“Nothing is as difficult as being a parent. Naturally I fell short many times. I had so many hopes and expectations about what it would be like. What sort of dad I would be; what sort of daughter Stella would be. What our relationship would be like.”
“It didn’t always turn out the way you’d hoped?” Michael says.
“I don’t think the problem is how it turned out—more like what I had expected. I’ve had trouble accepting some of Stella’s life choices. Sometimes you forget what it’s like to be a teenager.”
I look at the presiding judge. There’s a flicker of understanding in G?ran Leijon’s expression. He knows. He has teenagers himself.
“Adam,” Michael says, “can you tell us what happened on Friday the thirty-first of August?”
Adam turns his body to look at Stella again. I lean forward to catch a glimpse of his face.
Adam doesn’t say anything. Why isn’t he saying something?
Naturally I should have allowed him more into the loop, but I was terrified that he wouldn’t understand or that his firm morals would stand in the way.
What if it’s too late? If he changes his mind, if he takes it all back? That would be devastating.
“I worked pretty late that day,” he says, drawing out the words.
His voice unsteady, he talks about the funeral of a young person. It had been a rough week, and by Friday Adam felt generally tired and run-down. After work he made dinner, after which we played games on the sofa and went to bed.
“Did you know where Stella was that night?” Michael asks, fingering the knot of his tie.
Adam’s cheeks are pale.
“She had said she was going to meet up with a friend. Amina Be?i?.”
“Okay,” Michael says calmly, “so you and your wife went to bed before Stella had arrived home?”
“That’s correct.”
“What time was it then?”
I sit up straight in my chair.
Please, Adam. Think of your family!
“Around eleven,” he says. “I didn’t actually check.”
“Did you fall asleep right away?”
“No, I lay awake for a few hours.”
“A few hours?”
“Yes.”
I take a quick sip of water, but I fail to properly screw the lid back onto the bottle; water spills in my lap and I dry it with the back of my hand. The bearded man glances at me.
“Were you awake when Stella came home that night?” Michael asks.
I lean even further to the side. Adam raises his chin and his clerical collar shines white as innocence in the direction of the judges.
“I was awake when she came home,” he says.
His voice is stronger now. Clear and firm. I sink back in my chair.
“Do you know what time it was?” Michael asks.
“It was quarter to twelve. I looked at the clock when I heard her come in.”
One of the lay judges brings their hand to their mouth. The rest of the court stares at Adam in silence.
“And you’re absolutely certain about the time?”
“I’m absolutely certain. I swear to God.”
90
“How can you be so sure?” I asked Adam.
This was, of course, one of his hang-ups: he was always doubting. And right now, there was absolutely no room for nuance. He had made up his mind.
“It’s going to be wonderful. You’re going to be the most fantastic mother in the world.”
He merely brushed off all my misgivings. According to Adam, my anxiety was a natural part of the process. Becoming a parent meant comprehensive adjustments that would change our lives forever. It was no wonder I was full of doubt and hesitation that made me feel ill.
In actuality we were too young to have a baby. I had just been assigned my post for my law clerk position, and Adam was in the middle of his program. Just six months earlier we had been living in the student dorm, spending several evenings a week hanging out at bars, low-key disco clubs, and fancy student dinners, but during the summer, against all odds, we had managed to come across a relatively spacious one-room apartment on Norra F?laden. Furthermore, Adam was convinced that the rental agency would agree to upgrade us to a two-room place if there were to be an addition to our family.
“I love you,” Adam said multiple times per day, bending down to kiss the growing bump of my belly. “And you too, in there.”
Gradually the worst of my end-of-the-world mentality abated and my anxiety was exchanged for swollen elephant feet. Some days I couldn’t get out of bed, and I felt like a huge failure of a woman.