As Jörn and I head towards the back courtyard, it escapes my awareness, somehow, until much later —how at ease he walks through the back and towards the house as if he….? uh, well, like I said, it did escape my notice….
and we walk through the back way, where the hedges are shaped like trophies and then past the Grecian statues with ….my thoughts on what he wants to talk to me about —and ….as I recognize dully looking over, at first just two or three, then I realize there are others there….
“could you do the coffee?” Jörn suddenly turns to me. He seems to be guarding my vision to keep me from seeing who else may be among the group
“Jörn—“ I hesitate, while trying to see behind him, “you want —me— to do the coffee —and then what? Tiptoe and leave it twenty yards away?”
He gives me a blank stare, as if he’s lost the plot —and then laughs, but too cool, of course, I see right through it,
“no, I meant I’ll meet you in the kitchen and then I can take it in.”
I head off and find my way to the kitchen, and only about now do I start to wonder about those other things ….
I find I wish I had spoken to Gerald …. and I wish …. there had been a moment alone with Jörn
before having to face the firing squad to …. say things
….because there are these moments I find I am overwhelmed with such a sense…. I feel him within myself ….as I’ve always have ….long before I saw him that day for the first time ….
but I wish he would say…. I want to know what he thinks ….he never says …. he never confirms anything at all ….and then I have felt as if I am out of my mind…. it surly then just must have all been in my own head and so then I must be crazy ….to believe ….there is this —that memory; that life and ….bond there between us…. because so many times it has felt I can feel him when he is not there ….reaching for me ….I feel him in my mind speaking to me just like I know what is behind the awkward silences that sometimes happens because I hear him somehow…. I just wish he would say it out loud and to my face —but he confirms nothing, he says nothing
his silence devastates me
Do I believe him to be the cool spy even when he is off of work? Do I believe him to be the composer/artist and actor of many talents even off the cameras behind his own scenes? Does he ever face himself in the mirror and ask —“did I know her once before? Did I recognize it? Or even —do I feel in a place even deeper than the heart?” But mostly…. does he feel? and ever admit to himself that ….I matter to him? And do I really think he is capable ….of deep emotion? anyway
I stand staring at the French press confused….
….And have to remind myself —why? am I —making coffee….
I fill the giant kettle that weighs a ton and put it to boil, then go in search of coffee….
and then with my back to the room I hear someone open the door as I start to scoop coffee into the glass coffee pot
She says,
“What are you doing?” and I see Stina is walking right to the 19th century antique silver coffee pot and setting it under the space odyssey coffee maker
I want to say the same back to her but then she seems to know what she’s doing, as I see by how she drops in a few pods and presses a button.
So I walk back to the stove and shut it off.
“Walk with me,” she says now
The shock of her statement of demand sets me off balance
She gestures with her head toward the kitchen door that faces the beach
“But the coffee….” I say
“He can get it. You’re not his slave,” she half glares at me in the way to obey her as she glances, imploring, like: out the door and now!
We go the opposite direction of the back courtyard. Instead she leads me to another part of the beach, past the lifeguard post where she spots a bench and motions me there
We sit down
“I don’t want to waste time. So I will be blunt with you,” Stina says in her usual ‘friendly’ way, as I take note with amusement that, today she has pulled her hair back into a severe sweep and is wearing unexpected brightly colored high heels, “what are your plans?” she now asks
“My plans?” I look at her searching for a clue what she means by that
“Yes, for your future. What are they?” and she looks at me frankly
“Why is it your business?” I ask and laugh, “this is not your jurisdiction!”
“No but Jörn is,” she says.
Her eyes go cold
Something shifts somehow. I feel another conversation. So I wait and watch her face
“And by default you are my business,” she says this like a battle strike
“I’m sorry, I’m not quite following you,” I tell her
“I need him back in our country and it seems we have an obstacle in our way. So I want to know what you want, what your plans are —you understand?”
“No—it is still —actually, even more hazy….unless you are talking about a different Jörn, because—in case you haven’t noticed —he does what he does. I’m not your obstacle, he is.”
“Then you are fooling yourself but that is not my business and now let’s try to change the dialogue, I think, yes? I know you are some self claimed starving artist on some hippie mission—what is it? You want to save the earth? We have Greta Thunberg,” and there is a weird pause
and then smiles or maybe it’s indigestion
“Ok. La-di-da,” I say
“What if you had a sudden mystery backer who would fund your project?” she says now
“Is this a joke? You forget Jörn is not short of cash so if it’s a question of me looking for money, don’t you think I could just try asking him if I really wanted to do —what—what do you know about my project anyway? It’s a bit too dry for you as it’s to do with humanity and I don’t get the feeling you have explored the subject—so exactly what are you suggesting?”
“You have too much pride —I don’t think you would ask Jörn. That is why I think you would consider doing this because you would be doing something to earn the cash,” she says
“So you don’t think I have business ethics or personal ethics? Are you asking me to spy on my boyfriend for you to pay me to fund my project?”
“Not spy. Babysit.”
I have to laugh,
“have you met Jörn? Babysit him?”
“Did you know Jörn is now on a mission to go after Retnuh Nivek? Which is putting at risk another operation we now have in place that takes precedents,” she watches my face before she then says, “we could sweeten the deal —as I am aware he has been working on an opera. There is an orchestra I know he wants to play his music because I have heard him mention it. I could arrange their involvement.”
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