The Call

“It's been raining. . .dark, uncontrollable. I've been thinking about you—us.”

No.

“It's been raining. Do you know what I mean? You must.”

Terrible.

“It's dark tonight, Erik. It's raining, too. Do you know what I've been thinking about?—Connections. Sorry, I mean grace.”

This isn't working.

“It's been raining, Erik. And you are on my mind. How are you? Is this a silly question?—Oh, I'm sorry.”

The tap is still running, only it is slower this time.

“Hi, Erik. How are you? I hope Stockholm is treating you well. It must be, it is home to your heart. It's been raining here, Erik. It's dark, too. I was looking at the stones in my garden... How–how are you? Erik, it's dark, and there is something lurking—Erik...?”

The tap stops running as a gust of wind blows into the bathroom and the toothbrush falls to the ground.

“Do you remember that day we walked from Archipelago to King's Cross, and you told me to tie my laces three times? Was it raining, Erik? It's raining now, Erik. And you–you are on my mind. I–I just wanted to say hello, and–and I wanted to tell you that the stones in the garden look well. They glisten in the rain, Erik. Do you remember my eyes that night? You said–you said I...”

The Call

Please, God.

“Hello, Erik! It's me! How are you? It's been raining for a few days here in London, on and off. Something like us, right?! Er–Erik, are you there?”

“Please, pick up. Please, pick u—Oh, hi! I almost hung up. How are things? It was raining earlier, and I remembered how much you loved walking with me in the rain. Are you well, darling?”

There appears to be a crack in the mirror.

“Oh, Erik. Please, don't hang up. I just–I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday. Hope Alberta and the kids are well? I was just–are you alone? I was just thinking about the day we walked to King's Cross from Archipelago and–and when we stopped in front of the Church grounds. Do you remember, dear? It had rained earlier and you sat me gently on the steps and stroked my hair. Do you remember, dear? I was crying—because you...you were going back to your wife. How is she, dear? Does she do that thing with sushi, the–the way I do? You always loved it. You made that joke about a double meal of sushi. Help me, Erik. Ple—”

In the mirror was a reflection of a woman, unkempt, scarred.

The phone was ringing, and then it stopped.

“Hello—hello, Paula, is that you? I can't hear you, darling. Do speak up. Is there a tap running or something? Oh, are you in the rain, darling?”

She lay bleeding, unconscious.