“I believe,” he said slowly, almost apologetically, “this once belonged to you. Could that be true?”
He was holding the shirt. Sander studied it, then looked up to meet Vidar’s gaze.
“What makes you think that? It’s not mine, I’ve never worn that.”
Vidar didn’t react, just stood there with the shirt in his outstretched hand.
Next to Sander, Jakob was stiff and silent, as if he were holding his breath. Sander had lied for so long, to so many people. It had come at a great cost. He had no qualms about continuing in the same vein. It was just that he had run out of lies.
“A shirt?” he said in a dead voice. “That’s not enough.”
Vidar smiled sadly.
“You’re right, it’s not. But I think part of you, deep down, wishes I had more. So this could all come to an end.”
—
He should have figured it out. She was the only one who knew. He had confessed to her as they were dividing up their belongings during the breakup; it just came out. Who would get the little chair? The sofa belonged to the apartment, so it would stay. Who had paid for the fancy dishes? Wall art—two each? I’m the one who caused the landslide.
He couldn’t say how it had happened, why it had come out of his mouth just then, when it was already too late. Maybe that was exactly why. He’d almost killed her once. He’d killed the baby she was carrying. Now she was going to leave him, and he had nothing left to lose. That was probably why he saidit.
When he cried, he did it quietly as she sat beside him on the sofa. Eventually she took his hand.
—
She had revealed Sander’s secret to Killian. Killian the innocent. Killian the flight-prone. Killian, who became a shadow while Sander made it through without a scratch.
Maybe it was unavoidable.
The dead do not return, and if they do it creates a disturbance in the world. No matter the price, order must be restored.
115
When Vidar finally returned to his car, Sander watched him go, feeling pensive. Everything had that stillness that follows moments after a thunderstorm. After a while, Sander stood up and looked toward the forest, like he wondered if he should walk straight in and vanish too.
“Was he right?” Jakob asked.
“About what?”
“That you would have liked to go down for the landslide.”
Sander appeared to consider the question, but he didn’t respond.
“Maybe you should tell her,” Jakob said. “Olivia, I mean.” When Sander still didn’t speak, Jakob went on: “You’re not a bad person, Sander.”
“I’m a person. Maybe that’s enough. But why didn’t you say anything back then, if you thought it was me all along?”
Jakob stood up to join Sander. It must have been a difficult question, because he didn’t answer right away.
“I guess I couldn’t really see the point. It was all over anyway. Mikael was dead, Killian too. I liked you, and I was pretty sure you got wrapped up in the whole thing by mistake, or maybe just because you wanted to help Killian. And in some ways I could understand, after I heard about how Mikael went after Felicia and what Karl-Henrik was up to with Madeleine. Or at least that’s how I thought about it at the time, during all the chaos. It was extreme, though, what you did. Iknow you couldn’t predict that the whole area was going to collapse, but you did knowingly risk hurting an awful lot of people.”
The moment when another person’s image of you crumbles. Sander had experienced it many times now, but it still hurt.
“You’re kind, Jakob. You always have been.”
“So they say. But I’m taking care of myself too. Alice says I’m not on my own side all too often. I didn’t really understand what she meant until now.”
Moments slipped in and out of one another, borrowing features, taking on new faces deep inside Sander.
