28

“Congratulations,” Carmen quipped happily.

Nicolai put the suitcase down on the floor.

“For what?”

“We’re here,” Carmen said, “and you survived. All the bones in your body are intact; all your teeth are still there. It’s great. Your heart is beating at the normal rate, and we’re standing here and we’re alive. Do you think we’ll get back in one piece as well?”

He didn’t answer. He wasn’t scared of flying, despite his parents’ fatal accident. He was just realistic — at least, that’s how he saw it. Hotel San Rafael was an apartment hotel that was only about seven hundred feet from the long white beaches in Alcúdia. They had checked in and each been given a key card, and then taken the elevator up to the third floor. Carmen went in first and was over the moon about everything, especially the balcony that overlooked the Mediterranean and the big bedroom. And another room with a living area and a kitchen. There was a welcome basket on the counter with biscuits, grapes and wine, chocolate and nuts. Everything was clean and tidy, and the temperature was pleasant and cool. The air conditioning hummed faintly in the background. They went out onto the balcony. The Mediterranean glittered blue, and they could see a few boats far out on the horizon, some of them with full white sails.

“Nice,” Nicolai said quietly. He leaned against the railing and looked down at the hotel garden. Carmen nodded happily. She slipped her arm around his waist and gave him an affectionate hug, wanting to be good and kind and patient for the whole week.

“We’ll have some good days here, just you and me. Like it was before. I mean, before Tommy.”

“But I don’t miss the time before Tommy,” he said. “Nothing happened in the time before Tommy. The time before Tommy just wasn’t exciting.”

“So I didn’t make you happy,” Carmen said, wounded. “Maybe you should have brought one of your old bikes with you instead,” she teased. “Then you could have fiddled around with it out here on the balcony. Would you have been happier then, with an oilcan and overalls?”

“Yes,” he said with a sad smile. “There’s nothing like an old bike. Making everything work and turn.”

She went back in and put the suitcase on the bed. She opened it and took out her clothes and hung them in the wardrobe. They had not packed much. If the suitcase was heavy, it was thanks to Carmen’s toiletries. He never got used to the arsenal of bottles and pots. And she had of course brought her diary with her. She wanted to write in it every single day, so she could remember later what the vacation had been like. Nicolai was still sitting out on the balcony. He was curious about what she was writing, but he would never look, even though he had the chance — there was something about reading another person’s diary. He suddenly felt nervous. His heartbeat was uneven and his palms were sweaty. It was like something was going to happen, only he didn’t know what, like a premonition. Like a darkness growing in him that made him feel bleak. It wasn’t just his grief for Tommy; there was something else there now. Something fateful and frightening. Like he was out of orbit and heading straight into the dark. These heavy thoughts made him feel like he was tossing and turning, even though he was sitting in a chair. He got up and went to the living room to find the duty-free bag and the bottle of whiskey. Then he got a glass from the kitchen cupboard. He poured himself a generous dram and went back out onto the balcony.

“You go easy now!” Carmen warned him.

“It’s just one,” Nicolai said testily. “I need it to calm my nerves; I’ve got so much to think about.”

“No more than me,” Carmen retorted. “We’re in the same boat, aren’t we? I just think whiskey’s a bad solution, in the long run, at least.”

“That’s not true,” Nicolai said. “Whiskey is in fact the best solution. Works every time.”

Carmen took a bottle of water from the fridge and went out to keep him company.

“We’ll manage this,” she said with determination. “Listen to me. When the tragedy happened — when you came down to the pond and saw that Tommy was dead — you couldn’t even speak then, couldn’t think. And now we’re having a conversation and soon we’ll go out for some food. Everything passes, you’ll see. And if you want to be in this world, you have to act like the living. It’s an old Native American saying.”

Nicolai drank some whiskey.

“Yes,” he said, after some time. “But I’m not a Native American.”

“No,” Carmen laughed. “But let me pretend that you’re my little Apache. And now you’re fighting for Tommy. I understand that you want to hold on to the grief, but it doesn’t help to wallow in all that suffering. So no more whiskey. Let’s go out and enjoy the warm streets.”

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