Falling

by Simona Ahrnstedt

  “Stay there like that,” he said, and got up.

  He fetched the rope they had bought, smooth red nylon, and tied her legs wide apart; he bound one ankle first, and then looped the rope around the base of the couch to repeat the procedure with the other. And then he was on top of her again. Her breathing was much heavier now. He raised the little whip he had also brought back with him, white with a short, ribbed handle at one end and several thin leather strips at the other. He cracked it in the air. She followed the movement with wide eyes, and he saw the way both the sound and the sight of it affected her. When he bent down between her legs to taste her again, she came quickly. He smiled at how much control he had over her.

  Her eyes were bright when, after having pulled on another condom, he moved on top of her, lifted her up with one hand beneath her back, and entered her. Her legs were still bound wide apart, and it was sexy, for a while anyway. But it wasn’t anywhere near as easy as it looked, to make love to a woman in that position. And so Alexander quickly loosened her legs and dragged her into the kitchen instead. Once there, he simply pushed her forward so that she was leaning over the kitchen counter, put a hand on the curve of her back, and plunged into her again.

  “Oh, God,” she mumbled huskily. He made her come again, this time first with the help of the paddle, then whip, and then the crystal-covered vibrator, before he thrusted into her, holding her hips, plunging and pumping. As she twisted and bucked beneath him, he pulled out, tore off the condom, and came on her ass and back, marking his territory primitively. He put his hands on her hips, breathing hard, waiting for his heart to calm down, his brain to start to work again. She said nothing, and they stood like that until he grabbed some soft tissues and carefully dried her off. When he was done, she was almost limp, and so he picked her up and she laid her face against his chest. He could feel her eyelashes on his skin, felt the tickle when she blinked.

  “If you drop me, I’m going to die of embarrassment,” she muttered.

  He laughed and sank down onto the couch with her in his arms. It had been oddly intense, as though they had been someplace else and had only just started to return. Isobel shuddered, and Alexander knew she was coming down. Their game was like being high on sex and endorphins, but it also meant that you had to land afterward, and now she was hurtling back to earth. He already knew the signs. The shivering. The silence. The vulnerability. He shifted her gently in his embrace, rocked her slowly, held her to him, listened to her breathing. He reached out and found a blanket, which he pulled up over her. He stroked her hair softly, allowed himself to just be, here with Isobel in his arms.

  “I need to go to the bathroom,” she mumbled after a while.

  They untangled themselves and he let her go, saw that she was steady on her legs. While she was gone, Alexander went into the kitchen and grabbed bowls, spoons, and glasses.

  When she came back, he had laid out cushions on the floor and lit candles, which flickered in the breeze from the open fireplace.

  “So nice,” she said. She blinked and then smiled, and Alexander thought to himself that there was almost nothing he wouldn’t do to see that smile of hers.

  “Come here,” he said, and she sat down next to him, like a princess in a Bedouin camp.

  He passed her some pillows. Held out a spoon and a little bowl.

  “What is it?”

  “Chocolate mousse. Romeo’s recipe again.”

  She ate it all. When she was done, he gave her the last of his. She wolfed that down too.

  “You’re staying over, right?” He wanted it more than anything.

  She nodded, licked chocolate from the corner of her mouth.

  “Want to go to bed?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t have the energy, I’m so sleepy. I think every last bit of tension I’ve ever had has gone.”

  “Should I carry you again?”

  “Let’s not tempt fate.”

  And so he built a bed for Isobel on his living room floor instead. Soft cushions, big, luxurious feather pillows and blankets. She lay down, and he brushed her hair with his fingers, one lock at a time, until it was spread out around her like a flame-red sunset.

  They lay tightly together, nose to nose, forehead to forehead, and looked one another in the eyes without saying a word. She put a hand on his cheek. He covered it with his own hand and watched her fall asleep, lay like that until she turned away from him. Only then did he close his own eyes.

  * * *

  He woke long before she did. Watched her, curled up beneath his sheets. Her freckled skin, her even breathing.

  He had always loved the beginning, the chase, he thought. But as much as he had sought excitement and exploration, he also disliked the morning after.

  But things were different with Isobel. Everything was different, so why not that?

  “Good morning,” he said when she finally woke.

  “Good morning.”

  “I’m so glad you stayed over,” he said.

  “Me too.”

  “Do you have to go anywhere today?”

  “No. Do you?”

  Alexander shook his head. “I just want to be with you. Want that?”

  “Hmm. Are you going to make me breakfast?”

  He propped himself up, on top of her, resting on his arms, and looked down into her laughing face. “Didn’t you know? I’ll give you everything you need.”

  “Everything?”

  “Even more.”

  “I’ll stay then.”

  It felt more right than anything in Alexander’s life ever had.

  Chapter 45

  Gina was at the kitchen table at home, studying. Her father was in the living room playing chess with a friend, as he did every Saturday. Amir was in his room, door closed. Gina could hear the sound of some kind of video game. She couldn’t see the point of playing such games, thought it was a waste of time, but Amir liked them; he could sit there for hours. She brushed aside her worries about her brother, the fact he was always sitting, never leaving his computer, that he had no friends. She had the last exam of the semester next week, a big exam, but she was prepared; she was just going over her notes.

