Chapter 9
The Test
Disclaimer:
The following is adapted from the novel Let the Right One In by John A. Linqvist and the film bearing the same name. The characters in this work are those of Mr. Linqvist and no copyright protection is asserted to this work.
"Give me one more. And that'll be about all I can do for now."
"Okay. Hang on." Oskar scanned the page of the algebra book he was holding. He lay on the couch with the book; Eli lay on her stomach on the floor, propped up by a pillow under her chest, with some worksheets in front of her.
"All right," he said with a playfully malicious grin. "You'll never get this one."
"A blue square is eight centimeters on a side. Determine the area of a green square if a red circle fits exactly into the blue square and the green square just fits inside an orange circle, two of which just fit into the red circle."
Eli frowned and made notes as Oskar read the problem, then asked him to read it again. She sketched out the problem, then did some calculations with her pencil. Soon she looked up. "Eight square centimeters?"
Oskar flipped to the back of the book. "Yup—you got it. How'd you know?"
"You have to figure out how long the side of the green square is. Since the green square fits inside the orange circle, the diameter of the orange circle is the distance between the opposite corners of the green square. Once you understand that the green square can be divided into two triangles, you can use the Pythagorean Theorem to figure out the length of the side of the square. It's easy, really," she said matter-of-factly, with no hint of bragging in her voice.
Oskar's head was spinning; had been spinning for the past hour or so as they had worked through a series of problems. "What's the Pythagorean Theorem?"
"Never mind," Eli replied with a smile. "It's something you get to look forward to learning when you get a little older."
Oskar closed the book and simply looked at Eli for a minute as she gathered her papers. She was wearing a knit turquoise turtleneck sweater that was too big for her and came to her mid-thigh. She had her feet up in the air, and he had noticed that once in awhile she would unconsciously cross and uncross her legs at the ankles and rub the soles of her feet with the toes of her other foot.
She had other little mannerisms, he'd noticed. Sometimes when she was daydreaming, or just thinking out loud, she would play with her hair; twirl it around a finger. Or if she was concentrating on solving one of her problems, she would play with her pencil, tapping it on the table, or twiddling it between her fingers. She had very inquisitive hands, and seemed compelled to touch anything new that she encountered, often turning whatever it might be over several times, as if to experience it from every possible perspective.
Oskar never brought these things to her attention, but he enjoyed watching them, and oddly, felt that he loved her more because of them. He used them as clues to interpret her mood, and felt that he understood her better because of it; that it somehow deepened his love for her.
Things had been different between them since the night at the waterfall a few months ago. The amount of time they spent together had not changed, but the things they did together had. To Oskar, it seemed as if their attention was turned more to things outside themselves, than inward toward each other. They had done a better job of adhering to Eli's admonition that they sleep separately when the night ended, and they had not spent nearly as much time holding each other as they had before. When Eli was not out . . . getting food, they spent time on the mundane, everyday tasks of living, like trying to keep their apartment picked up, doing laundry, getting groceries, or trying to study. Of course, they played games and worked on puzzles, too.
Oskar knew that something important had been altered in their relationship, but felt frustratingly uncertain of what, exactly, it was, or what to do about it. He wanted to talk to Eli about it, but there never seemed to be the right opportunity to do it, and he was not sure of what to say.
Sometimes, just before he fell asleep, he would think about it and try to make sense of it. He knew that Eli had wanted to give herself to him in a very special way, a way for which he was unprepared. Oh, he had enjoyed the attention—there was no question about that. In fact, it was that experience that he kept circling around to every time he thought about that night. The sheer pleasure of being loved like that—before things had gotten out of hand—was something he would never forget, or never stop wanting to experience again.
But she had clearly not been prepared for the experience, either. He now understood that she really had not had any idea of what she was doing. She had simply been letting go, or giving in?—to a very strong impulse, maybe one that she didn't understand, either. Part of him still wondered what in the world there could be about himself that would make her do that; to want to give herself to him. He did not think of himself as particularly special or attractive. He was skinny and weak, and was often cautious when she was bold.
