Us Against You Read online

  Maya remembers such insignificant things from her childhood. The way her mom laughs when she describes her dad’s style of dress as “plainclothes cop at high school disco.” Or the way her dad shakes the all-but-empty milk carton each morning and mutters, “Welcome to today’s Guinness World Record attempt, where we will try to make the smallest cup of coffee in the world.” The way her mom loses it if there are socks on the floor and the way her dad would like to take anyone who doesn’t wipe the dish rack in front of a war crimes tribunal. The way her mom moved around the world twice for the sake of her dad’s hockey and the way her dad sneaks admiring glances at her mom when she takes business calls in the kitchen. As though she were the smartest, funniest, most stubborn, most argumentative person he’s ever met and that he still can’t quite believe she’s his.

  The way Maya and Leo didn’t know their parents’ real names for years because they just called each other “darling.” The way they’ve never mentioned the word “divorce,” not even when they’re having a row, because they know that’s the nuclear option, and if you threaten it once, every argument from then on will end the same way. The way they suddenly seem to have stopped squabbling about little things now, the way the house has gotten quieter, the way they can hardly look each other in the eye anymore after what happened to Maya. The way they can’t bring themselves to show each other just how badly they were broken by it.

  Children notice when their parents lose each other in the very smallest ways, in something as insignificant as a single word, such as “your.” Maya texts them each morning now and pretends it’s to stop them worrying about her, even though it’s actually the reverse. She’s used to them calling each other “Mom” and “Dad.” As in “Mom didn’t really mean you were grounded for a thousand years, darling,” or “Dad didn’t demolish your snowman on purpose, he just tripped, darling.” But suddenly one day, almost incidentally, one of them writes, “Can’t you call your mom, she’s worries so much when you’re not home?” And the other writes, “Remember, your dad and I love you more than anything.” Four letters can reveal the end of a marriage. “Your.” As if they didn’t belong to each other anymore.

  Maya sits on an island in a lake far out in the forest and writes songs about it, because she can’t bear to be at home and watch it happen.

  Minefield

  This is a minefield you’re walking on

  Every word a bomb, but you go on walking

  Until there’s a quiet “click” beneath a foot

  And then it’s too late to go back.

  The worst thing about being a victim is the victims I turned you into

  I can’t mend you now, no matter how much I want to

  It’s like I was the one who died but you’re the ones who were buried

  Like I was the one he broke but you’re the ones who snapped.

  * * *

  The men in black jackets shake Adri’s hand and walk toward the cars, but Teemu stays where he is and lights a cigarette. Adri tucks a wad of chewing tobacco the size of a baby’s fist under her lip. She isn’t an idiot either; she knows who the Pack are and what they’re capable of, but she’s a pragmatic person.

  One summer a few years ago, Beartown suffered a series of break-ins. A gang showed up at night with vans, and on one occasion an elderly man got beaten up when he tried to stop them. Another time a neighbor called the police while the burglary was in progress. One solitary police car appeared three hours later. Adri remembers how a few months earlier there had been reports of illegal hunting of wolves in the forest not far from here and the police had showed up with helicopters, the National Crime Unit, and a SWAT team. Whatever your views on that, when Adri sees wolves getting better protection than pensioners, she has more faith in the criminal standing beside her than in the criminals in the government and on the council. It has nothing to do with morals. Most people are like her: pragmatic.

  When the gang came back, men in black jackets were waiting for them. Everyone else in Beartown closed their doors that night, turned up the volume on their televisions; no one asked any questions afterward. There were no more break-ins. Teemu is a lunatic, Adri won’t argue with anyone about that, but he loves this town the same way she does. And he loves hockey. So now he’s grinning like a fool. “Benji’s playing on the A-team this autumn, isn’t he? You must be so goddamn proud! Have you seen the list of games? Is he stoked?”

  Adri nods. She knows that on the ice Benji is everything Teemu wants in a Beartown player: tough, fearless, mean. And he’s from here, a local boy made good, a boy next door. Men like Teemu love that. And yes, Adri’s seen the game schedule, it was posted online that morning. Beartown is playing Hed Hockey in the first game of the autumn.

  “He’ll be playing—if there’s a Beartown club for him to play in,” she says with a dry laugh.

  Teemu smiles, but the look on his face is increasingly hard to interpret. “We’re relying on Peter Andersson to solve that.”

  Adri peers at him. It was the Pack who made sure that Peter won the vote of confidence back in the spring and kept his job as general manager; no one can prove it, but everyone knows. Without their votes, Peter would have been out. Now the club has lost almost all its sponsors to Hed, so the Pack were taking a big risk. Ramona, owner of the Bearskin pub, usually says, “Teemu may not know the difference between right and wrong, but he knows the bloody difference between good and evil.” Perhaps she’s right. The Pack lined up behind a general manager and his daughter against the team’s star player, Kevin. But that could be a dangerous burden for the general manager if he steers the Pack’s club into bankruptcy.

  “Are you really relying on Peter? I saw the announcement of his death in the paper,” Adri points out.

  Teemu raises an eyebrow. “Perhaps someone was trying to make a joke.”

