She nodded, trying to be professional, as if he had just asked about a book.
‘How can I help you?’
‘Well, I’ve got a problem. I can’t stop looking at you.’
She laughed at the line. She felt embarrassed, the way you do when the cheesy banter in a Hollywood film makes you squirm.
‘You’ll have to go to an eye doctor about that. As you can see, I’m busy here.’
He put out his hand. She took it automatically.
‘Mattias Wilander, from Gothenburg.’
He held onto her hand when she tried to take it back. His forwardness was making her uncomfortable. She preferred to move slowly when flirting. Stolen glances, hands brushing, all that. He was too blunt.
But it was exciting that they’d run into each other. He was the first Swede she’d met so far.
She looked at him, her eyes urging him to leave, but he stayed put. She had the vague feeling he was dangerous. Just the type of guy she was drawn to. Like Oswald, and Ellis once upon a time. Men who left her life in a shambles.
‘I apologize for being so forward,’ he said. ‘I noticed you when I came here a few days ago. I felt drawn to you. As if we’ve met before. Have we? Met?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘How long have you lived here?’
‘Almost eight months.’
‘I’m pretty new here. I arrived a few months ago. Still feeling a little lost, and I could use some pointers. Clubs where they play good music. That kind of thing. Could we grab coffee when you’re done with work?’
You promised yourself, you promised Benjamin, no relationships, no getting laid while you’re here!
But coffee couldn’t hurt. There was nothing wrong with meeting new people.
He hung around until she was done for the day. They went to a café nearby. He was easy to talk to; he’d recently finished a degree in psychology and was taking a year off. He would be spending a few months in Palo Alto but had no concrete plans – he said he just wanted to stand on his own two legs for a while.
‘Although to be honest, I’m pretty boring. A total bookworm. I just got so tired of all the drinking and fucking, pardon my French.’
A thrill ran through her body.
‘It’s like I’m either on or off,’ he continued. ‘Either I’m totally chilled, or else I take things to the very limit. That’s how I want my life to be.’
She gave him a few tips, good spots to visit in Palo Alto and San Francisco. But he just wanted to talk about her. She couldn’t remember ever having met a guy who was so interested in her life. Not even Benjamin.
When it was time to part ways, he just said thanks and bye. He didn’t ask for her number and he didn’t ask to see her again, which made her feel duped and disappointed.
She couldn’t fall asleep that night and didn’t want to call Benjamin, so she decided to Skype with Ellis, since she hadn’t talked to him for a while. Ellis was happy to hear from her and talked nonstop. He had created a new dating site called FeelYou, or FYou for short. The basic premise was to get to know someone without a lot of chatting and pictures. You created an account and gave your gender and age, then selected a single word to describe your character. Whoever took the bait sent a single word back, and then you tossed words back and forth until good – or bad – vibes appeared. Incredibly enough, many successful relationships had emerged thanks to the service, and Ellis had made a small fortune. He tipped Sofia off about a Wired article that mentioned him.
This sounded so fantastic that Sofia felt like she had to tell him something in return, to compensate, so she spilled what had just happened with Mattias at the library.
‘Oh, that’s nothing,’ Ellis said. ‘Shit, you’re only twenty-four, Sofia. Have some fun. You’re hot as hell. Surely you aren’t planning to remain faithful to Benjamin forever? It’s just that cult, they made you think like a goddamn nun.’
Even though this advice was coming from someone with a dubious sexual past, it was still comforting. What was the point of going abroad if you didn’t allow yourself one tiny little slip-up?
Mattias didn’t return to the library the next day. She was extremely disappointed and kept staring in the direction of the reading corner. She found herself furious when an overweight man settled into the chair where Mattias liked to sit. But when she walked out the door at the end of the day, he was there waiting for her. He was leaning against a tree, giving her a crooked smile, and she walked toward him. His eyes were so blue she wondered if he used tinted contacts. He was wearing distressed jeans and a leather jacket, and he came over to her and took her hands. Christ, he had such a great smile!
