I know I can’t influence Stella. She’s eighteen and makes her own decisions. Ulrika once said that love is letting go, letting the person you love fly away, but it often feels as if Stella is just flapping her wings without taking off. I had imagined something different.
No matter how tired I was, I couldn’t fall asleep. I rolled onto my side and checked my phone. I had received a response from Stella.
On my way home now.
* * *
It was five minutes to two when I heard the key in the lock. Ulrika had moved to the very edge of her side of the bed and was facing away from me. I heard Stella padding around downstairs: water running in the bathroom, quick steps into the laundry room, more water running. It felt like an eternity.
At last I heard her footsteps creaking on the stairs. Ulrika gave a start. I bent over to look at her, but it seemed she was still asleep.
I was beset with mixed feelings. On the one hand, I was annoyed that Stella had let me worry; on the other, I was relieved that she had finally returned home.
I got out of bed and opened the bedroom door just as Stella went by in only her underwear, her hair a wet tangle at her nape. Her back was a glowing streak in the dim light as she opened the door to her room.
“Stella?” I said.
Without responding, she slipped through the door and locked it behind her.
“Good night,” I heard from the other side.
“Sleep tight,” I whispered.
My little girl was home.
3
On Saturday morning I slept late. Ulrika was sitting at the breakfast table in her robe and listening to a podcast.
“Morning!”
She pulled her headphones down to hang around her neck.
Although I’d slept in later than usual, I still felt disoriented and spilled some coffee on the morning paper.
“Where’s Stella?”
“At work,” said Ulrika. “She was already gone when I woke up.”
I tried to dry off the paper with a dishrag.
“She must be exhausted,” I said. “She was out half the night.”
Ulrika aimed a smile at me.
“You’re not looking particularly energetic yourself.”
What did she mean by that? She knew I couldn’t sleep when Stella wasn’t home.
We were invited to a late lunch at the home of our friends Dino and Alexandra on Trollebergsv?gen. A late lunch meant alcoholic beverages, so we biked into town. As we reached the Ball House sports center I spotted a police car; fifty meters on, at the roundabout next to Polhem School, were two more. One had its flashing lights on. Three officers were walking briskly up R?dmansgatan.
“Wonder what’s going on,” I said to Ulrika.
We parked our bikes in the courtyard and took the stairs up to the apartment. Alexandra and Dino met us in the hall, where we got past the pleasantries. It had been a long time. How were things?
“Isn’t Amina home?” Ulrika asked.
Alexandra hesitated.
“She was supposed to have a match, but she’s not feeling very well.”
“I don’t understand what it could be,” Dino said. “I can’t recall her ever missing a handball match.”
“It’s probably just a regular old cold,” Alexandra said.
Dino made a face. I was probably the only one who noticed.
“As long as she’s healthy again by the time school starts,” Ulrika said.
“Right, she wouldn’t miss that even if she has a fever of a hundred and four,” Alexandra said.
Ulrika laughed.
“She’s going to make a fantastic doctor. I don’t know anyone as diligent and thorough as Amina.”
Dino puffed up like a peacock.
He had every right to be proud.
“So how’s Stella?” he asked.
It was a perfectly reasonable question, of course. But I think we hesitated to respond for a moment too long.
“Just fine,” I said at last.
Ulrika smiled in agreement. Perhaps that answer wasn’t far from the truth after all. Our daughter had been in a good mood that summer.
* * *
We sat on the glassed-in balcony and enjoyed Dino’s pitas and mini pierogis.
“Did you hear about the murder?” Alexandra asked.
“The murder?”
“Right here, by the Polhem school. They found a body there this morning.”
“The police,” Ulrika said. “That’s why—”
She was interrupted by the squeak of the balcony door. Behind us, Amina peered through the crack, her eyes glassy, washed out and colorless, a shadow.
“Oh sweetie, you look awful,” Ulrika said, with no tact whatsoever.