145. When the snowman melts
“How do you know that?”
Erna, who had been staring blankly at him, stammered a question.
“I went to my doctor and asked.”
“Why?”
Erna approached, clasping her hands together as if in prayer. The shadows of the two figures, standing face to face, barely a foot apart, enveloped the baby snowman wearing a silver bell.
Bjorn, who had been staring at Erna's eyes, sparkling with tears, remained silent and turned his gaze away. Wherever he looked, everything was pure white. That dazzling light pierced his eyes.
"Daughter, son. Which one do you think you'll be? I couldn't figure it out, so I bought two dolls."
Instead of answering, Bjorn asked a belated question. Erna's eyes, now facing him again, were redder than her frozen cheeks.
“A doll?”
With each slow blink, Erna's blue eyes, filled with Bjorn, grew ever more transparent. A fleeting thought briefly crossed his mind; perhaps she had eyes like those.
“I bought my child a present. The day I lost her.”
Words that seemed impossible to say came out so easily. It was so funny that Bjorn let out a short chuckle.
"That's just the kind of day I had that thought. Most of the troubling issues were finally settled, and I'd done something wrong to you. Well, one way or another."
“A gift for the child, you?”
"Ah. It wasn't the kind of gift you'd dislike. I picked it out myself. It made the whole department store buzz."
He tried to lift the corners of his mouth, but Bjorn couldn't smile as he intended. Suddenly, his throat felt parched. It felt like a sharp blade was slicing at his nerves. Had it not been for Erna, he would have hastily lit a cigar and taken a bite.
"That doll was a bear. You know, the kind of bear that kids love. It had the same shape, but the fur and ribbon were different colors. It was cute. Soft."
Even though he knew he was talking nonsense, Bjorn couldn't stop.
Memories he wanted to forget came back to him with such vividness.
The feel of the doll in his hand. The sparkling eyes and nose. The ribbon decoration, Erna seemed to like. Bjorn could vividly recall the commotion of the gathered onlookers, the store's lights, and even the gentle smile of the clerk who had chosen the doll. He even remembered himself, oblivious to the fact that his own child was dying, enjoying the vague hope that everything would be alright, as he had offered himself up to be a spectacle in Schwerin.
"After buying that, something else caught my eye. While I was buying baby gifts, I wanted to buy one for you, too. I hadn't even been able to properly congratulate you on your pregnancy. I guess I wanted to be a decent husband and father, even if it was late. That's what I did while you were losing your child, Erna."
Bjorn laughed with a sigh, mocking the crippled brat who had so many things he wanted to give that he couldn't easily turn back.
What a damn gift.
At this point, the gift felt like the cause of all misfortune.
"I should've just gone home instead of doing what I was doing. At least then you and the child wouldn't have been left alone until the very end."
Bjorn absently brushed away the water droplets clinging to his wet fingertips. Then, slowly, with his cold hand, he grasped the hair covering his forehead and swept it back. Even in that moment, his upright posture and gaze remained undisturbed.
“Bjorn...”
Erna called him in a daze. She couldn't think of anything else to say besides his name.
She couldn't believe what she was hearing. No, she believed it. Erna knew full well that Bjorn couldn't have lied like this. That was why. Knowing that every word was true, she couldn't believe this moment.
“Why... didn’t you tell me that?”
Erna reached out with a trembling hand and grabbed Bjorn's arm.
“Tell me! Why on earth? Why?”
Erna's voice, waving her arms as if urging, grew louder and louder.
Bjorn, his eyes tightly shut and his breathing steady, looked at Erna with a faint smile. His gray eyes, visible through his long bangs, once again flowing, held a cold, sparkling light reminiscent of a snowy field.
“I was scared, Erna.”
Bjorn's voice was monotonous and calm, quite different from the confession.
“I, the bastard who killed my child, have nothing to say, and I can’t find any excuse, so what should I do if you bring up the story? I was afraid of that. I think I wanted to just ignore it and live my life as if nothing had happened. After all, miscarriage is a common occurrence and not our special misfortune. I thought everything would be okay as time passed.”
His face, beautifully shining in the sunlight, was slightly distorted.
"Isn't it funny? I fooled the world into thinking my ex-wife's illegitimate child was my own, and I pretended to be a decent person, yet I killed my own child in a fit of lust. That's all there is to it."
Bjorn, who had been quietly watching Erna, let out a hollow laugh. The dirty thoughts and emotions he'd been obliterating with strong alcohol and cigar smoke came back to him in a clear, snow-white consciousness.
He wanted to get a definitive answer that it wasn't his fault and erase his guilt.
