Authors: Camilla Ceder
Her
mother used to lie more quickly, if not more credibly, thought Maya as she
struggled against the shards of icy rain a couple of hours later, following the
dots of light illuminating the cycle track out of town.
She
had stupidly thought that things would have changed when she came home, simply
because external circumstances were so different. A strong wind had got up, and
the rain lashed her face until her forehead ached with the cold. She started to
swear out loud, the words muffled in her woollen scarf at first, but soon she
was yelling her frustration at the top of her voice. Her curses seemed to be eaten
by the wind, which had free rein now she had left the factories and the old
warehouses behind and was cycling past open fields.
Things
improved slightly when she turned off the cycle track, heading for the Evil
Riders' club. There had been no need for her to worry about not finding it; the
track was marked with a sign, and beneath it a burning torch had managed to
stay alight in spite of the weather. Nor was there any risk of taking a wrong
turning, since the narrow gravel track carried on into infinity, with no
crossroads or any other buildings. It was pitch dark, the way ahead illuminated
only by the feeble dynamo lamp on her bike. It felt like travelling into
nothingness with neither a map nor compass to guide her.
It
had been quite late by the time she had drunk her wine, put on suitable clothes
and managed to find her old bike and pump up the tyres - she thought it must be
getting on for midnight now.
Please let it not be much further.
She
could leave the bike there and get Sebbe to give her a lift home on his moped.
The thought cheered her up slightly.
Her
energy held out and finally she spotted the lights of the club at the end of
the winding black track. The sound of engines was getting louder; two cars and
loud voices were coming towards her. She stopped and dragged the bike to the
side of the road to let them pass. Music was pouring out of the club. The main
door and several windows were wide open in spite of the cold. A dog ran out and
relieved itself, lifting its leg against the plastered facade. It stared
straight at Maya, before finding some scent on the ground to concentrate on.
Immediately
after that a girl emerged; she had bleached blonde hair and was wearing a short
skirt and boots. Maya felt as if she knew her from somewhere. The girl called
to the dog and squatted down to scratch behind its ear before nodding briefly
at Maya and going back inside. Maya took a deep breath and walked through the
gate of the surrounding fence. She propped her bike against the wall next to an
enormous motorbike with a sidecar.
The
muscles in her face contracted before she stepped inside. She knew this meant
that the familiar mask had settled into place, like a thin but strong film
which would allow any insults simply to run off, or at least to give the
appearance of not sticking.
A
tall man in leathers with a long ponytail loomed up in front of her, blocking
her view. When he moved she gazed across the smoky room. Apart from candles in
bottles on rough tables and benches, a dozen glowing cigarettes and a small
electric lamp above the long red-painted bar, there was no lighting. The
corners were murky. The loud hum of voices, interspersed with the odd burst of
laughter and the occasional shriek, revealed that the room was full of people doing
their best to shout over the top of the music coming from upstairs. When her
eyes got used to the darkness, she noticed figures sitting on the floor along
the walls.
She
couldn't see Sebastian anywhere. Most people were older - in their thirties - and
many were wearing the bikers' club emblem on their backs. The man with the
ponytail had stepped outside and was lighting a cigarette. He looked friendly.
Maya leaned out.
'Excuse
me! I was wondering if you've seen a boy called Sebastian. He's only fifteen,
and he's with a friend who must be about the same age. I think his friend's
name is Krister.'
Ponytail
smiled and blew a puff of smoke into the air.
'There
must be two hundred people in there -I haven't a clue what anybody's called or
how old they are. There's a gig tonight, a band from the USA. Some kind of
monster rock, not really my thing, but they pull in the crowds. So
it's
open house - anybody can come as long as they pay. We
don't check everybody's ID, if you see what I mean. You're not a cop, are you?'
Raised
voices broke through the general hubbub behind them. Maya wasn't ready for the
sudden blow to her back which made her lose her balance and fall against
Ponytail. He caught her adroitly and aimed a kick at the man behind her, who
was somewhat over-refreshed.
'Watch
it, dickhead.'
Ponytail
didn't appear to take any notice of Dickhead's unrepentant response as he
staggered back inside; he merely shook his head and pointed at Maya's jacket at
breast level. 'You've got some beer on you.' He seemed to be wondering whether
to help her wipe it off, but possibly decided that the gesture could be
misinterpreted.
She
waved away the mishap.
'No,
I'm not with the police; I'm looking for my brother. I just thought you might
know.'
He
nodded and looked as if he were making an effort to think.
'Well,
if he's only fifteen, I suppose maybe I should have spotted him. Go up and have
a look - he's bound to be upstairs if he's here, that's where the band is
playing. Have you tried the bar? He could be drinking himself senseless -
that's what I did when I was fifteen.' He grinned, revealing a substantial plug
of tobacco. 'Still do, in fact. But tonight I'm working, right through till
daylight.'
He
pulled a watch with a broken strap out of his pocket.
'I'm
on the bar in a couple of hours. I'll treat you to a beer then,' he added. Maya
didn't reply. She had no intention of staying that long.
On
the steps leading to the upper floor sat a group of kids not much older than
Sebastian. One of them nodded cheerfully when she finally managed to make her
voice heard above the wall of sound coming from the heavy metal band. He
pointed at the melee of headbangers jumping up and down in front of the stage.
