The Best Intentions (29 page)

Henrik:
How can we go on living after this?

Anna:
Oh, I'm sure that's possible.

Henrik:
You don't see the worst of it?

Anna:
And what would that be?

Henrik:
Our love. We've thrown it all away on a . . .

Anna:
. . . a trifle.

Henrik:
I don't care about that wedding. It can be anywhere. At the North Pole.

Anna:
I don't care either. You can decide.

Henrik:
No, no. That ritual means more to you than to me. And also, it's stupid to make your mother more miserable than she already is.

Anna:
She could come here.

Henrik:
Your mother and my mother! Here? Then a gigantic binge, in which everyone drowns in a sea of theatrical idiots, would be better.

Anna:
Let's not get married. I'll be your housekeeper.

Henrik:
Thanks for the offer. I'll take it into consideration.

Anna:
Henrik!

Henrik:
Yes. Anna.

Anna:
Now we've shouted and quarreled before God. What do you think He says about it?

Henrik:
I don't know. The place is a little odd.

Anna:
Do you think this is a sort of marriage?

Henrik:
No, I don't. We were heading straight for the destruction of our love.

Anna:
To think that we go around with so much hatred in us.

Henrik:
Yes. I'm so tired, Anna.

Anna:
So am I. How shall we get away from here?

Henrik:
Come and sit down here beside me.

Anna:
You're not going to hit me anymore!

Henrik:
Anna!

Anna:
Is that all right?

Henrik:
Give me your hand. It's icy cold. Are you cold?

Anna:
Not really. Only inside.

Henrik:
There. Is that all right?

Anna:
I have to cry.

Henrik:
I'll hold you.

Anna
(
cries
): Do you think we'll be any wiser after this?

Henrik:
I don't know. More careful.

Anna:
. . . more careful with what we've got?

Henrik:
Something like that.

They are close together as dusk falls.

My parents were married on Friday, March fifteenth, 1913, in Upsala Cathedral in front of a large congregation of relatives, friends, and acquaintances. The Academic Choir sang, and Dean Tisell officiated. Bridesmaids and ushers assisted, and the little bridesmaids trod on the veil. After the wedding, a dinner was given at the Gillet in their large banquet room. However much I search through albums and the family photographs, I cannot find any photographs of the wedding. This is remarkable considering that the Åkerbloms were very much a photographing family and innumerable, less important gatherings are recorded. In our home, an abundance of happy brides and handsome bridegrooms sat on stove mantles and small tables, but I have never seen any photographs of my mother and father's wedding. There are explanations, the simplest being presumably that my mother (who loved saving things and sticking them in albums) did not think the bride sufficiently beautiful, or that the wedding dress was not becoming, or that the young couple simply looked fatuous. Another explanation is that the photo session was canceled. Something got in the way; someone felt ill, sad, or perhaps simply annoyed. A third (just as unlikely) explanation is that the photographer bungled the job, none of the photographs came out, and one cannot really dress up with the wedding crown and bouquets all over again. That is an extremely unlikely possibility. Wennerström and Son on Upper Slottsgatan was the town's most prominent photography studio, and it is inconceivable that it could make a mistake of that magnitude.

The fact is, however, that no wedding photographs exist in albums or archives. Also, I never asked my parents about their wedding.
On the whole, I asked my parents far too little about everything. I regret that, especially now as I sit here with considerable gaps in my documentary material. I regret it in general. All that indifference and lack of curiosity. So foolish and so very like the Bergmans!

In any event, the wedding was splendid and the dinner festive. I possess a yellowed invitation card (very beautiful with the bridal couple's initials intertwined on the front and the actual invitation in elegant print on the inside). The speeches were doubtless excellent, moving, and amusing, the waltzes dazzling, and the food exquisite. If the producer has plenty of money, he is very welcome to portray all these festivities on film. Things of that kind are called “production values,” after all.

