A Nearly Normal Family(89)

“My dad didn’t want to raise me. He wanted to create me, as if he was God himself. He wanted me to be exactly like him. No, wait, he wanted me to be the way he imagined a daughter of his would be. And when it didn’t turn out that way…”

That’s all I can manage. My voice gives out and fades away.

“I actually don’t believe that your dad would lie about just anything to protect himself or his family’s reputation.”

I turn away from her. What the hell does Shirine know about my father?

“Then why is he doing it?”

“Because it’s what dads do. Because he loves you.”

I won’t look at her. I want to say something mean, something hurtful, something to poke a hole in this sentimental mood, but I can’t muster a single word.

“It’s going to be okay, Stella.”

I feel her gentle hand on my arm and all I want is for her to leave.

“Hey,” she whispers.

The tears make my eyes overflow. Jesus, just go!

She slowly strokes my back. It makes me feel safe and hopeful, but at the same time I know she’s about to leave me. Soon she’ll be sitting on a lounge chair by the pool on some Canary Island, tickling little Lovisa until her sides split.

I shove her hand away without meeting her gaze.

“I have to go now,” Shirine says.

I still have my back to her.

“I really have to go now, Stella.”

“Okay.”

I turn around and see her at the door. She’s peering back over her shoulder and shifting slowly back and forth from foot to foot.

“Okay,” I say again.

Then I take two steps forward and put my arms around her neck.

I’m crying again. Letting everything pour out of me.

Shirine hugs me hard, for a long time.

“Good luck now,” she whispers.

I don’t respond. I have no voice.





81


I straddled my bike in the alley by the deli. It had gone too far. Too damn far. Linda Lokind was still following me, even though I’d broken up with Chris. Cautiously I peered over to the bus stop, but I couldn’t see her anywhere.

I shook off a shudder, took out my phone, and called Amina. When she didn’t answer, I tried text, Messenger, and Snapchat, but it was radio silence everywhere.

Each noise and movement made me twist my body. My heart was pounding. I felt hunted, and I didn’t want to be alone.

As I quickly led my bike toward the cathedral, I weighed my options. Obviously I could rejoin my coworkers at Stortorget. I wouldn’t need to say why I was back, and it would still make me feel safer to sit with them for a while.

Or else I could bike home. The downside to that was, it would take at least fifteen minutes. It was getting dark and the streets were empty. I needed people around.

I checked my phone again. Amina was offline everywhere. She was probably sleeping.

Someone else?

There, among the little profile pictures across the top of Messenger, I caught sight of his face. His big smile and diamond eyes. A green dot glowed in front of his name. Online. I had forgotten to remove Chris from Messenger.

Shit! I had decided to forget him, delete him from my life, but now that I thought about it Chris seemed like the best option after all. He knew Linda. Maybe he could explain that there was nothing between us anymore. Maybe he could convince her to leave me alone. If there was anyone who could calm me down, it was Chris.

I looked at his picture again, and in that moment I realized how much I missed him. Tears burned behind my eyes as I headed into Lundag?rd Park.

Here and there a bike skidded past on the gravel paths, and an older lady was dragging her scraggly dachshund around by the statue of Tegnér, but for the most part everything was quiet and still.

What should I do?

I called Amina again. Still no answer.

I made a hasty decision and messaged Chris.

Are you there?

I stared down at the screen, but nothing happened. Several times I spun around to look over my shoulder, thinking I’d heard footsteps, seeing glowing eyes in the bushes.

Still no response on Messenger.

I looked up Chris’s number and sent a text. I waited five minutes, then called multiple times in a row. Nothing.

What was I going to do?

I parked my bike outside Tegnérs and sent even more messages, to both Chris and Amina. I wrote in all caps that they had to get back to me ASAP. It was important.

I headed into the club to hide in the crowd. After dashing around aimlessly, in the hopes of finding a familiar face to take my mind off Linda Lokind, I stood at the bar sipping at a pear cider and checking my phone at least ten times a minute. Still nothing.

People were giving me strange looks. A guy with Ronaldo hair attempted to flirt out of habit, but I waved him off like a gnat. I surfed the net for a while and texted Amina for the eleventh time.

When I came back out, the darkness was just about impenetrable. I got on my bike and pedaled through the park, swerving around a puddle and nearly crashing into two rivet-studded dudes who asked if I had a light. I didn’t respond, just looked around in the dark and decided to bike home. Just as I took a right onto Kyrkogatan, I glanced over my shoulder, wobbled, and almost toppled over.

Linda Lokind was standing across the intersection, looking like a ghost in the dull yellow umbrella of light cast by the streetlamp. Both hands were shoved into her pockets, and she was staring at nothing.