There was an ominous creaking underfoot; the floor seemed to be threatening to
give way.
And
there was Sebastian right at the front, absorbed by the band in their black
robes, their faces painted white, emitting guttural cries through the feedback
into the microphones. He was sitting at one corner of the stage, in front of a
loudspeaker. Judging from the volume he ought to have been blown away, and
would be at least half-deaf for the rest of the weekend.
Maya
pushed her way forward. Just as she was about to grab her brother's sleeve, she
stopped, seized by an impulse to look at him. It was months since she'd seen
him. She thought he'd lost weight.
He
gave a start, as if he really had been in another world. For a moment he looked
at her, his expression unreadable. She yelled his name and more or less dragged
him across the floor. The group on the stairs shuffled to one side to make room
as she pushed her brother towards the exit, suddenly filled with righteous
indignation at having to endure this trial.
He
tore himself free, but not before she managed to push him outside in one last
moment of superiority. The rain and wind had died down, and snowflakes were
hesitantly drifting from the sky.
'What
the fuck are you doing?' he yelled.
Maya
calmed herself and tried to put herself in his situation.
'Mum
made me come to fetch you. She's out of her head with
worry,
apparently she'd said you couldn't go.'
'Yeah,
and? If I took any notice of what
she
said I'd be as crazy as her.'
He
had lost weight. With those dark rings under his eyes, he looked older than his
fifteen years. She was filled with an unexpectedly powerful feeling of
tenderness. She had always felt indifferent to her brother - when he wasn't
irritating her with his chubby cheeks and tear-filled eyes, he was competing
for her mother's affections.
She
reached out and touched his denim-clad arm.
'Anyway, hello.
I haven't seen you for ages. Is this all
you're wearing?'
He
nodded defiantly, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. She placed her hand
on his, slightly embarrassed, but suddenly she couldn't get enough of touching
him. Things must have been so difficult for him since she moved out. Her cheeks
burned at the thought. She drew his hand towards her. Sebastian lowered his
eyes as if he were considering going home with her, or as if he were about to
say something important, but then he seemed to change his mind.
She
was shivering in spite of her coat.
'You
need to come home now, Sebbe.'
Any
hint of a concession was wiped out in an instant as he looked at her.
'Forget
it. I've come to listen to the band. I'm not going home.'
He
turned to go back inside, but she stopped him by moving in front of him. A
couple of boys and a girl of Maya's age were standing chatting to the driver of
some beaten-up passion wagon. They laughed raucously and shouted to Sebastian
that it was long past his bedtime.
Maya
tried to keep calm as something wild came into Sebastian's eyes. She couldn't
bear the thought of going back to Solveig without her brother.
'Come
on, for fuck's sake,' she hissed between clenched teeth. 'Besides, I can't get
home if you don't give me a lift on the moped. I can't cycle back all that
way,' she added in a slightly louder voice.
'That's
your problem,' he said.
For
a moment they weighed each other up. Maya felt exhausted after her long journey
and then the bike ride. The tension of spending time with Solveig hit her like
a blow to the back of the knees, and she was the first to look away. Sebastian
roughly tore himself free of her grip, and pushed her away. She hadn't the
strength to protest.
The
band was taking a break. Applause and loud whistling could be heard from the
upper floor now the music had stopped. People came pouring down the stairs to
the bar. Sebastian pushed against the crowd as he made his way back up. Maya
stood there at a loss, hoping he would change his mind.
Sweaty,
out-of-breath rockers moved outside to cool down in the chilly night air.
Deafened by the decibel count of the band, they were shouting at each other
rather than talking.
The
blonde girl came out, wrapping a wine-red scarf several times around her neck.
This time Maya was sure she recognised her. She made eye contact and raised a
hand in greeting. 'I think I've seen you at the station cafe.'
The
girl smiled again and took a packet of cigarettes from her inside pocket. As
former regulars at the Northern Station cafe - those who arrived when it opened
and sat there until it closed, writing in their diaries, on napkins or in the
visitors' books - they had a better idea of each others' innermost thoughts
than of what other people looked like. As with all of those who wrote in the
visitors' books, they had revealed their secrets and desires for others to
applaud or mercilessly denigrate; everything was done in writing and under an
alias, like a hidden world. It had been so important at the time.
'I
thought you were from Gothenburg,' said Maya to the girl, who nodded.
'I
am. I came here with a
guy
to see the band. And I've
just found him
snogging
another girl. That's life.'
She shrugged her shoulders. 'So you're from Borås, then.
Tingeling.'
She
had remembered Maya's alias, which was impressive after such a long time. Maya
was warmed by the fact that she had made an impression.
'And
you're Girl,' she replied, recognising her companion. They stood there for a while,
considering the official exchange of letters that had taken place a couple of
years earlier.
'You
draw very well,' the girl said suddenly.
'Really well.
You should do something with that.'
Maya
squirmed in embarrassment. She could feel the colour rising in her cheeks.
'Thanks,' was all she could manage.
Raised
voices could be heard from inside the club. A man in his thirties came tumbling
out; it was Dickhead. He landed a couple of centimetres from Maya's shoes.
She
rolled her eyes. 'And who are
they?
'