Free Britt-Marie Was Here by Fredrik Backman Page B

explain that it’s difficult to know who you are once you are alone, when you have always been there for the sake of someone else. But she doesn’t want to trouble the rat with it. So she adjusts a crease in her skirt and says, very formally:
    “I would like to propose a working arrangement. For your part, it would mean that a dinner would be arranged for you every evening at six o’clock.”
    She makes an explanatory gesture at the chocolate.
    “The arrangement, if we find it mutually beneficial, would mean that, if you die, I won’t let you lie and smell bad in the wall. And you will do the same for me. In case people don’t know we are here.”
    The rat takes a tentative step towards the chocolate. Stretches its neck and sniffs it. Britt-Marie brushes invisible crumbs from her knee.
    “It’s the sodium bicarbonate that disappears when one dies, youhave to understand. That’s why people smell. I read that after Ingrid had died.”
    The rat’s whiskers vibrate with skepticism. Britt-Marie clears her throat apologetically.
    “Ingrid was my sister, you have to understand. She died. I was worried she’d smell bad. That’s how I found out about sodium bicarbonate. The body produces sodium bicarbonate to neutralize the acidic substances in the stomach. When one dies, the body stops producing the sodium bicarbonate, so the acidic substances eat their way through the skin and end up on the floor. That’s when it smells, you have to understand.”
    She thinks about adding that she has always found it reasonable to assume that the human soul is found in the sodium bicarbonate. When it leaves the body, there’s nothing left. Only complaining neighbors. But she doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t want to cause bother.
    The rat eats its dinner but doesn’t comment on whether or not it enjoyed it.
    Britt-Marie doesn’t ask.

9

    E verything begins in earnest this evening. The weather is mild, the snow turns to rain as it falls from sky to earth. The children play soccer in the dark, but neither the dark nor the rain seems to concern them in the least. The parking area is only blessed with light here and there, where it’s cast by the neon sign of the pizzeria, or from the kitchen window where Britt-Marie stands hidden behind the curtain watching them, but, to be quite honest, most of them are so bad at soccer that more light would only have a marginal effect on their ability to hit the ball.
    The rat has gone home. Britt-Marie has locked the door and washed up and cleaned the whole recreation center one more time. She is standing by the window looking out at the world. From time to time, the ball bounces through the puddles onto the road, and then the children play Rock, Paper, Scissors to decide who has to go and fetch it.
    Kent used to tell David and Pernilla when they were small that Britt-Marie couldn’t play with them because she “didn’t know how,” but that isn’t true. Britt-Marie knows perfectly well how to play Rock, Paper, Scissors. She just doesn’t think it sounds very hygienic to keep stones in paper bags. As for the scissors, it’s not even worth thinking about. Who knows where they’ve been?
    Of course Kent is always saying Britt-Marie is “so darned negative.” It’s a part of her social incompetence. “Darn it! Just be happy instead!” Kent fetches the cigars and takes care of the guests and Britt-Marie does the washing-up and takes care of the home, and that’s how they have divided up their lives. Kent is a bit happy, darn it, and Britt-Marie is darned negative. Maybe that’s how it goes. It’s easier to stay optimistic if you never have to clear up the mess afterwards.
    The two siblings, Vega and Omar, play on opposing sides. She is calm and calculating, gently moving the ball with the insides of her feet, as you might twiddle your toes against someone you love while sleeping. Her brother, on the other hand, is angry and frustrated, hunting the ball down as if it owes him money.