‘First we’ll have lunch in the hotel restaurant. The food’s excellent – at least it was when I was here last year. Then I’m going to take you somewhere. To a place that’s very special at this time of year.’
When it’s time for dessert he suddenly gets a mischievous look in his eye, and he excuses himself and goes over to the bar, where he leans over to give something to the man behind it. They exchange a few quiet words, then he returns to the table with a smile.
Suddenly the loudspeaker system begins to echo with the sound of a guitar and snare drum. Sofia recognises the song immediately, but can’t think where she first heard it.
‘Oh my God, Lasse! I love this song … how did you know?’
Then she remembers where she knows the music from.
A year or so ago. It had been in an Asian film she’d watched. She hadn’t been that impressed by the film, but couldn’t forget the song, which had been played over and over again.
By the time she got home she’d already forgotten what the film was called, but she remembers saying to Lasse that there was a song in it she liked. He had laughed at her when she tried to sing it to him, but evidently he had understood exactly what she meant.
‘Who’s singing? This is from that film … but you haven’t even seen it?’
He leans over. ‘No, but I’ve heard you sing it. Let’s drink a toast, then I’ll explain.’
He fills their glasses and goes on. ‘The girl in the song actually comes from the place we’re going to. And the record must have been in the cupboard under the stereo for at least ten years, but you’ve never wanted to listen all the way through on the few occasions you’ve let me play it. Old man’s music, you usually say. This is the last track on the album.’
They drink a toast, then Lasse just sits there quietly in front of her. She waits, deep in thought and listening to the lyrics. And soon she understands.
And the straightest dude I ever knew was standing right for me all the time … Oh, my Coney Island baby, now. I’m a Coney Island baby, now.
She sighs and leans back in her chair with a smile. ‘Coney Island? We’re going to Coney Island? In the middle of winter?’
‘Believe me, it’s a great place,’ he says, looking serious. ‘You’ll love it.’
She strokes the back of his hand. ‘Beaches, carousels, slushy snow, wind, and utterly deserted? Junkies and stray dogs? I’d love that? Who’s this idiot singing, anyway?’
They share a long kiss, then he tells her it’s Lou Reed.
‘Lou Reed? We haven’t got any Lou Reed albums …?’ she says uncertainly.
He smiles. ‘Don’t you remember the cover? Lou Reed in a suit and bow tie, his face half hidden under a black hat?’
She laughs. ‘Lasse, you’re teasing me. I know we haven’t got the album at home. I actually clean that cupboard from time to time, unlike certain other people.’
He looks bewildered. ‘But of course we’ve got the album, haven’t we?’
His doubt amuses her. ‘I’m absolutely certain we haven’t, and you’ve never played it for me. Not that it matters. What you just did makes up for your absent-mindedness.’
‘What I just did?’
‘Yes, getting the song played, silly.’ She laughs again. ‘You remembered that I liked it.’
He looks relieved, and the uncertainty vanishes from his face.
‘Right … Well, drink up, then!’
They clink glasses again, and she thinks about how much she loves him.
When she sang the song for him after she came home from the cinema, he showed no sign of recognising it. But he’d actually been waiting for the right moment to play it for her.
He had waited a whole year for the opportunity, he had waited, and he had remembered.
It’s only a detail, but it’s a detail that she takes very seriously. He cares about her, even if he never says so in so many words.
They spend the last day shopping and relaxing in the hotel room.
Coney Island had been wonderful, just like he’d said.
During the flight home Sofia thinks about how long it had been since they had been able to relax like this. She feels like she’s just rediscovered a Lasse she knew was there, but hasn’t seen for several years.
Suddenly he’s back again, the Lasse she once fell in love with.
But back in Stockholm everything pales. After just a few weeks Sofia realises that, no matter how hard she may want to believe the opposite, he’s always going to pull the rug out from under her.
Just as suddenly as he came back to her, he disappears again.
They’re sitting at the breakfast table reading the paper.
‘Lasse?’
‘Mmm …’ He’s absorbed in his reading.
‘The pregnancy test …’
He doesn’t even look up from the paper.
‘It was negative.’
Now he looks up. Surprised.
‘What?’
‘I’m not pregnant, Lasse.’
He sits in silence for a few seconds. ‘Sorry, I’d forgotten about that …’ He smiles awkwardly and goes back to the paper.
His absent-mindedness is no longer so attractive.
‘Forgotten? You’ve forgotten what we talked about in New York?’
‘No, of course not.’ He looks tired. ‘I’ve just had a lot going on at work. I hardly know what day it is any more.’
The paper rustles.
He looks down at it, but she can see he isn’t reading. His eyes aren’t moving, and they don’t seem to be focused. He sighs and looks even more tired.
Their days in New York are starting to feel like indistinct memories of a dream. His closeness, the understanding between them, the day they spent at Coney Island, it’s all gone.
The dream has been replaced by a grey, predictable daily grind where she and Lasse walk past each other like shadows.
It’s obvious to her that he takes her for granted. And he’s also managed to forget the child they had decided to have together. She can’t understand it.
She can feel that she’s about to explode.
‘By the way, Sofia, there was something,’ he says, finally pushing the newspaper aside. ‘They called from Hamburg to say that things have got snarled up there. They need me to go down, and I couldn’t say no.’
He reaches for the juice, looking at her uncertainly, first pouring some for her, then himself.
‘You know Germans never rest. Not even over the holidays.’
She snaps.
‘For fuck’s sake! You’ve got to be kidding!’ she yells, and throws the newspaper at him. ‘You were away for Midsummer. You were away for Lucia. And now Christmas and New Year as well! This is ridiculous. You’re supposed to be the boss, for God’s sake! Surely there’s some way to delegate your damn work over public holidays?’
‘Please, Sofia, calm down.’
He holds his arms out and shakes his head.
She thinks she can detect a smirk. He doesn’t even take her seriously when she’s angry.
‘It’s not as easy as you’d think. If I turn my back, everything just collapses behind me. OK, the Germans are smart, but they’re not very independent. You know, they like rules and regulations, marching in straight lines.’
He laughs and tries to approach her with a smile. But she’s still furious.