Chapter 13: Aftermath, Annie, ABBA, and the ABC-80, Part I

September 1979, Hovås/Göteborg, Sweden

After my short nap, I took a bit of time to collect my thoughts before I called the girls. As I was doing that, Suzana came in to my room.

“Are you OK?” she asked.

“Yes, I’m a little better now, thanks. I’m sad, but I think I’ll be OK,” I sighed. “I need to call my sister and my two friends who knew about this and let them know.”

“Some people knew about this?”

“Yes, people who I could trust not to tell my parents.”

“Including your little sister?”

“She and I are very, very close. I tell her absolutely everything. She knows my entire life, what I think, what I do, what I dream. I miss her a lot. That’s why I was hoping we could at least be friends. I like having a sister I can talk to.”

“You can talk to me,” Suzana said. “I’ll listen.”

“Thanks. Let me make my phone calls.”

I called Jennifer first. Her reaction more or less mirrored my own.

“Oh my God! That’s horrible! I can’t believe her mom did that! You must be devastated.”

“I am. What I need right now is a hug from you, but I can’t have one.”

“Isn’t there anyone there who can give you one?”

“Not the same, Jen, not even close.”

“What about Pia?”

“She’s three hours away. And even so, she’s more like Joyce than you, or even Melanie.”

We spoke for a few more minutes, and then I called Melanie. She was more practical.

“You do have to admit that life was going to be hell for her having your baby. For you, it was going to be easy, really. You’d get to play dad on weekends or whenever, and maybe pay some child support when you were older. It wouldn’t fundamentally change your life at sixteen. Becky was going to have 3:00am feedings, dirty diapers, little sleep, and an almost impossible time graduating from High School. And she’d have no social life at all. What High School teenage guy would go out with a girl who had a kid, even if she could even find time to go out?”

“I admit it Melanie. I know it would have been hard for her. But that was my baby.”

“Yes, it was. But you and I both know that you’ll have a chance to have another one. So will she, when it’s time. It wasn’t time.”

“That doesn’t make it easier,” I protested.

“I know. But think about her, please. I know you don’t love her, but you do care for her.”

“You’re right; I still do care for her,” I sighed, resigning myself to the moment.

I took a deep breath, and forced a smile she would not see, “How are you and Pete doing?”

“Fucking each other silly!” Melanie declared mirthfully.

I chuckled, “Good; very good!”

After a few more minutes of small talk, we ended the call and I called Stephanie. I knew there was a chance my parents would be home, but I had to take the risk. Her response was what I expected.

“Good. I know you’re sad, but that bitch should never have gotten pregnant in the first place. It was a slutty thing to do and just not right. Now you can be done with her once and for all!”

“Stephanie, she killed our baby!”

“Yes, she did. A baby she tricked you into making. A baby that should never have been. A baby you didn’t want.”

“But I did!”

“No, you didn’t! After the fact maybe, but you didn’t want that baby when it was made. You know I love you, Big Brother, but I told you she was dangerous. You didn’t listen then; now maybe you will.”

Stephanie could be quite the bitch herself at times, but she was right. She had warned me and I hadn’t listened to her.

“You’re right, Squirt, but that doesn’t make it easier.”

“I know. You and Jennifer will have kids when the time is right,” she said. Then, her voice softened to almost a whisper, “I love you, Big Brother.”

“I love you, Steph.”

I hung up and went back to my room. Suzana came in to check on me and I said I was OK, even though I really wasn’t. I spent the rest of Sunday in a funk, thinking of what might have been. In that funk, I couldn’t even write in my journal. That would have to wait.

The next week was a blur. I really wasn’t in the mood for much of anything. I ran in the mornings, which gave me time to think. Something was nagging me in the back of my mind. About the baby and what had run through my mind. There was a clue there if I could decipher it.

On Wednesday morning while I was jogging, it hit me.

I was born in April 1963, which meant mom most likely had gotten pregnant sometime in July, 1962. Mom and dad had married at the end of November, 1961. Sometime between then and July, 1962, mom had miscarried. I had no idea what the recovery time was from a miscarriage, but assuming a couple of months seemed right. And to know she had a miscarriage, she probably had to be a couple of months along.

