After a pause I nod, and we turn to look at a room of mostly empty tables. Neither of us wants to commit to the romantic view of the snowy street and the vast silver river beyond; nor to be too close to the bar, where people might hear us.
I point to a table in the middle, facing away from the window. I seat myself with a view of reception, where a coachload of tourists are waiting in line to check in. Johan sits opposite me. His thighs are as long and lean as they always were, and for a moment I permit myself the physical memory of resting my feet on them. He used to pick them up and put them between his legs to warm them.
After a second, as if he’s having this memory, too, he gets back up again. “I’m getting a drink,” he says. “Do you want one?”
I nod, but he walks away before I have time to tell him what I want.
He knows. He hasn’t forgotten.
This angers me somewhat. All these years he’s remembered what I like to drink, yet he hasn’t found it in himself to write me an email?Hey, Carrie. Remember how we were going to spend the rest of our lives together? I thought you’d want to know that I received a royal pardon! I’m free! I hope you’ve been OK!
I don’t look at him while he’s at the bar but I can see him out of the corner of my eye, turning around to check I’m still there every few seconds.
Minutes later, he’s back with a gin and tonic for me and a pint of something pale and wheaty for himself. He sits down slowly and, for the first time, looks at all of me. I wonder if he’s taking in the image of a slightly frumpy mother, now a few months off forty, or scanning a body he once loved.
Or at least he pretended to love. I still don’t know the extent of his double life. How he came to be arrested, if he wasn’t guilty. Who this girlfriend was; why he broke it off with me. I have no idea if anything that passed between us was genuine.
“So you’re here for the conference?” he asks eventually.
“That’s right.” My voice is matter-of-fact. “I have a little Roof property in England. I haven’t done a conference since COVID, so I decided to come. Then I met up with my old clinical supervisor from the Royal London. She works out here.”
“Yanika Hatziz?”
“Yes! Well remembered.”
“Still terrifying?”
“Worse than ever.”
I look away, angry with myself, angrier still with him. I don’t want to sit down and have a cozy catch-up.
I get up and order a glass of red wine. I’ve barely drunk spirits since that one day he was my husband.
“What the actual fuck, Carrie?!” he says when I return. He’s smiling now, properly, and I don’t like it. “I can’t believe this is happening. Are you OK?”
I shrug helplessly. “Are you?”
“My physical health is mostly all right,” he says after a moment’s thought. “I have a lot of digestive problems. I also lost a finger.” He holds up his left hand, and there it is: a proximal amputation, fourth ray. It’s a decent enough job, although his fifth hasn’t been translocated. I suppose that’s to be expected in a prison. I look at the empty space. That was the finger on which he wore a wedding ring for those few hours before they took him away.
I wonder what became of the ring. What he would think if he knew I’d kept mine.
“Mental health is mostly OK, too,” he adds after a moment. “Although it’s taken a lot of work.”
I nod, twisting my drink around and around. Adrenaline has formed a corset around my chest. I try to breathe deeply but not enough is coming in, not enough is going out. His eyes haven’t left mine.
“And you?” he asks after a moment. “Did you…Were you…Oh my God,” he says, blowing out slowly through his mouth. “I can’t…I’m in shock. This is…” He trails off, making a gesture with his hands that may or may not be a volcano exploding. Or perhaps his head.
“I know,” I say, and for a brief moment I allow myself to smile.
He smiles back, right at me. “I just wanted to learn how to use the algorithm pricing,” he says, scratching his head. “I booked at the lastminute—I very nearly didn’t come. The seminar I went to was good, actually, they—”
“Johan.” My smile has gone. “I can’t do small talk. I know you’ve been caught completely unawares, but I can’t and won’t sit here talking about Roof.”
He thinks about this for a moment, then nods. “That’s fair enough. Tell me how you are.”
“Essentially fine. But the past few weeks, since I found you, have been challenging.”
He waits. I think he knows what’s coming.
