All In

by Simona Ahrnstedt

  Natalia stared after him. “I don’t understand,” she said. “What does he mean? I am loyal to the family, surely you see that? Mother? He can’t be serious. It’s not like I’ve done anything.”

  “I didn’t want you to find out like this,” her mother said, sniffling into a tissue she pulled from a box on the coffee table. “Actually, I didn’t want you to find out at all.”

  “Find out what?”

  “Are you really pregnant?”

  Natalia nodded. “Six weeks.”

  “And it’s his?” She made a face. “That man’s?”

  “Yes.”

  “You have to get rid of it.”

  “That is not your decision.”

  Her mother clenched the tissue tightly in her fist. “How could you do this to us?”

  “I didn’t do anything to anyone.” She couldn’t even express how hurt she was, how betrayed she felt, how lonely and scared she was right now. She’d come here for comfort, because she thought she’d hit bottom and because she had been counting on her mother and father’s support. On this point, she had truly misjudged the situation.

  “For all these years, I’ve tried to get you to think about your behavior,” her mother said, her tone reproachful. “To think about what you say. Tried to make you understand how important it is. To be careful.” She shook her head. “You have so much to be grateful for. And then you do this.” She looked at Natalia with dry eyes. She wasn’t crying anymore, and Natalia saw no compassion, just that her mother had decided something.

  “I can’t do anything about this,” her mother said, crumpling the tissue. “It’s out of my hands now.”

  “I don’t understand any of this,” Natalia said genuinely.

  Her mother smoothed her skirt, straightening the fabric until it was flat, and then calmly said, “Gustaf isn’t your biological father.”

  And then everything changed.

  Everything she had believed.

  Everything she had known.

  Everything.

  She wasn’t a De la Grip.

  An enormous wave of exhaustion overtook Natalia. She was so tired she hardly had the strength to blink. Maybe she was actually at home in bed sleeping and soon she would wake up and realize that this summer had never happened, that she had never met David, that . . .

  “This is hard for me too,” her mother continued, and her voice was already stronger, as if it were all over now as far as she was concerned. As if she’d already chosen a side and had no intention of changing her mind. “I’ve always tried to protect you. But you’ve gone too far this time. I have to be loyal to your father—to Gustaf. He needs me. And I need him; you know that.”

  Natalia blinked. Her heart raced in her chest. Was this really happening? Was her own mother rejecting her?

  “I made a mistake,” her mother said. “Peter was so little. I was alone, and I felt so unappreciated. I did something foolish. But your father and I agreed to stay together, to go on as a family. He gave you his name and forgave me for what happened.”

  For what happened? I’m what happened.

  “Then Alexander came along. You children had everything,” her mother continued, as if she were defending the choices she’d once made. “We have lived well, traveled a lot, had nice things.”

  “He’s always treated me differently,” Natalia said, because suddenly so much made sense. How she’d been kept out of Investum’s inner circle. How the mansion and the family jewels had been systematically transferred to the sons. The whole time she’d thought it was because they were boys. But really it was because of their genes. She wasn’t Gustaf’s biological child, and therefore she had to be kept out. She, who had always detested infidelity, was the result of an illicit affair. The irony was epic.

  “Gustaf is a stern man, but you’ve always meant a lot to him,” her mother said. “He never made any distinction between you children.”

  But her mother was lying, and they both knew that. There had been a distinction. And no amount of skill or accomplishment had been able to make up for it.

  “Does Peter know? And Alex?”

  “No one knows.”

  But Natalia had seen the flicker of uncertainty. Her mother was lying. Again. All these lies.

  “Uncle Eugene knows, doesn’t he?” Natalia said once the final pieces slid into place.

  “Yes, Eugene knows. He’s never forgiven me. He always thought you should know. This has actually been really hard for me. And for your father.”

  I have to get out of here, Natalia thought, panic-stricken. I have to get out of here, get away. She stood up while her mother was in the middle of saying something. Natalia walked out of the living room without saying good-bye. Out of the house, her eyes vacant, an icy lump in her chest.

  She sat down in her car.

  Her hands were shaking so hard she could hardly take her phone out of her purse. She called and closed her eyes as the call went through.

  Åsa was on her way out the door when Natalia called.

  “Can I come over?”

  She could tell right away that something had happened. She just said, “Come.” She had a dinner date with a young fund manager and had already planned the picture she was going to send to Michel later. Tight red jersey dress, décolletage to die for, and long red fingernails. A little on the vulgar side, certainly, but she knew what men liked. Who would have thought that driving Michel crazy would be so much fun?

  Ten minutes later Natalia was standing in her apartment shaking, and Åsa only needed to take one look at her friend to see that this was going to take all night. “Come in,” Åsa said. “I just have to call and back out of a date.”

  Åsa called and canceled. Then she told Natalia, “You look like shit. I’m going to order a pizza,” she decided because she was starving. “Do you want some?”

  Natalia shook her head, but Åsa ordered a large one anyway so they could share. Natalia looked like she needed some energy, and Åsa had been suppressing all her unfulfilled sexual desires with food lately. “Extra cheese,” she said into the phone while Natalia collapsed flat on the sofa.

