Chapter Twenty-Nine
Twenty-nine.
I miss you tonight.
Four a.m. I’m still awake. I’ve been distracting myself with study while Maya sleeps, but from time to time I’ve stopped to read the chain of messages between me and Johan.
Message deleted, it says, but I know. Unease clots inside me.
Have there been other nights when he’s missed me? Has he lain next to his partner—this innocent woman who loves him probably just as much as I once did—and thought, I miss Carrie? Does he remember what it used to feel like when we slept together? When we played each other’s bodies like instruments?
Fuck you, I write, a few times.
Delete.
You don’t get to send messages like that. Not after all these years. Not after you stamped out any hope and allowed me to give my heart to someone else.
Delete.
Yes, I would like to stay in your summer house.
Of course I cannot stay in your fucking summer house. Fuck off!!!! Are you out of your mind?
Maybe he is. He seemed sane, but who knows what he’s been through, what it did to his brain? Nobody comes through that kind of experience unscathed.
I return to my damage-control surgery notes.
Pale gray fuzzes lightly around the roller blinds; morning isn’t far away now.
My fridge hums and sighs; the time is 5:01.
I get into bed beside Maya, who’s asleep with her mouth open, but I know this isn’t going to work.
I retreat instead to my uncomfortable sofa and curl up on my side, blanket over me.
It’s brightening rapidly outside; Stockholm is rising.
I don’t know how it happens, only that before I have time to think, I open up Roof again and send Johan a message saying, Actually, the summer house for a night or two would be good, if you’re sure.
My family are coming out to visit me on Monday for a few days, but I would love to get some peace before then. Thank you.
He comes online instantly, even though it’s only 5:15 a.m. He’s read it, and now I can’t take it back either.