This is the moment when I have to say no, she thought. If I don’t it will all go to hell. But what she really wanted, in that moment, was to live two parallel lives: one where she was with Benjamin, and another where she followed this stranger and lived out all her secret sexual fantasies. But you could only live one life at a time. And suddenly Benjamin seemed so far away.
‘I rented a car,’ Mattias said. ‘Come with me to Half Moon Bay and we’ll take a walk by the ocean.’
‘I have to work tomorrow.’
‘Just for a few hours. Dinner’s on me.’
She had never been to Half Moon Bay but had heard it was beautiful.
‘Sorry I was so forward yesterday,’ he said as she got in the car. ‘We’ll take it slow, okay? Until further notice.’
Why have I not mentioned Benjamin? She wondered. Why can’t I just spit it out? I never get tongue-tied – it’s not like me.
‘How did you know I was Swedish?’ she asked instead.
‘It’s the accent, I heard you talking. I can even hear the Swedish accent in my own voice. I suppose it will never go away.’
The road to the coast made sharp curves between enormous redwoods that spread their spicy scent through the half-open car window.
Half Moon Bay was covered in a gentle haze that lent a soft, lovely sheen to the scenery. They walked along the shore for a while, then sat down on a bench and gazed out at the ocean, which glittered with sunlight. A pair of pelicans glided down like sailplanes and landed on the water. The waves were crested with white and a couple of surfers were tossed off their boards again and again.
‘I surf,’ he said. ‘That’s why I’ve been here a few times before. Have you heard of mavericks? They’re huge waves that form about three kilometres out, in the wintertime. The place is called Pillar Point Harbor – it’s a little north of here. The waves can get up to seven metres high. Every year, all the top surfers have a competition there. You have to be invited to participate. I’ve always dreamed of being part of that. I can teach you to surf, if you want.’
‘I’d love to. That would be fun.’
She wondered what on earth she had just said – she’d never been interested in surfing. But his presence basically made it impossible to think clearly. She felt strange when she was with him. A little dizzy, bordering on giggly. As if there were no limits. Surfing? Sure, why not go skydiving too, while we’re at it?
‘So why did you come here?’ he asked. ‘Just for work, or… ?’
She thought for a moment, wondering why she felt like she could trust him. Maybe it was because he seemed so uncomplicated. Not judgemental in the least. Yet she felt her cheeks burning before she even managed to finish her first sentence.
‘It’s kind of complicated. I mean, you can’t post this on Facebook or Twitter or anything, but I was trying to get away from a cult.’
He laughed.
‘Shit, that’s nothing to be ashamed of. Isn’t everyone part of some cult these days? Listen, the two of us can start our own cult, you and me.’
They chatted on the bench for a long time. The breeze died down; the waves settled into faint ripples on the water. The sun bled through the airy clouds on the horizon, splashing gold on the surface of the ocean. When the sun sank into the water, she heard him take a deep breath and let it out fast. He moved closer. She
felt his warmth against her arm and was going to place her hand over his, but right then he stood up and asked if she wanted to grab a bite to eat.
They had dinner at a restaurant in town. Only once did he touch her – a passing stroke of his hand on her thigh under the table. It was so gentle and quick that she thought she might have imagined it. That she had merely brushed against the tablecloth.
On the way home they were quiet – it was a companionable silence. When he dropped her off at her apartment, they exchanged numbers. He ran a finger down her nose and kissed her lips. It was a quick kiss, fluttering and soft; his lips were cool, and yet it set off fireworks in her body.
There was a weight on her chest when she walked into her apartment; it was so heavy that she had to call Benjamin, even though she knew he was at work.
He sounded annoyed when he picked up.
‘I’m in the car, Sofia, I can’t talk.’
‘It won’t take long. Just one fucking minute.’
‘Fine, what is it?’
‘Look, do you think we could have an open relationship while I’m here?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Like, see other people a little bit. Take a short break.’