Let's now look at a short scene on this sunny wedding day in March. The setting is the dining room in the Tradgardsgatan apartment house. The big table with its lion feet has been pushed up against the bulging stomach of the sideboard. A full-length mirror has been moved from Mrs. Karin's bedroom and placed between the windows in the dining room. In front of the mirror, right in the middle of the flood of light, is the bride, ready, on her head the crown from the cathedral and the veil from the family bridal chest. Mrs. Söderström, employed by the most distinguished fashion house in Stockholm, is on her knees putting right a hem that has been trodden on (from nervousness). Anna is gazing at her image with matter-of-fact attention, rather like an actress just about to go on stage in an incomparable, brand-new part, thought up and written for her alone. Her breathing is under control, her heart thumping, her face pale, her gaze wide-eyed.

The dining room door opens, and in the mirror, Anna sees her brother Ernst in a well-cut morning coat and usher's emblem. The siblings look at each other in silence for a few moments, then Ernst takes a few steps forward and tenderly embraces his sister. Mrs. Söderström bites off the thread and sticks the needle into the left shoulder strap of her apron, then she quietly moves aside, an important actress in the drama of the day, but nevertheless a shadow. With a firm hand, together with three highly professional women, for weeks she has been shaping this masterpiece and on this very morning brought her creation to Tradgardsgatan. She is standing with her forefinger against her lips, tall, broad shouldered, and dark complexioned, her black hair in a heavy knot on the top of her head. She has good reason to be pleased with her handiwork, since the young bride has to move with great dignity and much more slowly. Mrs. Söderström is sure to have pointed that out after the brother has left the room.

Ernst:
Well?

Anna:
Good.

Ernst:
Really good, or are you just saying that?

Anna:
You'll have to guess.

Ernst:
You're beautiful.

Anna:
So are you.

Ernst:
But you're pale, sister dear.

Anna:
I'm probably terrified.

Ernst:
You've got what you wanted. In everything.

Anna:
I'm sorry Papa . . .

Ernst:
Yes, it's sad. Still, had he been here, he would have been sad. His darling leaving him. You can imagine. (
Falls silent
.)

Anna:
When are you leaving?

Ernst:
The day after tomorrow.

Anna:
And coming back?

Ernst:
In a year — maybe. It's a major expedition.

Anna:
Then you're going to stay in Christiania?

Ernst:
My work is in Christiania.

Anna:
Mama'll be lonely now.

Ernst:
Sometimes I think she
wants
to be lonely.

Anna:
Has Henrik come?

Ernst:
He's a wreck! I had to give him a large brandy.

Anna:
Tell him I'm coming in a moment. Has anyone fetched his poor mother from the hotel?

Ernst:
Be calm, now, sister dear. There's an organizer lying in wait around every corner. This festival of rejoicing is not to be allowed to fail.

Anna:
Mama's coming.

A light tap on the door. Without waiting for an answer, Mrs. Karin enters in dusky red brocade and the family jewelry. She is calm and
smiling. She has put on weight recently and in some strange way seems broader in the shoulders, though that's perhaps an illusion. Her gait is just as energetic, her movements as usual light and under control.

Karin:
Ernst, would you be so kind as to make sure Carl doesn't get drunk? He's just come and doesn't seem to be all that well.

Ernst:
All right, Mama.

Karin:
My dear Mrs. Söderström, what a masterpiece!

Mrs. Söderström:
Thank you, Mrs. Åkerblom.

Karin:
I would like to be alone with my daughter for a little while.

Mrs. Söderström:
Of course, Mrs. Åkerblom.

And so mother and daughter are alone together. Mrs. Karin sinks into one of the high-backed dining room chairs that are scattered around looking rather lost (now that the table has been shifted up against the sideboard).

Karin:
I'm feeling rather moved, I think. But that's all part of it.

Anna:
You know how grateful I am, Mama, for this splendid wedding.

Karin:
You don't have to be grateful, my heart.

Anna:
It's a pity that Papa . . .

