Despite me feeling down, or maybe just because of it, I jumped on Nisse’s suggestion that we take a trip to Leningrad over Easter together with Maggan and Sussie, two girls he knew. The trip lasted four days and three nights, and it was inexpensive.
We took the Finland boat to
Helsinki where a bus waited to take us to Leningrad through southern Finland
and Karelia, which the Soviet Union had conquered in the first Winter War in
1940.
The
bus stopped for a little while in Viborg, where Nisse and I met two laborers
about a block from the central station. It was exciting for us revolutionaries
and I wrote about the meeting in a little notebook I carried with me.
“They were 40-50 years old, were black of soot and their hands were oily. We tried to explain that we were Swedes, but they didn’t understand, so we tried to say something that they reasonably would recognize.
‘Lenin.’
They made the cross.
I pointed to my camera, but they didn’t want to be photographed. They pointed at their dirty clothes.
When we mentioned Marx, Engels, and Lenin they immediately pressed our hands. Suddenly we had something in common. It seemed that one of them wanted us to call out Lenin’s name over the street, but they did at the same time keep an eye at people passing by, especially well-dressed people and military people.”
When
Nisse and I had installed us in our hotel room and unpacked our things, I took
out the one-liter bottle of Stolichnaya that I had bought tax free at the
border. We didn’t have anything
to mix with, so I grabbed two drinking glasses and filled them to the brim.
When in Rome… I don’t remember much from the rest of the night.
Having finished our breakfast at the hotel,
toast with orange marmalade, and tea from a samovar, Nisse and I went out to
look at the city and take photos. Spring had not arrived yet and the stood were
dark and somber. It was cold, but no worse than that the snow in the parks and
between the houses had started to melt. The rivers and canals were full of
floating ice sheets. We didn’t see a lot of people outside, but those we did
see were wearing dark and thick winter clothes, boots and fur hats that often
had their ear flaps down. The houses were rundown, and the whitewash was
peeling off on many walls. Here and there crowds of people were lining up
outside stores and department stores. The window displays in one store
consisted of pyramids of canned food.
We
photographed some houses a couple of blocks from the hotel and soon found
ourselves surrounded by kids who nagged us for chewing gums, “puggummi.” One kid who looked to be 15 said
that he was Finnish. He wanted to by my jacket.
“Nyet,” I said.
Then
he wanted to by my jeans.
“Nyet,” I said.
Then
he asked if I had any cigarettes, cameras, or currency to sell.
“Nyet,” I said.
We had deflected half a dozen “puggummi” kids when an old lady in a green coat
came rushing towards us. She took us one in each arm with a steady grip and
pulled us with her to a house that was surrounded by a fence. She spoke Russian
to a uniformed man who took our cameras. We were then brought into an office,
where a fat lady with her black hair in a bun and a serious face sat writing
something. On the wall behind her hung portraits of Lenin and Brezhnev. The old
lady, the woman and the uniformed man exchanged a few words. The old lady left,
and an interpreter arrived. He asked to see our passports and turned them over
to another uniformed man who had just come in. He asked through the interpreter
what we were doing in Leningrad and why we walked around taking pictures. We
said that we were tourists and that we liked to take pictures. He turned to the
woman at the desk and the talked for a bit. I was mostly worried that they
would take our cameras, but they must have realized that we were not spies
since they returned them after fifteen minutes and allowed us to leave.
On
Friday night, we and the girls took a taxi to Hotel Leningrad which according
to our guide was the nicest hotel in the city. We sat down in one of its many
bars and had a couple of beers before we went to the discotheque, which was
crowded with tourists. We danced until two am in the morning, when we walked
outside to get a taxi back to our hotel. There were a dozen taxis outside the
entrance, but when we asked for the price, one after another driver told us
that the price was the equivalent of 250 crowns, preferably in U.S. dollars.
They all had decided on the same price. They knew that the bridges soon would
open for the night to let large boats pass through and those who had not caught
a cab by then would be stuck. Maggan and Sussie caved in and paid, but Nisse
and I refused. We went from car to car, but they all gave us the same answer.