A series of terrible events unfolded, and Erna's body was weakened to the point of fragility. So, wouldn't it have been difficult for the child to grow up healthy? It was simply the result of a series of coincidental misfortunes. It wasn't anyone's fault. But even in that moment of hypocrisy, Bjorn already knew. It was all his own fault, clearly.
More than Walter Hardy's accident and the truth about Gladys, it was he who tormented Erna. Far from reassuring her, he pushed her to the limit, trampling on her pride and deeply wounding her. Divorce. Those words, which could not possibly have been sincere, sent her into a frenzy.
To think she's never think that way again? He was so foolish and pathetic that he almost cried. All he needed to hold onto Erna was a sincere confession. "It's okay, because I love you." He couldn't even say those words.
"When I heard the news of your pregnancy, if only I had at least congratulated you and told you not to worry, that I'd take care of everything, wouldn't we have been able to protect our child? Or what if I hadn't held you that night? Then our child would be alive. Thinking about that, I almost went crazy."
As the memory of the night he finally quenched his lust for Erna, who was terrified, came back to him, Bjorn chuckled. Unable to cry, he simply laughed.
It was a day when he was exhausted, tormented by those demanding truth and explanation. He thought Erna would be the same. But the moment he saw the woman who was concerned for him, Bjorn lost the willpower he had barely clung to. He longed to hold Erna warmly in his arms. He wanted to be comforted by her sweet body scent and body heat. Intoxicated by that desire, he pushed Erna forward.
“I know this is all my fault.”
He killed his child.
Bjorn was now able to calmly confront the guilt and sorrow he'd buried deep within. Then, finally, he felt like he knew what to say to Erna.
"I'm sorry."
Bjorn looked Erna in the eye and offered a quiet apology. The wind that blew through the snow fluttered the hem of his coat and Erna's dress.
"I had no idea what I was supposed to do. So, Erna, I hid it all deep inside. I hoped you would do the same. I was such a coward to you and the child."
Bjorn laughed again. Watching that laugh, which felt like crying, Erna's eyes filled with tears.
Sorry.
Erna now seemed to understand that the whisper she had heard in his arms last night was not an auditory hallucination created by the blizzard.
"I'm sorry I avoided even mourning our lost child. I wanted to apologize to you and grieve with you, but I was afraid to admit my mistake. I thought I'd lose you then. Well, I ended up losing you differently."
Bjorn's eyes were red as he sobbed calmly. The tears had overflowed, blurring his vision, but Erna could clearly see them.
This guy is still bad.
Erna laughed in amazement. She almost cried, laughing like the bad guy in front of her.
You'd rather hide it forever. Then I could hate you to my heart's content. But now, when you reveal your true feelings, so wounded, what am I supposed to do?
"Your husband, Erna, was the idiot who wanted to believe that all his wrongdoings could be compensated for with money, with numbers. He was like that until the very end."
A few soft curses escaped from between Bjorn's crooked lips like a laugh.
Erna, staring at him, unconsciously clenched her lips. She gripped the hem of her skirt tightly and planted her feet firmly on the snow. As if determined never, ever again would she be swayed by such a bad love as this man. It was then that Bjorn's ashen eyes turned back to Erna.
“I didn’t even get to see my child off from us because I was so busy buying those damn gifts.”
The pale winter sunlight illuminated his still face.
Even though he was just standing still, Bjorn slowly caught his breath and looked at the baby snowman, which was sparkling white.
In the blink of an eye, baby Dneister grew into a girl with soft brown hair. The ribbon adorning her head fluttered like butterfly wings as she darted across the snow. Their eyes met, and the child exclaimed, "Daddy!" The hand she was waving so diligently was impossibly small.
The child, who had the same smile as her mother, now began to run towards him. Bjorn knew that if he held her small, warm body, the sweet smell of cookies would waft through the air.
Bjorn closed his eyes tightly, then opened them again, turning his head to face Erna again. He then raised his hand and covered her tear-stained face.
“But I never once considered her to be nothing.”
He was held in blue eyes, like those of the child in the beautiful nightmare.
"She was my first child, too. She was so precious, our first child."
With a gentle hand, Bjorn wiped Erna's silent tears. It was time to wake from this dream. He and Erna were trapped in the nightmare he had created.
"All these words are too late, but this is still my true heart. So, Erna, when the snowman melts, let the child go from your heart, too. Only then, as you wish, can the child go to a good place."
Bjorn looked at Erna with eyes as soft as the spring sunlight when the child came.
“This time, we’ll see her off together. So, let’s do that.”
He bowed his head deeply and looked into Erna's eyes, smiling slowly.
Erna's sobs, which had been quietly weeping, burst forth into the white winter landscape.