‘What the hell? Did you meet someone?’
‘No, nothing has happened! I mean… nothing serious.’
‘I can’t believe you’re just calling me out of the blue.’
‘Sorry. But do you think it would work?’
‘No way! Go to hell.’
He hung up on her. She started crying right away – she felt so rotten and ashamed at how desperate she was. Maybe she needed some space. Why was she acting so crazy? She sank onto the sofa and sent up a silent prayer to God, asking him to help her make the right decision. And she got an answer right away: the phone rang, and it was Simon.
‘We won!’
‘Huh?’
‘The competition, I mean.’
‘Congratulations, Simon, that’s awesome!’
‘Yeah, except now I have so much dough it just feels wrong. So I’m coming to visit you in San Francisco.’
33
They ran through the woods to Simon’s cabin. Anna stubbornly tried to keep pace with Simon; she stumbled a few times but got up and snapped at him peevishly when he asked if he should slow down. When they got to his place, Anna threw herself onto the sofa, panting, as Simon sat down in his chair. He didn’t know what to say to her – he basically didn’t know her at all. Simon had avoided talking to her while he was in the cult, mostly because she was ridiculously pretty and seemed to be in completely out of his league with those high cheekbones, turned-up nose, dark eyes with even darker eyelashes, and a cascade of dark blonde hair she was always twirling around her fingers. She had seemed inaccessible and a little cold. But as soon as she caught her breath, she began to talk and didn’t stop, and Simon realized she was, in fact, perfectly nice.
‘Madde has gone crazy, I swear, she’s out of her mind. Although everyone knows he’s controlling her, sort of. She visited him in prison. And Oswald’s lawyer, that Anna-Maria Callini, she came out to the manor and acted like she owned the place. It’s like straight-up Nazi shit, Simon. Framed photos of Franz everywhere, and we’re supposed to stand in front of them and applaud before we go to bed. Some tone-deaf bastard wrote a battle song called ‘ViaTerra Victorious’ that we have to, like, shout out at morning assembly, in unison. It sounds deranged.’
Simon realized she was talking like she was still there.
‘That book he wrote, we had to read it like a hundred times, and then Madde came to check that we understood it, and anyone who didn’t understand something had to jump off the Rock. In this cold. They changed the schedule so we only get to sleep for five hours every night. If you oversleep you have to eat rice and beans for a week.’
Simon tried to get her to slow down by placing a hand on her shoulder, but she kept talking.
‘And then Franz said something about how we had to learn to march, as some sort of discipline, so we’ve been marching back and forth across the front drive several times a day. It has to be in rhythm, so we become a team. And all the girls in high heels! It looks demented.’
Simon tried to slip in that he understood exactly, but she went on before he had the chance to speak.
‘And now there are going to be new rules once he comes home. We have to salute every time we see him. And it’s somehow our fault that the media writes shitty stories about him. So we owe him fifty hours of compensation work, every damn one of us, which means we’ll have to iron his shirts, clean his room, and use our salary, which we’ve barely even gotten lately, to buy him a welcome-home present. A super-expensive camera with a big lens and everything. And we’ve been working day and night to prepare the property for his return. We’ve even polished every last fucking doorknob.’
‘Jacob told me about that,’ Simon said. ‘You must be hungry. Let’s have something to eat, and then you can tell me more.’
Once he’d fetched food from the pension restaurant, Anna was quiet for a while. She must not have eaten for a long time, the way she was bolting her meal. She ended up eating half of Simon’s portion as well.
‘But I think the worst part is his new policy,’ she said once she had finished, muffling a burp behind her hand. ‘He wrote it in prison. It’s about battling the enemies of ViaTerra. He wrote that any means of silencing the opposition is allowed, because they’re “the scum of the earth”. Yes, he really did use those words, don’t you believe me?’
‘Of course, but Anna, how long have you felt this way? How long have you known that what’s happening there is wrong?’
