I'd been like that all my life. I always had a handkerchief on me and I would wipe everyone else's noses and tears with it. I had been given a nice person's names, Raye Amity, and had lived accordingly. I was my parents' little ray of sunshine, and an elementary school teacher's ray of hope when the class was out of control, the only one in class who knew what was the relative minor key of A flat major. I never had the same inner glow as the other girls, so I had to glow with niceness and inclination for nursing. At school parties, I used to help my classmates who'd drunk too much strong cider into the ladies' room and wipe the floors after them. I wanted to help people for my living, so after I graduated from high school I went to study sociology at university. After five years, I graduated with a master's degree and was able to work at the counter of a social welfare office giving away money to those who had even less than the lousy salary of mine.
When the Home Base Shelter was founded, I applied for a position there. I thought I could achieve better results there than in the social welfare office, where I was just a cash machine. The work at the shelter was a way of life. It suited me, what else would I have done? Because I didn't have a family of my own, I was able to work during the weekends. I used to have my annual leave in the fall, when the holiday pressures of nuclear families had eased up. Once, twice a week I sang with a chorus. Also there they noticed my niceness and soon I was responsible for the score collection. Who else would have been more suitable to slave at the copy machine and to timidly inquire about the unreturned music.
But this was it. I looked at the pig, and my glass of cider, and decided to get rid of my niceness. It had caused me nothing but trouble.

Tappava säde (1999)

Translated by Sarka Hantula