Gina was at the kitchen table at home, studying. Her father was in the living room playing chess with a friend, as he did every Saturday. Amir was in his room, door closed. Gina could hear the sound of some kind of video game. She couldn’t see the point of playing such games, thought it was a waste of time, but Amir liked them; he could sit there for hours. She brushed aside her worries about her brother, the fact he was always sitting, never leaving his computer, that he had no friends. She had the last exam of the semester next week, a big exam, but she was prepared; she was just going over her notes.

It was a beautiful, crisp Swedish early summer’s day, far removed from her childhood memories, full of burnt tones and damp heat. She had been eleven when her family came to Sweden, but her memories of her childhood were blurry and incoherent. She had always wondered if there might be something wrong with her, because she remembered so little, but then they read about it during a psychiatry class. The way children who experience terrible things repress them. Had her childhood been terrible? Vaguely she could remember smells and sensations. Could sometimes remember the sounds of animals and women’s voices, but nothing else. Except the fear and pain that day. She would never forget that. She listened through the open window. Tensta was like a miniature UN. If she listened closely enough, she could almost make out the dialects of the women laughing down in the yard. She didn’t remember any laughter in her childhood. Had they never laughed, or had she just forgotten it?

She looked at the text she had underlined. She knew it practically by heart already, but she wanted to go over it once more. She always aced her exams, and she considered anything below 100 percent a failure. Her classmates were going out over the weekend; she had heard them talk about it all week. One of them had asked her too—they were always nice like that—but she usually said no. She couldn’t afford it. Neither in terms of time or money. Spending money on things that weren’t absolutely necessary went against her beliefs. Besides, she could use the time to study. That would lead to the future she had made up her mind to achieve, so it wasn’t a sacrifice, not by a long shot.

But sometimes, on days like today, there was a small part of her that just wanted to let loose a little.

“Is it going well?”

Her father had stuck his head through the doorway.

Gina nodded, simultaneously moving her notepad so he wouldn’t see her doodles. She had replayed her conversation with Peter over and over again. He had looked so pained, and she was truly shocked by what he told her. She hadn’t been cleaning while she studied for her finals, so she hadn’t seen him in a few days. She wondered how he was holding up.

Her dad took a jug of juice from the refrigerator. “You should go out for a while,” he said, kissing her head and going back to his chess.

He is right, she thought, as she squinted out at the sunshine. If for no other reason than to get a little vitamin D. Her mind drifted. She didn’t normally have any trouble with her focus, never daydreamed. When others complained that they spent too much time online, in front of the TV, or on their cell phones, she just couldn’t understand it. In her world, there was no room for shortsighted laziness. You made up your mind and there was nothing more to it. She flicked through the old exam she was using to practice, fixed her eyes on it. Ten seconds later her thoughts had drifted again.

She got up and went restlessly over to the window.

“Gina?”

Dad again. She turned around.

“Yes?”

“You got a call.” He held out her cell. She took it with a frown.

“Who is it?” she asked. No one called her, and especially not on the weekend.

But he simply handed her the phone, looked like he wanted to say something, and then shook his head and left the kitchen.

“Hello?” she said cautiously. It was strange how many thoughts managed to rush through her head. Was it someone who was out to harass them? They kept a low profile, and her father was respected out here. But still … This was Tensta. On the other hand, maybe it just was someone who needed last-minute waiting or cleaning staff? Most student receptions were over, but you never knew.

“Hi, Gina. This is Peter.”

“Peter?” She recognized his voice immediately, even though they’d never talked on the phone. “Has something happened?” Strangely enough, her first thought was that it was a weekday and that she’d forgotten to go to work. But why would Peter call her? She didn’t even know he had her number. She had a prepaid phone card, wasn’t registered anywhere.

“Happened?” he said. “Like what?”

“At the office, I mean.” It was an idiotic conclusion, she realized. “I don’t know what I mean. I was just surprised.”

“Is this your number?” he asked. He sounded ill at ease. “Your father answered.…”

Gina smiled.

“It’s my cell phone, but Dad was closest so he answered.” She still didn’t know why Peter had called. They never spoke on the phone. Did he need her to clean for him? There was such a long silence, she wondered whether he had gone. Maybe he had dialed the wrong number. If that was even possible.

“How did you get my number?” she asked.

