The Princess of Burundi - Kjell Eriksson [58]
“Yes, she did. I’m not worried that you’ll miss very much work, but don’t you think it might feel good to go to school?”
“I have to take care of the aquarium.”
Berit looked at him. He’s so like his father, she thought. The aquarium. She glanced at some cichlids circling the hose.
“We’ll work on it together,” she said. “You know you have to focus on your studies.”
He looked down at the floor.
“What do you think Dad was thinking?” he asked in a low voice.
“I don’t know,” Berit said.
She had identified his body, asked to see all of it. What scared her wasn’t the wounds, the grayish cast of his skin, or even the severed finger and the burn marks. It was his face. She had seen the terror etched into his features.
John had been a brave man, never sensitive to pain, never one to complain. That’s why his face had been almost unrecognizable. I didn’t know terror could change a person so, she had thought and taken a step back.
The female police officer at her side, Beatrice was her name, had taken her arm, but Berit had shaken her off. She didn’t want to be propped up.
“Give me a few minutes,” she had said. Beatrice looked doubtful but did as she was asked.
As Berit stood there, completely still beside the gurney, she felt that she had always known it would end this way. Maybe not known, exactly, but sensed. John’s family was no normal family. It was as if they could not escape their fates.
She had walked over to him again, bent over the body, and kissed his brow. The chill spread to her lips.
“Justus,” she had mumbled, then turned and left the room.
Beatrice was waiting outside. She didn’t say anything, which Berit had appreciated.
“I imagine he was thinking of the Princess,” Justus said.
“What, who?”
“The Princess of Burundi.”
Then she remembered. That was the evening John had unveiled the new aquarium. He had pointed out the various species to her, among them the Princess. She had heard all the names before—how could she not?—but the Princess was new.
He had been leaning forward with his face close to the glass and pointed them out to the guests with warmth in his voice. Then he had looked at Justus and Berit.
“This is my Princess,” he had said, putting his arm around her waist. “My Princess of Burundi.”
“Who the hell is Burundi?” Lennart had asked.
Justus had explained that it was a country in Africa, at the northern end of Lake Tanganyika. Berit had heard the eagerness in his voice. John had patted him on the head with his free hand.
“Yes, that’s right,” she said, recalling everything about that evening, how happy she had been. “It’s a beautiful name.”
“Burundi is beautiful,” Justus said.
“Have you been there?” Berit said, smiling.
“Almost.”
And he came close to telling her everything.
Nineteen
The man had certainly been friendly, he thought, offering to follow him into the emergency room. Maybe he thought I had a concussion and couldn’t manage on my own.
He put his hand on his head and waited until he saw the car drive away. The dizziness came and went. He didn’t think it was a result of the blood loss, but rather of the exertion. The wound had stopped bleeding and a sticky scab had formed over it, plastering his hair onto his forehead. He felt gently along the edges of the wound.
After a few minutes he was on Dag Hammarskjöld Way, unsure of what to do next. A light snow was falling. A few cars drove by. He retreated into a park, where a young couple came walking toward him, laughing. They were probably dressed up under their thick down coats. The woman was holding a plastic bag with something Vincent assumed were shoes.
He stepped behind a tree and let them pass before he snuck up behind them. The snow muffled his steps and he took them by complete surprise. He grabbed the man’s wool cap and ran into the park. After fifteen meters or so he turned to see if they had followed, but they were still standing in the same spot, staring at him. He knew they wouldn’t come after him, but he still ran as he made his way toward Uppsala castle.
He pulled on the cap as he ran, veering down to Lower