Requiem [COMPLETED]

I Understand More Than You Want Me To, F$%& You

[Above is Sigrid's handmade copy of the page she finds-- Sven's "map"]

I had already been planning to visit grandma since my church youth group periodically volunteered at the soup kitchen. I felt awful, anticipating her reaction. I asked if she wanted me to take her to see him one last time. I didn't know how I could work that out, but I was willing to try. I was scared to sneak there alone but I knew she'd want to say goodbye too, especially since she hadn't seen him in years.

"It's not worth the risk for you to get caught by your grandfather. Rules are rules, I'm sure he has had a reason for keeping you away," she said, as if she could distance herself. Your grandfather, as if he had nothing to do with her. "And I wouldn't want to see a dead body anyhow," she replied. "If he isn't there, his spirit isn't there either. There's no one to visit." After a pause, "That's why you haven't been to see him either, why you didn't say you were jealous that your grandfather doesn't take you with. You don't think he's there any more than I do."

I sat down, biting my tongue against my immediate reaction to disagree. I was realizing that part of being a teenager is the urge to nitpick other people's words and be generally disagreeable, but I was trying to be more tempered than Sven had been. I didn't know why I hadn't fought to go. I'd been feeling guilty about it, is all I really knew. It seemed futile.

She put her hand on mine, surprisingly warm and soft.

"There's a spirit within each person, Sigrid," she said. "A soul, the church calls it. Ever since Sven's been gone, have you felt different? Has grandpa been different?"

I thought about it. "No—I treat him the same as I always have—I guess I've been angry, since Sven, I mean, but—"

"Do you ever sense that there's something between you?"

"Well, no." I deliberated. "I mean, I never thought about it. And Grandpa has no reason to be upset with me, he's been angry at Sven. I think he feels betrayed, somehow. Sven giving up," I clarified.

"That's not what I meant. I think Sven's with you. He mostly likely goes wherever you go, trying to watch over you. I would guess that you and your brother have always been close; I remember when you were little that he was very protective of you."

"That's because I followed him around like a puppy, he hardly ever actually wanted my company," I disputed.

"He kept you close, Sigrid. He kept you close because he was afraid if you were separated that something might happen to you. Even now, he's probably with you. You visiting a corpse won't bring him any closer."

I flinched at her casual use of corpse; I'd never thought of Sven that way. "I don't understand why I should be so afraid of being alone."

"Don't you? Well," she said as if I had given her thought and paused as if considering something carefully, "It's for the best then, that you aren't afraid. Then you can face the curse. You know, your grandpa is under the curse, same as you. You see how unhappy it's made him. You see what it's done to everyone else."

"Grandpa just seems afraid of being left, mostly, when he's not being angry for no particular reason. He's not as mean... as he was when he was younger. I'm not saying that he's... good--with people, I mean—but... We don't have many people making up this family and it seems to keep waning. It just feels like survival at this point, simple as that."

She glowered at me with her pipe and I was reminded of grandpa in the den smoking and sullenly thinking. "Survival is simple? What makes you think human nature is so simple? I'll tell you about the rules: there are none when it comes to people. Your grandfather does whatever he has to, to survive. You do, everyone does. That doesn't mean it's easy to see the rational behind the actions. Your grandfather's harder to read than his mother; with Severn you always knew exactly how she felt, what she wanted, what she was intending to do. Your grandfather is a chameleon. It's his way of being strong; no one can hurt him when he changes too much to read. He reveals nothing--anything he shows or gives is an act meant to elicit a certain response. He doesn't feel safe any other way... poor Per. Poor boy."