‘Yeah. Think about it. We’re sitting here, warm, dry, with a view of the sea, and for the first time today the sun’s coming out.’ I look at her expectantly, but she still doesn’t seem to get it. ‘Nothing’s on fire, nothing’s collapsing, no one’s screaming for help.’
She grunts her agreement, her expression turning thoughtful.
‘This right here is a damn good moment.’ I don’t really know why, but I lean toward her. ‘If I were busy making plans, I would have missed it. Just like you just did.’ Just like she seems to miss an awful lot, awfully often. Everything that’s fun, that makes you happy, that gives you the feeling of being alive.
Lost in thought, she turns back to the world outside the window. For a while, she silently watches the seagulls that seem to circle weightlessly above the harbor. ‘Yeah, I guess I did,’ she says then, without taking her eyes off the view.
A gentle smile plays around her lips, her features are soft, her breathing flows easily. Seeing her like this makes a warm feeling rise in me.
And all at once, I don’t want anything more than to put my arm around her and look out into the world with her, where the sun is fighting for more and more space in the sky and making everything glow.
To hold her, just a little, to hold on to this moment in which everything is good for both of us.
A few seconds of happiness.
Without thinking, I move closer to her.
A fraction of a second later, the ringing of my phone shatters this strange mood that has just built up between us. Like a sudden downpour that abruptly ends a summer’s day. I flinchand pull back. Still slightly disoriented, I take the phone out of the breast pocket of my jacket.
Mom.
Again.
I decline the call.
Nyla spears a cherry tomato with her fork. ‘Aren’t you going to answer?’
‘It’s not important,’ I say, turning back to my sandwich. But before I can take a bite, my phone rings again.
Mom again.
‘That sounds urgent.’ Nyla nods toward the phone, her expression worried again.
I mute the call and place the phone face down on the counter. ‘It definitely isn’t,’ I say, even though of course I can’t know that. On the contrary, Mom has been trying to reach me for days. She’s never this persistent, and still… I don’t want to pick up.
The phone has hardly stopped ringing when it starts again. Everything inside me tightens, and more than anything I wish I could relive that moment with Nyla from before. That instant when nothing else mattered but what we saw, smelled, felt, and tasted.
Nyla raises her eyebrows in challenge. ‘What’s wrong, you superhero? Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a phone call?’
‘Never,’ I insist.
‘Hm, that’s not what it looks like.’ There’s a curious sparkle in her eyes.
Damn.
Any second now she’s going to ask what’s going on—and that could end even worse than her finding out what Mom wants.
‘Okay, what …’
I quickly raise my hand to stop her. Then I suck in a sharp breath and, with no other choice, reach for the damn phone.
Chapter Fifteen
NYLA
His shoulders look tense, and his movements, as he now heads for the door leading out to the cafeteria terrace, are stiff. He’s clutching his phone in a tight grip.
Through the glass front I watch him step outside and slam the door shut behind him. He’s trying to breathe, but he can’t.
