Not a sign.
The guard stood in the doorway and Vanja looked around the room.
'Hey Bosse, can't we pull up the blinds a little? I can hardly see my way around in here.'
The guard smiled and put his hand on the door handle.
'I'm sorry, Vanja, they have to stay like that.'
He closed the door behind him, but Maj-Britt never heard him lock it. It didn't seem that he did. Vanja went over to the window and tried to adjust the blinds but it didn't work. They stayed put. She gave up and looked around again. Went over to a picture and leaned forward, looking a little more closely. A view of a forest-covered landscape.
Then she turned round and swept her gaze over the room.
'Imagine, I've wondered for all these years what these visiting rooms look like.'
Maj-Britt sat in silence. For all these years. Vanja had sat and wondered for sixteen years.
Vanja came over to the table and pulled out the chair across from her, looking almost shy as she sat down. Maj-Britt was in a daze. In such a daze that her nervousness was gone. It was only Vanja who was sitting there. Hidden somewhere in that strange body was the Vanja she had once known. There was nothing to be afraid of.
They sat looking at each other for a long time. Completely silent, as if they were searching each other's faces for familiar details. Seconds and then minutes ticked by in inactivity and Maj-Britt's trepidation receded entirely. For the first time in ages she felt utterly calm. The refuge that she had experienced in her youth that always surrounded Vanja was intact; it was possible to relax here, to stop defending herself. And she thought about Ellinor again: how she had struggled, finally reaching her.
It was Vanja who broke the silence.
'Imagine if anyone had told us back then that we'd be sitting here today. In a visiting room at Vireberg.'
Maj-Britt lowered her eyes. Everything that had poured out of her now made room for something else. The realisation that so much time had been wasted. And that now it was all too late.
'Have you been to a doctor yet?'
As if Vanja could hear what she was thinking.
Maj-Britt nodded.
'When are you going to have the operation?'
Maj-Britt hesitated. She didn't intend to lie anymore. But she couldn't tell her the truth either.
'How did you know?'
Vanja smiled a little.
'I was smart, wasn't I? Making you come here even though I had already told you about it. Because I did in my very first letter. What a person won't do to get to see what the visiting rooms look like.'
The same old Vanja, no doubt about that. But Maj-Britt didn't understand what she meant. She tried to recall what she had said in that letter, but Vanja hadn't said anything, had she? Maj-Britt definitely would have remembered.
'What do you mean, you already told me?'
Vanja's smile grew bigger. Again her old Vanja flashed by. The Vanja who shared so many of her memories.
'I wrote that I'd dreamt about you, didn't I?'
Maj-Britt stared at her.
'What do you mean?'
'I'm just telling you what happened. That I dreamt it. Naturally I wasn't dead certain, but I didn't feel like taking a chance.'
Maj-Britt heard herself snort but she hadn't really meant to. The explanation came so unexpectedly and was so improbable that she couldn't take it seriously.
'You expect me to believe that?'
Vanja shrugged her shoulders and suddenly was her old self. Something in the expression on her face. The more Maj-Britt looked at her the more she recognised her. Time had merely passed and worn out the casing a bit.
'Believe whatever you like, but that's how it was. If you have some better explanation that you'd rather believe, then be my guest.'
Maj-Britt was suddenly angry. She had come all this way, conquering her fears several times over to come here, and now had to listen to this. Then she suddenly remembered that she had also come to ask forgiveness, but she no longer felt like it. Not when Vanja was sitting there making fun of her.
There was a long silence. Vanja clearly didn't intend either to take back what she had said or to offer any further explanation, and Maj-Britt didn't feel like asking more questions. That might be taken as an acceptance of what she had just heard, and she didn't really intend to play along. She really didn't. She had been so sure that the explanation would be satisfactory in some way, though what exactly she was hoping for she didn't actually know. The whole thing had been so confusing, so totally incomprehensible. But this was worse than the confusion; she didn't want any part of this. Especially because not even in her wildest imagination could she have come up with any better explanation.
'I know how it feels, I was so scared myself at first. But then when I got used to it I realised that it's actually quite amazing. That something like that can exist that we didn't know anything about.'
Maj-Britt didn't really feel that way. On the contrary, it frightened her. If Vanja was right, there could be a whole bunch of things she knew nothing about. But Vanja didn't seem to be bothered by it. She sat there quite calmly.
And then she continued the conversation, as if what they had just said was nothing out of the ordinary.
'I've been offered a pardon by the government. In a year I'll be released.'
Maj-Britt was grateful that the conversation had turned to something concrete.
'Congratulations.'
Now it was Vanja's turn to snort. It didn't sound nasty, just a sign of how she felt.
'It wasn't me that sent in the application; it was someone on the staff.'
'But that's great, don't you think?'
Vanja sat in silence for a moment.
'Do you remember what you did sixteen years ago?'
Maj-Britt thought about it. 1989. She had probably been sitting in her easy chair. Or maybe on the sofa, because she was still able to do that back then.
'Since then I've been locked up in here. But actually I only exchanged one prison for another, and I can assure you that at first this was sheer paradise in comparison. Except for all the thoughts that flowed in when it was no longer just a matter of getting through the day without making him angry. Or whatever it was that he felt.'
Vanja looked down at her hands resting on the table.