  Natalia kicked off her shoes, put one arm over her forehead, and said, “More drama. You want to hear about it?”

  Åsa sat down on the other sofa. “Spill it.”

  After Natalia filled her in, Åsa was quiet. Considering that Natalia had been the one who led the more boring, undramatic life, she was really catching up.

  “Did you know?” Natalia asked. “That Gustaf isn’t my father?”

  Åsa slowly shook her head. “Embarrassingly enough, I never even suspected anything. I’m way too self-absorbed. How are you doing?”

  “Oh, I’m doing great,” Natalia said sarcastically.

  “Well, who is your biological father then?”

  “Can you believe I didn’t even ask? I have no idea. And I can’t bring myself to call my mom and ask right now. It could be anyone. The pool guy, maybe.”

  The doorbell rang, and Åsa went to get the pizza. She returned with the box, set it on the coffee table, and then went to the kitchen to get utensils, plates, and glasses.

  “It smells heavenly,” Natalia said when Åsa came back. The box was open, and the aroma of garlic and basil filled the living room.

  Åsa served them each a slice, dripping with cheese. “I have a nice red wine in the kitchen. Do you want a glass?”

  Natalia had just taken a big bite of pizza. She set down her slice and wiped her mouth. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I forgot to tell you my other news.” Her eyes danced with glee. “Not only am I a bastard, it turns out I’m pregnant, too.”

  Her hand flew up to cover her mouth, and her shoulders shook from hysterical laughter.

  Åsa set down her utensils. For all these years Natalia had just sailed calmly through life. Apparently those days were over now. “I think I’m going to skip the wine, then,” Åsa said. “I need a real drink, and then you’re going to tell me everything.”

  When the
y finished the pizza and Åsa was comfortably drunk after a couple of vodka tonics, Natalia leaned back on the sofa. She had her legs pulled up Indian-style and looked surprisingly with it considering she’d just been duped, dumped, accidentally knocked up, and then informed that she was a bastard, all in a little over a week.

  Åsa downed the last of her drink. “What are you going to do now?” she asked, fishing out an ice cube and crushing it between her teeth.

  “I don’t know. Everything is such a mess, to put it mildly. But I don’t even have the strength to fall apart. Is this hard for you, by the way? Talking about all this? I mean, you’re close to my mom and, uh, Gustaf.”

  “I’m fine. And I meant what I said before. I’m on your side, Nat.”

  “Thanks,” Natalia said. Her phone rang. She picked it up and looked at the caller ID. “I have to take this,” she said with a crooked smile. “It’s not like things can get any worse—at least there’s that!”

  She put her phone to her ear and listened. Åsa went out to the kitchen to mix herself another drink. When she came back Natalia was already done with the call.

  “That was fast,” Åsa said. “Who was it?”

  “That was J-O.” Natalia was staring straight ahead, as if she were thinking hard.

  Åsa looked at the time. “What did he want?”

  “J-O?”

  Åsa nodded, sipping at her drink.

  “Oh, he was just calling to tell me I was fired.”

  41

  Thursday, July 24

  The next morning, which was actually a totally normal Thursday morning, Natalia strolled downtown. It was nice to get out and walk, and something had loosened after yesterday’s bizarre turn of events.

  Yes, she was pregnant by a man whom she suspected was an unscrupulous psychopath.

  Yes, she was unemployed.

  And yes, she’d just learned she was an illegitimate child, the result of her mother’s infidelity. And she had probably been disowned by her family.

  But—and this was an important but—she was healthy, had food to eat and a roof over her head. It could actually be much worse.

  She blinked behind her sunglasses and turned her face to the sun for a little while before she steered her steps toward the glass kiosk on the wharf below Berzelii Park. There were only tourists in line, and she waited patiently until it was her turn. She bought a waffle cone with strawberry ice cream and then sat down on the same bench she and David had sat on to eat hot dogs more than three weeks earlier.

  She had known David Hammar for less than one month. It hadn’t even been two weeks since they’d made love in Båstad. It shouldn’t be possible for a person you’d known for such a short time to be so significant, to take up so much room. A man who had so coldly exploited her, used her like a game piece . . . Natalia pushed aside her pointless thoughts, which threatened her delicate and extremely fleeting sense of well-being.

  Her mood changed on a dime these days. Total despair, profound grief, and choking rage were only seconds apart, and it was exhausting. On some level she understood that she was in crisis, but she didn’t have time for a crisis. She didn’t want to give up. She had to focus on what gave her strength and made her feel like she was in control, which was why she’d spent the last week—between bouts of morning sickness, attacks of vomiting, and bits of bad news—calling around to every person she’d met in her professional life from whom she could call in a favor. She’d talked to old clients, major brokers, and managers, and she had argued with every single one of them, listing the reasons why they should listen to her.

  Because she was going to do everything in her power to make sure David didn’t win at the general meeting. Everything would be decided there, and she would do her utmost down to the very last minute to foil his plan. The problem was that this was a well-planned hostile takeover, and he had such a big head start.

