“Just Mom?” She raised her eyebrows inquiringly. “Take it if you want.”
“She doesn’t know we’ve split up, so I’m avoiding her calls right now.”
A second later a message flashed on the screen.
I’ve just spoken to Lovisa. Are you getting aDivorce?
He sighed. Answered quickly:
Haven’t got time to talk at the moment, but yes, we’re getting a divorce.
For a few seconds nothing happened. He looked at Bente.
“Okay?” she said, just as his phone buzzed again.
You need to fix this, Didrik.
He shook his head and groaned. Of course in his mother’s eyes it washisfault that Lovisa had met someone else.
“Are you all right?” Bente placed a hand on his arm, which made him jump. She immediately drew back. He cursed his reaction, but he had been unprepared.
“She’s found out that Lovisa and I are divorcing, and she wantsmeto fix it. We’re so far apart, Mom and I. We’ve never understood each other.”
“How do you mean?”
“For one thing, she can’t understand why I want to work in television when I could go all in and become a professor. Maybe it’s my way of rebelling against her. My way of resisting.”
“Why is she so set against TV?”
He shrugged. “I suppose it’s her academic leanings. She doesn’t believe it’s good enough. But I also think ...” He paused, sipped his wine. “I think she doesn’t like it because her sister is Kristina Storm. Part of this is rooted in sibling rivalry.”
“Seriously? Is Krissie your aunt?”
He nodded. “Mm... and Mom has never liked the fact that she’s famous, though she would never admit it. So when I started appearing on TV, too, it felt to her like a slap in the face.”
Bente smiled, but quickly grew serious again.
“So what does she say to you?”
“I suppose she imagines she’s being subtle, but what she thinks is as clear as day to me. She makes little digs all the time, hidden criticisms.” He knew that his mother’s attitude was unhealthy, even though he didn’t spend a lot of time thinking about it. But now, talking about it to someone on the outside, he realized just how true that realization was. Before this, he had always accepted that the fault lay withhim, believing that his choice of career was controversial and unsatisfactory in some way.
Bente remained silent for a little while, as if she were letting what he had told her sink in. Then she took a big gulp of wine and looked at him. The sun had gone down now; all that remained was one last shimmering strip of light that made Bente’s hair glow.
“I don’t know your mother, and I’m not familiar with your relationship. But the fact that she criticizes you feels ...” She broke off. Once again she placed her hand on his arm. This time he didn’t jump, even though her touch seemed to be burning a hole in his sleeve.
“You explain history to viewers. A colleague in the wine bar told me that her nephew developed an interest in history thanks to you. He neverliked school, but then they started watchingThe Expertstogether in the evenings, and he became really curious about the stories you brought to life. What you do is important—you teach anybody and everybody about the past, you reach out to them, and you do it brilliantly. You’re popular, you’re nice, everybody loves you. She’s your mom, for God’s sake, how can she criticize someone she loves like that ...”
Her tone made it clear what she thought about his mother, which was something entirely new for Didrik. Lovisa and his mom had always been united in their dislike of his TV career, as if it were some kind of crazy whim. But somewhere deep down he had always considered it a cool thing to do.
“You’re absolutely fucking fantastic, Didrik.” Bente took her hand off his arm, looked him straight in the eye, and raised her glass in a toast.
Didrik knew he was appreciated, but to hear Bente talking about what he did as if it were something important, actually hearing someone praise him like that, made a wonderful warm glow spread through his body. He nodded slowly and took her hand.
“Thank you.”
21
They stopped off at the hotel for a quick change of clothes before meeting Elnaz and setting off for the bistro where they had eaten the previous evening. On the way they passed people on the way home from work on Vespas or on foot—men and women in suits, carrying briefcases, and students heading for cheap bars.