“From my sister, Natalia.”

Of course.

Extended silence again.

“Where are you?” Gina asked, as Peter said:

“It’s such nice weather out.”

“Yes,” she answered, as he said:

“In the car.”

More silence. But now she could hear the low hum of the Mercedes in the background.

“Are you sure nothing happened?” she asked.

“Gina, I really do understand if you can’t. Or don’t want to. Your father sounded really stern. Plus, I know you want to be with your family. You probably don’t have time. And maybe you hate me after what I told you. You know.”

“I don’t hate you.”

She waited. Her heart had started to beat a little faster.

“Do you want to take a walk with me?” he finally asked.

Although it was the question she had started to hope for, it was so monumental when it finally came that she was silent.

She could explain their previous car journeys as Peter just being kind. Maybe even their late-night meals at the office.

But not this. This was another step. In a new direction. If she answered yes, it meant she was taking a risk. And she hated risks just as much as she hated disappointment.

But then Gina looked out the window again. Saw summer outside. She was focused, knew what she wanted from life, was structured and smart. But she was also a young woman. And she liked Peter. And they needed to talk.

About what he had said. About things.

“Yes,” she said, and she knew that with a single word, they had changed course. But for the first time since Gina had fled her homeland with her father and brother as a petrified child, and then promised herself not only to survive but to never depend on another human being again, regardless of whether they were people smugglers or Swedish immigration authorities, she wanted to do something spontaneous and impulsive and for her own sake. She would do the thing everyone always talked about but she had never tried. She would live in the present.

“Yes, I’d like that. Are you coming to pick me up?”

While Peter had waited for Gina’s reply, he’d hugged the receiver so tightly he had to wipe the sweat from the screen before he could switch it off. He took the headset from his ear and put it down on the passenger seat along with the phone. He breathed a sigh of relief. He had finally dared to call her and she had said yes. He didn’t bother with the AC, just rolled down the window and let the early summer breeze blow in his face. He smiled. Gina had said yes, she didn’t hate him, and they were going to meet. If anyone needed a mountain moved, he felt up to the task right now.

When he pulled up outside her door and stepped out of the car, he saw her walking toward him, saw her through the worn reinforced glass in the door, and was struck by a momentary panic. How should they greet one another? He wished he was brave, but he didn’t dare hug that perfect human.

Gina came out, smiling. Peter shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Is Djurgården okay?”

“Sure.”

Thirty minutes later they parked by the bridge to Djurgården Island and walked along the canal. There were lots of people out, and Peter inevitably bumped into people he knew. Djurgården was, after all, where the upper classes went for a walk. He said hello to a couple. They stopped to talk, shook hands with Gina, gave her curious looks, and walked away, whispering. The same thing was repeated. Over and over and over again. With each time, Gina grew more silent.

“Is something wrong?” he eventually asked.

She shook her head, but her brow was furrowed, concerned.

“Gina?”

She crossed her arms and looked away, toward the treetops. “I’ve lived in Stockholm for over ten years, but this is the first time I’ve been to Djurgården. It’s beautiful, so beautiful.”

“But?”

“I feel wrong. And your friends. I’m sure they’re very nice, but don’t you see the way they look at me? You know, I’ve waited at parties where they were guests. And now they don’t recognize me. I actually think I just want to go home.”

Despair welled up within him. And shame, when he saw her insecurity. He was the one who had exposed her to this. He had wanted to give her a nice day out, but he had failed. She was right, and he was an idiot.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t realize it might be like this. I’m so sorry, Gina.” Peter ran a hand through his hair, felt a tightness in his throat. No matter what he did, it went wrong. He should have foreseen this. Should have protected her, put himself in her shoes.

“It’s not your fault,” she said.

“Please, Gina. Don’t go home.” He was practically begging.

She bit her lip. “Maybe we could go somewhere else?” she suggested hesitantly.

He was so relieved his voice almost shook: “Where do you want to go?”

“If we go back to my place, you’ll feel like just as much of an outsider. What about the other side of the city? To Södermalm?”

“I’ve never been there,” he confessed.

She gave him an amused look. “Then what about a walk in Tanto, the park by the water?”

