Henrik unpacks the bags, and I put the food into the pantry, fridge, and freezer. Milo hangs out by the kitchen table, laughing at us while we make fun of the investor and his dog. When Henrik’s phone rings, I ask him not to answer.
“Why?” he asks, of course.
“Because,” I answer. I don’t want us to be disturbed. And something always does these days. Someone always wants his attention. Right now I want my husband for myself.
“It could be important,” he continues.
“It’s Sunday,” I complain. “Surely it can wait?”
“I don’t recognize the number.”
“Live dangerously, Dad,” Milo says.
I try to take the phone. Henrik laughs, pretends to wrestle with me for a few seconds before he answers. I turn around and continue putting away the groceries.
“This is Henrik. Oh, hello, it’s been a long time.” Almost immediately he seems on guard. I glance at him over my shoulder. Milo says he’s going to call a friend and heads up to his room.
“Yes, thank you, we’re fine. How are you?”
Henrik is using his proper, polite voice. It can’t be someone he knows well. He moves a bit farther away from me. Flips through the mail. Listens before saying, “She’s changed her number.” He throws me a look. I wonder what this is about.
“Do you want to talk to her? She’s right here.”
I silently mouth, Who is it? Henrik ignores me, listening to the person on the other end. He’s quiet, goes out to the living room. Then he comes back, the phone still to his ear. I knew it. He never should have picked up. This isn’t good.
Henrik leans toward the kitchen counter and laughs, but it’s not his usual, jolly, warm laugh.
“Thank you for calling, I appreciate it.” His eyes are impossible to read. “I’ll tell her you said so.”
I wipe off the kitchen counter. Rubbing away imaginary spots.
He hangs up.
I wait.
He says nothing.
“Who was it?” I say at last. Trying to sound casual.
“It was Daniel,” he says. “He wondered if you made it home all right yesterday.”
Regret is a waste of time and energy. It’s not something I usually feel. Instead, we’re supposed to learn from our mistakes, try to do better in the future. That’s the advice I give my patients. I’m not capable of following it.
I’m more filled with regret than ever. I regret driving out to see Daniel. Regret everything. I should have told Henrik. I should have been open and honest. I never thought Daniel would call.
Henrik leans over the bar counter, looking toward Milo’s room. Probably checking to make sure he’s out of earshot.
“Daniel was worried about you,” he says. “You were upset when you left him yesterday.” He looks at me like he doesn’t know me. “And he told me you can call him if you want.”
I know what Henrik thinks. See it in his hard look. And he can tell I’m feeling guilty about what flamed up inside me when I met Daniel. But it’s not a good idea to try to explain. Whatever I say now will just make me seem even guiltier.
“It’s not what you think,” I say simply.
“You say you’re going to stay home and rest, but you’re gone when we come home. Then you suddenly show up, royally pissed off. You tear off your clothes, and we have sex.”
“I know what you’re thinking. But you’re wrong.”
“What do I think? What are you imagining I’m thinking? You seem to find it easier to tell me what I’m thinking than to tell me what you’re doing.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“No, I’ve noticed that,” he says. “Why were you so angry with me when you came back? You can start there.”
“You’re all so afraid I’m going to have a breakdown. You think if I just realize I’m wrong, drop Alice, I’ll feel better. But you’re the ones who will feel better.”
“The ones! Do you mean me and Daniel? Pernilla, Gudrun? Who are you talking about?”
I shrug my shoulders. “You’re closest at hand. You took those hits for everyone. Unfortunately.”
“I can take your shit if it makes you feel better. But you don’t have to slap me the next time you want to fuck.”
He immediately regrets what he said. I see that. Even though I know I should just take a deep breath, I get angry again.
“And why are you so angry? I wanted to meet the father of my daughter, is that so weird?”
“You can meet him whenever the hell you want to. But why hide it? You could have told me. Do you know how embarrassing it was for me to have your ex call asking me if you’re okay?”