“How do you know that?”
Erna, who had been staring blankly at him, stammered a question.
“I went to my doctor and asked.”
“Why?”
Erna approached, clasping her hands together as if in prayer. The shadows of the two figures, standing face to face, barely a foot apart, enveloped the baby snowman wearing a silver bell.
Bjorn, who had been staring at Erna's eyes, sparkling with tears, remained silent and turned his gaze away. Wherever he looked, everything was pure white. That dazzling light pierced his eyes.
"Daughter, son. Which one do you think you'll be? I couldn't figure it out, so I bought two dolls."
Instead of answering, Bjorn asked a belated question. Erna's eyes, now facing him again, were redder than her frozen cheeks.
“A doll?”
With each slow blink, Erna's blue eyes, filled with Bjorn, grew ever more transparent. A fleeting thought briefly crossed his mind; perhaps she had eyes like those.
“I bought my child a present. The day I lost her.”
Words that seemed impossible to say came out so easily. It was so funny that Bjorn let out a short chuckle.
"That's just the kind of day I had that thought. Most of the troubling issues were finally settled, and I'd done something wrong to you. Well, one way or another."
“A gift for the child, you?”
"Ah. It wasn't the kind of gift you'd dislike. I picked it out myself. It made the whole department store buzz."
He tried to lift the corners of his mouth, but Bjorn couldn't smile as he intended. Suddenly, his throat felt parched. It felt like a sharp blade was slicing at his nerves. Had it not been for Erna, he would have hastily lit a cigar and taken a bite.
"That doll was a bear. You know, the kind of bear that kids love. It had the same shape, but the fur and ribbon were different colors. It was cute. Soft."
Even though he knew he was talking nonsense, Bjorn couldn't stop.
Memories he wanted to forget came back to him with such vividness.
The feel of the doll in his hand. The sparkling eyes and nose. The ribbon decoration, Erna seemed to like. Bjorn could vividly recall the commotion of the gathered onlookers, the store's lights, and even the gentle smile of the clerk who had chosen the doll. He even remembered himself, oblivious to the fact that his own child was dying, enjoying the vague hope that everything would be alright, as he had offered himself up to be a spectacle in Schwerin.
"After buying that, something else caught my eye. While I was buying baby gifts, I wanted to buy one for you, too. I hadn't even been able to properly congratulate you on your pregnancy. I guess I wanted to be a decent husband and father, even if it was late. That's what I did while you were losing your child, Erna."
Bjorn laughed with a sigh, mocking the crippled brat who had so many things he wanted to give that he couldn't easily turn back.
What a damn gift.
At this point, the gift felt like the cause of all misfortune.
"I should've just gone home instead of doing what I was doing. At least then you and the child wouldn't have been left alone until the very end."
Bjorn absently brushed away the water droplets clinging to his wet fingertips. Then, slowly, with his cold hand, he grasped the hair covering his forehead and swept it back. Even in that moment, his upright posture and gaze remained undisturbed.
“Bjorn...”
Erna called him in a daze. She couldn't think of anything else to say besides his name.
She couldn't believe what she was hearing. No, she believed it. Erna knew full well that Bjorn couldn't have lied like this. That was why. Knowing that every word was true, she couldn't believe this moment.
“Why... didn’t you tell me that?”
Erna reached out with a trembling hand and grabbed Bjorn's arm.
“Tell me! Why on earth? Why?”
Erna's voice, waving her arms as if urging, grew louder and louder.
Bjorn, his eyes tightly shut and his breathing steady, looked at Erna with a faint smile. His gray eyes, visible through his long bangs, once again flowing, held a cold, sparkling light reminiscent of a snowy field.
“I was scared, Erna.”
Bjorn's voice was monotonous and calm, quite different from the confession.
“I, the bastard who killed my child, have nothing to say, and I can’t find any excuse, so what should I do if you bring up the story? I was afraid of that. I think I wanted to just ignore it and live my life as if nothing had happened. After all, miscarriage is a common occurrence and not our special misfortune. I thought everything would be okay as time passed.”
His face, beautifully shining in the sunlight, was slightly distorted.
"Isn't it funny? I fooled the world into thinking my ex-wife's illegitimate child was my own, and I pretended to be a decent person, yet I killed my own child in a fit of lust. That's all there is to it."
Bjorn, who had been quietly watching Erna, let out a hollow laugh. The dirty thoughts and emotions he'd been obliterating with strong alcohol and cigar smoke came back to him in a clear, snow-white consciousness.
He wanted to get a definitive answer that it wasn't his fault and erase his guilt.