Peter managed to find Södermalm by following signs and GPS. He parked on a street he had never heard of, and thought that he, in his made-to-measure jacket and neat chinos, would probably feel just as out of place here in Södermalm, with its trendy cafés and carefully styled hipsters, as he would in Gina’s suburb. But the sun was out, none of the Södermalm inhabitants seemed to stare at him, and Gina no longer looked uncomfortable. He felt his mood improving. As they walked down toward the glittering water, and her slender arm brushed against his, he took off his jacket, rolled up his shirtsleeves, and decided to enjoy what was becoming the best Saturday of his life.

“Are you looking forward to your placement?” he asked. In the car, they had talked about the next semester, when Gina would get to work in the hospital.

“They say you feel more like a doctor afterward, so I’m looking forward to that. But I know it’s gonna be really tough.”

He smiled, knowing that she loved a challenge.

“Are you doing anything nice over the summer?” he asked.

Summer had arrived so quickly, he hadn’t planned any vacations, and the thought of not seeing her for months made him ache. And come fall, Gina would be busy with a whole new, intensely focused life.

She shook her head. “I’ll just be at home. I have a little work to do, and I want to save as much money as I can. You know.”

He knew. And though it was deeply selfish of him, he was happy she wouldn’t be disappearing from his life quite yet.

They bought ice-cream cones. She took a long time deciding between flavors, so he chose one of the ones she had been debating, and said jokingly, “If you don’t let me pay, I can’t be responsible for my actions.”

She nodded, regally, that it was fine, this one time, and they sat down on a rock by the water’s edge. Ate their ice creams in silence. Peter never spoke with his mouth full, and Gina sat, straight-backed, her eyes fixed on the water. He was happy, more than happy, just to study her beautiful profile.

“Was yours good?” she asked. He gave her the last of the green ice cream he had chosen for her sake. She ate it with slow, small movements, and he wondered how often she bought ice cream or anything else for herself.

“How’s your brother?” he asked. “Is he doing anything over the summer?”

“No.”

“Do you think the water’s cold?” he asked, quickly changing the subject. He knew there were people for whom summer didn’t mean vacations and relaxation, but he hadn’t ever spent time with someone who genuinely couldn’t afford to do anything over the summer. That wasn’t something he was proud of.

Small children paddled in the water a little way away from them, and a dog swam with a ball in its mouth, but it couldn’t be very warm.

“I don’t know,” she said as she wiped her mouth with a paper napkin. “I never swim.”

“Not even when you were at school?” he asked, astounded. “Over the summer?”

His own summers had been spent on sailing boats in the archipelago and in the Mediterranean. A couple of times, he’d been to the West Indies with friends, spent long weekends in archipelago cottages with his and Louise’s friends. But it was free, wasn’t it, to swim in Sweden? Jesus, suddenly he had no idea.

“I took lessons,” she said quietly. “I couldn’t swim when we got here. Dad was really keen for me and Amir to learn, because he’d read that children drown in Sweden. But I’ve never swum outdoors. In the ocean or lakes or anything like that.” She wrinkled her little nose and said skeptically, “It looks pretty cold. What are you doing?”

“I’m going to go wading,” he said firmly as he took off his shoes and socks and put them down beside the sun-warmed rock. He rolled up his trousers and padded the short distance to the water. He put one foot in. It was ice-cold. Couldn’t be more than about fifty degrees.

“You Swedes and your obsession with water,” Gina said.

“Don’t you want to try? It’s nice after a minute.”

“People always say that. It’s my opinion that people are wrong.”

“Come on. Or are you scared?” he teased, knowing that Gina would never let anyone believe there was anything she wouldn’t dare do.

After a moment’s hesitation, she took off her shoes and bared her delicate feet and painted toenails. She was always so properly dressed, in a monotone skirt and a blouse or, like today, a light dress and canvas shoes, that her pale purple nails seemed like the height of decadence. Peter didn’t want to stare, but she had really nice feet. Dainty and elegant, with slightly paler soles and the most slender ankles he’d ever seen.

He looked away. The rocky ledge they were on wasn’t steep, but he still held a hand out for her as she carefully slid down. Her dress rode up, and she pulled it sharply back down and then took his hand. He held her steady as she tested the water with one foot, felt a pulsing joy from the point where their hands met.

Her grip tightened. “It’s freezing,” she shrieked.

“Come on,” he said with a gesture toward a little pool a short distance away from them. “We’re going over there.”