Then she began to cry in despair as he sat helplessly by and watched. He always felt awkward around crying girls. He didn’t know how to comfort them.
‘I don’t know,’ she said at last. ‘I don’t know even know what’s right or wrong right now. All I know is that I can’t take it anymore.’
‘Let’s deal with one thing at a time,’ Simon said, moving to sit on the sofa beside her. ‘First you can have a shower and get some sleep. You look tired. Tomorrow I’ll give you some stuff to read. A few articles, a couple of websites. Then you can form your own opinion about all this.’
Just as Anna got out of the shower, wrapped in Simon’s huge robe, Inga Hermansson came through the door. She typically knocked, but right now she was so excited that she forgot.
‘Simon, they sent us an email full of questions to respond to. It’s obvious that they have us in mind to win the competition.’
She froze when she saw Anna.
‘Oops, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had company. Oh, Simon, you got a girlfriend, how lovely!’
‘She’s not my girlfriend. She escaped from the cult up there.’
This news certainly got Hermansson moving. She embraced Anna – something Simon realized perhaps he should have done as well – and then rushed out the door. She soon returned with soup from the restaurant, some clothes, and a toothbrush.
At last Anna fell asleep on the sofa, and didn’t wake up until Simon looked in on her the next morning. By that point, Simon was well aware of the efforts to find her. He could hear shouts and the barking of a dog from the forest, where they were clearly performing a search. Motorcycles went back and forth on the road to the village.
Inga Hermansson came to the greenhouse to report that someone in a guard’s uniform had come to the pension to ask about Anna. But no one had come to Simon’s cottage, which he thought was strange. He knew why it was so important to get Anna back. She had worked directly under Oswald and knew some of his secrets. Plus, she was beautiful, so the media would jump at the chance to hear her story. Oswald certainly didn’t want to be saddled with another Sofia Bauman. And now that Simon had Anna in his cottage, he wasn’t sure whether he liked it. He wanted to live in peace and quiet. He would have to find some way to occupy Anna’s time, then send her somewhere where she would feel safe. But when he asked about her parents,
she shot him down and said she didn’t want to contact them yet, that she was ashamed.
‘Why are you ashamed?’
‘I’m such a failure. They warned me time and time again, but I wouldn’t listen. I wrote like a hundred letters to them where I talked about how great ViaTerra was. So to come home with my tail between my legs…’
‘Anna, I’m sure they don’t care about all that. They’ll just be glad that you left ViaTerra.’
‘Maybe. Can I stay a few more days?’
Simon couldn’t say no. He decided to let her use his computer while he worked, and got her to read everything there was to read about ViaTerra online – including Sofia’s blog and the newspaper articles he’d saved. When she was done reading, she seemed livelier. But she still walked around in Inga Hermansson’s nightgown and slept twelve hours a day.
‘I thought of something you can do,’ he said. ‘Something that helped Sofia. Write it all down, from beginning to end. From the day you first heard of ViaTerra until the day you escaped.’
When he returned after work, she was still at the computer; she turned around when she heard him coming. For the first time, she gave him a big smile.
‘This is crazy!’
‘Right? When you’re done, you can put it all online. Anonymously, if you want to. You could even write an entry for Sofia’s blog. Divide up the story into chapters. One a day.’
Simon read Anna’s story with great interest. Especially the chapter about the Sofia Bauman project. She wrote that it was a plan Oswald had dictated himself, from prison, and no one had been allowed to read it besides the security guards and the head of ViaTerra’s ethics unit. When the project hadn’t gone according to Oswald’s plan, he’d made Callini kick the security guards off it, so she could take over. Rumour had it that he’d hired private eyes and other outside contacts to get it done. Simon wondered how on earth he was doing this all from prison.
‘So Benny and Sten are in Penance?’
‘They were for a while, but now they’re just sitting in the booth and patrolling the property. Franz has other contacts looking for Sofia, I’ve heard.’
Shadow of Fog Island Page 19