_There Are Things I Want You to Know_ About Stieg Larsson and Me - Eva Gabrielsson [56]
December
AT SOME point in December, Joakim phoned Britt to tell her, among other things, that if I published the fourth volume, Norstedts would not publish the second and third ones.
Britt explained to him that the computer supposedly containing more of the Millennium saga was the property of Expo, not Stieg. Clearly, this computer has become an obsession for the Larssons! A few days later, their lawyer wrote to Expo to find out where the computer was. (This question would be raised at the Expo board meeting in January 2006, and the answer, delivered at the end of that same month, would be: “We don’t know.”)
Expecting to be driven at any moment from my apartment, I began packing my belongings in cardboard boxes. I’m handling the situation well, though, and there isn’t anything anymore that’s too painful for me to consider or imagine. I’ve recovered my balance and my inner compass. My therapist even says that I’m making particularly rapid progress.
IT’S TIME to write the epilogue for this year just past. First, though, I must compose a summary of my life with Stieg. I cry as I write “I was loved” because, in the end, that’s the only thing that counts.
AFTER ONE year
I wait for a call that never comes
His number in my cell phone
I wait for a smile I never get
His photo on my wall
I wait for a caress I never feel
His jacket in my closet
But I hear his voice answer me
When my despair is at its worst.
WHEN STIEG died, I had but one objective, as I wrote on a piece of paper: “To survive.” For 2006, I write these words: “To learn how to live again.”
2005-2010
UNTIL 2007, I continued to work regularly with Expo. My chief occupations were selecting authors for the website devoted to Stieg and translating any articles that were in English. At first, I often worked at the office to show that I wasn’t abandoning the magazine, but I also went there because I needed to distract myself from missing Stieg. His death prodded many people’s consciences, so Expo‘s financial situation had considerably improved: beginning in November 2004, spontaneous donations started coming in, and in early 2005 the Forening artister mot nazister (Association of Artists Against Nazis) committed itself for six years to an annual contribution of 500,000 kronor ($72,000). In addition, the Statens Kulturad (National Council of Culture) was now providing financial aid for the magazine’s printing costs, and Expo had begun a long-term collaboration with the publishing firm Natur & Kultur.
My last contribution to the magazine and the foundation was to renovate the office in 2007. Since the budget was barely 30,000 kronor (a little over $4,000), I spent three months washing and repainting the walls and ceilings, which were in poor shape. I wanted a warm shade for the floor, so I picked a dark red. For everything else, I used black and white, “newspaper” colors. I also built a conference table with some salvaged materials. The net effect is rather sober and spare, except for the archives room, where folders and old newspapers are piled up ad infinitum.
Today, a representative of Expo serves on the jury for the Stieg Larsson Prize, an award organized by the Larsson family and the Norstedts Publishing Group.
Expo has survived and follows its path. I will follow mine.
SINCE AUTUMN 2007, my apartment in Stockholm has belonged to me free and clear. Almost three years after Stieg’s death, the Larssons suddenly had the official papers delivered to me. Until then, I’d been left hanging, ready at a moment’s notice to abandon ship, so for two years I’d been living surrounded by cardboard boxes. At last relieved of uncertainty, I unpacked my things and threw a big housewarming party, inviting everyone who’d stood by me through thick and thin. Nowadays, books are taking up more and more room in my six hundred square feet of space and will soon start feeling crowded. Not me! I’ve repainted the walls here and had a new kitchen put in, white and olive green. The apartment