NOVEL

Dear Husband

The Love We Had, Chapter 29

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29

Alter Ego

You are who you are, you have a husband and children and family, you have your home and nothing to complain about. You were fine, Eira.

In the kitchen drawer, I have a secret notebook, a kind of journal where I write about some of the small events in the everyday life.

I write a few words if during the day I have talked to Mom on the phone, or if I have been out in the morning and had a coffee with Elsa or Berit, or some other friend.

In the notebook, I also write short notes about the weather, and it is not accidental; I’m quite sensitive to the weather, and I really hate it when there’s an endless series of days in a row with low, grey skies hanging low over the city. In this part of the country, the rain can flow for several days and even for several weeks, with even rain falling all day and all night uninterrupted. It is very depressing, and writing the weather journal helps me remember that sunshine and hot summer days still exist:

“Called mom. She was fine.” …

“Good weather today, a little sun.”

Or: “Cloudy, is it raining?”

Or: “Snow today.” …

“Wind in pinewood.” …

“The snow melted. Rain.”

Writing my journal is a way I have to keep things in place. Get some control over the chaos, the world around me.

I almost always write only a few words, telegram style. I know it can seem a little odd doing this. When I think about it once in a while, after I have written a few words for today, I mostly think that it is good that it has been done. An everyday ritual, to keep the weekdays in place.

Once I started writing to Lars. There was a time when I still thought that it could be different between us, that he and I could make it happen.

But he cannot change. — Or can he? I don’t know.

I wrote to him, and I left the letter on the kitchen table, in an envelope with his name on it. And when I came back it was gone, so I suppose he took it. Maybe he also read it. Or he didn’t. I don’t know. I never know with him. He is a man who does not read very much, so perhaps he just put the letter I wrote to him away, in a drawer.

Dear Lars

Last night you were angry with me because you say I do not talk to you, that we do not talk. If that’s the truth, and you get it right — yes then, why don’t you yourself talk to me? I am your woman; I want to be your friend like we were before. And this is the truth. What I tell you now — that’s the truth there is, and you can’t change the truth, because this truth is my truth. And my love — you cannot change it, no way.

Therefore, dear Lars, it is so that I do what I want to do because now I know what I have to do, what I need to do. We have to finish this, and you cannot do anything about it — it’s not your job, you have no right to decide in my life.

I am a real, independent individual. I want my life. I want to control my life regardless of your whims, your points of view, and your misleading opinions. It’s just the way it is, and I have made it clear to myself. We can handle what we have, but sometimes we have to talk our way through and out of it. And then we must talk together. And you and I — we do not talk.

Tomorrow we have to talk together. We must be willing to show some of what we would rather not show. We must be willing to reveal parts of our secrets to each other because that’s how we show each other who we are.

You must respect that I am who I am, and I will respect that you are who you are. You must be as you are, but that does not mean you can ignore me. Or you can ignore me, if you decide to do so, your case will be lost anyway, because no one will stand up for you instead of me. And it is my conviction that no one should unpunished ignore the closest person.

Dear Lars, I’m not a person you can ignore. Do not think that I’m not sorry about that. You cannot continue to be indifferent. Recently, I felt that way. It may continue to be so; you can continue to focus on yourself and you can continue to be in yourself. It happens all the time because you do not speak, you never speak; we never talk, and it’s not good the way we feel. Not talking to each other — that’s not good. We have each other, but it’s impossible to talk to each other.

People who do not want to be with others are people who are out of time. Some may well be outside and that is a shame because it is not necessarily the best choice we can make, being outside. There are many choices like a lot better. It is after the decision that it is possible to be inside the circle and not outside the circle. Not having children is quite simple. Just say no, I don’t care. I am who I am, I am fine, etc.

But now I feel angry, I’m upset by the words I write here — you should have already known what you just got to know! Who are you? You have never bothered to try to get to know, really know your woman, so that’s why it has become so.

I have decided. I’m going my own way. If I get a little lost, it does not concern you. But I want to deal with you because I do not want to demand that we separate now. I cannot do it right now, so now I will enjoy the time I can with others. You do not know, you should not care, he is a person who may be close to me in your place because you do not care because you do not try to do what you should do.

You’re not interested enough in me and from now on I do not think you should try to change me anymore. And you must not criticize me for this choice because you yourself are the reason why this has happened — why this is happening now and why I am going my own way. And you know you’ve always gone your own way and why, you know that too, and now I’m going to do the same.

Yes, that’s how it is.

E.

The story that the novel tells takes place in a small industrial town at the end of a fjord in western Norway. The story being told and the characters are fictional.

The photos included in the chapters are taken on location in Odda and in the Odda Smelter (Odda Smelteverk, 1906–2003), the carbide factory that is part of the story.

The Love We Had

Part 1 The Longest Night -chapters 1–3, told by Lars. Part 2 The Light Inside -chapters 4–17, told by Aslak. Part 3 Save Our Secret Love -chapters 18 — XX, told by Eira.

For quick access to all chapters, go here.

Previous chapter: 28 The Night I Freed Myself

Next: Chapter 30 Inside — Outside

Øivind H. Solheim writes fiction, essays and articles aiming to help others understanding life, other humans and themselves. He has published five novels, two non-fiction books and a poetry book.

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