A series of terrible events unfolded, and Erna's body was weakened to the point of fragility. So, wouldn't it have been difficult for the child to grow up healthy? It was simply the result of a series of coincidental misfortunes. It wasn't anyone's fault. But even in that moment of hypocrisy, Bjorn already knew. It was all his own fault, clearly.
More than Walter Hardy's accident and the truth about Gladys, it was he who tormented Erna. Far from reassuring her, he pushed her to the limit, trampling on her pride and deeply wounding her. Divorce. Those words, which could not possibly have been sincere, sent her into a frenzy.
To think she's never think that way again? He was so foolish and pathetic that he almost cried. All he needed to hold onto Erna was a sincere confession. "It's okay, because I love you." He couldn't even say those words.
"When I heard the news of your pregnancy, if only I had at least congratulated you and told you not to worry, that I'd take care of everything, wouldn't we have been able to protect our child? Or what if I hadn't held you that night? Then our child would be alive. Thinking about that, I almost went crazy."
As the memory of the night he finally quenched his lust for Erna, who was terrified, came back to him, Bjorn chuckled. Unable to cry, he simply laughed.
It was a day when he was exhausted, tormented by those demanding truth and explanation. He thought Erna would be the same. But the moment he saw the woman who was concerned for him, Bjorn lost the willpower he had barely clung to. He longed to hold Erna warmly in his arms. He wanted to be comforted by her sweet body scent and body heat. Intoxicated by that desire, he pushed Erna forward.
“I know this is all my fault.”
He killed his child.
Bjorn was now able to calmly confront the guilt and sorrow he'd buried deep within. Then, finally, he felt like he knew what to say to Erna.
"I'm sorry."
Bjorn looked Erna in the eye and offered a quiet apology. The wind that blew through the snow fluttered the hem of his coat and Erna's dress.
"I had no idea what I was supposed to do. So, Erna, I hid it all deep inside. I hoped you would do the same. I was such a coward to you and the child."
Bjorn laughed again. Watching that laugh, which felt like crying, Erna's eyes filled with tears.
Sorry.
Erna now seemed to understand that the whisper she had heard in his arms last night was not an auditory hallucination created by the blizzard.
"I'm sorry I avoided even mourning our lost child. I wanted to apologize to you and grieve with you, but I was afraid to admit my mistake. I thought I'd lose you then. Well, I ended up losing you differently."
Bjorn's eyes were red as he sobbed calmly. The tears had overflowed, blurring his vision, but Erna could clearly see them.
This guy is still bad.
Erna laughed in amazement. She almost cried, laughing like the bad guy in front of her.
You'd rather hide it forever. Then I could hate you to my heart's content. But now, when you reveal your true feelings, so wounded, what am I supposed to do?
"Your husband, Erna, was the idiot who wanted to believe that all his wrongdoings could be compensated for with money, with numbers. He was like that until the very end."
A few soft curses escaped from between Bjorn's crooked lips like a laugh.
Erna, staring at him, unconsciously clenched her lips. She gripped the hem of her skirt tightly and planted her feet firmly on the snow. As if determined never, ever again would she be swayed by such a bad love as this man. It was then that Bjorn's ashen eyes turned back to Erna.
“I didn’t even get to see my child off from us because I was so busy buying those damn gifts.”
The pale winter sunlight illuminated his still face.
Even though he was just standing still, Bjorn slowly caught his breath and looked at the baby snowman, which was sparkling white.
In the blink of an eye, baby Dneister grew into a girl with soft brown hair. The ribbon adorning her head fluttered like butterfly wings as she darted across the snow. Their eyes met, and the child exclaimed, "Daddy!" The hand she was waving so diligently was impossibly small.
The child, who had the same smile as her mother, now began to run towards him. Bjorn knew that if he held her small, warm body, the sweet smell of cookies would waft through the air.
Bjorn closed his eyes tightly, then opened them again, turning his head to face Erna again. He then raised his hand and covered her tear-stained face.
“But I never once considered her to be nothing.”
He was held in blue eyes, like those of the child in the beautiful nightmare.
"She was my first child, too. She was so precious, our first child."
With a gentle hand, Bjorn wiped Erna's silent tears. It was time to wake from this dream. He and Erna were trapped in the nightmare he had created.
"All these words are too late, but this is still my true heart. So, Erna, when the snowman melts, let the child go from your heart, too. Only then, as you wish, can the child go to a good place."
Bjorn looked at Erna with eyes as soft as the spring sunlight when the child came.
“This time, we’ll see her off together. So, let’s do that.”
He bowed his head deeply and looked into Erna's eyes, smiling slowly.
Erna's sobs, which had been quietly weeping, burst forth into the white winter landscape.
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