We were just about to give up, when a guy in an unmarked car asked us where we
wanted to go and then said that we could ride with them. It was a bit strange
with two guys in the car, but we had no choice, so we jumped in and gave the
driver a card with the address to our hotel.
After
a while we started to suspect that we were not at all on the way to our hotel,
because we rode through a dark and wooded area. I asked where we were going and
that we ought to have been at the hotel by now. The guy next to the driver
said, “okay, soon there,” but after a couple of
minutes more, they stopped the car in the middle of the forest. Nisse and I
asked what was going on and told them to take us to our hotel immediately.
“We just want to do a little business with you,”
the guy said. “Do you have any dollars?”
“No, we don’t have any dollars. Take us to our
hotel!”
“But maybe you have something else to sell?”
“No, we don’t. We have nothing to sell! Take us
to the hotel!” I yelled at him.
“I’m sorry, but we want to do business with you.
What do you say if I buy your gloves? Can I look at them?”
Nisse
and I looked surprised at each other and wondered what would come next. This
was crazy, but we didn’t like the idea
to be alone in a forest with two crooks. I took off the gloves that I had
bought at Åhléns for 24 crowns and handed them over. He inspected them and
showed them to the driver who nodded and said something in Russian.
“Okay, how about I’m buying them from you for
four Rubles?”
“Four, five, ten, I don’t care. Take us to our
hotel!”
“Okay, no problem!”
Fifteen
minutes later we stepped out of the car without my gloves, but four Rubles
richer.
The three nights in Leningrad
went fast and on the fourth day we took the bus back to Helsinki where we
boarded the boat home. When we finished dinner, Nisse and I went to the bar
where we had a beer each. We had been sitting there chatting for half an hour
when a girl sat down next to me and started talking. Her name was Terry, and
she had a curly reddish-brown hair and freckles. I remember that I thought she
was pretty. I bought her a beer and soon we were sitting there talking about
our impressions of Leningrad. She came from Fagerholm in Västergötland
and had been to a school trip with her class. A bit later she suggested that we
should go to the disco, and we did. The music was okay, and we danced a long
time. And then it was time for slow dance. When the disco closed, we withdrew
to a calm corner where we started to hug and kiss. And we kept going until the
early morning when we fell asleep next to each other.
When
the boat had arrived in Stockholm it was time for everybody to disembark and
for me and Terry to split. It wasn’t
easy because something had happened during that night. We exchanged addresses
and now we stood wrapped around each other a bit from her bus and kissed as if
we would never see each other again while the snow whirled around us. When the
driver honked a third time, she gave me a final embrace and ran over to her
patiently waiting bus.
I
returned to Nisse and the girls who had observed the spectacle from a distance.
April 7, Friday
A
letter from Terry! It was so nice. She wrote that it was hard for her to write
since we don’t know each other but for
the time on the boat. I wrote a long letter back and mailed it out the same day
so that she would receive it with Saturday delivery.
April
11, Tuesday
A new
letter from Terry! My letter was wonderful, she wrote!!! I read the letter
several times and it warmed so nice. She told me a lot about her friends, her
family, and aunts and about her room and favorite color – lilac – and about
school and tests she was nervous about. And she wrote that she hoped I would
write back soon. I wrote back the same afternoon and went to the Post Office to
make sure it went out with the last pickup for the day.
April
14
She
asked me to send a picture of myself since her impressions from the boat were
slightly blurry. I think I’m falling
in love.
April
19
I
wrote to Terry about how upset I am over the U.S. bombing Hanoi and Haiphong,
about their crimes against international law and how the civil population is
impacted. She isn’t that
interested in politics, but she is a good person and I do think that she will
react if she finds out what is going on.
May
11, Thursday
Haven’t written much in the diary for a while for the
simple reason that I write to Terry every other day and when I have finished
writing to her, I don’t have much energy left for the diary. And when we’re not
writing, we’re talking on the phone, but it’s expensive to call long distance, so
we can’t do it too often. However, it is hard not to, because she has such a
lovely voice. It’s soft, warm, and sensual.
