Come and get him before I get really sick of him, a woman with a deep voice says.
With his heart pounding, Rex makes a note of the address, calls a taxi and runs downstairs. When he gets outside in the cool air he tries calling Sammy again, but theres no answer. He tries at least ten more times before the taxi pulls up in front of the building.
The address the woman gave him is on Östermalm, the wealthiest part of Stockholm, but the building on Kommendörs Street turns out to be public housing from the 1980s.
Loud music is streaming from a door on the ground floor. There is a strip of tape across the letterbox that says More ads, please.
Rex rings the doorbell, then tries the handle, opens the door and stares into a small hallway full of shoes. Loud music reverberates off the walls. The flat smells like cigarette smoke and red wine. Theres a pile of coats on the worn hardwood floor in the hall. Rex goes into the dimly lit kitchen and looks around. The counter is littered with empty beer bottles. The remains of a bean stew have dried onto a pan, and the sink is overflowing with plates and improvised ashtrays.
A man dressed in black wearing heavy makeup is sitting on the kitchen floor drinking from a plastic bottle. A young woman in denim shorts and a bright pink bra stumbles over to the counter, opens one of the cabinets and takes out a glass. The cigarette between her lips wobbles as she concentrates on filling her glass from a box of wine.
She taps her ash onto the pile of dirty plates as Rex pushes past her. She slowly exhales a plume of smoke, following him with her eyes.
Hey, chef, could you fix up an omelette? she says with a smile. Id love a fucking omelette right now.
Do you know where Sammy is? he asks.
I think I know pretty much everything, she replies, handing him the glass of wine.
Is he still here?
She nods and gets another glass from the cabinet. A black cat jumps up onto the counter and starts to lick bits of food from a kitchen knife.
I want to sleep with a celebrity, she jokes, and starts giggling to herself.
He moves a chair so he can get past the kitchen table, and feels the young woman wrap her arms around his waist. The weight of her body makes Rex lurch forward.
Lets go in and wake Lena up, then we can have a threesome, the woman mumbles, pressing her chin against his back.
Rex puts the glass down on the table, removes her hands, turns around and looks at her drunk, smiling face.
Im just here to pick up my son, he explains, and turns to look at the living room.
I was only joking anyway. I dont really want sex, I just want lurve, she says, and lets go of him.
You should go home.
Rex squeezes between a highchair and a folded cot. Two glasses clink against each other in time to the music.
I want a daddy, he hears her mutter as he goes into the living room.
On a checked sofa a man with long grey hair is helping a younger man snort cocaine. Someones brought out a box of Christmas decorations. There are mattresses on the floor around the walls. A heavyset man with his trousers unzipped is sitting with his back to the wall, picking at an acoustic guitar.
Rex walks through a narrow hallway with deep scratches in the floor. He glances into a bedroom where a woman is sleeping in just her underwear, her tattooed arm across her face.
Back in the kitchen a man laughs, and calls out in a loud voice.
Rex stops and listens. He can hear thuds and sighing from nearby. He looks into the bedroom again and finds himself staring between the womans legs. He turns away.
The door to the bathroom is ajar, its weak light spilling out into the hallway.
Moving sideways, Rex catches sight of a mop and bucket in front of a washing machine.
He hears the sighing again as he approaches the bathroom. He reaches out his hand and gently pushes the door open, and sees his son kneeling in front of a man with a large nose and deep lines around his half-open mouth. Sammys face is sweaty and his mascara has run. Hes holding the mans erect penis with one hand as he guides it into his mouth. A black pearl earring is bouncing against his cheek.
Rex steps back as he sees the man run his fingers through Sammys bleached hair and grab hold of it.
He hears crying from the hall.
Rex turns away and goes back into the living room, trying to catch his breath as waves of conflicting emotions crash through him.
Oh, God, he sighs, and tries to smile at his own reaction.
Sammy is an adult, and Rex knows he doesnt want to be defined by his sexuality. Still, hes extremely embarrassed that he stumbled upon such an intimate situation.
On the checked sofa the man with long grey hair has tucked his hand under the younger mans T-shirt.
Rex needs to go home and get some sleep. He waits a few seconds, wipes his mouth, then heads towards the bathroom again.
Sammy? Rex calls out before he gets there. Are you in there?
Something topples over in the bathroom, clattering against the sink. He waits a few seconds before calling his sons name again.
Shortly after that the door opens and Sammy comes out, dressed in a pair of tight jeans and an unbuttoned floral shirt. Hes leaning against the wall with one hand. His eyelids are drooping, and his gaze is unfocused.
