The Red Address Book by Sofia Lundberg EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Author: Sofia Lundberg
- ISBN: 0358108543
- Language: English
- Genre: Biographical Historical Fiction, Cultural Heritage Fiction, Mothers and Children Fiction
- Format: PDF/ePub
- Size: 4 MB
- Page: 304
- Price: Free
The saltshaker. The pillbox. The bowl of lozenges. The blood-pressure
monitor in its oval plastic case. The magnifying glass and its red bobbinlace strap, taken from a Christmas curtain, tied in three fat knots. The phone
with the extra-large numbers. The old red-leather address book, its bent
corners revealing the yellowed paper within. She arranges everything
carefully, in the middle of the kitchen table. They have to be lined up just
so. No creases on the neatly ironed baby-blue linen tablecloth.
A moment of calm as she looks out at the street and the dreary weather.
People rushing by, with and without umbrellas. The bare trees. The gravelly
slush on the asphalt, water trickling through it.
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A squirrel darts along a branch, and a flash of happiness twinkles in her
eyes. She leans forward, following the blurry little creature’s movements
carefully. Its bushy tail swings from side to side as it moves lithely between
branches. Then it jumps down to the road and quickly disappears, heading
off to new adventures.
It must almost be time to eat, she thinks, stroking her stomach. She picks
up the magnifying glass and with a shaking hand raises it to her gold
wristwatch. The numbers are still too small, and she has no choice but to
give up. She clasps her hands calmly in her lap and closes her eyes for a
moment, awaiting the familiar sound at the front door.
“Did you nod off, Doris?”
An excessively loud voice abruptly wakes her. She feels a hand on her
shoulder, and sleepily tries to smile and nod at the young caregiver who is
bending over her.
“I must have.” The words stick, and she clears her throat.
“Here, have some water.” The caregiver is quick to hold out a glass, and
Doris takes a few sips.
“Thank you . . . Sorry, but I’ve forgotten your name.” It’s a new girl
again. The old one left; she was going back to her studies.
“It’s me, Doris. Ulrika. How are you today?” she asks, but she doesn’t
stop to listen to the answer.
Not that Doris gives one.
She quietly watches Ulrika’s hurried movements in the kitchen. Sees her
take out the pepper and put the saltshaker back in the pantry. In her wake
she leaves creases in the tablecloth.
“No extra salt, I’ve told you,” Ulrika says, with the tub of food in her
hand. She gives Doris a stern look. Doris nods and sighs as Ulrika peels
back the plastic wrap. Sauce, potatoes, fish, and peas, all mixed together,
are tipped out onto a brown ceramic plate. Ulrika puts the plate in the
microwave and turns the dial to two minutes. The machine starts up with a
faint whirr, and the scent of fish slowly begins to drift through the
apartment. While she waits, Ulrika starts to move Doris’s things: she stacks
the newspapers and mail in a messy pile, takes the dishes out of the
dishwasher.
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