I also knew that my parents met late in July 1961. The marriage had been quick with dad flying from where he lived in Los Angeles to Cincinnati, where mom lived, to meet her parents. They married in Los Angeles less than four months after they met. I tried to remember the pictures of them at the church, but in my mind’s eye all I could see was a black-and-white photo of my mom and dad looking much younger than they did now.

Holy shit!

It hit me like a ton of bricks! Had mom been pregnant? Did they have to get married? That would explain so much about my mom. If she had sex before she met my dad, then had sex with Dad in Las Vegas, got pregnant, and had to get married, it was no wonder she was so freaked-out about me having sex. And if all of that was true, she would have completely lost it over Becky’s pregnancy.

That had to be it. That would explain everything. Perhaps with my new knowledge, I could figure out how to deal with my mom. Perhaps my Senior year wouldn’t be so bad. Of course, I had no idea how I COULD use the information to my advantage, but the knowledge itself was valuable.

I was still down in the dumps and I really needed Jennifer or Stephanie. They weren’t available because they were in Ohio. Pia might help, but she wasn’t in Göteborg and I wouldn’t see her for three more weeks when she came to visit for the ABBA concert. None of the girls at school were more than simple friends. Petra and Sofia seemed too young and inexperienced, and Freda and I just hadn’t clicked like I had hoped we would. The only person I had really talked to so far was Suzana, but our friendship was just starting.

I realized that I had no close emotional support, and that was frightening. It felt like when I had been without Jennifer and Melanie and had just broken up with Becky. I had been adrift and alone. Like then, I was surrounded by people and still alone.

I recorded my first cassette letter to Jennifer. I just talked into the tape recorder for twenty-five minutes, pouring out everything that was on my mind and in my heart. I wrote a short note to the Anderssons telling them how things were going. I also bought Karin a birthday card and a small gift that I put in a box and addressed to her mom to give her on her birthday. I’d mail everything on Monday from the Post Office near to Schillerska.

Saturday came, and I wasn’t really feeling up to ice skating, but I had promised. Being with Sofia, Petra and Tomas cheered me up a bit, but I was still just kind of going through the motions. I walked so Sofia’s house with the three of them. Petra and Tomas said goodbye and walked on.

“Something is bothering you,” Sofia said. “Come in for a minute.”

We went inside and after saying ‘hello’ to her parents, she led me to her room.

“What’s bothering you?” she asked.

“Just some things at home that I have to deal with. It’s just a lot of stuff and the person I would talk to about all this is back home.”

“Can I help?” Sofia asked.

“I don’t know. It’s really complicated.”

“I don’t want to see you be sad. Let me help you.”

“It’s OK. Really. I can handle it.”

“You don’t have to be alone. Please, I can help. Do you want to do something Saturday night, just us two?”

“Sure. What did you want to do?”

“Just come by next Saturday at 5:00pm.”

“OK.”

She hugged me and walked me to the door and I walked home, still in a funk.

On Sunday, I played a round of golf with Patrick during the afternoon. That evening, I finally wrote in my journal after a week of being unable to do so. It helped some, but I still needed Jennifer. I decided to call her, though I knew we couldn’t talk long.

“You aren’t alone,” she said. “You have friends there, right? Get help from them. What about the girl you were seeing?”

“Pia? She’s in another city three hours away by train. I can’t see her for a couple of weeks.”

“Is there someone there in Gothenburg?”

“I think the girls are too young and inexperienced. There’s my host sister, but she’s only just become cordial with me.”

“I love you, but you need someone to support you. Find someone, OK? I know you well enough to know what you need. Even if it’s just a comfort fuck, it’ll help.”

“The only girl I’m seeing that could fit the bill doesn’t like to make love, just go as hard and fast as possible. That doesn’t provide comfort, just release. I need you. Badly.”

“I know, but you need someone closer to you. I think that’s something Birgit recognized. There’s something about you that needs that kind of relationship at this point in your life.”

She was right, of course.

“This is like last year when I didn’t have you or Melanie after I broke up with Becky.”

“Don’t do anything dumb, Steve, but please find someone close to where you are, OK?”

“I love you, Jennifer.”

“I love you, Steve.”

I hung up, not feeling any better. I decided to see if I could find Suzana and talk with her.

I found her watching TV with Patrick and Pernilla.

