A Nearly Normal Family(7)

“She’s sick,” I said, just as I realized the carbonara was going to be a failure.

I slammed the wooden spoon down on the counter and yanked the pan from the burner.

“Maybe she left her phone at home on purpose,” I said, battling whatever was bubbling up in my chest. “You know her boss has been getting after her about it.”

Ulrika shook her head.

“Her boss hasn’t been getting after her. She gave the whole staff a warning about using their cell phones at work. Surely you don’t believe Stella would voluntarily leave her phone at home?”

No, of course that didn’t sound likely.

“She must have forgotten it. I’m sure she was in a hurry this morning.”

“I’ll call around to her friends,” Ulrika said. “This isn’t like her.”

“Shouldn’t you hold off on that?”

I rambled on, something about how we’d been spoiled by modern technology and constant access to our daughter, always knowing where she was. There was really no reason to get all worked up.

“I’m sure she’ll come flying through the door any moment.”

At the same time, I started to have a nagging feeling in my stomach. Being a parent means never being able to relax.

When Ulrika padded up the creaking stairs, I took the opportunity to slip into the laundry room.

There I was. Surely it wasn’t just a coincidence? I opened the door of the washing machine and pulled out the damp clothes. A pair of dark jeans that I had to turn right side out to confirm that they belonged to Stella. A black tank top that was also hers. And the white blouse with flowers on the breast pocket. Her favorite top that summer. I was holding the blouse in one hand and fumbling for a hanger. That’s when I saw it.

Stella’s favorite top. The right sleeve and front were covered in dark stains.

I looked up at the ceiling and said a silent prayer. At the same time, I knew God didn’t have a thing to do with this.





6


Throughout the years I have frequently encountered the false assumption that a belief in determinism is simply a natural by-product of my belief in God, as if I must consider my free will to be limited by God. Of course, nothing could be further from the truth. I believe man to be the living image of God. I believe in man.

Sometimes when I meet people who say they don’t believe in God, I ask which god it is they don’t believe in. They often proceed to describe a god I certainly don’t believe in either.

God is love. It’s wonderful to find someone you belong with. It might be God, it might be another human being. It might even be both.

Ulrika and I were young when we met and since then there has been no other alternative. We were both new to Lund. Thanks to my powerful but na?ve dream of becoming an actor, I joined the skit group at the Wermlands student union, and Ulrika moved into the union’s student apartments later that winter. She was the type of person who attracts attention without taking up too much space, who shines without being blinding.

As I fought to chip away at my Blekinge accent and rid my skin of pimples, Ulrika sailed into every imaginable university scenario as if she clearly belonged in each one. I plastered the city with posters that read No EC, No Bridge while Ulrika became procurator of the student union and aced all her law exams.

Late that year, when we found ourselves attending the same corridor party, I finally got up my nerve. To my surprise, Ulrika seemed to enjoy my company. Soon we were spending all our time together.

“I can’t believe you’re going to be a pastor,” Ulrika said on that first evening. “You could be a psychologist or a political scientist or…”

“Or a pastor.”

“But why?” Ulrika eyed me as if I were begging to have a healthy limb amputated. “You’re from Sm?land, huh? It’s in your blood?”

“Blekinge.” I laughed. “And my parents have very little to do with it. Aside from the fact that they sent me to Sunday school, of course, but I think that was mostly just for the free babysitting.”

“So you weren’t brought up a Christian?”

I laughed.

“I was actually a die-hard atheist until I started high school. I was a member of Revolutionary Communist Youth for a while; I went around quoting Marx and wanted to rid the world of religion. But you grow out of all that dogmatic stuff. In time I grew more and more curious about different outlooks on life.”

I liked the way Ulrika was observing me as if I were a riddle she wanted to solve.

“Then something happened,” I said. “In my last year of high school.”

“What?”

“I was on my way home from the library when I heard a woman screaming. She was by the edge of the harbor, jumping up and down, waving her arms. I ran over.”

Ulrika leaned forward. Her eyes widened.

“Her daughter had fallen into the cold water. There were two more children. They were on the quay, screaming. I didn’t have time to think. I just threw myself into the water.”

Ulrika gasped, but I shook my head. I wasn’t telling her this to portray myself as some sort of hero.

“Something happened just then. The second I hit the water. I didn’t quite understand what, at the time, but I know now. It was God. I felt Him.”

Ulrika nodded thoughtfully.