“Yes.”
“What did the two of you do then, Amina? After Chris picked you up in his car?”
“We drove out to the sea. I don’t know exactly what the place is called. But you could see Barseb?ck from there, anyway. The nuclear power plant. We sat on a grassy hill and Chris had brought a basket with wine and bread and a bunch of cheeses.”
Amina falls silent.
“Go on,” says the prosecutor.
“We ate and drank the wine. We watched the sunset and then…”
Amina loses herself again. A journalist in the row ahead of me drops their pen and the whole courtroom hears it land on the floor. Stella whirls around and stares. She looks straight at me, her eyes black.
“Then what?” Jansdotter says. “What happened next?”
I watch as Michael places a reassuring hand on Stella’s arm.
“Then he kissed me.” Amina gulps. “We kissed.”
100
The chance to work with Michael Blomberg was a dream. One of the country’s most prominent defense attorneys. I knew it would involve a lot of business trips and nights in hotels, but Adam supported me wholeheartedly and it was a chance I couldn’t pass up.
What would have happened if I’d declined Michael’s offer? I know there’s no point in such thoughts, but it’s hard to stop myself from wondering.
As Amina talks about Christopher Olsen in the courtroom—how she couldn’t resist him, how she was swept up and felt like she was falling for him, even though in reality something totally different was going on—it’s hard not to relate.
Maybe sometimes all it takes to believe you’re in love is being appreciated and valued. Being seen for who you are, admired for your existence rather than your actions. That’s exactly what made me fall for Adam. His natural way of looking beyond my accomplishments. The way he captured my soul with his gaze.
Fifteen years later, Michael Blomberg did the same thing.
* * *
My relationship with Michael went hand in hand with my increasing inability to deal with Adam. The man I had once fallen for, the romantic idealist with a heart the size of a star and eyes full of nuance no longer seemed to exist. I hadn’t been present enough to know how it had happened, but Adam had gradually developed a neurotic temperament that was well on its way to turning into a manic need for control.
Adam had imagined an entirely different life for himself than what he was now stuck with. The images he had created of his future and his family were diametrically opposed to reality, and his increasing need for control was, in that sense, nothing more than a desperate but potent method of maintaining his dream of the life he had pictured for himself. But just because I understood what had happened didn’t mean I had any intention of accepting it.
Adam crossed the line one night when he forced his way into Stella’s room after smelling smoke through the door. I had just flown in from Bromma on the last flight of the day, and I landed in our kitchen around midnight, a total wreck.
“You have to let Stella make her own mistakes. Weren’t you ever a teenager? You are violating her privacy.”
Adam was pacing back and forth, muttering in despair. When I saw him in that state, I made up my mind.
“I love you,” I said, putting my arms around his neck. “I’m going to spend more time at home with both of you.”
“I’m sorry,” said Adam. “It’s all my fault. You don’t have to…”
I battled back my guilt.
“I’ve been working too much,” I said, promising to decrease my hours. “There are things I can take care of from home.”
“I have to try to calm down,” Adam said. “To talk to Stella without losing my temper.”
“Count to ten first.”
He smiled and we kissed.
* * *
On Monday I sat down with my phone as soon as Adam had left for work. Naturally, I was flattered by Michael’s attention, but I had never fooled myself into thinking that it would lead to anything but brief moments of self-fulfillment. I knew Michael well enough to understand that we would hardly have a future together, or even anything exclusive.
He sounded neither surprised nor disappointed when I called to tell him that from that point on, our relationship must be kept strictly professional. I have to confess that my heart ached when he ended both the conversation and the relationship with the phrase “no problem.”
As I hung up, I collapsed on the kitchen table. A dam was crumbling down. My tears were a cleansing bath as the drawn-out tension was finally released. I never noticed Stella walking in. Suddenly I just felt her hand on my shoulder.