Chapter 26
Kjell
Sky continues to sway gently in my arms. The way she looks at me penetrates me to the core.
"That was Levi," she says, her hands gliding from my neck to my chest. Her eyes reflect the glow of the lights on the Julgran.
"I had a feeling," I reply cautiously. She hasn't told me much about him so far, only that her drug problem started with him.
A wistful smile forms on her lips. "I was incredibly in love with him. He was... I was... oh, I don't know."
I stroke her back with my thumb. "You were young?" I suggest.
She lifts her shoulders as we continue to sway to the beat of the music. "Stupid is more accurate. I trusted him when he put the first ecstasy in my mouth."
I'm not quite sure what to say, so I remain silent. I simply pull her a little closer, letting her know that I'm there for her.
"It only took a few days for him to offer me meth. A week later, I was hooked," she says, her voice heavy. I wonder if she's thinking about how it felt to be high.
I try to remember the evenings at Polarnatt when she was there. I picture her dancing with confidence, with passion, as if she were the queen of the world.
"My blind infatuation is what led me to become addicted. And my addiction destroyed my future," she continues with a hoarse voice.
Her words weigh heavily on my soul. "What exactly happened back then?"
She exhales heavily. "I was eighteen, and like every summer, I was working at Touch av lyx . After I had worked so hard for it, my father was finally willing to entrust me with more responsibility. He gave me significant decisions to make, and I wanted to prove to him that I could handle it."
That sounds like a lot of pressure for an eighteen-year-old high school student.
I brush her hair away from her face with a fumbling gesture. "The drugs changed me. I could no longer fulfill my father's expectations. I failed in supplier negotiations, misinterpreted the quarterly numbers, and made idiotic investment proposals," she says, her sad gaze making it hard for me to breathe. "He was so disappointed in me. And rightfully so."
No, she shouldn't think that. She is such a wonderful person. Inevitably, I pull her closer and stroke her back. The sweet scent of her hair, like cookies, fills my nostrils.
"It was a vicious cycle. Every time I disappointed him, I needed more meth to get rid of that disgusting feeling of failure..."
"And with each additional dose, you could fulfill his expectations even less," I finish her sentence. That must have been hell—a downward spiral with no way out.
I lean down to her and kiss the top of her head, trying to give her something to hold on to.
"He was thinking about selling Touch av lyx when he retired because I wouldn't be a suitable successor. And he was right. I was a wreck." Her fingers clutch my chest, and she breathes heavily.
Resistance builds within me. It sounds like Sky is placing all the blame for her addiction on herself. But her father seems to have played a part in it as well. Even though she clearly thinks that drugs came first and then problems, it's not that clear to me. Gustav Blohm challenged his daughter that summer—possibly pushing her beyond her limits.
"Despite the constant fog in my head, I knew I had to make amends," Sky continues.
"How?" I ask, my lips still close to her hair even though a part of me doesn't want to know. Knowing it must have been an absolute disaster is enough to make my stomach tighten.
She lifts her head, looking at me with her sad eyes. "I wanted to make Mother proud even though I had never managed to until then."
Oh God, I have a feeling where this is heading.
" Touch av lyx was represented at New York Fashion Week for the very first time that year. I wanted to present the closing look—a spectacular silk and pearl wedding dress with a floor-length veil covering the face."
The Closing Look. I've read about that during my research. No other design within a collection is as crucial. It's the sensational climax of every show, the masterpiece.
"One of the side effects of meth is delusions, especially when you're coming down; they can be intense." Her voice is so fragile now that I can barely hear it.
"You collapsed on the runway?" I ask, trying to make it easier for her. She doesn't have to say it out loud; nodding is enough.
She shakes her head with a pained expression. "I thought I was on fire. The runway, the other models, the flowers. Everything was in flames before my eyes."
I can't help but gently cup her face in my hands. "I'm so sorry."
"I tore that beautiful, handcrafted dress off myself, jumped into the decorative fountain on the runway, and screamed wildly." Her eyelids close, and I can see a tear glistening at the corner of her eye. " Save yourselves, you idiots, the world is coming to an end , I screamed. Over and over again. Get out of here, you're all going to die ."
The drop detaches, glistening as it runs down her cheek, and reaches the delicate skin between my index and middle finger. It lingers there, cold and moist.
"I destroyed everything and ruined Kahlo's reputation. The press mocked the fact that his designs apparently drove their wearers crazy," she says more to herself than to me. " Touch av lyx had to face accusations of mistreatment of models and unprofessionalism in their selection process. It was all my fault."
