There wasn’t much to do over the weekend but walk.

Somehow the apartment is more claustrophobic when it’s filled with Anders’ absence than with his presence. Daniel and Tove checked in with me a few times, but I didn’t want to see them, I wanted to be alone, to think and process and try to find my perspective and a way through.

On Saturday, I walked to the park on the cliff, where Anders told me I had sexy toes then broke it to me about what happened at Midsummer. The sky was deep blue, the sun piercing, and I stood at the barrier staring blindly at boats and ships and liners coming and going, willing myself to empty my mind, just for a moment.

My phone rang. A man introduced himself, in English with a clipped, almost British, accent, as Torsten von Rais, and said that he was Anders’ lawyer. Anders had asked him to call me to make sure I knew where he was and that he was okay. Even over the phone there was something immediately reassuring about Torsten, he confidently stated that Anders would be released the next day and that there was nothing to worry about. I asked him for more details on what was going on, he said that even though he knew who I was he had to respect client confidentiality, but he had no doubt that Anders would fill me when he got home. He repeated that there was nothing for me to worry about and that I would see Anders soon, and hung up.

The mindless calm slipped away, and that feeling of being on the outside looking in, being given snippets of second hand information and trying to do a jigsaw puzzle with incomplete pieces, began to steal over me again. I thought about what Tove and Daniel had told me, and I wondered if it was true. Not that they were necessarily lying outright, but how accurate was their memory? I am fuzzy on a lot of the time between dinner and going to bed, and I didn’t drink nearly as much as they did.

When I woke up, I asked where Hanna was because this weird idea burrowed in my brain that something had happened with her and Anders – where did it come from? Was it just that low level insecure paranoia I’ve always had about them, stoked by the gossip SAG told me about their alleged history? Or did I see or hear something while I was half asleep that I unconsciously noted? Tove said Hanna ran after him to apologize. Did she catch him?

Does it matter? He didn’t kill her. Regardless of anything else that happened, I know that.

I felt numb. I was coldly considering whether the love of my life hooked up with another woman, and in that moment caring only whether it would lead the police to think he killed her. Somehow I detached myself from my place in the situation, temporarily removed my girlfriend status so as to look at the possible scenarios dispassionately. I kept thinking that as soon as he was home, as soon as it was all over then we could pick up our lives and deal with what we need to then.

On Sunday Tove called, mad because some of Hanna’s party/scenster friends were organizing a candlelight memorial for her. She ranted that it was cheap and attention seeking, that they were trying to set themselves up as deep, grieving friends when half of them didn’t know her last name, much less who she truly was. She said that she wanted nothing to do with it, and I offered to go. I claimed that it was to kind of represent Anders and her and Daniel without putting any of them through going, but really I wanted a look at Hanna’s friends. I wanted to see if Jenny would be there. Maybe she would talk to me.