Jens had finished off by stripping the bed. Throwing the sheets in the bin-liner too.
It was done. And Jens had never felt more alone.
He wasn’t ready. He would never be ready.
“There’s a charity shop near where Mamma used to work, in Torshov, and we never go anywhere near there. Let’s go up there and leave it. Someone will make use of Mamma’s clothes. She would hate for us to dump them in the bin.”
Malena was right of course. She was always right. So that is what they did. They all got in the car and drove way across town to Torshov and found the shop and gave them what was left of Sofie’s life.
They stopped at McDonald’s on the way back. Sat in silence and ate their burgers and chips. Jens couldn’t help wondering if he had done the right thing. If he had maybe damaged them all more. If this was what Sofie really would have wanted.
He filled his own box when they got home, when the children were watching TV on the sofa, eating crisps from the packet and arguing over whose turn it was to choose the channel.
He put Sofie’s passport in the bottom of the box. Her wallet and keys. The little handbag she always carried. The books that were still sat by the side of the bed.
He kept the dress she wore to a party, the little black one that carried her curves and showed off her skin.
The jeans she wore on her good days. The joggers she lounged around in at home. He kept the pile of notes she was working through. Her glasses that she usually forgot.
He wonders why there is so little left when she had filled this apartment with her presence.
Finally, he takes the ring off his finger. It makes him feel naked after he has worn it for so long. But he knows it’s time. The ring doesn’t belong on his finger anymore. Not that he wants to forget. He will never forget. He will always be who he is. Husband. Father. But the ring needs to live in this box now. Because Sofie is not here anymore, and her ring is buried with her.
He doesn’t know how he missed the bag that is sat in the corner of the room, the one that Sofie had at the hospital. It’s just a small black holdall, but he brings it over and opens it up.
There are pyjamas that smell of hospitals and sadness. He will throw them away. A few well-read magazines. A plastic bag with some toiletries. A random pair of shoes. He doesn’t even remember them.
He is about to pack it all back up when he spots the note at the bottom. Just a piece of paper with Sofie’s handwriting.
She must have been tired when she wrote it, because she is barely keeping her writing on the lines.
He sinks down on the bed and starts to read.
He reads it again and again.
Presses the paper to his lips.
He is still crying when Malena comes into the room and wraps her arms around him. When Marthe crawls onto his lap.
He places the letter in his box and leaves his ring on top while his fingers shake.
Then he crawls into bed and drags his children into his arms.
My dearest darling Jens.
If you have found this note, then I am probably long gone. I know you, sweetheart. You will have left this bag somewhere and forgotten about it until today when you decided to finally empty it and throw this stuff away.
And please do throw it away. There is nothing of mine you need to keep.
I wanted to write letters to the children, but if I don’t manage to, please tell them all the things that I wanted them to know. That their Mummy loved them more than anything else in the world. Please make them strong. Please love them for me. I know you will.
Thank you for loving me. Thank you for making me happy. I love you so much.
I didn’t want to tell you in person, I didn’t want our last days together to be angry or sad.
I know about the boy. I saw you with him at school. I came to pick you up one day and you were with him. I saw how he looked at you, and I saw how you looked at him back. It’s okay.
I know it ended badly, because you were a wreck for a long time afterwards. I’m sorry I couldn’t help you. But I am grateful that you stayed, and that you chose me.
Maybe now is the time to let me rest. Maybe now is the time to go and find your boy. Go and see if there is anything left. I know he made you happy. I know you loved him, more than you ever loved me. And it’s okay, really it is.
Please be happy Jens, and look after my babies.
Sofie xxx
Sommerfeldt apartment, Skøyen, Oslo
Sunday
On Sunday morning, Jens is back to being a machine. He cleans. He fills bin-liner after bin-liner with rubbish. Shouts at the children to tidy up. Sort their shoes out. Hang their jackets on the pegs.
He gets Malena to bundle up all the winter clothes and put them in the loft. He gets Morten to strip the beds. The washing machine has never done so many loads in one day, and Jens is shattered.
He gets the laptop out and orders a sofa. He doesn’t even flinch at the price when Malena points it out on the screen. It’s probably far too big for the room, but it will fit them all. With that bit where they can put their feet up on the side, and it already comes with coordinated cheerful cushions, and they will take the old sofa away for a small fee. Jens pays it. He doesn’t even question it.
He orders sheets as well. Two sets. He is so efficient that he almost scares himself.
Then he cooks dinner. He actually fries the meatballs in a pan instead of just microwaving the packet, plastic and all. And for once they eat at the table. Together. Without arguing. Well, they shout a little, and Mikki spills his glass of milk... twice, but overall Jens thinks he has done well. He is okay.
It’s not until he crawls into bed, still unmade with no sheets, because Jens doesn’t even know where Sofie would have kept the spares. Surely, they had another set. Somewhere. It’s not until he tries to close his eyes that he is hurting again. That he cries a little.
He breaks. He gets up and walks out into the living room and curls up on the threadbare sofa and rings Axel. Because he can. Because Axel will understand. Because he needs him.
“Hi, Jens?” he answers, sounding all cheerful and chirpy even though it’s almost midnight.
“Hi.” Jens whispers.
“Are you okay?” Axel’s voice is quiet. Calm.
“No.” Jens whimpers. Because he is not. “I miss you”
“I miss you too. If I wasn’t working I would come over. I’m sorry.”
“When do you finish? In the morning?”
“Five if I’m lucky. Then I go home and have a few hours’ sleep. I could maybe come over in the afternoon? If you want to meet up?”
“Could you come and sleep here? I mean… you have a key. Just turn up. Please?” Jens is begging here. Feeling stupid. Clingy. Childish. But he needs… He needs Axel. He knows that.
“Do you really want me to? I will if you need me to.”
“I do. Please?”
“Rough weekend?”
“Yes. Emotional. We cleaned up a bit. I emptied out Sofie’s clothes. Packed away her things. I have cried a lot this weekend Axel. I’m a bit of a mess.”
“I’ll be there in the morning. Just sit tight, baby. Sleep.”
“I like that you call me baby.” Jens smiles. He loves that Axel called him baby.