May 22, Monday
She
was here and I already miss her! She arrived by train on Friday, and I met her
at the Central Station. Once we spotted each other we started to run and soon
we were hugging like crazy. People stared at us, and some laughed. Then we
embraced again and again. And finally, we took the subway home to me. Mom had
prepared the room where she would sleep. Georg was not home, but Per welcomed
her with a hug. She was a bit shy during dinner, but she did talk about herself
and her family. She was very polite and well mannered. After dinner I showed
her my room, my things, and my bookcase which she studied for a long time. We sat
on the bed and were silent.
“I’m so glad that you were allowed to come
here.”
“I’m 18 now, so I can decide myself,” she said.
She
was supposed to sleep in her own room, but she stayed with me, and we lay there
talking until late in the morning. I’ve
never talked so much and in this way to a girl before. It was like a dam had
opened and everything gushed out. I told her everything about myself, about my
unrequited love and about my dreams and how much I liked her. And she talked
about herself and about boys she had liked and not liked. She said that one
thing she liked about me was that I was not like many boys only interested in
her body, that I was interested in who she is and what she thinks. Then we
kissed and the kisses became longer and deeper. I got turned on, but she said
that she was too tired, and so was I, honestly speaking, because the next thing
I knew was that I woke up with her at my side. I looked at her for a long time
and felt that I was in love with her. Totally.
The
rest of the weekend just flew by. We took long walks on Saturday, and later we
took the subway to the city and visited the National Museum before going to the
Old Town where she shopped in small shops selling knick-knacks. She didn’t like department stores, she said. We had
dinner at Pizzeria Napoli and returned home around nine. Mom and dad watched
TV. We talked for a bit and then withdrew to my room. I had bought Carol King’s
Tapestry album which Terry had said that I absolutely must have. I put it on
the record player and then we sank down in my bed.
Now
she was not tired. She had a thin white blouse and a short skirt. She kissed me
intensively and for a long time and I felt her legs against mine and her womb
against my sex. I caressed her naked legs and held her bottom and pressed it
against me. She embraced me hard and pushed herself against me. I was ready.
“You don’t need to worry. I’m protected.”
She
sat up and took off her clothes and I followed her example. Then we lay naked
against each other. She pulled up the sheet and kissed med and came up on top.
She helped me find my way and I entered her. We were united and I loved her as
I never loved before.
We
were one.
Tuesday night
Terry!
I remember your mouth, your eyes, hands, and nails (I tingle at the thought).
In my body every caress echo, embrace and kiss.
When I
took out Ludde a quarter past nine I was as if intoxicated. I walked and
laughed to myself. My heart skipped beats. I jumped and ran through the path in
forest, but slowed down as I could not run, only laugh, and enjoy everything.
The wind met my face. My lungs heaved and I felt a tickle in my belly.
May 24
A long
and wonderful letter slipped through the letter box this morning. She is
fabulous. And she writes like an angel even though it can sometimes be hard to
interpret her handwriting. She writes tight, tight, as if she wants to use
every square millimeter of the letter paper.
“You big cozy wonderful human being.” And that
was but the first line. She wrote that she walks around and sings and cries
when she reflects on our meeting and the fact that she doesn’t know when we’ll
meet again.
“Something happened in Stockholm, and I don’t
recognize the person that stepped off that train. It’s me, but not me. You
should study some Zen and then you would understand. I should have studied math
today, but it’s like my brain short circuited and can only think along one
track and of one thing, a big and wonderful thing that is way too far away. We
must meet again! You made me so happy, and it was great when we made love. It
was like you were listening to my entire being and I love to listen to you.
There is so much good in you. Wonderful man!! Why are you not er now? I can
picture you in front of me, your lovely eyes, your smile that makes me so warm inside.”
At the
end of the letter, she had a long footnote about a book she had read. It was
about Zen, which in her beautiful eyes was not a religion but a way to live in
harmony and connect your personal harmony with caring for the world. My God,
what a girl!
May
25, Thursday
In ten
days, I will enter the army. I’m mad about
missing all the end-of-school parties.