Karin:
Yes, yes.

Anna:
I believe he's with us at this moment. I can feel it.

Karin:
Do you think so?

Anna:
Mama, there's one thing I must tell you.

Karin:
Yes?

Anna:
Henrik and I have postponed our honeymoon. Ernst was kind enough to cancel the train tickets and hotel rooms.

Karin:
Oh, really. Was that why he disappeared all morning?

Anna:
Yes.

Karin:
And what are your plans now, if I may ask?

Anna:
Were you sorry to hear that?

Karin:
My dear child, honeymoons are supposed to be a pleasure.

Anna:
Henrik and I can go to Italy another year. Can't we? We can save that trip?

Karin
(
rather weary
): Naturally. What are you going to do instead?

Anna:
We're going straight to Forsboda.

Karin:
Tomorrow?

Anna:
Tomorrow. First thing in the morning.

Karin:
Oh, I see. Oh, really. This is rather sudden.

Anna:
Mama, don't be sad!

Karin
(
lightly
): I'm not.

Anna:
We've spoken to Mrs. Säll. She's invited us to stay at the parsonage. In the bishop's room. It's quite grand, I have to tell you. Like any old bridal suite. She says everyone's pleased we're coming straight-away.

Karin:
I see. In that way you can supervise the repairs of your house.

Anna:
. . . and of the church.

Karin:
That's a very good idea! Do you think you'll be coming to the summer place in July sometime?

Anna:
Of course. For at least a week.

Karin:
We said three weeks, if I remember correctly.

Anna:
I think Henrik is very anxious to get going earlier than he agreed to. And I want to be with him from the start. That's important for us both.

Karin:
I understand perfectly.

Anna:
I have to give in a little, too. Henrik's had to give way on so many points.

Karin:
Has he? (
Smiles
.)

Anna:
Yes, but we won't talk about that.

Karin:
No, let's not, Anna.

Karin goes up to her daughter and carefully holds her face. They look at each other.

Anna:
You might just
try
to like Henrik. For my sake. Just a little.

Karin:
The past is all forgotten.

Anna:
I wish it were.

Mrs. Karin's eyes darken. She kisses Anna on the cheek and forehead. Then she leaves the room. Anna turns slowly around toward the mirror.

Anna
(
silently to herself
): What a fuss! What arrangements! I'll do as I like. No honeymoon? Oh, really' No summer with them all? Oh, really' Do I really want all this? I don't know. Do I know what I want, or do I just want a whole lot of nonsense in general? Have I even
got
a will of my own at all? Do I ever think through whether
this
is what I want, and so I get my own way? Have I the same kind of willpower that Mama has? That's doubtful. Do
I want Henrik?
Yes, I think I really do. But do I want to get married? I don't know. Doubtful. One has to be on guard against wanting too much, particularly now, when Mama and all the others are starting to listen to what one wants.

The door opens a little, and Carl's aging clown face comes into view. “Come on in,” says Anna, pleased to have her unprovoked monologue interrupted. Carl comes right in, his morning coat not entirely a perfect fit on his chubby figure, his forehead beaded with sweat and his pince-nez misted over. He has a glass of brandy in his hand and makes a gesture toward his eyes.

Carl:
You dazzle me.

Anna:
Ernst has just gone to look for you.

Carl:
I escaped him. (
Drinks
.) Do you want a sip?

Anna:
Yes, please. Phew!

Carl:
Phew! You can say that again! What have you done, Schwesterchen?

Anna:
Isn't it
terrible?

Carl:
I'm becoming intoxicated and have no views.

Anna:
Can't you wait until dinner?

Carl:
Yes, yes. Don't worry. I shall not bring shame on your party. By the way, do you want Mama to put me in the hands of a guardian?

Anna:
What do you mean, guardian?

Carl:
Guardian. Power of attorney. Mama and brother Oscar are going
to take my money and hand it over to a guardian. What do you say to that?