And then the whole thing with her becoming . . . he was at a loss of words to describe it—vampiric?—had happened. And it had been utterly terrifying, like the time she had grabbed his head in the tub, but worse, because when that had happened, at least she had been asleep. At the waterfall, in the few moments before she had stopped chasing him, he had felt sure that he was going to die, die at the hands of her . . . other nature, with her—the real Eli—powerless to stop it. He had thought that he was going to experience the same fate as Conny, his brother, and Martin had experienced at the pool: torn limb from limb. He still got cold sweats just thinking about it, and it had had a lasting impact, to say the least. His . . . respect? fear? for her had deepened, grown more serious. And it was hard, hard on him, that it had happened, because he still loved her so much.
When he thought about how wonderful her kisses and her hands upon him had been-at least until he had started to feel like a rag doll-he sometimes thought about what might have happened if she had not changed. What if everything had just . . . gone smoothly and sweetly? What would that have been like? He wanted an answer to this question more than any other, although he would not have been able to explain why if he had been asked.
But this was where, in his mind, things became complicated. Because he knew that Eli was really a boy, Elias, and he knew what had happened to that boy. That horrifying, awful thing: that thing that he, Oskar, had not even imagined could be done to someone before he'd met Eli.
He had struggled with similar thoughts after he'd first met Eli. Thoughts like—that he'd be "gay" if he loved Eli—or, Elias—since boys weren't supposed to fall in love with other boys. That if people like Conny and his friends had found out, he would've been labeled a "fag" at school. This, in his mind, was almost harder to deal with than knowing that Eli was, in some ways, not even human. In fact, he'd had a hard time even thinking of Eli as "Elias." It just didn't seem to fit the person he'd come to know. Oskar thought of Elias as a boy-person who had existed a long time ago; not the girl, Eli, that he had met and fallen in love with.
In the end, his hang-up had just seemed to wither away in the incredible course of events that had led up to them running away together. When Eli had saved his life at the pool, all of his worries about what his peers might have thought of him, to have fallen in love with someone who was really a boy, seemed stupid and insignificant. His fears were like shadows that disappeared with the dawn; vanquished by the rising sun that was the blazing love he felt for Eli.
In any event, Eli, for whatever reason, seemed comfortable acting like a girl; so much so, that unless you really knew what he had been to begin with, you would never suspect that he was anything but a girl. And it was with this thought that Oskar's mind ground to a halt when fantasizing about the "what could have beens" at the waterfall. Because Oskar, in fact, did know what Eli really looked like without her clothes. He had seen it once, without her knowing, and hadn't understood what he'd seen. Then she had shown him herself, and with understanding, he had cried at the sight of it. Would he cry again, if he were to see it again? Just looking at that scar and knowing what had been there before was painful; like looking at someone you'd known in the past who was now horribly disfigured. So, he wondered, as he lay on his mattress before the dawn and thought about that night, what would he have done if things hadn't gone badly? Would he even have survived such an encounter? Would he ever find out? He just didn't know what to think about it.
"What are you thinking?" she asked.
Eli's question jarred Oskar back to reality. But although he desperately wanted to right whatever had gone wrong in his relationship with Eli, he didn't want to tell her what he had been thinking, lest it upset her. He sensed that when she was ready to talk about it, she would; and that if he brought it up before that time, it might make things even more difficult. So he dissembled and replied, "What? Oh, nothing. Just woolgathering, I guess."
Eli got up and put the book and her papers on the table. "There's a place we need to go tonight, that I need to show you. We can talk when we get there."
They rode their bikes in a southeasterly direction, then turned onto a road called Mossgatan that Oskar hadn't been on before. The night was cloudy and blustery, and as the season had passed into fall, the trees were losing their leaves, which blew and scraped across the road. They passed a series of apartment buildings, much like their own, on the right, and a line of trees and streetlights on their left. Then Oskar saw a low wall on his left as well, made of irregular but precisely fitted stones; and looking beyond it, realized that they were passing a cemetery. A chill went up his spine and he thought to himself, I hope we're not stopping here. But sure enough, Eli slowed and then pulled over to the wall before reaching the main entrance, in a dark area between the lights.