When the others are sitting by some campfire drinking beer and singing
Who can sail without the wind, I will be marching on some damned gravel field…
left, right, left, right. Marching for king and capital. But it may be useful
to know how to handle weapons when the revolution comes. I tried to post pone
the service until next year, but that failed. And worst of all, I will not be
able to meet Terry for I don’t know how long.
June 14, Linköping
I
received hugs from Mona, Emma, and Frida.
I woke
up several times during the night due to other people’s natural needs.
Today,
the entire platoon was at the regiment’s
hospital where an old lady checked us for venereal diseases.
Tonight,
I went out drinking with the guys in my group. We debated. It was me against
everybody.
Linköping sucks as far as nice women goes.
Longing
for you, Terry!
June
16
Have
no urge to write anything. Just that you are way too far away!
June
18, 02:25 AM
Home
for the weekend. It’s light outside.
The birds are chirping. I saw a hare at the lawn. It ran away when it saw me
coming.
I took
the bus to Stockholm Central on Friday night and was tired when I got home. I
slept until elven thirty on Saturday. I woke up as the phone rang. It was Carl.
Nisse,
Carl, and I went to Mälarbadet. Then
to the Systembolaget where I bought ten beers for me and Carl. We drank at
Nisse’s home and then left for the city. Carl had pizza. Nisse and I had caffe
espresso. At about eleven, Nisse and I left for a midsummer party at Kärsön.
Carl left for home.
I’m meeting friends from school. A nice campfire
burns by the beach. We hear four guitars and a pair of congas. It relatively
light. Opposite us, but the other beach lies the Drottningholm Castle, which is
lit up by façade lights. The lake is almost still. The mosquitoes sting.
Everything is great. I’m thinking of Terry and wish that she was with me.
Around
one thirty we head back home. The final stretch I walk alone in the summer
night. Lots of birds are singing. When I pass by Emma’s house, I hear drums and howling in the
distance. I cup my hands over my ears to listen. First silence, then a drum
whirl on a gasoline drum or something like that, followed by a howl and a
scream of anxiety. Then silence. The birds keep chirping. Everything is calm.
Not a human being in sight. From the playground I hear the same cry as before,
but now it sounds like an animal howl. Everything is quiet except for the
birds. Four seagulls are lined up in the pool and look at their reflections in
the water. And it’s twenty minutes to three.
June 20
When I
returned to our quarters after today’s
exercises there was a letter on my perfectly made steel bed. I immediately
recognized the handwriting and laughed at the address, “Private 4123 Videmark.”
The stamp was German because she had a summer job in Munich. She told me about
her trip and the hotel where she had started working, her rome and that she had
a photo of me on her tiny desk. With the letter came a card with flower
garlands that she had drawn around the lyrics to Blowin’ in the Wind. She
thought it would suite my new environment.
How
many roads must a man walk down
Before
you call him a man?
How
many seas must a white dove sail
Before
she sleeps in the sand?
Yes,
'n' how many times must the cannon balls fly
Before
they're forever banned?
The
answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind
The
answer is blowin' in the wind
I
attached the card to the inside of my locker door with tape.
Later
the same night.
Life
her is okay. We sleep twelve in the same room, two rows with six steel beds and
aluminum lockers in between, where we keep our clothes, machine guns and
personal items. The military tattoo goes off at six every morning. At six
thirty you must be dressed and the be perfectly made so that a coin will bounce
if the sergeant want to inspect it. Then the long line to the dining hall for
breakfast and back to our rooms for morning inspection.
June
21
It’s nine fifty and I’m drunk. Had a Weisses
Rössl, a hot dog with a lot of French fries. It cost 4,30 crowns including
cucumber mayo. Why drunk? Didn’t really care for it, but did it to fit in, to
be like a fish in the water. Chatted, played around, and had fun. Not great,
but the week was relatively nice.
I don’t have any urge to “hunt”. You make me calm,
Terry.
To
know that somebody knows who I am. One for whom I cannot lie. My truth. And I
want to know you, understand you! Much more! What do I know about you? Some,
but not much! True???
I
checked out the library at the regiment yesterday. They had lots of great
novels. Dickens, Tolstoy, Dostoyevsky, Steinbeck, Jules Verne, Balzac, Kafka,
Jack London, and many others.
