Helsinki White

41

Over the next twelve days, we have dinner twice. It was a mistake to try. She didn’t want to be with me. The silence roared.

One day, I get a text message from Saska Lindgren. “They covered up the murder weapon I recovered from Roope Malinen’s summer cottage. He got a free pass.” No surprise.

June twenty-sixth is Midsummer Eve, the third anniversary of Kate and my first meeting. On the twenty-fourth, I text Kate, ask her if she would like to spend our anniversary together. She doesn’t reply.

Except for our two disastrous dinners, I’ve seen no one since I went into self-imposed isolation. I call my brother Timo. He’s having a party. He invited me a while ago, and I ask if I can still come. Sure.

I go, get whacked on Timo’s pontikka, eat grilled sausages. They light the bonfire at midnight. I get a text from Kate. “I miss you.” I don’t think she wants a reply. I put the phone back in my pocket, have a long drink from my glass of pontikka, and watch the flames climb higher.