What are you doing here? he slurs.
You called me.
Sammy looks up but doesnt seem to understand what Rex is saying. His eyes are lined in kohl, and his pupils are dilated.
What the hells going on? the man in the bathroom calls out.
Im coming, I just... just...
Sammy loses his footing and almost falls.
Were going home, Rex says.
I have to get back to Nico. Hell get angry if
Talk to him tomorrow, Rex interrupts.
What? What did you say?
I know you have your own life, Im not trying to play at being your dad. I can give you money for a taxi if you want to stay, Rex says, trying to make his voice gentler.
I... I should probably get some sleep.
Rex takes his jacket off and wraps it around his sons shoulders. He starts to lead him out of the block of flats.
When they reach the street the sky is starting to brighten and the birds are singing loudly. Sammy is moving slowly. Hes alarmingly weak.
Can you stay on your feet while I call a taxi? Rex asks.
His son nods and leans heavily against the wall. His face is extremely pale. He sticks his finger in his mouth and leans his head forward.
I... Im...
Cant we just try to get through these three weeks together? Rex suggests.
What?
Sammy swallows, sticks his finger in his mouth again and looks like hes about to throw up.
Whats going on, Sammy?
His son looks up, breathing in laboriously. His eyes roll back and he collapses on the pavement, hitting his head against an electricity box.
Sammy! Rex yells, and tries to help him up.
The boys head is bleeding and his eyes are swimming behind half-closed eyelids.
Look at me! Rex shouts, but his son is unresponsive. His body is completely limp.
Rex puts him down again and listens to his chest. His heart is beating fast, but his breathing is far too slow.
Fuck, Rex mutters as he fumbles for his phone.
His hands are shaking as he tries to call an ambulance.
Dont die, you cant die, he whispers as the call goes through.
20
His mobile phone rings, making Rex jump so hard that his arm jerks and he hits his hand against the back of the couch. He stands up and wipes his mouth. The sky outside the hospital window is as pale as parchment. He must have dozed off.
He isnt sure how many times they pumped Sammys stomach. Over and over again they poured water through a tube down his throat, and sucked it out again using a huge syringe. Sammy kept flailing his arms weakly in an attempt to remove the tube, and whimpered as the remains of the red wine and pills poured out of him.
Rexs mobile phone is still ringing, and when he picks the jacket up his phone slips out of the pocket and bounces onto the floor.
He crawls after it and answers on all fours:
Hello? he whispers.
Please, Rex, the programmes producer says, sounding stressed and angry. Tell me youre sitting in a taxi.
It hasnt arrived yet, Rex manages to say.
Its Sunday. He cooks live on TV4 every Sunday. He cant possibly have missed it, but he has no idea what time it is.
The lino floor and electric lights fade into darkness as Rex stands up. Leaning against the couch, he tries to explain that he wants a picture of the raw ingredients on the Barco wall, and a close-up when he stir-fries the shrimp.
You should be in make-up right now, the producer says.
I know, Rex agrees. But what can I do if the taxi doesnt show up?
Call another taxi, she sighs, and hangs up.
A nurse gives him an inscrutable look as she passes him in the hallway. Rex leans against the wall, looks at his phone to see what time it is, then calls a taxi.
He thinks about the look on Sammys face when he drank the charcoal solution that breaks down toxic substances in the intestines. Rex sat with him, wiping his clammy forehead with a damp towel, telling him the whole time that everything would be OK. Around six oclock in the morning they put Sammy on a drip, tucked him into bed, and assured Rex that he was out of danger. He went and sat down on a couch in the hallway so that hed hear Sammy if he called for him.
He woke up forty minutes later when his phone rang.
Rex walks quickly to the door and looks in at his son, whos still fast asleep. His make-up has washed off, and his face is very pale. The bandage over the cannula in his arm has folded over. The tube and the half-full infusion bag are glinting in the morning sun. His stomach is rising and falling with his breathing.
Rex jogs to the lifts and presses the green button as the purchasing manager of the TV4 group calls.
Im sitting in the taxi now, he replies, just as the lift machinery whirrs into action.
Should I be worried? Sylvia Lund says.
No need they just got their bookings mixed up.
You were due in make-up twenty minutes ago, she says warily.
Im coming. Im on my way now. Were already on Valhallavägen.
He leans his forehead against the mirror and feels jagged exhaustion catch up with him.
The taxi is waiting outside the entrance to the emergency department. Rex gets in the back seat and closes his eyes. He tries to have a quick nap during the short drive, but cant stop thinking about whats happened. Hes going to have to call Sammys mother, Veronica.