I love
you, Terry! Only you!
June 22
Back
in Stockholm. I got home about five. I’m
tired and have a cold. I met Mr. Larsson outside the stairway. He looked older
than the last time. His hair was white. We talked for some time.
Per
and Georg are home. Mom and dad are at the summer house on Öland.
I went
up to Larsson at nine. There was a large sign in the stairway: “Thieves in the building.” I rang the bell. It
seems that he is out walking Ludde since I could neither hear him nor Ludde
barking. But I did hear somebody moving around in the apartment, why I ran a
second time. Nobody opened. It was probably his wife walking lightly in there,
afraid of thieves and not daring to open. They’ve had attempted break-ins a
couple of times. I rang a fourth time before leaving.
I took
a walk. Found the grass-green sweater that I bought a couple of years back. It
matches my new grass-green Manchester jeans and orange socks. Feeling quite
fashionable. Thinking of Terry.
June 24
Carl,
Nisse, and I tried to arrange a midsummer party. We called around for an hour
but no luck. Everybody was away. We started to booze around three. Carl had
finished ten beers by nine thirty. I had six. We watched Alias Smith &
Jones and then took the subway to the city. Ate pizza. Drank half a liter of
beer, ate Cassata ice-cream at the pizzeria. Nisse was not in the mood for
pizza, so he went to Sturehof. The idea was that we should meet up with him
there after we had eaten, but Sturehof was closed, so he popped in at the
pizzeria after fifteen minutes. We continued to the Old Town to go listen to
jazz at Stampen, but it was closed. We gave up and went home to me, where we
buzzed until two in the morning.
I ask
myself: What do I have to write about? Why should I write down my few and
everyday experiences? I have nothing grandiose or remarkable to tell.
June
25
Carl,
Steffe, Lelle, Eva, Georg, and me. Everybody is drinking but me and Eva (Steffe’s girlfriend).
Why
not me?
I have
a bottle of wine, but I don’t want to
get drunk. I feel like I would humiliate myself by drinking. I find it
repulsive to lose control over myself. And I want to do it even less when I
think of you, Terry. Then I want to be strong and sound.
But to
live and have fun?
Sure,
but I guess you can have a better time than getting shitfaced drunk, talk a lot
of crap and then go to bed lonely. No, it’s
crooked. I don’t like it. I wouldn’t like for you, Terry, to see me smashed.
Am I
moralizing? I am not an ascetic. I want to rink, eat and, love, but then in an
honest and unpretentious way. Not the hysterical overindulging, boozing, and
screwing. In that respect I am a moralist. Of course, one can get smashed
sometimes, but I don’t want to do it
for the simple reason that it happens to be Friday or Saturday. If I am going
to get drunk, I want to have a reason for it, a strong reason.
That’s why I am not drinking tonight.
For
you I want to be sound.
June 27
338
days left to “freedom”, that is the
“freedom” to look for a job, to worry, to not have any idea of what you should
do, to think about how many days your money lasts.
June
28, Wednesday
We are
paid seven crowns a day in “salary”.
It’s not a lot, but there is on the other hand not much to buy her at the
regiment. You can buy candy, cigarettes, beer and soda at the Market, and there
is of course the pinball machine, but it is usually taken by the HR guy. Which
is why I in some strange way manage to save money!
When
my pals are playing poker or drink beer at the Market, I usually sit by myself
reading or writing letters. I receive two to three letters every week from
Terry and write as many. The exchange of letters make life here endurable. The
days are boring. We run track almost every morning, practice shooting every day
and then must clean the rifles and have them inspected. Always these
inspections. Funny that they don’t
inspect your ass when you’ve taken a dump!
We
were in the city the other evening and went to Svarta Tjuren where I had
capercaillie because I never had that before. Then we went to a disco. We must
wear uniform when we go out in the evening, hence we are seen as soldiers and
not fellow human beings. One girl flirted at a place where we drank beer. It
felt strange to be spoken to only because you are a soldier. It didn’t seem to matter who you were. I ignored her
because I was not interested.
Terry
wrote in her latest letter that I should take to opportunity to “have fun” when I am off, because you only live
once. It felt odd. I love her and I have absolutely no urge to hunt.
