Page 27 of Hidden in Memories
Anton swallows an angry response. It’s typical of his father to bring up the saxophone too. Åke is tone deaf; all the hours Anton spent practicing in his room when he was growing up were a source of conflict. Fortunately his father served in Boden for many years, so he was often away for weeks.
Anton is about to speak when his mother holds up her hand.
“Leave him alone,” she says sharply. “He’ll find the right person eventually. We have no right to nag him—he’s an adult and he can make his own decisions.”
Anton gives her a grateful look. He can’t work out whether she is deliberately trying to save him from a difficult topic or whether she is simply irritated by Åke’s pompous comments.
He can’t have this discussion again, especially not tonight. It has been a long and demanding day. He intends to go in early tomorrow to make up for his absence.
He decides to change the subject. “Delicious cake.”
For some reason his thoughts turn to Carl, the man he met at the night club known as Bygget last year. Anton still hasn’t gotten over him. They spent a few unforgettable nights together, moments that shook him to the core. It was new and inexplicable, and for the first time he could imagine openly being with another guy.
It all went wrong of course, and it was his own fault.
First the investigation got in the way; then time simply passed. He doesn’t know whether he avoided contact because he was afraid of rejection, or whether he was too cowardly to stand up for who he is.
Over the past year, he has seen Carl in the village now and again, but has never gone over to say hi. His courage has failed him on every occasion.
“I need to make a move,” he says, pushing back his chair. He can’t sit here any longer. He needs fresh air.
“Now look what you’ve done!” his mother snaps at Åke. “You frighten him away with your stupid questions!”
His father grunts something incomprehensible and reaches for another slice of cake. It is clear that he doesn’t enjoy life as a retiree. He complains constantly and gets irritated by small things. Having nothing to do doesn’t suit him, but that isn’t Anton’s problem.
He can’t deal with any of that, not today.
Right now he just wants to go home, play his saxophone, and try to obliterate all his memories of Carl with the help of the music.
20
The sound of a key in the lock makes Ida look up from her tablet.
She is sitting on the sofa, the TV is on, but most of her attention is on an intense online discussion about the fatal stabbing at Copperhill. There are hundreds of contributions in the comments field. Emotions are running high. Some people are even claiming that it was a ritual killing.
It’s so awful.
Daniel appears in the doorway. He looks terrible; his eyes are tired; his brown hair is all over the place. He messaged about the new case earlier in the day, and Ida has read the rest for herself.
“Hi,” she says with a smile. “How are things?”
Daniel runs a hand over his beard. He steps forward and kisses her on the forehead.
“Sorry I’m late. Is Alice asleep?”
It’s almost nine o’clock. Of course she is.
“Yes,” Ida says, trying not to snap. “She went down at seven thirty as usual.”
Daniel glances toward the kitchen. “Any food left?”
“Half a jar of baby stew.”
Daniel looks disappointed, as if he were hoping for leftovers from dinner to warm up. “What did you have?”
“I couldn’t be bothered to cook when you said you were going to be late. I just had a cup of tea and a sandwich.”
Ida is slightly ashamed of herself; it sounds as if she’s lazy. But she had to leave work in a hurry to pick up Alice from preschool, as Daniel wasn’t going to be able to do it. It was all very stressful.
