The Storyteller

The wheels slipped and spun for a moment, but Bertil managed to right the car again. “Snow chains,” he said, “what you need now are snow chains. Damn. I can’t see a thing.” The wind blew snowflakes against the windshield, the flakes like mad dancers seeking the spotlight; it was hypnotizing, the to and fro of the wipers and the steady appearance of new flakes, coming nearer, growing bigger, and disappearing.

“How can you drive in this weather?”

“I can’t,” said Bertil. “I have to. You would have frozen to death out there … There’s the big road.”

The turn was so treacherous that the Volvo skidded again. On the big road, there were other cars, and at first, A

“Somebody was following me,” said A

“Do I?” Bertil asked as he waited for the other car to drive on and then stepped on the accelerator again. Somewhere ahead of them, the orange lights of a snowplow and a tow truck were blinking. One side of the road was completely filled with snow, and only one lane was open. Bertil stopped again to let a car coming from the other direction pass them.

“Aren’t you afraid?” A

He shook his head. “The worst that can happen is … what? That we get stuck? That we have an accident?” He looked at her. “The worst is always death. I don’t mind that. Then I’ll die in this car with you. That would be okay.”

“Bertil, please … watch the road.” The dog was whining behind A

“The road!” Bertil laughed. “What does the road matter. I love you.”

“I know,” A

“You know? You don’t know anything, A

“Bertil …”

“People like you always end up with guys like him, and later, they’re surprised by what happens … Do what you want, A

There was another snowdrift. He braked too hard, the dog howled, and the Volvo lost its grip on the road. When A

He jumped out, and A

Bertil opened the driver’s door, and an icy gust of wind blew a handful of snowflakes into the car. “Move over!” he shouted against the storm. “Into the driver’s seat! I’ll push. You drive!”

“I can’t drive a car!” A

He bent into the car, put her right hand onto the clutch. “Foot onto the left pedal, first gear, gas is on the right side!” he shouted. “You’ve never done this?”

“I did once, with Magnus …”

“If we wait any longer, it’s going to get worse, and we might never get the car going again. Come on! I’ll push!”

He slammed the door shut, and A

“Abel,” whispered A

And all of a sudden, she knew what she wanted. Very clearly. She wanted to be with him. If she made it out of this, she would go and find him … walk, run, pedal, let the wind blow her toward him … whatever. She couldn’t forgive him, for that was impossible. The cloak of love would be forever torn, never new and beautiful again, allowing the wind to blow through the holes, making her freeze in the cold. But she would live on wearing it for she couldn’t do anything else. And he couldn’t go back to being the Abel he was before the night in the boathouse, for that wasn’t possible either. He’d have to live on wearing the memory of what he did. And still … and still.

Magnus had been right: in love there wasn’t rationality.

But where would she find Abel? At school, sure, tomorrow, but it was impossible to talk to him at school, where the others were watching. She accelerated again, the car seemed to want to move and didn’t. The wheels were spi

If we lose each other in this endless icy winter, where will we find each other? she heard the little queen ask. And she heard the answer: Where it’s spring.

The tulips. Red tulips in white vases in the café at the begi

A

“Cheers,” he said. “That driver’s license is all yours.”

He leaned over, and A

When they saw the lights of Eldena, the neon advertising of the supermarket there, the street lamps of the new housing development, A

A

“Don’t you want me to take you home?”

“You really don’t have to,” A

He nodded. “Okay … you’re sure your mother’s there?”

“Absolutely sure,” A

“You’re soaking wet,” he said. “You should get home fast.”

“Yes,” she said. For a moment they stood there, facing each other through the snow, freezing. The wind had subsided a little, but the snowflakes were still falling steadily, as if they wanted to cover the whole world.