Henrik shakes his head and walks away.
I’ve always been a dreamer. Felt things intensely. Just because I’m a psychotherapist doesn’t mean that’s changed. But I like to believe I’ve matured. A little. But maybe I’m wrong about that, too.
Life is easier at thirty-nine than at nineteen. I feel more secure. More sure of myself. Care less what others think of me. I’ve learned not to follow through on every impulse, to think before I act. I try to analyze the consequences of my choices. And then take responsibility for my actions.
Now it’s as if all of that has disappeared.
If Daniel hadn’t stopped me, would I have slept with him in that garage? Probably, though I don’t want to believe it. Because it’s Henrik I want. He’s the one I love, the one I want to share my life with. The last thing I want is to lose what we have together.
I track him down in our garage, taking his golf clubs out of the car. He ignores me. I beg for forgiveness. Again. I should have told him I visited Daniel. I feel ashamed, stupid. I say it aloud and hear my voice shake. He stares at me in silence. Then he pulls out a stool for me.
“Sit down,” he says. “Let’s start over. What happened?”
“Daniel doesn’t believe me, either. He doesn’t want to know. He reacted like you. Like Pernilla. If you never heard Alice’s name again you’d all feel better. It doesn’t matter how I feel.” I don’t care that I sound bitter and accusatory.
“You know that’s not true,” Henrik says. He lays his hand on mine.
“I’m just so disappointed,” I say. “In myself, in you, in everyone. I’m sick and tired of begging for forgiveness. Tired of no one believing me.”
“Okay, let’s say it is Alice. What do you do?”
Henrik waits for a moment. Lets the question sink in.
“And if it’s not her. If you’re wrong. What does that mean for her? For you?”
He wants answers I don’t have yet. And the questions he’s asking are very close to what I myself am most afraid of.
“It’s too late to think like that now,” I say. “Should I give up just because everyone else is afraid?”
“That’s not what I’m saying,” Henrik answers. “But think about what you’re doing. That’s all I’m asking. Think about what kind of consequences it might entail. This is the second time I’ve had a visit or a call about you in a pretty short period of time. Take it easy. Use your logic, you’re an intelligent woman. Don’t forget that.”
“I don’t know what I’m gonna do, Henrik.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t do anything right now,” he says. “And please, talk to me about it. Promise me that.”
I don’t say anything, just nod.
I want to promise him anything he wants. I want to promise that everything is going to work out. But I’m not sure I believe that myself.
Isabelle
Someone pushes me to the side. I turn and apologize. I wind my way back between the tables at the café outside the KTH library. I put my jacket on a chair and sit down opposite Johanna.
“Did it go okay?” she asks.
“Yes, it did.”
Nevertheless, I glance at my phone again. Actually, I want to call back, say I will come after all. It’s not like me to back out at the last second. Especially when I don’t know why. Especially when I lie about my reasons. I don’t do that. Lying always makes me feel awful.
I’m not saying I’ve never lied. But I always follow through with my commitments. Once I make a promise. Even when I don’t want to. I’m terrified of disappointing people. Making them angry. That’s my biggest fear. But I’m working on it. Maybe it’s a positive sign that I’ve risked making someone angry?
“Are you sure you don’t want to go?” Johanna asks. She probably notices my hesitation. “We can do this later.”
“Nah, it wasn’t that important,” I say. “It’s gonna feel good to get this assignment done.”
“Okay. It was kinda weird how she called you on Friday anyway.”
Johanna pointed that out when we were still sitting at Joe & the Juice. She’s probably right. Still, I feel guilty about not meeting Stella. Part of me wants to. Have her to myself for an hour to just talk, get her help making sense of my thoughts. Another part of me doesn’t want to at all.
I like Stella. I appreciate her blunt questions. She forces me to think, to reflect. To figure out what I truly think, not just what I should think. She radiates calm and kindness. She feels safe, seems like a warm and reliable person.