“No,” I wail. “He’s calling me.”
“What?” She stares at the phone in her hands. “How is this happening?”
“They added calling to the messaging platform recently.” I take the phone from her. “So guests can reach hosts quickly in an emergency…Oh shit, Maya. I don’t know what to do. He can see I’m online.”
Maya snatches the phone back and answers it. I feel like I might be sick.
“Hi,” she says. Her voice is not entirely steady. “Sorry, that was an error, my apologies…”
At first I hear nothing. Then, after what feels like an age, Johan’s voice says, “Maya?Is that you?”
My heart seems to stop at this point. Maya’s velvety voice has always been impossible to mistake.
“…No?” she tries. “Well, yes. Sorry, Johan. Please don’t blame this on Carrie. I had a couple of cocktails, and I was looking at your cabin…”
I want the world to end.
“Maya,” he says. “Wow. This is a surprise. Are you with Carrie?”
“Yes,” she mutters. “I’m so sorry. I’m a bit drunk. But, for the record, I’m so, so happy you got out of prison. I hear it’s a miracle to get a royal pardon. But I’ll stop talking now. Sorry. Bye.”
And then she hands the phone to me. Just gives me the phone, with Johan at the other end, as if this is my problem.
Terrified, I put the phone to my ear. He’s laughing. Not belly laughing, just chuckling quietly. It’s as if he’s right here next to me, mouth near my ear.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, because there is absolutely no hope of styling this out. “I had no idea. I was making toast…”
“It’s not a problem.” There’s something about his tone that makes me think he may have had a few drinks, too. “I’m out. And there was no way I believed you wanted to rent my cabin. So I thought, fuck it, I’ll call.” I hear him smile. “Anyway. Hello, Carrie Cole.”
I can’t process this. I can’t process being in Stockholm, on the phone to Johan, everyone with alcohol in their system.
“It won’t happen again,” I say.
“No, it won’t,” Maya calls. “I’m really sorry. Just a bit carried away by being here in your city.”
After a long pause, Johan says, “In my city? Carrie, what does she mean?”
It’s unbearable. Just for a moment, I hate my sister even more than she hates herself.
“Yes,” I sigh. “I’m in Stockholm again. It’s a work thing. Obviously I had no intention of getting in touch. I can’t apologize enough.”
“OK…?”
I don’t know what to say, so I remain silent.
“Am I allowed to know what the work thing is?” he asks. His voice moves cautiously across this new landscape, its crevasses and buried explosives.
I take my phone to the tiny, uncomfortable sofa. Maya is cramming buttered toast into her mouth, ashamed yet enthralled.
I turn away from her. “I’m shadowing Yanika. She works at Karolinska Hospital. I…it’s a long story, but I quit surgery a few years ago, and I’m going back. So I came out here for a placement.”
He remains silent. I can hear the distant sound of music; he must be outside a bar.
“Anyway, sorry again. I’ll cancel the booking request and leave you to your evening.”
I hear him exhale. “Was it because of me that you quit surgery?” he asks. “Did you lose your job?”
“No. I had extremely premature twins a few years ago. Nothing to do with you.”
