another talk with her tonight. She needs to get better at keeping us in the loop.”
I put my arm around Ulrika.
“I got such a terrible feeling,” she said. “When we saw all those police. A murder? Here?”
“I know. It makes me feel uneasy too.”
We sat down on the sofa and I looked up the latest news on my phone, reading it aloud to her.
The victim was a man in his thirties, a local. The police were being very secretive about the incident, but one of the evening papers said that a woman who lived nearby had heard fighting and shouting outside her window during the night.
“This kind of thing doesn’t happen to just anyone,” I said, as if I, and not Ulrika, were the expert. “I’m sure it’s alcoholics or drug addicts. Or gang crime.”
Ulrika breathed calmly against my shoulder.
But I wasn’t saying this to relieve her anxiety. I was convinced it was true.
“I was planning to make carbonara.”
I stood up and kissed her cheek.
“Already? I don’t think I could manage to eat as much as a piece of arugula right now.”
“Slow food,” I smiled. “Real food takes time, honey.”
* * *
As the bacon sizzled in my carefully selected olive oil from Campania, Ulrika came thundering down the stairs.
“Stella forgot her phone.”
“What?”
She paced restlessly back and forth between the kitchen island and the window.
“It was on her desk.”
“Well, that’s odd.” The carbonara was at such a critical stage that I couldn’t look away from it. “Did she forget it?”
“Yes, didn’t you hear me? It was on her desk!”
Ulrika was nearly shouting.
It was certainly unusual for Stella to leave her phone at home, but there was no reason to overreact. I stirred the carbonara swiftly as I turned down the heat.
“Forget the pasta,” Ulrika said, tugging at my arm. “I’m seriously worried. I just called Amina, but she isn’t answering either.”