Free Marked for Life by Emelie Schepp

exactly best buds, him and me. We were only half brothers, on our mum’s side. But just because you’re related doesn’t mean that you spend lots of time together. It doesn’t necessarily mean you even like each other, for that matter.”
    â€œDidn’t you get on?”
    â€œYeah, or perhaps, hell, I don’t know.”
    Lasse thought about it for a second or two. He lifted up one leg a little, scratched his crotch area and in doing so exposed a hole that was the size of a large coin. Then he started telling about his relationship with his brother. How it wasn’t really good. That they actually hadn’t had any contact at all this past year. And it was because of his own gambling. But he didn’t gamble now. For his son’s sake.
    â€œI could always borrow money from my brother when things were really bad. He didn’t want Simon to go without food. It’s tough living on welfare and, you know, you’ve got to pay the rent and so on.”
    Lasse rubbed the palm of his hand against his right eye, then went on: “But then something strange happened. My brother became stingy, claimed that he didn’t have any money. I thought that was bloody nonsense. If you live in Lindö then you’ve got money.”
    â€œDid you ever find out what happened?” said Henrik.
    â€œNo, just that he said he couldn’t lend me anything more. That his old lady had put a stop to it. I had promised to pay him back, even though it wouldn’t be for a while, but I promised anyway. But I didn’t get any more money. He was an idiot. A stingy idiot. He could have done without a pricey steak dinner one evening and given me a hundred kronor, you might think. Couldn’t he? I would have, if I were him, that is.”
    Lasse thumped his chest.
    â€œDid you argue with him about money?”
    â€œNever.”
    â€œSo you’ve never threatened your half brother or exchanged harsh words, anything like that?”
    â€œThe odd curse word, perhaps, but I would never have threatened him.”
    â€œYou have a son, right?” Mia went on.
    â€œYes, Simon.” Lasse held out a framed photo of a smiling boy with freckles.
    â€œMind you, he’s only five in that photo. Now he’s eight.”
    â€œHave you got a better picture of him, a recent one?” said Henrik.
    â€œI’ll have a look.”
    Lasse reached toward a white cupboard with glass doors and pulled out a little box that was full of a jumble of stuff.
    Sheets of paper, batteries and electric cables all tangled together. There was also a smoke detector, a headless plastic dinosaur and some sweet wrappers. And a glove too.
    â€œI don’t know if I’ve got a decent recent one. The photos they take at school are so hellishly expensive. They charge four hundred kronor for twenty pictures. Who can order those? Bloody daylight robbery.”
    Lasse let the sheets of paper fall onto the floor so he could get a better look at the contents of the box.
    â€œNo, I haven’t got a good one. But come to think of it, in my cell I might have one there.”
    Lasse disappeared into the kitchen and came back with an old-fashioned flip phone in his hand. He remained standing on the floor and pressed the buttons.
    Henrik noticed that the arrow button was missing and that Lasse had to use his little finger to browse through the picture folder.
    â€œHere,” said Lasse, and held the cell toward Henrik, who took it and looked at the photo on the screen.
    A low-res image showed a relatively tall and still freckled boy. Reddish cheeks. Friendly eyes.
    Henrik complimented Lasse on his son’s good looks, then told him to send the picture via MMS to him. Within a minute he had saved it in his image archive.
    â€œIs Simon at school?” said Henrik when he put his telephone back in his pocket.
    â€œYes, he is,” said Lasse and sat down on the stool again.
    â€œWhen does he come