  It was a beautiful, crisp Swedish early summer’s day, far removed from her childhood memories, full of burnt tones and damp heat. She had been eleven when her family came to Sweden, but her memories of her childhood were blurry and incoherent. She had always wondered if there might be something wrong with her, because she remembered so little, but then they read about it during a psychiatry class. The way children who experience terrible things repress them. Had her childhood been terrible? Vaguely she could remember smells and sensations. Could sometimes remember the sounds of animals and women’s voices, but nothing else. Except the fear and pain that day. She would never forget that. She listened through the open window. Tensta was like a miniature UN. If she listened closely enough, she could almost make out the dialects of the women laughing down in the yard. She didn’t remember any laughter in her childhood. Had they never laughed, or had she just forgotten it?

  She looked at the text she had underlined. She knew it practically by heart already, but she wanted to go over it once more. She always aced her exams, and she considered anything below 100 percent a failure. Her classmates were going out over the weekend; she had heard them talk about it all week. One of them had asked her too—they were always nice like that—but she usually said no. She couldn’t afford it. Neither in terms of time or money. Spending money on things that weren’t absolutely necessary went against her beliefs. Besides, she could use the time to study. That would lead to the future she had made up her mind to achieve, so it wasn’t a sacrifice, not by a long shot.

  But sometimes, on days like today, there was a small part of her that just wanted to let loose a little.

  “Is it going well?”

  Her father had stuck his head through the doorway.

  Gina nodded, simultaneously moving her notepad so he wouldn’t see her doodles. She ha
d replayed her conversation with Peter over and over again. He had looked so pained, and she was truly shocked by what he told her. She hadn’t been cleaning while she studied for her finals, so she hadn’t seen him in a few days. She wondered how he was holding up.

  Her dad took a jug of juice from the refrigerator. “You should go out for a while,” he said, kissing her head and going back to his chess.

  He is right, she thought, as she squinted out at the sunshine. If for no other reason than to get a little vitamin D. Her mind drifted. She didn’t normally have any trouble with her focus, never daydreamed. When others complained that they spent too much time online, in front of the TV, or on their cell phones, she just couldn’t understand it. In her world, there was no room for shortsighted laziness. You made up your mind and there was nothing more to it. She flicked through the old exam she was using to practice, fixed her eyes on it. Ten seconds later her thoughts had drifted again.

  She got up and went restlessly over to the window.

  “Gina?”

  Dad again. She turned around.

  “Yes?”

  “You got a call.” He held out her cell. She took it with a frown.

  “Who is it?” she asked. No one called her, and especially not on the weekend.

  But he simply handed her the phone, looked like he wanted to say something, and then shook his head and left the kitchen.

  “Hello?” she said cautiously. It was strange how many thoughts managed to rush through her head. Was it someone who was out to harass them? They kept a low profile, and her father was respected out here. But still . . . This was Tensta. On the other hand, maybe it just was someone who needed last-minute waiting or cleaning staff? Most student receptions were over, but you never knew.

  “Hi, Gina. This is Peter.”

  “Peter?” She recognized his voice immediately, even though they’d never talked on the phone. “Has something happened?” Strangely enough, her first thought was that it was a weekday and that she’d forgotten to go to work. But why would Peter call her? She didn’t even know he had her number. She had a prepaid phone card, wasn’t registered anywhere.

  “Happened?” he said. “Like what?”

  “At the office, I mean.” It was an idiotic conclusion, she realized. “I don’t know what I mean. I was just surprised.”

  “Is this your number?” he asked. He sounded ill at ease. “Your father answered. . . .”

  Gina smiled.

  “It’s my cell phone, but Dad was closest so he answered.” She still didn’t know why Peter had called. They never spoke on the phone. Did he need her to clean for him? There was such a long silence, she wondered whether he had gone. Maybe he had dialed the wrong number. If that was even possible.

  “How did you get my number?” she asked.

  “From my sister, Natalia.”

  Of course.

  Extended silence again.

  “Where are you?” Gina asked, as Peter said:

  “It’s such nice weather out.”

  “Yes,” she answered, as he said:

  “In the car.”

  More silence. But now she could hear the low hum of the Mercedes in the background.

  “Are you sure nothing happened?” she asked.

  “Gina, I really do understand if you can’t. Or don’t want to. Your father sounded really stern. Plus, I know you want to be with your family. You probably don’t have time. And maybe you hate me after what I told you. You know.”

  “I don’t hate you.”

  She waited. Her heart had started to beat a little faster.

  “Do you want to take a walk with me?” he finally asked.

  Although it was the question she had started to hope for, it was so monumental when it finally came that she was silent.

  She could explain their previous car journeys as Peter just being kind. Maybe even their late-night meals at the office.

  But not this. This was another step. In a new direction. If she answered yes, it meant she was taking a risk. And she hated risks just as much as she hated disappointment.

  But then Gina looked out the window again. Saw summer outside. She was focused, knew what she wanted from life, was structured and smart. But she was also a young woman. And she liked Peter. And they needed to talk.

