Somewhere in his closet, there’s probably a pair of jeans with a story to tell, but he’ll never know to ask.
“You felt right away that it was something serious?” he asks Kerstin.
“Let me put it this way: Have you ever stumbled onto a restaurant, a little neighborhood place that makes astonishingly good food? And you wonder,How is it possible that this place doesn’t have a line down the block? How does this not have a Michelin star? Why isn’t everyone talking about how great this place is? And at first, you want to bring everyone you know there, to be the person who put it on the map. Then you realize, no, that will only ruin it. You want to keep it to yourself. Maybe take one or two close friends and swear them secrecy. It’s your find. That’s how I felt about Andreas. I couldn’t believe no one else had found him. I couldn’t believe that I hadn’t needed to do anything special to bring him into my life. All I needed to do was show up at the auction that day and recognize him for who he is.”
J writes this down,recognize him for who he is.
“Does she recognize you for who you are?” Kerstin asks.
J isn’t surprised it turns back his way. He almost welcomes it, to finally be talking with someone about what’s going on.
“I think she does,” he answers. “But that might be the problem.”
Kerstin’s phone goes off; the theme toJawsis the ringtone.
“It’s my sister, Elin,” Kerstin says, waiting out the ring. “I’m supposed to meet her soon. She’ll be there tomorrow to perform the ceremony.”
“How many people will be there?”
“You. Me. Andreas. Elin.”
“When he said it was going to be small, I didn’t realize it would bethatsmall.”
“This isn’t about anyone else. It’s about the two of us. His voice, my voice. His ears, my ears. No one else needs to watch over us. Elin makes it legal, but at least blurs the line between government obligation and family tradition. And you bring the spirit of something random, singing our own voices back to us in your song.”
“No pressure,” J jokes. But it’s only a joke because he’s saying it out loud. Heisfeeling pressure.
“I love your songs and my husband-to-be treasures you as a friend. That is the perfect combination.”
“But I think I’ve proven to you already that I’m hardly an expert when it comes to love.”
Kerstin’s phone ringsJawsagain. This time, she picks it up, says she’ll be there in ten minutes, and hangs up. Then she turns back to J.
“I would never trust anyone who claimed to be an expert in love,” she says. “Surely you understand that? Love has more unknowns than knowns, more questions than answers. Why delude yourself into thinking otherwise? It’s the second largest thing we experience, after life itself. There’s no way you’re going to get all of it right. You just have to hope you get enough of it right, with other people who also get enough of it right.”
It’s only when she stands that J realizes she never even took off her coat.
“Andreas has told you where to be?” she asks. “Ramberget at one? Right by Keillers Park. Andreas will send you the coordinates. It’s a nice spot.”
“I’m sure it will be.”
J stands to say goodbye. They hug with the awkwardness of two people who’ve crossed the line from strangers but haven’t yet made it to the territory of friends.
“I hope I gave you enough to work with,” Kerstin says.
J looks at his notebook on the table, and the few lines scribbled within it.
“It’s enough,” he promises.
He runs some errands, but as he does, the song is forming. A number of his thoughts are melding, preparing the words to be there when he reaches for them. There are too many words, and not all of them make sense. But they are being assembled. Dancers at the ready, waiting for the choreographer to show up.
The problem is, when he finally sits down to summon the song, a lot of the dancers end up looking like V. He puts them off by focusing on the chords, the melody. He puts them off by picturing Andreas and Kerstin on a hillside, Kerstin in her scarf. He puts them off by vowing not to call V, not tonight.
Then, nearing midnight New York time, he calls her.
He’s surprised when she picks up, and surprised further when her “hello” seems friendly, when she doesn’t immediately ask him why he’s calling.
His mind cycles through all the things he doesn’t think he can say—I just wanted to hear the sound of your voice, I have been thinking about you all day, I feel it’s time we had a talk but only if that talk leads to us being back together without question.
