– Så här kan man inte leva! Det är inte rättvist! – Robert rusade in i sin pappas rum.

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Author I want to knowReading 2 minViews 3Published by March 22, 2026

Så här kan man ju inte leva! Det är inte rätt! Rikard rusade in i sin pappas sovrum.
Vad pratar du om nu? Varför tror du det där? Vem har sagt dig sådant?
Vår skolkurator, pappa.
Fortsätt, berätta mer.
Jag ska visa dig. Jag går och lägger mig, och så låtsas du väcka mig.

Varför håller du på så där?
Du kommer förstå allting.
Jahaja… Rikard, dags att vakna nu. Det är skola, ingen sovmorgon, upp med dig.
Ser du! Samma sak varje morgon. Föräldrar borde väcka sina barn med värme, så man känner kärleken. Och de borde le!

Låt din mamma få dig att le, jag har inte tid.
Älskar du mig inte?
Vad pratar du för strunt nu? Pappan blev alltmer irriterad.

Det är inget trams. Om du inte vill att jag behandlar dig illa när du blir gammal måste du visa känslor nu. Försök väcka mig en gång till.
Okej då. Din lille busunge, skynda dig upp! Du kommer för sent till skolan.

Jag är trött!
Älskling, dags att vakna nu Pappan strök Rikard över håret och kysste hans panna.
Hurra! Nu kände jag din kärlek.
Okej, nog med skämtandet. Visa mig dina betyg.

Inte nu, pappa. Du hinner inte, du kommer bli sen till arbetet.
Det gör inget. Oj vad fint, en trea. Lika både i svenska och matte.

Men jag fick en tia i psykologi!
Tänker du bli psykolog, min gosse? Hör du, min lilla guldkille, tills du höjer dina betyg blir det inget mer prat i telefonen. Sitt ner och plugga tills mamma kommer hem.

Rikard grät, men pappan försökte trösta:
Du bad om ett leende så le då själv!

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– Så här kan man inte leva! Det är inte rättvist! – Robert rusade in i sin pappas rum.

WITHOUT A HEART… Claudia returned home after a visit to the hairdresser, a treat she still enjoyed despite her 68 years. She’d had her hair and nails done, little rituals that gave her energy and lifted her spirits. “Claudia, a relative dropped by for you,” her husband George reported. “I told her you’d be back later, and she said she might come round again.” “What relative? I have no relatives left,” Claudia replied irritably. “Probably some distant relation after something. You should’ve told her I’d moved to the ends of the earth.” George looked concerned. “Why lie? She seemed to be from your family, tall and dignified—reminded me of your late mother. Well-spoken, well-dressed. I doubt she’s after anything.” About forty minutes later, the woman rang the doorbell. Claudia let her in herself. She did look a lot like Claudia’s late mother and was impeccably dressed: expensive coat, boots, gloves, tiny diamond earrings. Claudia, who knew about such things, noticed immediately. Claudia invited the woman to the table already set for tea. “Let’s introduce ourselves, if we’re family. I’m Claudia, you can skip the formalities. My husband’s George. Which side of the family are we related on?” The woman hesitated, blushed slightly. “I’m Helen – Helen Williams. There’s not much difference in our age, really. I turned 50 on June 12. Does that date mean anything?” Claudia went pale. “I see you remember. Yes. I’m your daughter. Don’t worry, I don’t want anything from you. I just wanted to see my real mother. I’ve spent my whole life wondering why my mum never loved me. By the way, she died eight years ago now. Why was it only Dad who cared? He just told me about you before he passed, two months ago. He wanted you to forgive him, if you could.” George stared in shock. “You have a daughter?” “Apparently I do. I’ll explain later.” “So you’re my daughter, are you?” Claudia responded. “Fine. Have you had a look? If you’re expecting guilt or an apology, you won’t get it. I’m not to blame. I hope your father told you everything? If you’re hoping for any motherly feelings from me—not even a hint. Sorry.” “May I see you again? I live just outside town, we have a big two-storey house. Why don’t you and George visit us? Maybe you could meet your grandson and great-granddaughter—I brought photos, would you like to see?” Helen asked timidly. “No. I don’t want to. Don’t come again. Forget me. Goodbye,” Claudia replied sharply. George called Helen a taxi and saw her out. When he returned, Claudia had already cleared the table and was calmly watching television. “You’ve got some nerve! You’d make a fine general. Don’t you have any heart at all? I always thought you were cold, but this… I never dreamed.” “We met when I was 28, right? Well, dear husband, my heart was trampled long before that. I was a village girl longing to escape to the city, so I worked hard, the only one from my class to get into university. I was 17 when I met Victor. I loved him madly. He was almost twelve years older. After a life of poverty, the city felt like a fairy tale. I was always hungry, so I accepted every café invitation gladly. He never promised anything, but I never doubted he’d marry me. When he invited me to his cottage, I agreed without thinking. I thought binding him to me was only natural, now that we’d been together. Soon enough it was clear I was pregnant. I told Victor. He was overjoyed. With my situation becoming obvious, I asked when we’d get married. I was already 18—old enough for the registrar. ‘Did I ever promise to marry you?’ Victor replied. ‘I didn’t, and I won’t. In fact, I’m already married.’ ‘But what about the baby? What about me?’ ‘You’re young, healthy. You’ll take a year out of university. When you give birth, my wife and I will take the baby. We can’t have children ourselves, maybe because she’s much older. After the birth, we’ll pay you, and you’ll go back to your studies.’ Nobody had heard of surrogacy back then, but that’s what I was. What else could I do—go home and disgrace my family? I lived in their house until the baby was born. Victor’s wife never visited me, maybe she was jealous. I gave birth at home. They took the baby girl straight away; I never saw her again. A week later I was politely shown the door, Victor gave me money. I went back to university, then worked at a factory—first as a basic supervisor, then as senior quality manager. Got a room in a shared flat. I had friends, but no one wanted to marry me until you came along. I was 28, didn’t really want marriage, but it was time. You know the rest. We had a good life—three cars, a house, a beautiful garden, holidays every year. The factory survived the ‘90s, because only we made essential parts for tractors—top secret. We got early retirement, we had everything. No children, and I didn’t want any. Nowadays, just look at kids—no thanks.” George sighed. “We did NOT have a good life. I loved you, tried to melt your heart, but never could. It wasn’t just about children—you never cared for a kitten or puppy, either. My sister asked you to help her niece, you wouldn’t even let her stay a week. Today your daughter came. Your daughter! Your own flesh and blood, and you met her like that? Sometimes I wish I’d divorced you long ago. But now it’s too late. It’s just cold next to you. Cold.” Claudia felt uneasy; George had never spoken to her so harshly. Her peaceful life was shattered by this daughter. George moved into their summer cottage. He’s lived there for years. He’s got three rescue dogs and countless cats. He seldom comes home. Claudia knows he visits her daughter Helen and adores the great-granddaughter. “He was always soft,” Claudia thinks. “Let him live as he likes.” Her desire to get closer to her daughter, grandson or great-granddaughter never came. She travels to the seaside alone, rests, gathers strength—and feels perfectly content.