'A prison sentence is actually the same thing as a fine, it's just that you pay with time instead. And the big difference is that you can always get more money.'
Maj-Britt chose to remain silent.
'It's impossible to survive in here if you don't learn to look at time differently than you did before. You have to try and convince yourself that it really doesn't exist. If you're locked up here you have to transport yourself to another place to survive.'
She tapped her index finger against her silvery head.
'In here. At eight o'clock every evening they lock the door and after that you're alone with your thoughts. And I promise you, some of them you would do anything to avoid. The first year it made me terrified, I thought I'd go crazy. But later, when I couldn't fight against it any longer and just surrendered ...'
She left the sentence unfinished and Maj-Britt waited impatiently for the rest. Vanja sat silently, staring out into space, and seemed to have finished talking. But Maj-Britt wanted to hear more.
'What happened then?'
Vanja looked at her as if she had forgotten she was there but was glad to see her.
'Then you realise that you can hear quite a bit if you only dare to listen.'
Maj-Britt swallowed. She wanted to talk about something else now.
'What are you going to do when you get out?'
Vanja shrugged. Then she turned her head and sat looking at the picture she had examined earlier. The forest-covered landscape.
'You know, there's only one thing I think I've longed for out there. Know what it is?'
Maj-Britt shook her head.
'To ride a bike, on a gravel path, through the woods. Preferably in a strong headwind.'
She looked at Maj-Britt again. Smiled, almost with embarrassment. As if her longing would seem ridiculous.
'It might be hard for those of you on the outside to understand how someone can long so much for something like that. Because you can do it every day if you want.'
Maj-Britt looked down at the tabletop. She felt herself blushing and didn't want Vanja to see it. Her own truth was a reproach in this context. Sixteen years Vanja had paid. Maj-Britt herself had thrown away thirty-two of her own free will. She hadn't been near a gravel path. Or a forest. And if the wind was blowing a little she would close the balcony door. She had voluntarily entered her prison and thrown away the key, and, as if that wasn't enough, she had let her body become the final shackle.
'No government can grant me a pardon.'
Maj-Britt was hauled out of her thoughts by the sorrow she heard in Vanja's voice.
'What do you mean?'
But Vanja didn't answer. Just sat there looking at the picture. Maj-Britt suddenly felt that she wanted to offer solace, reassurance, for once be the person who was there for Vanja instead of the other way round. She searched urgently for the right words.
'But what happened wasn't your fault.'
Vanja gave a deep sigh and ran her fingers through her hair.
'If you knew how tempting it's been for all these years to hide behind the argument that none of what happened was my fault. To blame everything on orjan and what he did.'
Maj-Britt grew more excited.
'But it was was his fault!' his fault!'
'What he did was horrid, unforgivable. But he wasn't the one who ...'
Vanja broke off and closed her eyes.
'Imagine, after all these years I still can't say it. Not without my whole body hurting.'
'But he was the one who drove you to it, he was the one who made you do it. He made you believe that there was no other way out. You wrote to me yourself and explained it all in the letter.'
'But we're talking about years. All those years when I stayed and let it happen. It began long before we had children. I even wrote an article about it once, saying that you should leave after the first time you're struck.'
She sat in silence for a moment.
'I don't know whether anyone can understand how ashamed I was that I let it happen.'
Vanja passed her hand across her face. Maj-Britt wanted to say something but couldn't find the words.
'Do you know what my biggest mistake was?'
Maj-Britt slowly shook her head.
'That instead of finally leaving I chose to see myself as a victim. That was when I let him win, it was like going over to his side and telling him he was right to behave the way he did, because all a victim does is give in, she can't do anything about her situation. I simply couldn't break the pattern that I had been used to from the beginning in my own family.'
Maj-Britt thought about Vanja's home. She had experienced it as a refuge from God's stern countenance, a place where there was always a blessed commotion. Everyone knew that Vanja's father got drunk sometimes, but most often he was happy and never scared her. It was mostly his stupid jokes that could be so tedious. You never saw much of Vanja's mother. She was usually behind the closed bedroom door, and they used to tiptoe past it so they wouldn't bother her.
'Pappa never hit me but he hit Mamma, and that was almost the same thing.'
Vanja looked at the picture again, and there was another pause before she went on.
'We never knew who would be coming home when the front door opened. Whether it was Pappa or that other man who looked just like him but who was a stranger to us. All he had to do was open his mouth and say a single word and we could tell.'
Maj-Britt hadn't known. Vanja had never hinted with a single word what went on at her house.
'You mustn't forget that orjan grew up the same way I did, with a father who lashed out and a mother who took it. So now I always ask myself where everything actually has its origin. It's a bit easier then, a bit easier to understand why people do things that can never be forgiven.'
It was quiet in the room. The sun had reached the windows and was filtering in through the narrow gaps between the slats in the blinds. Maj-Britt looked at the striped pattern on the opposite wall. Then she took a deep breath so she would dare to ask the question that she felt she had to ask.
'Are you afraid to die?'
'No.'
Vanja hadn't even hesitated.
'Are you?'
Maj-Britt lowered her eyes and looked at her hands in her lap. Then she slowly nodded.
'This is how I usually look at it. Why should it be any scarier to die than to be unborn? Because actually it's the same thing, only our bodies don't exist here on earth. Dying is nothing but returning to what we were before.'