Stasis & Praxis: a Claustrophobic story

Part Two

At breakfast: “You left some dishes so I had to wash them.” “You didn’t need to wash them.” He took a breath. “would you put them away when they dry Margit?” “Yes professor.” she turned the page of her magazine with great care. He shuffled his papers a few times before leaving the room.

Afternoon: “I took old dog out.” “I said I would when I came home.” “You were a bit late.” “very good professor.” She smiled at him to see if he would respond. His hand tightened its grip around his pen. She aways made him feel a fool.

After dinner: “why did you pile up my papers?” “I was trying to be helpful.” “you never are. You seem keen to cause havoc.” “You always make feel as if I shouldn’t be here.” “Well why do you still live here? You are not held to anyone or thing.” “Do I have to be? Are these your rules? Do you feel stuck?” The word “stuck” almost felt like an insult to Klas. How could he explain that he felt he couldn’t escape his emotions in this house. He was always surrounded by every evidence of them. Surrounded by his responsibilities and how he felt he wasn’t living up to them. Surrounded by his future when he looked at his aging in laws and their decline. Surrounded by Margit. A woman who was everything he was not and yet still there.

Margit said, “You treat me like I am foolish.” “FOOLISH? My god Margit.” Klas thought of how Margit had driven him mad for years. “Margit I feel like you have been trying to dare me for years. Since that one time.” Margit began to laugh.

Margit stopped laughing when she saw his eyes. He was held not by the house or his so-called sense of responsibilities and reputation but by a kiss from long ago. One he had wanted to return for nearly fifteen years.

Years prior she had kissed him. It had started out jokingly but within a few seconds the joke ended. Klas had wanted to kiss her back. Then he had leaned in and pulled back at the last second. Now there wasn’t any holding back.

The only concession to propriety that was made had to do with the bedroom they ended up in. Even in their selfish state they knew it would not do to be in Dagmar’s bed. Way up in the attic bedroom it wasn’t joyful. Just frenzied because the task was one that felt overdue. Like trying to race to turn in a paper that is due shortly. Only this metaphorical paper should have been turned in decades ago and it was now on fire. Early in the morning ( as both had to be up soon) Margit hoped that this might make the anger ease. She was not going to let this become a habit. Not like Mr. Frisk. Klas proceeded to make the second least responsible act of his life when he got up and let out Old Dog into the garden instead of taking him out for a walk. (Klas wanted to return to bed and to Margit) Old Dog found a hole in the fence and in his new found freedom went for a run and was promptly struck by a car and killed.

Old Dog was brought to them by a neighbor. Klas and Margit began to discuss how they were to break the news to Margit’s Father. There wasn’t any talk about what lead Klas to let the dog out. Other than Klas offering to accept the blame. Margit said that if he did others would find it so odd that he didn’t do his full duty. She then pointed out that her Father would forgive her. She wasn’t a Mother but she realized the forgiving nature of a parent for the sins of a child is vast. Klas was quiet for some time before he put his hand over hers. He felt like such a coward but he also felt gratitude.

When the rest of the family returned a couple days later (Klas had spent those remaining nights in Margit’s bed. They both knew that this was a period out of normal time and though they did not say it, they knew it would cease with the return to daily life) and Margit sat down at fika to tell Nils had happened. Nils was quiet for a very long time. He said softly that it wasn’t her fault. He had been meaning to mend that hole for awhile. He got up and took Old Dog’s leash in hand and went out for a walk. By himself.

The routine of life went on. Dagmar worked and kept careful track of their savings. Klas taught his students and read to his children. Nils went on his daily walks, Karin took care of the house. Margit worked in the bakery and Mr. Frisk became more attentive. There was a slight shift a few weeks later when Margit began to feel awful in the morning. Her early hours made it possible to avoid conversation about this subject.

Nils had always kept most opinions to himself. He began to retreat into longer silences. He kept up the daily walks he had made with Old Dog. Leash always in hand. To a stranger he might have looked like an owner looking for a lost dog and in many ways that stranger would have been right. Then one morning Karin found Nils sitting in his chair, holding loosely to the leash. Nils was dead. His heart, too full of hurt, had given out.

The following day after the funeral and the party (where everyone drank enough alcohol to enjoy every possible emotion at once -pain, grief, joy, numb contentment) Karin and her two daughters (who took care of most tasks and tidied after the party) took their own private fika. “The herring was good.” “Dad would have loved that. And those buns brought by The Larsens.” “mmm…yes.” Silence over the best food in the worst of times. It was Karin who broke the quiet when she said “How far gone are you?” She didn’t have to say Margit’s name for Dagmar knew what she meant and had the same thought in her head. Their experience as Mothers gave them that gift of sensing the impending. Margit set down a dish and said, “Nearly four months.” They nodded. Not wanting to pry about the details. Though both wondered about Mr. Frisk and his ailing wife.

A few months later Dagmar and Margit are putting laundry away in their Mother’s room. The only changes that had been made were the quilt being folded up as if the bed needed an airing and Nils would be in bed that night. Dagmar asked who was it that called earlier. Margit said, “ It was Thor -Mr. Frisk.” “Ah. yes.” “His wife Frida died.””Ah. I am sorry. Does he want you to come to the funeral?” As Margit rubbed her belly she said “He said it was to be family only.” “yes. of course.” They put things away and said no more.

Plates were being put out, Dagmar was making cakes, Teo and Maj were on their best behavior. Mr. Frisk was coming over for Sunday fika. Since his wife’s death he had begun making visits to the home. He was very funny and brought out a lot of conversation in nearly everyone. Klas couldn’t help but like Mr. Frisk. He chalked it up to Mr. Frisk being Danish. “they have a reputation for not being serious.” But Klas would lose his chatter when Margit started to talk. Especially when she was so animated around Thor. On this day Margit wasn’t filled with much talk. She felt a slight tightning feeling. She thought she shouldn’t have had that cup of coffee. The heartburn.

Margit never got a chance to try the cakes as labor came on fast. The midwife made it in time though Dagmar and Karin did much of the work to help Margit along. A boy was born. He was called Nils. The only qualm came when Karin and Dagmar had a good look at little Nils. He looked exactly like Teo and Maj did as babies. For all three looked exactly like their Father. Even Dagmar gasped but hid it by saying “he looks as he should.” Klas looked at the baby and smiled weakly and said nothing. Quite soon after that Dagmar found they had enough money for a home of their own. Klas now had come to the moment in life when he was in need of mercy.

A few months after the birth of Nils; Margit and baby moved in with Mr. Frisk. He wasn’t terribly bothered about the grey area of paternity. He said it was a game of chance how people existed. He was just happy to have Margit about. He didn’t want much which suited Margit well. She had a baby, and a man who desired her openly but didn’t want everything. Dagmar picked a house she wanted and let Klas live with her. She even had the house painted her favorite color. Klas smiled. Weakly. It was Sunday and Karin sat down to some coffee by herself. The regular crowded Sunday fika was no more. She thought of how she went on a walk in the woods as a girl with her Grandma. Her Grandma told her how Mother birds pushed their babies out when it was time to fly and leave. Karin wondered if some young birds pushed each other out of the family nest. She drank her coffee and listened to the ticking of the clock.

FIN