Silver Tears(28)

When I entered the house it was completely silent. I called out cautiously, not entirely certain that Dad wasn’t at home. But no one replied.

I looked around the hall. Mom’s coat was hanging on the hook. And her shoes were neatly stowed on the pine shoe rack. Something within me shifted anxiously.



“Mom, are you at home?”

Still no answer. It would be another hour or so before Sebastian got home. Mom and I were supposed to have a long time to ourselves—a rare gift—and I knew that she wouldn’t miss it for the world. She loved our brief stints at the sewing machine. Perhaps she’d gone for a nap?

I carefully climbed the stairs to Mom and Dad’s bedroom. The steps creaked but no one seemed to hear. I turned right and saw that the bedroom door was shut, which made me feel relieved. She had probably just lay down for a bit.

I gently opened the door. Yes. She was in bed. Her face was turned away from me. I crept into the room quietly—as quietly as I could—still not sure whether I should leave her to sleep or wake her. I knew she would be disappointed if we missed our time with the sewing machine.

When I reached her side of the bed, at first I merely frowned. Mom’s eyelids were fluttering, as if she were falling asleep. Then something on the floor caught my attention. A white bottle. The lid was lying beside it. I bent down and picked up the bottle. Sleeping tablets.

Panic struck. I shook Mom but she didn’t react.

My thoughts raced but at the same time a clarity and calm descended on me. I knew just what I had to do.

I leaned her over the side of the bed, her face pointing down, and I pushed my fingers into her mouth, farther and farther down into her throat. At first nothing happened. Then she suddenly began sobbing against my fingers and eventually I felt warm vomit gushing over my hand and onto the floor.

Tiny, tiny pieces of the tablets were in the midst of the mess, mixed with spaghetti from lunch. I continued to keep my fingers in her throat until there was nothing left to come up except bile. Then I pressed her head against my breast.

While her dismal sobs echoed between the walls, I cradled my mother in my arms as if she were a child. I had never hated my father more than in that moment. And I knew two things. That I would never be able to tell her what Sebastian had done. And that I had to get us away from them at any cost.





“Is there a law in this universe that says everything has to go to hell at once?”

Kerstin poured a cup of tea for Faye. Broms was full of patrons breakfasting. The noise and her own frustration were giving Faye a headache.

“I think you’re referring to Murphy’s law,” Kerstin said. “But yes, I have noticed during the course of my life—which has been somewhat longer than yours—that things have a tendency to clump together. Happiness clumps together. Grief clumps together. Accidents clump together.”

“Then we’re definitely seeing some clumping right now,” Faye muttered while sipping her tea with a grimace. “Who drinks stuff like this of their own free will? I need a strong coffee.”

She stopped a passing waitress and hissed:

“A cappuccino, please.”

“Have some food.” Kerstin nodded at the table. They had ordered sourdough, boiled eggs, yogurt and muesli, and fruit salad.

Faye shook her head.

“I’m not hungry.”

Kerstin ate in silence while Faye waved irritably at the waitress, who still hadn’t brought the cappuccino. She had barely slept a wink all night.

“Don’t take your frustration out on the staff,” Kerstin said.



“I’ll do as I please.”

Faye finally made eye contact with the waitress, who quickly rushed off toward the kitchen.

The sun was shining outside the window. People were hurrying about, focused on their own things, and for a moment Faye wondered whether they—just like her—were living lives in which they were being torn between hope and despair.

“You need to talk about it instead of yelling at people,” said Kerstin. “Irene went behind your back despite her promises. She sold to Henrik—Jack’s old partner.”

Faye thumped her fist on the table. She wasn’t angry at Kerstin or the staff. She was just angry.

“I’m getting chia pudding,” she said, standing up.

She wasn’t really hungry, just as she had told Kerstin, but she needed some time alone to gather her thoughts. She stood in the long line and got angrier with every passing minute. When she eventually got to the front she ordered a chia pudding with everything on it: blueberries, cranberries, and coconut flakes.

When she sat back down at the table, Kerstin looked at her without saying anything. Faye not only polished off the chia pudding, but everything else too, taking huge bites. Once the food was inside her stomach in one big mass, she caught her breath and leaned back. Only then did she realize that she had finally received her cappuccino.

“First things first,” she said. “I can’t understand why Irene sold. She must barely have finished digesting the food she ate at our lunch before she did it. I’ve always considered her loyal and honest. I don’t get it.”

“There must be something more in it,” said Kerstin. “But that’ll have to wait. Right now we can only contend with the fact that she has actually sold.”

“And to Henrik,” said Faye despondently, knocking back the cappuccino.