“Suzana, would you like to take a walk? I really need someone to talk to.”

“Sure. OK.”

We walked down the street and I basically dumped everything on her — Birgit and her death; my breakups with Melanie and Jennifer; Becky and her deceit and the pregnancy; my mom; the abortion. She just listened without saying anything.

“Wow!” she said. “That’s a lot of stuff to happen to one guy in a couple of years. I don’t know what to even say or how to help you.”

“Just letting me talk helps. I’m grateful that you’re listening.”

“Well, all I can say is that you should spend time with friends, I know you go ice skating with Petra and Sofia. Maybe some kids in your class? Just be around people you like and have fun.”

Which is pretty much what Jennifer had said.

“Good advice,” I said. “Thanks for listening. Will you be my friend?”

“Yes, I’ll be your friend. I’ll do what I can to help.”

We walked back to the house, and I went to bed, mentally exhausted.

October 1979, Hovås/Göteborg, Sweden

On Monday, something happened that briefly took my mind off of Becky and the baby. Helge took me to one of the normally unused classrooms and showed me something that made my eyes light up — four computers! The computers were a Swedish model called the ABC-80 and were basically identical to my TRS-80 at home! It wouldn’t solve my problems, but it gave me something to do that could at least take my mind off of them temporarily.

The computers were available during my break period as well as after school. I signed up for one of the computers for my break period and then for Wednesdays after school. I met a third-year student named Jan who seemed to have the same level of programming skills I had. He and I struck up a conversation and he signed-up for the same periods that I had. It looked like I had a new programming buddy!

On Tuesday, Bengt invited me to a party that Friday that he was having for some of the kids in the class. It wasn’t a full class party, but about half the girls would be there, plus some of the guys and some of Bengt’s friends. I said I’d love to go. He gave me the address and said I could simply take the tram and bus with him to his house near Västra Frölunda. Remembering the advice, I asked if I could bring someone. He said sure.

I tried to decide who to ask. I figured one of the three girls who were helping me at lunch with Swedish would be a good choice. Suzanne seemed far too quiet and had not gone to the last party. Christina was vivacious, but she hadn’t gone to the previous party, either. That left Annie. When I thought about it, she was exactly my type — intelligent, self-confident, and friendly.

At lunch I asked her to the party, and she said she’d love to attend, but she’d be taking the last bus home as she had at the other party. I said that was fine with me and I let her know about the plans to travel there with Bengt. At the end of lunch period, I let Bengt know that Annie would be attending the party with me.

On Wednesday afternoon, Jan and I talked about programs we could write. He came up with a math game he called ‘Jug’, that involved moving the cursor around the screen to capture numbers that added up to the random number the game chose. I decided to write a slot machine game. We both got started on our programs and asked each other’s advice and checked each other’s programs. For a few hours, I thought of nothing but programming.

On Friday, Annie and I went to Bengt’s party. Like the previous one, we listened to music, danced, ate, and drank. I mostly danced with Annie, but did dance a few times with other girls. Unlike the previous party, I found that after a few drinks, I was hurting less and thinking less. For the first time in my life, I got drunk; drunk to the point where I felt nothing and cared about nothing. I wasn’t even aware that Annie left, in fact, by midnight I wasn’t aware of much at all. All I knew was that the emotional pain was gone.

Unfortunately, it was only gone until the next morning. When I woke up, all the emotion hit me again AND I had a staggering headache to boot. I trudged to the bus stop and managed to get on the correct bus to Hovås. When I got there, I dropped my stuff and went immediately to the bathroom, stripped naked, turned the sauna on to a higher temperature than usual, went in, and sat down on my towel. As soon as the rocks were warm, I poured triple the usual amount of water on to make some serious steam. I sat there and let the headache and the vodka pour out of my body as sweat.

About fifteen minutes after I went in, Suzana came in.

“Steve? Why so much steam? It’s too much!”

“I got drunk last night,” I replied. “I’m trying to sweat it out.”

“Oh, no!” she gasped. “Please don’t start drinking. Boys get really stupid when they drink a lot! And Dad gets really mean.”

“Don’t worry,” I groaned. “I think I learned my lesson from this one. I woke up this morning with all the same problems I had before I got drunk, and a horrible headache as well.”