  About what he had said. About things.

  “Yes,” she said, and she knew that with a single word, they had changed course. But for the first time since Gina had fled her homeland with her father and brother as a petrified child, and then promised herself not only to survive but to never depend on another human being again, regardless of whether they were people smugglers or Swedish immigration authorities, she wanted to do something spontaneous and impulsive and for her own sake. She would do the thing everyone always talked about but she had never tried. She would live in the present.

  “Yes, I’d like that. Are you coming to pick me up?”

  * * *

  While Peter had waited for Gina’s reply, he’d hugged the receiver so tightly he had to wipe the sweat from the screen before he could switch it off. He took the headset from his ear and put it down on the passenger seat along with the phone. He breathed a sigh of relief. He had finally dared to call her and she had said yes. He didn’t bother with the AC, just rolled down the window and let the early summer breeze blow in his face. He smiled. Gina had said yes, she didn’t hate him, and they were going to meet. If anyone needed a mountain moved, he felt up to the task right now.

  When he pulled up outside her door and stepped out of the car, he saw her walking toward him, saw her through the worn reinforced glass in the door, and was struck by a momentary panic. How should they greet one another? He wished he was brave, but he didn’t dare hug that perfect human.

  Gina came out, smiling. Peter shoved his hands into his pockets.

  “Is Djurgården okay?”

  “Sure.”

  Thirty minutes later they parked by the bridge to Djurgården Island and walked along the canal. There were lots of people out, and Peter inevitably bumped into people he knew. Djurgården was, after all, where the upper classes went for a walk. He said hello to a couple. They stopped to talk, shook hands with Gina, gave her curious looks, and walked away, whispering. The same thing was repeated. Over and over and over again. With each time, Gina grew more silent.

  “Is something wrong?” he eventually asked.

  She shook her head, but her brow was furrowed, concerned.

  “Gina?”

  She crossed her arms and looked away, toward the treetops. “I’ve lived in Stockholm for over ten years, but this is the first time I’ve been to Djurgården. It’s beautiful, so beautiful.”

  “But?”

  “I feel wrong. And your friends. I’m sure they’re very nice, but don’t you see the way they look at me? You know, I’ve waited at parties where they were guests. And now they don’t recognize me. I actually think I just want to go home.”

  Despair welled up within him. And shame, when he saw her insecurity. He was the one who had exposed her to this. He had wanted to give her a nice day out, but he had failed. She was right, and he was an idiot.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t realize it might be like this. I’m so sorry, Gina.” Peter ran a hand through his hair, felt a tightness in his throat. No matter what he did, it went wrong. He should have foreseen this. Should have protected her, put himself in her shoes.

  “It’s not your fault,” she said.

  “Please, Gina. Don’t go home.” He was practically begging.

  She bit her lip. “Maybe we could go somewhere else?” she suggested hesitantly.

  He was so relieved his voice almost shook: “Where do you want to go?”

  “If we go back to my place, you’ll feel like just as much of an outsider. What about the other side of the city? To Södermalm?”

  “I’ve never been there,” he confessed.

  She gave him an amused look. “Then what about a walk in Tanto, the park by the water?”


  * * *

  Peter managed to find Södermalm by following signs and GPS. He parked on a street he had never heard of, and thought that he, in his made-to-measure jacket and neat chinos, would probably feel just as out of place here in Södermalm, with its trendy cafés and carefully styled hipsters, as he would in Gina’s suburb. But the sun was out, none of the Södermalm inhabitants seemed to stare at him, and Gina no longer looked uncomfortable. He felt his mood improving. As they walked down toward the glittering water, and her slender arm brushed against his, he took off his jacket, rolled up his shirtsleeves, and decided to enjoy what was becoming the best Saturday of his life.

  “Are you looking forward to your placement?” he asked. In the car, they had talked about the next semester, when Gina would get to work in the hospital.

  “They say you feel more like a doctor afterward, so I’m looking forward to that. But I know it’s gonna be really tough.”

  He smiled, knowing that she loved a challenge.

  “Are you doing anything nice over the summer?” he asked.

  Summer had arrived so quickly, he hadn’t planned any vacations, and the thought of not seeing her for months made him ache. And come fall, Gina would be busy with a whole new, intensely focused life.

  She shook her head. “I’ll just be at home. I have a little work to do, and I want to save as much money as I can. You know.”

  He knew. And though it was deeply selfish of him, he was happy she wouldn’t be disappearing from his life quite yet.

  They bought ice-cream cones. She took a long time deciding between flavors, so he chose one of the ones she had been debating, and said jokingly, “If you don’t let me pay, I can’t be responsible for my actions.”

  She nodded, regally, that it was fine, this one time, and they sat down on a rock by the water’s edge. Ate their ice creams in silence. Peter never spoke with his mouth full, and Gina sat, straight-backed, her eyes fixed on the water. He was happy, more than happy, just to study her beautiful profile.

  “Was yours good?” she asked. He gave her the last of the green ice cream he had chosen for her sake. She ate it with slow, small movements, and he wondered how often she bought ice cream or anything else for herself.