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“So this list,” Sophie mentions. “The one my mother is always talking about…you’ve seen it?”
“The kill list.”
Sophie shrugs. “Sure.”
“No,” he says, glancing at me. “I’m afraid that is all your mother.”
At the counter of a cafe on Rue du Marché in Zurich, I stand in line, waiting to place an order for two coffees and a pastry for Sophie. The line is long, and the doors to the shop open so frequently that the cold air from the street continuously spills in. The line snakes itself around a giant fireplace, which I use to warm my hands.
Outside, it has begun to drizzle. It comes down in waves, the kind of steady downfall you know is bound to turn into heavy rain. Later it will snow. I text Hayley back home. She has a dance recital tomorrow, and Michael’s mother is helping her get ready. I tell her I am sad to miss it. She promises to send a video.
“It’s nice, isn’t it?” the voice in front of me says. I don’t realize at first that he is speaking to me until he repeats a version of the question, and I recognize the accent as decidedly American. “It’s not usually this busy,” he says. “Must be the rain. And the holidays.”
I respond with a tight smile.
“You’re American, also, no?”
Another smile.
“You can always tell.”
“Is that right?”
“Maybe just wishful thinking…makes it feel a little less lonely. Being so far from home.”
“Home is where you make it, I think.”
He seems surprised for a moment, but he doesn’t say anything, and he doesn’t let on why.
“I’m John,” he says, extending his hand.
I know who you are. I smile and place my hand in his. You’re number four on the list. “Olivia.”
Later in his apartment, he builds a fire, and we lay naked, curled in front of it. The flames are warm and inviting, but also dangerous. He nuzzles my ear, and I think of the knife in my purse. The coolness of the blade, the firmness of its handle. It reminds me of him, in a way. Smooth and necessary.
“Can you stay?”
Staring at the fire, I think about his question, about what he is really asking. He is handsome, and a gentleman, and the best lay I’ve had in a very long time. He could be useful, so I say, “For a little while.”
“Do you have a fireplace back home, Olivia?”
“No,” I tell him. “And I’ve missed it my whole life.”