  “Perhaps someone from your part of the stand was trying to send a message?”

  Teemu rubs his head with a fake look of concern. “It’s a big stand. I can’t control everything.”

  “If Benji gets caught up in any of this, I’ll kill you.”

  Teemu suddenly bursts out laughing, and the sound echoes through the trees. “There aren’t many people who talk to me like that, Adri.”

  “I’m not many people,” she replies.

  Teemu lights another cigarette from the butt of the last one. “It was you who taught your brother to play hockey, wasn’t it?”

  “I taught him how to fight.”

  The trees echo to the sound of Teemu’s laughter again. “Who wins if you fight now?”

  Adri looks down. Her voice becomes thicker. “I do. Because I have an unfair advantage. Benji can’t hurt anyone he loves.”

  Teemu nods appreciatively. Then he pats her arm and says, “We only ask one thing of Benji out on the ice. The same thing we ask of everyone.”

  “That he should do his best and have fun?” she suggests tartly.

  Teemu grins. So does she, eventually. Because she knows what he means. Win. That’s all anyone ever asks of you around here. Teemu hands her an envelope and says, “Ramona heard that you and Sune have started a girls’ team for five-year-olds. This is from the kitty.”

  Adri looks up in surprise. “The kitty” is a small box of cash Ramona keeps at the Bearskin for the regulars who lose their jobs and can’t pay their bills. All the tips end up there, and people leave more tips at the Bearskin than you might think. Teemu always pays double for his beer, because once when he was younger and had thrown out another of his mother’s more unpleasant boyfriends, someone came around and gave the family an envelope like this one. Teemu never let anyone hit his mother again, and when he got old enough to build up the Pack, he never forgot the generosity of the Bearskin’s regulars. So now he says, “For sticks and skates. Or whatever the girls need.”

  Adri nods gratefully. When Teemu turns to walk back to the car, she calls after him, “Hey! Give Peter Andersson a chance! He might yet find a way to save the club!”

&n
bsp; Teemu closes the trunk of the car with the ax still inside. “I am giving Peter a chance. If I wasn’t, he wouldn’t still be in town.”

  * * *

  Peter stands outside his house but lets go of the door handle, takes the key out of the lock, and turns anxiously toward the street. Richard Theo is walking toward him, dressed in a black suit even though it’s the middle of the summer. They’ve never spoken to each other as far as Peter can remember, but obviously he’s well aware of who Richard Theo is. He knows what sort of politics Theo represents, and he doesn’t like it. It’s aggressive, it sets people against each other, and—above all—Richard Theo has given Peter the impression several times that he really hates hockey.

  “Good evening, Peter, I hope I’m not intruding,” Theo says.

  There’s something ominous in his friendly manner.

  “Can I help you?” Peter asks, rather confused.

  “No, but I can help you,” Theo replies.

  “With what?”

  The politician’s mouth cracks into a smile. “I can save your hockey club, Peter. I can give you one last chance to be a winner.”

  12

  I Am Prepared to Burn in Here

  Anyone who devotes his life to being the best at one single thing will be asked, sooner or later, the same question: “Why?” Because if you want to become the best at something, you have to sacrifice everything else. So the very first time Kira met Peter, that evening in the capital when Peter had just lost the biggest hockey game of his life and stumbled dejectedly into Kira’s parents’ restaurant, that was what she asked him: Why?

  He could never answer it properly, and that drove her mad, but many years later, when they were married and had kids and a whole life together, she read a hundred-year-old quote from a mountaineer. He was asked, “Why do you want to climb Mount Everest?” The mountaineer replied in bemusement, as if the question was ridiculous and the answer obvious, “Because it’s there.”

  Kira understood then, because why had she wanted to go to university when no one else in her family had been? Why had she chosen law when everyone had told her it would be too hard? Why? To find out if she could do it. Because she wanted to climb that damn mountain. Because it was there.

  So she knows what’s happening now, possibly before Peter understands it himself. She stands behind the front door and hears enough of his conversation with Richard Theo. Her husband is going to find a way to save his club and make himself indispensible again. The way he always does. Kira sits in the hallway until she hears the Volvo start up and watches through the window as Peter drives off. The bottle of wine remains unopened. She puts the glasses back into the cupboard, and the skin beneath her wedding ring is cold when she goes to bed. A night will pass, and tomorrow she will wake up and try to pretend that everything is fine, even though she knows that each day that passes now means it will be even longer to next year.

  * * *

  Peter drives aimlessly for hours, alone. Constantly asking himself the same questions: “How much is a hockey club worth? Who is it for? How much is it allowed to cost?” And somewhere beneath those are other questions: “What can I do apart from hockey? What sort of man would I be without it?”

  He’s never loved anyone but Kira, and he knows she’d be delighted if he gave up ice hockey, but deep down: Would she really? She fell in love with a man with dreams and ambitions, so how will she look at him if the years just keep passing and he never amounts to anything?

  When dawn breaks, the light pours over Beartown in the way Peter’s mother always said about summer: “As if the Lord God Himself were pouring orange juice over the treetops.” Peter is sitting outside the supermarket with his eyes closed, asking himself the same questions, over and over and over again.