June
29
Lying
in the couch at the library listening to Leonard Cohen. Read poems by Dan
Andersson. Cohen drives thoughts and feeling close. If only we could share this
couch, Terry…
I long
to write fantasy, sagas and satire. Who knows, maybe I’ll do it one day?
July
14
Tomorrow
I’m taking the bus to Stockholm again. It only
costs ten crowns and I arrive at the Centralen at eight. Once home a letter
waited from my love.
July
23, Stockholm
The
July sun makes me slow and sweaty. Three hours left of the break. At eight I
step on the bus, indifferent.
July
30, Sunday
We are
at a shooting exercise somewhere in Småland.
For two weeks. We slept inside the first couple of days, then it was off into
the deep forest to dig holes in the ground, build outdoor latrines consisting
of two long poles tied between two trees. We sleep in tents with wood stoves,
which means that everybody must take their turn in watching over the fire. I
used my half hour to read letters. Terry’s letters keep coming and I devour
them with good appetite. I’m the only guy here who gets that many letters. The
sergeant who brings the mail jokes that I have monopolized the postal service
and ought to share.
August
8, Tuesday
Sitting
here in the forest among tens of thousands of boring pine trees. The guys are
cutting up firewood or smoking. Some play cards, others are reading porn.
04.00 Reveille
05:45 Food
06:15 Platoon ready with all equipment, except for sleeping
bag and private items
06:30 Marching off
August
12, Saturday, Stockholm
The
exercise over the last three days was idiotic. We had to walk around in the
forest in the middle of the night carrying 100 lb. wooden crates that
represented ammunition but was instead loaded with concrete. We were so
exhausted that we laid down on a gravel road and fell asleep. Eventually we
woke up and kept traipsing around. In one place my partner fell into a deep
hole in the ground. Fortunately, the crate did not land on his head. Somehow,
we managed to find our way with a map and compass to the base where we got
blueberry soup and a piece of bread. It was the best breakfast in a long time!
August 21, Monday
I’ve been to Paradise! I went directly from the
deep forest to Paradise. Terry is back from Germany, and she gave me a warm
embrace as I stepped off the bus in Fagerholm. Her mom seemed to be okay. We
had dinner together and then she showed me where I could sleep, on the couch in
the living room. We watched TV until ten when her mom withdrew to her room.
Terry and I stayed and talked and caressed lightly. I took a shower and brushed
my teeth and laid down in the couch while Terry got herself ready. She whispered
to me that we must be careful since her mom was nervous and would be able to
see me from the kitchen is she came in there during the night.
Terry
sneaked in once everything was quiet and laid down with me. She had a thin
nightgown and nothing under it. We whispered to each other and the knowledge
that her mom could discover us there just made it more exciting. I kissed her
and caressed her breasts through the nightgown. The couch squeaked, so we
spread out the blanked on the living room carpet instead. I kissed her and
pulled her towards me, and I came up on top and entered her. We didn’t make any noise and the whole thing was soon
over. She sneaked back into her room and had just gone to bed when her mom came
out into the kitchen pretending to search for something. But she was too late,
and we already slept innocently in our rooms.
September 12
100
days done.
“He should be more concerned about the Party and the masses than about any individual, and more concerned about others than about himself.”
(Mao Tse Tung)
September
26, Tuesday
No
letter in two weeks.
September
30
The
letter arrived today. It was rather short. She writes that school is taxing
with all tests and writing tasks. Her parents are on top of her all the time.
October 16
I
asked Captain Andersson to be downgraded to an ordinary soldier. I don’t want to be an officer in the army of the
monopoly capital, and besides, by downgrading I get out after 300 days instead
of 450.
“I’m sorry to hear that. Videmark is an
excellent marksman,” the captain said.
November
6
Tricky
Dick won the election. Incredible! How on Earth could he win?
December 9
To get a grip on yourself and not let go
To unify in one unique individual, one behavior
To laugh because you’re happy and not out of fear
To unify with the people and with yourself
January 17, 1973
Dad
got a new heart valve made from steel. The surgery at the Karolinska Hospital
took eleven hours. I got time off from the army, so I am home. It was a long
wait before we were told that the surgery went well, but that he still was
sedated.