There's nothing I'd rather do than take some of that guilt away from her. So I respond gently, pulling her closer to me. I press my lips to her forehead. "No," I say softly, "you mustn't think like that."
She places her hands on mine. "My parents sent me away. First to therapy and then wherever I wanted to go. They just wanted me to stay away because I'd caused enough damage." Her fingers tremble on top of mine. "Granting them that wish was the only thing I could do right."
Every word she says is true, and I can feel it without needing any proof. Still, I can't comprehend how I never came across any information about this tragedy. A scandal of this magnitude would surely have made headlines.
"So that's why you've been hiding?" I venture. "They dragged your name through the mud back then." That would be a plausible explanation.
Her headshake surprises me. "My father has always had one truly important rule: no scandals at Touch av lyx . The public must never find out."
How did Gustav Blohm manage to keep any traceable evidence of this incident from surfacing? "But during Fashion Week, there's a lot of buzz. Photographers, television."
She bites down on her lower lip so hard that it turns a deep shade of red. "The disaster was just a footnote in the media. Thanks to the bridal veil, my face wasn't easily recognizable. Officially, the woman who lost it on the runway was a messed-up model whom Touch av lyx naturally distanced itself from. The employees were paid substantial amounts to keep silent."
So they denied that Sky was their daughter and forced her to go into hiding so that no one would find out what had actually happened. "Wow, that's..." Terrible. Who does that?
"It was the right thing to do, just like their wish for me to check into therapy as Marie Nilsson," Sky replies quickly. "My parents fixed everything I'd destroyed." Her eyelids flutter. "Everything, except their marriage."
Is she suggesting that her parents got divorced because of Sky's mistake?
I abruptly stop in our motion, place my finger under her chin, and make her look at me. "I'm sure you weren't the reason for their divorce—at least not you alone," I say because I genuinely believe that. She needs to stop blaming herself for everything. It's not right and certainly not the truth.
She lets out a tired sigh and shrugs. "Did they tell you that?"
"No," she admits. "I haven't seen them since New York. But whenever they used to argue before, it was about me. I was the problem. They would have had a harmonious relationship if I hadn't been there."
I can't quite piece together everything I've just heard. Thousands of thoughts are swirling chaotically through my mind. Questions. Answers. Speculations.
The truth.
Sky has told me her truth.
And now, there's more chaos inside me than ever before. I don't know what to think. Not about her story, and even less about myself.
"Now you know," she whispers at some point. "For years, I hid and made sure no one would connect me to my family. But now..."
Now she's here. The life-threatening injury to her father brought her back.
To Stockholm. To Touch av lyx and the life that means the world to her.
"I understand," I say, and I truly do. At this moment, every detail she's ever shared with me makes sense.
I know she's the real Sky.
That I see everything about her—everything that makes her who she is.
Another tear rolls down her cheek, and I catch it. My fingers move to her hair, pushing a strand aside, tracing along the outer edge of her ear, and then to her neck, where I feel her pulse.
"You must hate me," she says in a choked voice.
"No," I reply lovingly. "Now I know you."
No one in this world could ever understand what these words mean to me. And no one would feel what I'm feeling right now just because of these words.
It's as if a veil that had been gray over my life for years has lifted. As if every single letter on the paper is detaching because everything that has been writing the story of my life is finding a new order.
Words like letting go and trust take shape. Sentences no longer end with question marks. And between the lines, a whole world of possibilities unfolds.
"You. Are. Wonderful." I say the words as loudly as I should have weeks ago.
Behind the watery veil, her eyes begin to shine. Her shoulders slump forward, and her hands find mine.
Without breaking eye contact, we interlock our fingers. I slide my thumb between our hands and gently glide it over her palm. Her index finger caresses the back of my hand. My thumb moves to her wrist and lingers there.
I feel her heartbeat.
Though there's a gap of about forty inches between us, it feels as if we are one. In her eyes, I see that she feels the same way. And I know that we're both thinking the same thing.
Wanting the same thing.
Slowly, I lower my head, and she rises on her tiptoes. With our fingers still intertwined, we draw closer and closer to each other.
Her scent envelops me, and my pulse quickens. I feel the tip of her nose against mine before our lips touch. Gently, I rest my forehead against hers, and we begin to move to the rhythm of the music once more.
First, nose to nose, then cheek to cheek.
My lips find her temple. They taste the salt on her skin.
I continue, kissing down along the line of her cheekbone. She presses closer to me, and our upper bodies meld together.
Almost imperceptibly, Sky opens her lips, and that's all I need to finally sink into this kiss.