Not too bad at all he said. I miss getting plastered though. Staying sober is scary. Everything seems grey. Before there was some black as well.

Why didn’t you tell me that diana rang years ago and asked for my address.

Did she he said. Yes she did.

Who is diana? My child.

Your child with father he said. Yes maybe. Or my child with john.

John. Bror stopped and lit a cigarette.

Yes. He said that she might be.

John speaks through his arse much of the time haven’t you realised.

Of course I have. But not always. Two blue-eyed people won’t have a browneyed baby. Or blackeyed.

Maria was afraid of him bror said.

Seems to me maria spoke through her arse a lot I said. Did you know she had it off with katarina’s dad göranbäckström you and surely quite a few others. And at about the same time.

Stop it he said. There’s no need for that. Yes I said. There is. You need it.

We walked in silence for a while. It was called the park but it amounted to a cluster of birches and rowans on a bleak lawn. The site was surrounded by a dense hedge of clipped conifers that kept out prying eyes. It was hard not to think cemetery.

Our shoes splatted through newlyfallen wet snow. I understood why bror saw life here as grey. No need to be either a drug abuser or a codependent to see that.

Have you talked with emelie I asked.

I asked her if she would come here but she hasn’t. 213

Where does she live now I asked.

In sheltered housing.

Why I asked and leaned against a tree. Tried to pick up a last ray of sunshine in the raw cold. Gave him a light push. Tell me why.

Because of me he said and flicked the fag end over the hedge. Someone came out and shouted that time was up.

We had to sit in a circle again and obediently introduced ourselves as codependents. The therapist looked quite pleased and asked us to tell each other a little about ourselves and our relationship to the abuser.

The verbal baton passed from one person to the next and I was becoming more and more nervous. The tapeworm slashed and sucked.

One by one people told their sad stories. Most of them were wives or partners to middleaged men. Many wept. The men didn’t even look worn. Rather they looked like any wolf in sheep’s clothing.

When it was my turn the storytelling halted.

Hi everyone I said. I’m codependent and bror is my twin.

We can see that the therapist said eventually. But jana who are you. When I didn’t reply he asked me to say a few positive things about bror instead.

I looked at bror and knew what he thought.