Together they hoisted their bikes over and laid them down on the other side of the wall, out of sight from the road. Then Oskar followed Eli into a dark grove of trees. She walked at a brisk pace; clearly, she had been here before and knew where she was going. Is this the kind of place she goes at night, by herself?, Oskar wondered. The thought that she had spent time here alone gave him the creeps.
Under the trees, the graves were laid out in rows in a typical grid pattern. It seemed colder here, and the wind rattled through the branches. As they passed the headstones, Oskar's unease increased. He didn't like being here. He sped up a little and took Eli's hand.
"Slow down a little. Where are we going? Tell me, please."
Eli heard the note of anxiety in Oskar's voice. She slowed down and turned her head to look at him. Her face had a hardness to it; it lacked its usual softness when she spoke to him. She seemed preoccupied with her own thoughts, or worried about something.
"Don't be scared, Oskar. Nothing's going to happen. There's a place in here that you need to know about; that's all. It's important. We're almost there." She squeezed his hand reassuringly, then continued walking, but at a slower pace.
The trees thinned out, and they ran across a main driveway and into a denser stand of trees on the other side. As the lights from the drive faded in the darkness under the trees, Oskar thought that they must now be reaching the far side of the cemetery.
He was not reassured by what Eli had said. A place in a cemetery that we need to see? He couldn't imagine what it could be.
They came to a crossing in the paths, and Eli paused. She looked around, then turned left. She had kept her turtleneck on, and put on a pair of her "stretchy pants," as Oskar called them. They were made of polyester or some sort of synthetic, since she didn't need to wear a belt with them. Oskar had worn a spring jacket that wasn't really adequate to keep him warm, and he shivered as a gust of wind blew Eli's hair wildly around her face. Hope her eyes don't change, he thought. Don't know if I could handle that here.
At last they approached a low, stone building closely surrounded by trees. Oskar understood immediately what it was: an old, family mausoleum that had not been maintained very well over the years. What had once been white granite was now a pitted, grayish-green, and ivy had grown up on either side of a low, bronze door that was tarnished almost black. Over the lintel, LARSSON was carved in large, capital letters. At some point a long time ago, the building must have settled or shifted, because the angles of the walls and roof were no longer straight, and there were cracks in the walls where the ivy had taken hold to clamber up and over the roof.
Oskar stopped as Eli continued forward the last short distance to the decrepit structure. Confused and frightened thoughts filled his head. Is this what she wants me to see? Why? Is this where . . . she keeps her victims? Puts the bodies of all the people she's . . . .
He took a step backwards, his feet crunching in the leaves. "Eli—"
Eli turned and realized that he was on the verge of panic. She quickly returned to his side and took both of his hands into hers. "Oskar, don't be afraid. Come over here, and let's sit down and talk."
They went to the side out of the wind, picked a spot that wasn't too overgrown with weeds, and sat side by side with their backs against the wall. Eli took one of his arms into her lap, and held his hand in both of hers, warming it.
"Oskar . . . remember that first night together, after we left Blackeberg? In the cottage, by the lake? When you said you wanted to know everything about me?"
Oskar nodded, and she continued. "I told you that sometimes, I go to sleep for awhile longer than usual. For more than a day—sometimes days at a time."
"Yes. Sometimes weeks, you said."
"Right. Well, Oskar, I think that time is coming. Soon."
Oskar turned to look at her with a puzzled expression. "But why are we here? You said you'd be . . . weak, or . . . or something like that. You should be in our apartment, safe in your tub, if you're going to be asleep like that. So I can make sure you're okay."
Eli sighed; seemed almost about to cry. She loved him so much, this young man who cared about her so deeply. Sometimes she wondered where he'd come from—out of space and time, out of all the people in the world, like a miracle. To meet her; to become hers.
To keep her heart from breaking she embraced him; held him tightly, then spoke in his ear. Her warm breath only made him feel worse, as it made him think about how much he would miss it when she was gone. "Oskar, it'll be safer if I sleep here. It's quiet, and I don't think many people come back here. And in the daytime, it won't seem so bad, if you want to come and visit."
Oskar thought, Come visit? Like I'm going to your grave? He couldn't help himself and started to cry. "But . . . I don't understand. Why a cemetery? Why this awful place? I don't want you go to away, especially not here! Besides, didn't you say that you'd need help, or something?"