January
18
We
visited him at Karolinska. He lay in his bed and looked very pale, and he had a
scary hole in his throat, so it was difficult for him to talk. I found it hard
to breathe and felt shaky, so I sat down by his side in the hospital bed and
took his hand which felt cold. I was afraid, but he had survived and that was
the most important thing.
March 6
It’s almost half a year since the last time we
met. We still write almost every week, but I’m not sure about where she stands.
I have tried to explain the political situation for her and why it is so
important to be engaged in the world, in politics. We can’t be neutral when the
U.S. is bombing the dams in northern Vietnam. She writes about everyday things,
about friends and parties, about homework, and aunts. She avoids things I feel
are important. And when I said that I wanted to see her after my service, then
she said that we must wait because she has a lot of tests in April and May.
March
8
It’s over. She broke up yesterday.
March
9
There
was a line to the payphones at the Market, so I had to wait for half an hour
before it was my turn. I had the pocket full of one crown coins and dialed the
number. It was so nice to hear her voice when she answered. She told me what
she’s been up to the last few days, and I told her
about my boring life. I asked her if she wanted to take an InterRail trip with
me in the summer. Then she dropped the bomb.
“Johan, I have met another guy.”
I didn’t know what to say.
“I didn’t want to tell you over the phone, but
somehow you must know. I would have liked to have you here with me so that we
could talk about it, but it’s not possible. We have such a special
relationship, and I don’t want to ruin it by withholding anything from you. I
want us always to be honest with each other. You are such a good person. You
are good for me.”
“But we had such a great time together in
Stockholm, and you said that our relationship was perfect,” I said.
“Johan, you can never touch me again. Never!”
“I thought… you wrote that you love me.”
“I know that it’s not fair. I wish you were
here, but you must understand how difficult this has been for me too.”
I stared
into the handset and felt dizzy. My heart was raising. Behind med waited other
guys on their turn to call.
“Please, Johan, say something! I don’t want you
to be mad at me. I want us to stay friends,” she said.
We
kept talking for a few minutes, but all I could think of was the words “another guy”, which echoed in my ears.
Disheartened
I walked back to the room, took off my army boots and laid down on my steel
bed.
March
12
It’s over for her, but not for me. It was the
finest relationship I’ve had. I have her letters in my locker, but what used to
make me happy to see them when I open the aluminum door, now I want to cry when
I see them. The letters made life bearable, but now it was 18 days until my
service is over and I have nothing to look forward to. It hurts.
March
18
I find
it hard to accept life as it now is. I am like a brick that doesn’t fit in anywhere. All in all, useless and
meaningless. Why strive to understand everything when it’s impossible? Why live
at all? Why ask? Is it meaningful so search? How could I become part of the
collective? I know the answer, but do I want to take the step? Is it my
thinking that throws me into these crises? Or is it the crisis’ thoughts? I
fear that worrying is my core self.
March
25
On the subway it hit me. What I am looking for and had looked for since you broke off is another Terry. I reject everybody who is not like you. I feel my pulse beating heard in my stomach. I am afraid, terrified. Afraid to meet this rotten society alone. The black reaction growing. I’m afraid to betray, and what happens if I don’t betray. Am I willing to go to prison for the cause?
I got out of the army on the last day of March, but I don’t remember much of the event. I had bought a bottle of vodka which I drank straight up on the train to Stockholm. The tradition said that you’re supposed to get drunk when you exit the service, but it didn’t tell you what happens when you are sitting still in a train compartment drinking vodka pure without moving around. When the train arrived in Stockholm and I stood up to leave the train, my head started spinning and from then on, I only remember fragments. I stepped off the train, walked down the stairs and through the corridor towards the main Central Station building. I have a vague memory of us meeting cops on the way to the subway entrance, and that my friends saved me from jail. Then I blacked out until a taxi stopped outside my home. I staggered towards the door where dad and Per met me. Dad told Per to make sure that mom didn’t see me and guided me to my room where I fell asleep again.
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