The Red Address Book. Sofia Lundberg

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      “Hi, Auntie Doris!”

      The small child grins and waves frantically, so close to the computer screen that only his fingertips and eyes are visible.

      “Hi, David!” She waves back and then raises her hand to her mouth to blow him a kiss. At that very moment, the camera swings to one side, and her kiss lands on the mother. She smiles when she hears Jenny’s laugh. It’s infectious.

      “Doris! How are you? How are things this week?” Jenny cocks her head and moves so close to the camera, only her eyes are visible. Doris laughs.

      “I’m OK, don’t worry about me.” She shakes her head. “The girls come over every day to check on me. But enough about this old dame. What have you been up to? How are the kids? Have you been finding time to write?”

      “Ah no, not this week. It’s hard, with the kids. But maybe someday I’ll start finding more time, when they’re a bit older.”

      “Jenny, if you keep putting it off, someday might never come. You’ve always wanted to write. You can’t fool me. Try to find the time.”

      “Yeah, maybe one day. But right now, the kids are most important. Look, let me show you something. Tyra took her first steps yesterday, look how cute she is.”

      Jenny turns the computer towards her young daughter, who is on the floor, chewing the corner of a magazine. She whimpers when Jenny lifts her. Refuses to stand on her own, slumps back down as soon as her feet touch the floor.

      “Come on, Tyra, walk, please. Show Auntie Doris.” Jenny tries again, speaking in Swedish this time: “Stand up now, show her what you can do.”

      “Just leave her be. When you’re one, magazines are much more exciting than an old lady on the other side of the world.”

      Jenny sighs. Moves into the kitchen, with the computer in her arms.

      “Have you redecorated?”

      “Yeah, didn’t I tell you? It looks good, right?” Jenny spins around with the computer, making the furniture blur into nothing but lines. Doris follows the room with her eyes.

      “Very nice. You have an eye for interiors, you always did.”

      “Oh, I don’t know about that. Willie thinks it’s too green.”

      “And you think …?”

      “I like it. I love light green. It’s the same colour Mom had in her kitchen, do you remember? In that little apartment in New York.”

      “It wasn’t in New York, was it?”

      “Yeah, the brick building, do you remember? The one with the plum tree in the tiny little garden.”

      “In Brooklyn, you mean? Yes, I remember. With the big dining table that didn’t quite fit.”

      “Yeah, exactly! I’d completely forgotten about that. Mom refused to give it up when she divorced that lawyer, so they had to saw it in two to get it into the room. It was so close to the wall that I had to suck my stomach in to sit on one side of it.”

      “Oh yes, life was certainly never boring in that house.” Doris smiles at the memory.

      “I wish you could come for Christmas.”

      “Yes, me too. It’s been so long. But my back is too bad. And my heart. My travelling days are probably over.”

      “I’ll keep hoping anyway. I miss you.”

      Jenny turns the computer towards the counter and stands with her back to Doris.

      “Sorry, but I just need to make Tyra a quick snack.” She takes out bread and butter, lifts her whining daughter onto one hip.

      Doris waits patiently while Jenny butters the bread.

      When she returns to the screen, Doris asks, “You seem tired, Jenny. Is Willie helping you out enough?” Tyra presses the bread to her face, sitting on Jenny’s lap now. The butter smears across Tyra’s cheeks, and she pokes out her tongue to reach it. Jenny is holding her with one arm, and she uses the other to pick up a glass of water and take a big sip.

      “He does his best. He’s got a lot going on at work, you know? He doesn’t have time.”

      “What about the two of you, do you have time for each other?”

      Jenny shrugs.

      “Almost never. But it’s getting better. We just need to make it through this, the baby years. He’s good, he struggles a lot too. It’s not easy supporting an entire family.”

      “Ask him for help. So you can get some rest.”

      Jenny nods. Kisses Tyra on the head. Changes the subject.

      “I really don’t want you to be alone over Christmas. Isn’t there anyone you can celebrate with?” Jenny smiles at Doris.

      “Don’t worry about me, I’ve spent plenty of Christmases alone. You’ve got enough to think about as it is. Just make sure the children have a good Christmas and I’ll be happy. It’s a children’s holiday, after all. Let me see, I’ve said hello to David and Tyra, but where’s Jack?”

      “Jack!” Jenny shouts loudly, but there’s no answer. She swings around, and Tyra’s bread drops to the floor. The little girl starts to cry.

      “JACK!” Jenny’s face is red. She shakes her head and picks up the bread from the floor. Blows gently on it and hands it back to Tyra.

      “He’s hopeless. He’s upstairs, but he … I just don’t understand him. JACK!”

      “He’s growing up. Like when you were a teenager yourself, do you remember?”

      “Do I remember? No, not at all.” Jenny laughs and covers her eyes with her hands.

      “Oh yes, you were a wild child, you were. But look how well you turned out. Jack will be fine too.”

      “I hope you’re right. Sometimes being a parent is such a thankless task.”

      “It goes with the territory, Jenny. It’s meant to be that way.”

      Jenny straightens her white shirt, notices a lick of butter, and tries to rub it off.

      “Ugh, my only clean shirt. What am I going to wear now?”

      “You can’t even see it. That shirt suits you. You always look so СКАЧАТЬ