Something broke inside Eli, and she, too, began to cry. "Oskar, you have to be strong now. Strong for us. We . . . we talked about this. Remember, when I said we needed to get all those groceries? Huh? So you could—" she sniffed and her voice grew hoarse, "-so you'd be okay while I'm gone?"
"But-but . . ." then he looked down, crestfallen, and wiped his nose. Paused; then said despondently, "Yes. I remember."
"Oskar, I don't want to be around you when I wake up. I won't be the same person you're used to, and I don't know exactly what will happen. I don't want to hurt you, like—like . . . ." She dropped his hand and looked away. He finished her sentence. ". . . the waterfall." She nodded her head sadly; sniffed and wiped her nose.
They sat in silence for awhile, staring out at the graveyard; full of things to say, but not sure of how to say them. Finally she stood up and said, "Come on. Let me show you where I'll be. Just so you'll know."
Oskar followed her reluctantly and they walked around to the front of the building. Eli put her shoulder to the heavy door, and it gave way with a groan and squeal of old metal. Oskar looked around quickly, certain that someone must have heard, but saw no one. Then he fished his little flashlight out of his pocket, and they slipped past the door and entered.
Oskar, never having been inside a crypt, expected to see coffins or moldering bodies lying about, but it was nothing like that. There was a musty smell, for sure; a crack in the ceiling had let water in, and there was mildew or mold growing up there. But in the open area, he saw nothing but a thick layer of dust, recently disturbed by Eli's footprints. Immediately around the corner of the door lay a crowbar, and three or four concrete cinderblocks that she had dragged in. A little farther down, he saw a bronze memorial urn next to the wall with ancient, utterly flaccid flowers jutting out, covered in cobwebs.
He turned and examined the lock. The inside catch, which had been made of heavy cast metal, had been broken off and was laying on the floor near the blocks.
When he flashed the light around the walls, he realized how things were organized. The dead were arranged in vaults on either side of the central nave, which itself was about three meters wide. A total of 16 people could be buried here; eight on each side, in two tiers of four. On the back wall were two, slit-like windows, barely as wide as Oskar's hand, constructed of thick, leaded glass.
Eli grabbed the crowbar and went to the back. She stopped in front of the wall to their right and motioned Oskar over. Once he was beside her, he saw that they were standing in front of a vault on which was written Johan Larsson, Beloved Father, 1889 – 1938. When Oskar looked down, he saw that the one below Johan's was smooth and had no writing; it was then that he realized that some of the vaults were empty. As he watched, Eli squatted, pried the bottom-most marble panel off with the crowbar, and carefully lowered it a few centimeters to the floor; then she slid it to the side so Oskar could see. The stone was thick, and he imagined that it must have been quite heavy.
He crouched next to Eli and shined his light into the hole. There was nothing to see; just a coffin-sized cavity, constructed of finished stone. He wiped his eyes and looked at her, his lip trembling. "You're going to be in there?"
She looked at him impatiently. "Oskar, there aren't too many options. I don't want to be in our apartment, and I don't want to be outside, in a culvert or cave somewhere. A lot of people live around here, and there just aren't very many places where I'll be safe. This will be okay. Please don't worry."
"But how will you be able to get healthy again, if you're weak? Won't you need help?"
"I've thought of that, and I know what I need to do. I'll be okay," Eli lied. It was half a lie, actually. Because although she had thought about it, thought about it intensely, she had no real solution to the dilemma she now faced. She was determined not to involve Oskar in this, but had not developed a relationship with anyone else who could help her. Her love for Oskar had prevented her from doing what she had always done in the past—enlisting the aid of someone from the underbelly of society; someone who would be willing to do what needed to be done. The thieves and pedophiles; the drug addicts, the murderers. The relationship she would need to build with such persons would, she was certain, threaten Oskar, and she couldn't allow that to happen. So for the first time that she could remember, she would be on her own.
Oskar sighed, then looked down dejectedly. He knew that no matter what he said, he wasn't going to change her mind, so he saw no sense in arguing further.
"So, when are you going?"
Eli looked at him uncertainly. "Well, that's hard to say. There's no way to really tell when it might happen. But I've been feeling a little different lately, and I think it's close. It might be best if I stay here tonight."