  The first thing Richard Theo said to him last night was “You don’t like my politics, do you?” Peter replied thoughtfully, “With all due respect, I don’t agree with what you stand for. You’re an opportunist.” Theo nodded and seemed not to take offense: “You’re only an opportunist until you win, then you’re the establishment.” When he saw Peter’s look of distaste, he added, “With all due respect, Peter, politics is about realizing that the world is complicated even though people like you would prefer it to be simple.”

  Peter shook his head. “You thrive on discord. Your type of politics creates conflict. Exclusion.” The politician smiled understandingly. “And hockey? What do you think that does to everyone who isn’t on the inside? Do you even remember me from school?” Peter cleared his throat awkwardly and muttered, “You were a few years below me, weren’t you?” Theo shook his head, not angrily, not accusingly, but almost sadly. “We were in the same class, Peter.”

  Peter doesn’t know if Theo planned that, to get him off balance, but it worked. When Peter looked down at the ground, shamefaced, the councillor smiled happily and then explained very plainly why he had come to see Peter: “I have certain contacts in London. I know which company is going to buy the factory in Beartown.”

  “I didn’t even know it was being sold!” Peter exclaimed, but the politician merely shrugged his shoulders modestly. “It’s my job to know things that no one else knows, Peter. I know a lot of things about you, too. That’s why I’m here.”

  * * *

  Leo wakes up in an empty house the next morning. His mom has left a note on the kitchen table: “I’m at work, your dad’s at the rink, call if you need to. There’s some extra money on the counter. We love you! Mom x.” Leo isn’t a child anymore. He notices the word “your” as well. Your dad. Not Mom’s other half.

  The boy goes into his big sister’s room, closes the door, and curls up on the floor. Maya’s notebooks are under the bed, full of poems and song lyrics, and he reads them through different types of tears. Sometimes hers, sometimes his own. Maya was never like other big sisters who yelled and threw their younger siblings out of their rooms. When Leo was younger, he was allowed to come in here. Maya let him sleep in her bed when he was frightened, when they eavesdropped on their parents in the kitchen and heard them fall apart when they talked about Isak. The floor next to Maya’s bed was always Leo’s safest place. But he’s older now, and Maya is spending the whole summer out in the forest with Ana. Leo used to ask Maya’s advice about everything, so he doesn’t know who to ask now, about what a little brother is supposed to do for his big sister when she gets raped. Or what he can do for his parents when they let go of each other. Or what to do with all the hatred.

  At the back of a notepad under Maya’s bed he finds a page entitled “The Matchstick.” He very carefully tears it out and puts it into his pocket. Then he goes down to the beach.

  * * *

  He keeps scratching himself the whole time, hard and deep. He tugs his sleeves farther down over his hands.

  * * *

  Those rainy days could have been a chance for emotions in Beartown and Hed to cool off, but William Lyt has sweated his way through them. His coach once said to him that he had never seen anyone play with “such a immense need for validation.” Maybe he meant it as an attempt to get William to talk about his complexes, but William took it as a compliment.

  Throughout his childhood, William had fought to become Kevin’s best friend again. He used to be, when they were little, driving pedal cars outside Kevin’s house and playing hockey indoors in William’s basement. Then they started playing hockey, and suddenly Benji appeared. Kevin never stood next to William in team photographs after that. William did what he could to break Benji, teased him about his cheap secondhand clothes and called him “Sledge.” Until Benji whacked him in the face with the sledge, costing William both his front teeth and the respect of the changing room. William’s mother demanded that Benji be punished for the “assault,” but the club did nothing.

  When they got older, William tried to outshine Benji by boasting about girls he claimed to have slept with, making himself out to be a better friend at parties than that tree-climbing pothead. He was lying, of course: he was a
virgin longer than most of the team. But one day Kevin came into the locker room and shouted, “William! Your girlfriends are waiting for you out here!” Confused, William got up and went out. The corridor was empty, but there was a pack of ten thick white socks on the floor. Kevin was roaring with laughter: “That way your mom won’t have to do the washing every time you ‘sleep’ with one of your ‘girlfriends’!” William never forgot the way the team laughed at him. Especially the way Benji did. William has spent years playing with a desperate need for validation, so now what? Hed Hockey is a fresh start for him, a chance to finally become a leader. He’s never going to let himself be the guy with the socks again.

  While it’s been raining this summer he has been weight training nonstop and watching the video online of his red Hed Hockey flags burning. Over and over again. He was hoping to find a tiny clue as to the identity of the cowardly bastard who had posted it, and eventually he thought he had spotted something: the hand holding the lighter in the video was small, a junior school kid’s, and when his sleeve slipped back over his wrist his lower arm looked as though it was covered with scratch marks.

  * * *

  William calls the biggest guys in his team. They buy cigarettes and set off for the beach.

  * * *

  The Matchstick

  If there is a darkened room and you lock up a child who is terrified of the dark

  If they are left there with their blackest fears because life is a bastard

  If it was you in that room and you found a single matchstick in your pocket