They ended up with the clear water up to their ankles. Small fish darted around their feet, and he saw her pleased smile.

“I’m used to it now,” she said after a while. “Or maybe I just went numb.”

“I’ll take you swimming sometime,” he said, hoping it was true. Maybe he could invite her entire family. He could borrow a boat. Christ, he could buy a boat and take them into the archipelago.

“I think I’d rather skip that experience,” she muttered. “Can we get out now?”

Peter spread out his jacket on the threadbare grass, which was dotted with picnickers. She sat down close to him, on his jacket, and they let their feet dry in the sunshine. He wished he dared take her hand again, but there was no reason to, so he resisted.

She wiggled her toes. “It’s nicest after,” she said.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

They sat in silence and let the sun dry and warm them.

“What you said last time. About Carolina,” she said quietly as she played with a blade of grass.

Oh, God, here it comes.

“Yes?”

“Is that why you constantly punish yourself?”

“I …” he began, but then stopped, because he had no idea what he was going to say. Was it true? Did he punish himself? And if he did, wasn’t it a legitimate punishment? “I ruined her life,” he said.

Gina gave him a stern look. “But did you, really? Her entire life? Because I’ve met Carolina. And I’ve gotten to know you. Of the two of you, it’s not Carolina who acts like the living dead.”

“It doesn’t feel like I have the right to move on.”

“No. But just because it feels that way doesn’t mean it’s true.”

“How old did you say you were?”

She smiled.

“I should probably go home. I promised to make dinner.”

They got to their feet, gathered their belongings, and started to head back.

They walked along the narrow path next to the water, making small talk.

“Wait,” said Gina. She stopped by a tree, placed one hand on the trunk, and raised her foot to fish a piece of gravel from her shoe. Without thinking, without having planned it, Peter held out a hand to her. He gently grazed her cheek with his knuckles. As light as a sea breeze, fully ready for Gina to let fly at him for doing something he had no right to do. But she didn’t. She lowered her foot, stood up straight, and just gazed at him. Peter took a step toward her, toward the sweet-smelling, straight-backed being who occupied his thoughts so much she was rarely not on his mind, and put one hand on the tree trunk above her head. She was between him and the tree, and her chest was practically touching his when he laid his hand on the gnarled bark. Peter waited, gave her plenty of time to duck out from beneath him if she didn’t want it. But Gina stood still. He leaned in toward her, slowly, and brushed his mouth against hers, light, questioning. She closed her eyes, completely still, her back against the tree and her chin slightly raised. Peter took a chance. He kissed her again, for slightly longer this time. And then again. This time, he lingered against her smooth lips.

I’m kissing Gina.

He parted his lips and moved the tip of his tongue over the seam of her mouth, careful, tentative. She was still completely motionless, her hands at her sides. He deepened the kiss slightly. He heard a sigh come from her lips, and he moved his hand from the tree to her shoulders, gently pulled her toward him. Felt her breasts and mouth push against him. He couldn’t help it, he breathed out and it sounded like a groan, and then she finally kissed him back, a soft, cautious tongue that shyly brushed against his. It was a mutual kiss, the most beautiful, intimate kiss he had ever had. As though kissing Gina meant starting over.

When she pulled away, he let go of her immediately. His heart pounded in his chest, as though he had just sprinted up a steep slope.

“Sorry,” he said.

She touched her mouth with her long, slender fingers, as if she was trying to get a sense of what had just happened.

“Why are you apologizing?”

“I shouldn’t … Do you know how old I am? And your father.”

He was saying all the wrong things, he could hear it himself. But he hadn’t been with a woman since the divorce, and even then, he hadn’t “been” with a woman all that much. Louise had never taken the initiative, and he wasn’t someone who dared to have opinions on whether they would have sex or not. He had carried the absence of physical closeness with him as a punishment he deserved a hundred times over. And now he didn’t know what to do, what he could do.

“I know how old you are,” she said. “You point it out practically every time we meet. But I’m not a kid. It was a really nice kiss.”

He didn’t dare say any more, was afraid he would extinguish that smile, that look. He gripped his jacket in his hand and held out the other toward her. When she took it, they walked hand in hand alongside the glittering water, and Peter felt something he hadn’t felt in many years.

He felt as though even he had a right to be happy.