“I got fines,” I said. “And the insurance premium is going up.”
“It’ll be okay, Stella. It’s just money. The important thing is that you and Amina are okay.”
“But you don’t get it. For years I’ve been dreaming of this trip to Asia. It’s been my main goal. I’ve been saving and saving.”
The line crackled. Chris fell silent.
“And now I can’t afford it,” I sobbed.
“It’s going to be okay, Stella. Of course you’ll make it to Asia.”
67
“It feels like I don’t have anything to look forward to anymore.”
Amina thought I was exaggerating, of course. She scrunched up her nose at me from across the table.
“Stop being such a drama queen.”
She had just finished practice and we were in the café at the arena, surrounded by sweat and the smell of coffee.
“Easy for you to say. You’ve, like, always known what you’re going to do. Medical school, marriage, two kids, a house in St?ngby, a summer home in Bosnia.”
“That sounds so freaking boring.”
We both laughed, and Amina sucked up her protein shake.
“I’ve been looking forward to getting away for so long.”
“I know,” said Amina. “But you can still go. Worst-case scenario, you have to postpone it a few months.”
I gave a heavy sigh. A few months? She made it sound like life lasts a whole damn eternity.
“I’m so tired of how nothing ever happens! Is this just how it’s going to be now? Fifty years of gloom, and then you die?”
“Fifty?” Amina shook her head. “You should probably count on another sixty or seventy.”
“Sigh,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Although my parents seem to have a better time the older they get. It’s like a totally different vibe at home.”
“I’ve always liked your parents.”
I suppose she thought she knew everything. Didn’t Amina realize she’d never been let into the inner core of our family?
“Next week Mom and Dad are going on a couple’s getaway,” I said. “They rented a cabin on Orust.”
“Ooh, so romantic.”
“You have to come keep me company.”
“What about Chris?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I said, running my hands through my hair. “I really just want to get out of here, go on my trip.”
“You will,” Amina said, smiling. “Sooner or later.”
She absently said hello to a passing teammate. Then she stood up and aimed her empty bottle at the closest trash can.
“It seems so easy to be you,” I said.
She looked at me like she wanted to kick me in the crotch.
* * *
For once Dad didn’t make Italian food for dinner. Mom was shooting these little loving glances across the table, and Dad kept smiling. Once we were done eating he wanted to show me something on the computer.
“Your birthday’s coming up.”
He had found a pink Vespa. Pretty fucking cool, but it cost a shit-ton of money.
“So you won’t have to borrow the car,” he said.
“But Dad, thirty thousand! That’s so much money. I told you, all I want is cash for my trip.”
He stared at the screen.
“We’ll see. I like this one.”
“But you’re not the one having a birthday,” I said.
I spent the rest of the evening between Mom and Dad on the sofa. There was a harmonious energy between them. An unusual calm. We didn’t talk much, but we didn’t need to. I felt secure.
I sank into the sofa and rested my eyes. When I woke up, it was past midnight. Dad was snoring with his mouth open and his cheek resting on a book. Mom was in the other corner, her knees drawn up, tears on her face.
“What happened?” I asked drowsily.
“The dog…，” she said, pointing at the TV. “The dog died.”
I patted her shoulder.
“Mom, Hollywood always kills the dog. Haven’t you learned?”
I dug out my phone from under the pillows.
Four missed calls from Chris. One new text.
I opened the message and found it had been sent from a number that wasn’t stored in my contacts.
I’m sure he’s being wonderful to you right now. He was to me too, at first. It took two years for me to figure out who he really was. I don’t want you to make the same mistake as me. Be careful.
For God’s sake. Was Linda so disturbed that she still hadn’t gotten over Chris? Was she trying to control who he spent time with? To destroy everything that might make him happy?