“David, do you believe that Kevin raped Maya?”
David takes an eternity to consider his answer. He’s been considering it every second since the police picked Kevin up. He’s tried to see it from every angle, and he’s ended up trying to be rational. Responsible. So he says: “That’s not for me to decide. That’s up to a court. I’m a hockey coach.”
Sune looks desolate.
“I can respect you, David. But I don’t respect that attitude.”
“And I can’t respect Peter for playing God with this team and this club and the whole town just because this is about his daughter. Let me ask you one thing, Sune: If Kevin had been accused of raping a different girl, if it hadn’t been Peter’s daughter, do you think Peter would have encouraged that girl’s family to report him to the police on the day of the final?”
Sune leans his head against the doorpost.
“Let me ask you something in return, David: What if it wasn’t Kevin who was reported to the police? If it had been any other guy? If it had been a guy from the Hollow. Would you still think the same way you do now?”
“I don’t know,” David replies honestly.
Sune lets those words sink in. Because in the end that’s all anyone can ask of another person. That we are prepared to admit that we don’t know everything. Sune steps aside and makes space in the hall.
“Would you like coffee?”
*
The doorbell of the Andersson family’s house rings. It takes a long time before anyone answers. Kira and Leo are playing cards in the kitchen, and an electric guitar and drum set are echoing from the garage. The bell rings again. Eventually Peter, sweat marks on his shirt and a pair of drumsticks in his hand, opens the door. The club’s president is standing outside.
“I’ve got bad news. And good news.”
*
David and Sune sit opposite each other at the kitchen table. David has never been here before; they’ve seen each other every day at the rink for almost fifteen years, but this is the first time either of them has been inside the other’s home.
“So, you got your A-team job in the end,” Sune says magnanimously.
“Just not the one I was expecting,” David replies in a subdued voice.
Sune pours coffee. After the members’ meeting Sune had certainly been expecting a phone call from a club president, one who had offered David a job as A-team coach—he had just been expecting it to be in Beartown.
“Milk?” Sune asks.
“No, black is good,” replies the new coach of the A-team of the Hed Ice Hockey Club.
*
The president clears his throat. Kira appears in the hall. Leo and Maya are standing farther back; the little brother takes hold of his big sister’s hand.
“The members voted. They don’t want to fire you,” the president says.
His words aren’t met with rejoicing. Not even a smile. Peter wipes the sweat from his brow.
“What does that mean?”
The president turns his palms up, and slowly shrugs.
“David’s handed in his notice. He’s been offered the job of A-team coach in Hed. All the best junior players will go with him. Lyt, Filip, Benji, Bobo . . . they don’t play for the team, Peter, they never have. They play for David. They’d follow him anywhere. And without them we can forget all our plans of building up the A-team. Pretty much all the sponsors have called me this evening to cancel their sponsorship deals.”
“We can sue them,” Kira growls, but the president shakes his head.
“They put all their money in last year on the understanding that the juniors would become a good A-team. We can forget ‘good’ now—we won’t even be able to pay any wages. I don’t even know if we’ll actually have a team at all next year. The council aren’t going to invest, they don’t want to put the hockey academy here after . . . the scandal.”
Peter nods.
“What about the Erdahl family?”
“Kevin’s dad is withdrawing his money, obviously. Switching it to Hed instead. He wants to crush us, naturally. And if Kevin doesn’t get convicted in court for . . . everything that’s happened, then . . . well, he’ll be playing for Hed too. All our best players will follow him.”
Peter leans against the wall. Smiles sadly.
“So, good news and bad news, then.”
“The good news is that you’re still GM. The bad is that I’m not sure we’re even going to have a club next season for you to be GM of.”
He turns to go, but changes his mind. He looks over his shoulder and says: “And I owe you an apology.”
Peter sighs through his nose and shakes his head slowly.
“You don’t have to apologize to me, it’s . . .”
“You’re not the one I’m apologizing to,” the president interrupts.
And he gazes past Peter, down the hall, and looks Maya directly in the eye.
*
David holds the cup in both hands. Looks down at the table.
“I might sound like a sentimental old woman now, Sune, but I want you to know that I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. Everything you’ve taught me.”
Sune scratches the puppy. Fixes his gaze on its fur.
“I should have cut you more slack. I was too proud a lot of the time. I didn’t want to admit that the game had grown away from me.”
David drinks coffee. Looks at the window.
“I’m going to be a dad. I . . . It’s silly, really, given the circumstances, but I wanted you to be the first to know.”
At first Sune can’t get a word out. Then he stands up, opens a cupboard, and returns with a bottle of liquor.
“I think we’re going to need stronger coffee.”
They drink a toast. David lets out a short laugh, but quickly falls silent.
“I don’t know if being a hockey coach makes you a better or a worse dad,” he says.
“Well, I think being a dad makes you a better coach,” Sune replies.
David drinks, puts his empty cup down.
“I can’t stay at a club that mixes up hockey and politics. It was you who taught me that.”
Sune fills his cup again.
“I don’t have any children, David. But do you want to hear my best advice about being a parent?”
“Yes.”
“?‘I was wrong.’ Good words to know.”
David smiles weakly, and takes a gulp of the drink.
“I can understand you being on Peter’s side. He was always your best pupil.”
“Second-best,” Sune corrects him.
They don’t look at each other. Their eyes are glistening. Sune exclaims dully: “It’s Peter’s daughter, David. His daughter. He only wants justice.”
David shakes his head.
“No. He doesn’t want justice. He wants to win. He wants Kevin’s family to feel more pain than his. That’s not justice, that’s revenge.”
Sune fills their cups. They toast with minimal gestures. Drink thoughtfully. Then Sune says: “Come and see me when your child turns fifteen. Maybe you’ll feel differently then.”
David gets to his feet. They part with a firm but short embrace. Tomorrow they will head for different rinks, one in Hed and one in Beartown. Next season they will be opponents.