  She ate her ice cream pensively, lost in her thoughts. She had never been unemployed before and had actually barely had any leisure time in her whole life. She hardly knew what to do with herself if she didn’t have a job to go to. She looked up, studying the passersby. They were mostly tourists, but some seemed to be hurrying to or from work or meetings. She hadn’t thought about it before, the difference in pace. A boat tooted its horn and took off from the wharf. She saw a child wave and was on the verge of waving back.

  If everything went well and if she kept the baby, then she would be a mother next summer. That was completely unreal. And what would she do about the fact that she hated the child’s father? Was the doctor right? Did she have to inform David? Or could she be selfish enough not to say anything? He didn’t want to have kids; he’d said that himself.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by a shadow and a quiet, “Hi.”

  She’d been off in her own world.

  She looked up automatically.

  It was as if her thoughts had summoned him, made him materialize right in front of her. Because it was David, serious and just as handsome as ever, standing in front of her. And despite the fact that she’d just been thinking about him—or maybe that was why—the shock was paralyzing.

  “Hi,” she said, not actually even wanting to say that, but the imprinted habits of politeness trumped all her other feelings, although she couldn’t think of a single other word to say.

  “Early lunch?” he said, with a questioning look at her ice cream. He was still standing, and Natalia had to tilt her head back to be able to see him properly. His sudden appearance shook her more than she’d thought was possible, and she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her off balance. She had been so content with her exit last Friday, but that was almost a week ago, and her reserves of strength were severely stretched.

  She squinted at him, contemplating as objectively as she could the man who had hurt her more than any person had ever hurt her. Did she see something in his eyes, or was that her imagination? What was he feeling, standing there looking at her with that expression in his eyes? Pity?

  “Do you want me to throw that away for you?” he asked while Natalia remained silent.

  Natalia looked at what was left of her melting ice cream cone, which she’d forgotten she was still holding in her hand. She wanted to tell David Hammar that she could throw her own ice cream away and he could go to hell, but she didn’t want to seem weak or vulnerable. She wanted to be strong and levelheaded, so she handed him the ice cream without a word and then watched him walk over and toss it in a trash can before he came back and sat down on the bench next to her.

  Without touching her, he looked out at the water. She sat with her back upright, stiff and with her heart pounding, and just stared straight ahead without seeing anything. Why had he come here? Of all the thousands of benches in Stockholm, why did he have to sit right here?

  As unobtrusively as she could, she snuck a peek sideways, at him. He had turned toward her at exactly the same time, and it was like being exposed, revealed. That penetrating look and then all the energy that was him.

  She was the first to look away. The tension between them was so strong that she could hardly breathe. Or maybe she was the only one who felt it.

  Maybe he didn’t feel shit. Maybe he slept with people, crushed their self-esteem, and then casually sat down next to them without caring. Maybe he’d been with scores of other women while he’d been with her. Maybe she was just one among many, maybe . . . Furious tears started to well up inside her. She bit the bullet. She wasn’t going to sit here and fall apart. She wanted to be cool, casual. She should go, anywhere.

  “Natalia,” he began.

  “What, David?” she interrupted him. Her voice was angry and sputtering, but better angry than sad was all she could think. Anything was better than sobbing. “What can you have to say to me?”

  “I understand that you’re mad,” he said, soothingly, as if she were a hysterical child, and she almost suffocated as her rage completely exploded. So, he understood—well, how goddamned fucking underst
anding of him! Natalia clenched her fists and then stretched her fingers out again, inhaled, gathered the strength she had always been able to rely on, which had carried her through her childhood and her adult life, summoned up every last bit of reserve she possessed. Her heart was pounding so hard it hurt. And then she did something she’d never done before. Something she used to be proud that she’d never stooped to: she laid into him. She struck and wounded him where it would hurt the most, on purpose.

  “No, I’m not that mad,” she began, hearing through the roaring in her ears that she sounded downright calm even though she wasn’t calm, even though she wanted to wound him and injure him. “Why should I be? You know where I come from. People like me might slum around with the dregs for a while, but I can honestly say that it didn’t mean any more to me than it did to you.”

  She brushed a crumb off her arm and gave him a chilly, patrician look directly copied from every single aristocrat she’d ever met. “Sleeping with you was a nice change, I agree. But honestly, David, after a bit it got to be a little, well, how can I put this, a little wearing for me. I couldn’t have put up with all that for much longer anyway.”

  Even before the last words had left her mouth, she knew she’d gone too far. The lie was so big, the implications so ugly. As if he was dirty, as if she’d felt revulsion.

  David’s face hardened. “Well, if that’s how you . . . ,” he began. She saw that the words stuck in his throat. She’d never seen him angry before, not like this.

  “David, I . . . ,” she began, because she already regretted it. It was beneath her to lie and belittle him. “I shouldn’t have . . . ,” she said, but David seemed to have stopped listening. His whole face had actually changed. He furrowed his brow. Turmoil and attention made those harsh features even harder, and he was focusing on something that didn’t have anything to do with her, but with something behind her. Reflexively, Natalia turned around. David got up off the bench, and she felt the turmoil that enveloped him now. And then without any doubt at all, Natalia saw what, or rather who, had made him react so powerfully.