Page 134 of Crease Collision

A Year Later

The room is dark only because of the blackout curtains. Beside me, Ozzy is still, so I slip from under his arm and get out of bed. I pull on sweatpants and a T-shirt, and since the house is silent, I tiptoe to the front door. My watch shows it isn’t quite seven.

Outside, it’s already bright, not a surprise since it never got dark. The sky is blue and dotted with wispy clouds. As I stretch, I enjoy the cool, fresh air, which carries the scent of pine and petrichor left by last night’s rain. The shore of Lake Hjälmaren, with its sapphire water, is about twenty feet in front of me. Nowhere else I’ve been feels as clean and calm as this place. It reminds me of Ozzy. For a moment, I picture him when he was little, running down to the water and jumping in with a big whoop, meeting the other kids for a day of shenanigans.

A wooden dock stretches out over the lake. I walk to the end and sit, letting my feet hang over the edge near the water. The warm sun feels good as I close my eyes and lift my face to the sky.

This is a different world from New York, not because things are missing, but because of what’s here: the water lapping against the dock, bird calls I don’t recognize, leaves rustling in a soft breeze. For the first time, I understand what tranquility means. For a while, I do nothing but enjoy the silence.

Footsteps pull me out of my head. Ozzy’s here, dressed in a tank top and shorts. He’s pulled his hair into a messy knot, but his eyes are bright, and his smile is warmer than the sun.

“I thought you were asleep,” I tell him.

“Woke up and missed you.” He sits down and blesses me with a kiss.

When he pulls away, we lean against each other and look out at the water.

“I was imagining you as a kid,” I say. “Getting up early and running down here to meet your friends.”

“It happened. Probably about a thousand times.”

“You still see them here?”

“Now and then. We’re all grown and have our own lives, but it’s nice when I run into someone.”

We’re quiet as the sun climbs higher. I love feeling his body move as he breathes, and his little sounds of contentment only add to the peace.

“Breakfast soon. Mamma doesn’t like it when the food gets cold.” His voice breaks the quiet and makes a nearby bird squawk.

We get up and walk hand in hand back to the house. It looks exactly like I pictured a Swedish home next to a lake, with red wood and white trim, surrounded by wildflowers and evergreens.

Inside, the aromas of fresh coffee and baking bread greet us. Anna is at the stove, her blonde hair pulled back in a neat bun, and Fredrik is setting the table on the porch.

“God morgon,” Anna says. “Sleep well?”

Ozzy wraps her in a big hug. “I had a good night, thank you.”

She pulls away from Ozzy and hugs me. “How did you do, Kai?”

“I’m amazed I didn’t sleep all day. It’s so much quieter here than in New York.”

Fredrick calls out from the porch. “Did you get up with him, Oskar?”

“No, I had to go looking. He was already communing with the lake.”

“Is that so?” Anna asks. “There’s something about this lake that calls to people early in the morning.”

We walk outside with her, and she sets a bowl of boiled eggs on the table. The meal is a feast, and I like everything but the caviar in a tube they put on their eggs. When they visited New York, I learned the hard way that a polite, immediate refusal is the safest play.

“We’ve had this house since before Oskar was born,” Fredrik tells me, “but we didn’t bring him here until he was nine months old. He liked it so much he took his first steps right here on the porch.”

“He’s a natural lake-lover then.”

“He is,” Anna agrees.

“Do you remember that, son?” Fredrik asks Ozzy as I pour coffee into my mug. “Your first steps.”

Ozzy laughs. “No, but I remember hearing the story a million times.”