MY PHONE RANG. Though I’d switched it to silent, the image of my dad appeared on the screen. It was the first time he’d rung since I abruptly cut him off. Leaving the phone on the table, I said to my mum:
“If you want, I’ll ignore it.”
Answer it. Take the call. I already know what he’s going to say—he’s changed his mind. He no longer intends to remain in Sweden. His bags are packed. He’s ready to drive to the airport. Or he’s there already, ticket in hand.