Oskar panicked. "Tonight? Oh, come on! No!" He spun around to face away from her, leaving her in darkness as the flashlight in his hand illuminated the opposite wall and the cobwebs hanging from the ceiling.
Eli stood in silence for a moment, looking down at the floor and trying to get control over her emotions. She had known that this would be difficult, but hadn't really understood just how painful it was going to be. Finally she thought, He's right. It's not fair to him to go tonight. We'll spend one more night together, and tomorrow night, I'll leave.
She touched his shoulder. "Okay, Oskar. We'll wait a little bit longer." She felt the tension in him relax as he turned back around, visibly relieved. "Come on, let's go home."
Oskar crawled onto his mattress in his underwear and pulled the blanket up over himself. They hadn't said much to each other after they had gotten home. He'd told her that he wanted her to take something of his when she went, dug his Rubik's cube out of a box, and had given it to her. He had thought she was going to start crying again when he handed it to her, but she didn't; she thanked him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. A little later, after he'd brushed his teeth, she'd said goodnight, and gone into the bathroom.
He turned onto his side facing the wall and buried his face in his pillow. Now that she was in her bed, he didn't need to be brave for her anymore, and all of the emotions spilled out in uncontrolled sobbing. He pulled the blanket up over his head so she wouldn't hear him. This is really going to happen, he thought. She's going away for who knows how long, and I'll be all alone. What if it's a month? Two months? What will I do all that time? I won't be able to do it. I just won't. I'm not old enough for this; can't deal with it.
But as he continued to cry, his thoughts shifted. She's counting on me; I have to do it for her. She saved my life. How does that compare to what she's asking now? Do you think you could ever leave, just up and . . . leave her in the lurch? Maybe it's time for you to grow up a little. Start acting like a man, not a little boy. Maybe—
He heard the bedroom doorhandle creak as it was turned. He froze.
For some reason he did not understand, the thought that she might be coming into his room seized him with irrational dread. He held his breath under the covers, hoping that she would think he was asleep. He suddenly felt as though he was six years old again, afraid that a monster was coming out of his closet to get him.
After a few seconds, he felt weight on the mattress behind him; felt the blanket being lifted. He tensed; prepared to flee. Then a cool, naked body slid in behind him, pressed against his back, and an arm gently curled around him.
Eli. His heart leaped with joy in his chest.
He felt her warm breath on the nape of his neck as she spoke. "Sorry. I just couldn't stay in my tub tonight. I need you."
He took her hand into his; squeezed it hard. He remembered the first night he had ever shared a bed with her, when they had lain just like this. When she'd said she'd flown to his room, and he hadn't believed it. Had agreed, to his elation, to go steady with him. Had left him the first love note he'd ever gotten in his life—a note he still had to this day. It seemed like so long ago, now, even though it really wasn't.
A wave of emotion passed over him that was so strong that he felt powerless in its grip. All of the experiences they had shared since that first moment they had met in the snow outside his old apartment suddenly seemed to telescope into one, multi-faceted emotion—a glittering diamond that turned and sparkled, reflecting light outwards in all directions to blind him. Love and togetherness; sadness and departure; happy memories, and an uncertain future; all jumbled up in his mind. Without thinking he rolled over to face her, took her head into his hands, and kissed her deeply.
Now they both made the sort of happy, satisfied sounds that she had made at the waterfall. And when their kiss finally broke she whispered, in a trembling voice, "This is my dream, Oskar. To be with you, like this. To be just myself—with you. Always. Forever."
"Oh, Eli—" but any coherent expression of thought escaped him. The yearning for her, frustrated and perhaps irretrievably damaged since that night at the waterfall, rose like a wellspring and burst forth in a torrent that he could not control. He wrapped his arms about her and pulled her to him and on top of him; held her tightly. Didn't care that she was superstrong and might tear him apart, for his love was stronger. Didn't care that she was really Elias, a boy. Just wanted, at all costs, to be one with her. This one person who was his, and would be his, forever.
Later, as they lay together in the darkness, he asked her what he could do to help her while she hibernated. "Pray for me," was her only reply.
