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I’ve had a long month. My mom would have freaked out if I missed the flight. She is already upset I’m not bringing a man home for Christmas.’ Tristin gave a curt, ‘sorry to spill it all on you,’ smile to the flight attendant, then leaned back and looked out into the dark sky. She soon would be in the cold and snow. ‘Great shoes I have on too,’ she mumbled out loud. Thinking of her own boots and sweater nestled deep in her bag below. After take off, the flight attendant came by as promised. ‘I brought you some Champagne,’ she sweetly said and gave the I completely know nod. ‘Thanks.’ ‘Can I have one too, please.’ The deep gravely voice of the man sitting next to her surprised them both. ‘I’m just going to run to the rest room.’ He rose from his seat. ‘Wait for me, and we can have it together.’ He was standing getting something out of the overhead bin, so Tristin couldn’t see anything but his low slung jeans and tight stomach showing from beneath his raised sweater as he shuffled some. I paged forward, reading the things I’d written about Birgit, then came to the end of that binder. I pulled out the one labeled 79-80, larger than the others, as it contained ‘A4’ paper instead of ‘letter’, and which contained everything I’d written while I was in Sweden. I read the pages about my first meeting with Karin; about my visit to Birgit’s grave and Karin’s attempts to comfort me. I smiled when I read my first memories of Pia, the girl who became my lover for the year in Sweden.I skipped more than a dozen pages that dealt with Becky, her pregnancy, and the abortion, then read a bit here and there, but mostly I skipped ahead to the pages for December of ‘79, when I visited Stockholm. I read my first recollections of that strangest of nights in Stockholm when I’d had Karin in every way possible, imagining that she was her sister. I still felt a twinge of guilt, and wondered if that feeling was responsible for the way I was thinking about Karin. Was it possible that I felt I.
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