Veronica’s voice dropped at these two words, as if she felt the weight of my worries through the phone connection.
“We’re at the end of the trip now,” I added quietly, “and we need to decide what to do next.”
“So why are you calling me? You know I’m just going to talk you into coming here to hang out with me, even if it means pretending to lust after some muscle-head hockey player.”
I laughed. “Yeah, about that hockey player…”
“Oooo,Carolita, I can hear it in your voice. This isn’t just a fling anymore.”
“Even at the beginning, it didn’t feel like a fling.”
“But… this isn’t what you want?”
I shook my head. “I’m so into him I can’t think straight. I didn’t want it to happen this way.”
“You mean in the hot-rich-hockey-player-sweeps-you-off-your feet way? You sure know how to see the glass half empty,chica.” Veronica snorted.
“It’s one of many talents,” I said, smiling a little.
The line went silent.
“I don’t think it’s going to work,” I finally said. “I’m thinking about taking a job in New Hampshire. He might be able to play for the Red Wings for another year, but I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want to stay in Detroit. And even if he stays, he freezes up every time I talk about traveling for jobs.”
“Is Detroit really what you want? To be back where you started, near your parents and Brad and that mall photo place? Everything the same but with Niklas with you?”
“When you put it like that, it sounds so appealing,” I said dryly.
“When the alternative is living a floor above me? You should know what I’d say to that,” said Veronica. “What’s the problem? Too much sex? First class service not living up to your expectations?”
“Stop it,” I laughed.
“Seriously, what is it,Carolita?” asked Veronica.
“Don’t I need more reasons than just a guy to move to a foreign country, where I don’t speak the language, have no job and no friends except you?”
“With a guy who looks like that, I’m not sure you need more reasons,” snorted Veronica. Her voice softened. “You could just try it out for a while, you know.”
“Niklas wants more than that.”
“Marriage?”
I sighed. “He doesn’t believe in marriage.”
“Ahh, Swedes,” laughed Veronica. “They all say that. I’ll never figure this place out. But the guy who doesn’t believe in marriage wants more of a commitment from you?”
“The irony didn’t escape me.” I frowned. “But I think he’s right. If I go to Sweden, I can’t do it halfway. So I guess I called to see what I’d be getting myself into.”
For once, Veronica was silent. When she spoke again, the humor in her voice was gone.
“Honestly, there are a lot of things in Sweden that took a while to get used to,” I said. “It’s hard to meet friends here, and there’s a ‘right’ way to do everything. Even after a few years, I still don’t feel like I really belong.”
“Oh.” This wasn’t sounding like a ringing endorsement.
“And the whole ‘help’ thing you just mentioned? Well, here I’m the ‘dark’ one. I was ‘light-skinned’ back in Mexico, in the U.S. I was ‘brown,’ and now I’m ‘dark.’” She gave a dry laugh. “That kind of thing can mess with you.”
“Is this some kind of reverse psychology to get me to come?”
Veronica laughed, this time for real. “You wanted to know what you’re up against, so I’m telling you. Swedes aren’t known for their warm, open culture, but neither are the French, and that doesn’t stop people from moving to Paris.”
