Her hands shake as well, these days. “The first stage of multiple sclerosis,” Sonja had also explained.
And a few years ago Rune got Alzheimer’s as well. “Your lad can come and give you a hand, then,” he mumbles in a low voice.
Anita looks up. Looks into his eyes and smiles indulgently. “Johan? Ah... he lives in America, you know.
He’s got enough on his own plate. You know how young people are!”
Ove doesn’t answer. Anita says “America” as if it were the kingdom of heaven where her egotistical son has moved.
Not once has Ove seen that brat here on the street since Rune sickened. Grown man now, but no time for his parents.
Anita jumps to attention, as if she’s caught herself doing something disreputable. She smiles apologetically at Ove.
“Sorry, Ove, I shouldn’t stand here taking up your time with my nattering.” She goes back into the house.
Ove stays where he is with the sheet of corrugated iron in his hand and the cat at his side.
He mutters something to himself just before the door is closed. Anita turns around in surprise, peers out of the crack, and looks at him. “Pardon me?”
Ove twists without meeting her eyes. Then he turns and starts to leave, while his words slip out of him involuntarily.
“I said if you have any more problems with those bloody radiators, you can come and ring my doorbell. The cat and me are at home.”
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