Simone, Erik, and Benjamin return to a grey Stockholm beneath a sky that is already dark. The air is heavy with rain, and the city is enveloped in a purplish mist. Everywhere, colourful lights are shining, on Christmas trees and garland-looped balcony railings. Advent stars glow in virtually every window. Santa and his elves are everywhere.
The taxi driver who drops them at the Birger Jarl Hotel has his Santa hat on. He waves at them gloomily in the rear-view mirror; they notice he even has a plastic Santa on his roof.
Simone glances at the lobby and the dark windows of the hotel restaurant, and says it feels odd to be staying in a hotel when they’re only a few hundred feet away from home.
“But I really don’t want to go back to our apartment,” she says.
“No, of course not,” Erik agrees.
“Not ever again.”
“Me neither,” says Benjamin.
“What shall we do?” Erik asks. “How about the cinema?”
“I’m hungry,” Benjamin says quietly.
By the time the helicopter arrived at the hospital in Umeå, the bullet had gone straight through Erik’s left shoulder muscle, causing only superficial damage to the outer part of his upper arm. Once they stabilized his condition, he underwent surgery. Afterwards, he shared a room with Benjamin, who had been admitted for observation and rehydration, so his medication could be regulated. After only one day in the hospital, Benjamin started to ask about going home.
The psychologist assigned to assess Benjamin’s condition seemed unable to grasp the level of danger to which Benjamin had been exposed. After talking to Benjamin for forty-five minutes, she met with Erik and Simone and blandly announced that the boy seemed fine, under the circumstances; they should just keep an eye on him and give him time.
Did the woman just want to reassure them? His parents realized that Benjamin was going to need real help; they could already see him searching among his memories, as if he had already decided to ignore some of them, and they sensed that if he were left alone he would close up around what had happened like bedrock around a fossil.
“I know two really good specialists in adolescent psychology,” said Erik. “We’ll call them as soon as we get back to Stockholm.”
“Good.” Simone shuddered.
“And how are you feeling?” he asked her.
“There’s this hypnotist I’ve heard about,” Simone said.
“Just be careful of him.”
“I will.” Simone smiled.
“But seriously,” Erik said. “All of us are going to need to work through this.”
She nodded, and her expression grew very thoughtful.
“Little Benjamin,” she said softly.
Erik went and lay down again in the bed next to Benjamin’s, and Simone sat on a chair between the two. They looked at their son, lying there so pale and thin. They never tired of gazing at his face, as if he were their newborn baby.
“How are you feeling, little man?” Erik asked him tentatively.
Benjamin stared out the window. The darkness outside turned the glass into a vibrating reflection as the wind pushed and tapped at the pane.