“In two weeks.”
“No,” V replies. “That’s not a good idea.”
“It’s not for you. I’ve been asked to sing at a wedding in Brooklyn. Though of course I want to see you as well.”
“Whose wedding?”
“No one you know. It’s a secret wedding.”
“A secret wedding? What does that even mean?”
J has no idea what it means.
“It’s...They want it to be a surprise. Something semi-spontaneous that seems entirely spontaneous. I think at least one of their parents disapproves of the match. So it’s like an elopement, in terms of family. But their friends will be there.”
“You realize you’re not asking me if you should visit—you’re telling me you’re going to visit. I know you mean well, but I also have to point that out to you.”
“I’m sorry. How would you feel about me visiting? If you don’t want to see me, that’s fine. But I hope you will.”
“Of courseI want to see you. How could I not see you? I’m only worried it will make things more confusing. I am trying to get my footing here. And...I’m also enjoying coming home at night and being alone. No,enjoyingisn’t the right word. It feels necessary for me to come home and be alone. My mind needs that space.”
“I don’t need to stay with you,” J proposes. “I can find somewhere else to stay. I know how busy you are.”
Another pause. Then: “If you don’t mind, I think that would make things much easier for me. There is so much going on, I’m not sure two weeks is enough for me to get into the headspace of having you here. I mean, in this apartment. I do appreciate you offering. And if we just see what happens. I don’t want it to become a big deal. Do you understand?”
J says he’ll keep her posted as it develops, no pressure either way.
“I’m not sure there’s such a thing as ‘no pressure’ these days,” V says. “But I suppose without some pressure we’d all just float off, no?” She yawns. “I don’t even know what I’m saying—it’s late, and I am more exhausted than I thought was possible. I just want...I guess I just want you to know I have no idea what I want. If that makes any sense.”
“It’s nice to hear your voice, even if it’s exhausted,” J replies.
V laughs tiredly. “I hear your voice all the time; Thor has you on half the office playlists. I’m almost used to it by now.”
This information is a jolt to J. It has to mean that she hasn’t told her coworkers they’re through...doesn’t it? And what reason would she have to keep such news from them...unless she herself didn’t believe it.
“V, I—”
“No more talking. Really, I need to go to bed. Good luck with Andreas’s wedding. I hope he’s very happy.”
“Goodnight,” J offers.
“You too, darling J,” V says, then disconnects.
It’s time to reckon with the song. He must block out V’s voice—or, more accurately, push it below the surface, since there’s no way to be truly rid of it, not right now. He must forget about the fact that he’s just invented a wedding in New York and will need to find a real wedding to save face. He must forget about V, which really means forgetting about himself.
J finds an instrumental track on his computer and decides to use it as his foundation. He studies the few scribbles he made in the café. He closes his eyes. He walks into the theater. The dancers, too many of them, are waiting for him on the stage...
It is a good thing that Andreas has sent coordinates, because Ramberget is, for all practical purposes, a mountain overlooking Gothenburg, although guidebooks like to call it a “hill,” because that sounds more pastoral, less intimidating.
Andreas and Kerstin have been blessed by a warm, cloudless day. J is less blessed; he thought it would be too childish to text Andreas to ask what to wear, so he is in a suit and tie, carrying a rucksack and his guitar. Already he is hot. He’s misjudged the coordinates and parked in the wrong lot.
To get to the spot where the couple and the officiant wait, J must walk through Keillers Park. From a panoramic perspective, it makes sense for Andreas and Kerstin to have chosen a spot called “the view point” on the east side of the mountain. The problem is that J walks the winding road for minutes without feeling he’s getting much closer to it. By the time he is, in fact, closer, he has sweat through his shirt and into his eyes.
He is fifteen minutes late, but nobody mentions the lateness, or seems to care. He is, by a stretch, the most formally dressed person in their party; Andreas is wearing a loose blue shirt, buttoned at least one station lower than J thought Andreas would go. Kerstin is wearing a white summer dress covered with blue and yellow flowers. Her sister, the officiant, is wearing a red t-shirt, jeans, and sandals.
Undeterred by the sweat or the strain in J’s breathing, Andreas gives him a hearty hug of welcome. Kerstin introduces her sister, Elin, who shakes J’s hand and says, “Shall we?”
There is enough of an outcropping for her to stand with space for Andreas and Kerstin to face each other in front of her, the city and everything around it spreading out at her back. Andreas and Kerstin take each other’s hands.
