Page 63

June 30, 2019

She lands again in the morning, only this time, it’s to the phosphorescent glow of daylight. It’s early, but the sun’s up high in the sky. Agnes takes her time on the highway, slow and careful, driving mostly one-handed. The stitches in her palm have long been removed and the scars themselves are fading into white lines, but she still struggles with the grip. The nerve pain when she puts pressure on that palm sometimes leaves her breathless. She loves this hand, though, sometimes even catches herself admiring the crisscrossing lines on her skin.

She leans into the turns of the road, guiding the car through the many roundabouts. She’ll meet Lilja in Reykjavík. Outside her new apartment. It’s small—really small—and it’s in the basement of an apartment building with only a couple of windows at ground-level to let in light, but she’s here. It’s taken months to get to this point, to apply, interview, and accept the remote position at her old job, to file the appropriate paperwork, to let her leg waste away again while the joints started to heal, then to build the muscles back up. Nora put her in touch with a lawyer who’s helped her with the visa application. Ongoing, but hopeful.

Despite months of treatment, Agnes still misses the pills. The taste of them. The comfort they’d once given her. But she can’t take them, not anymore. Maybe soon, the cravings will release their hold on her.

She follows the signs to downtown Reykjavík. She’s spent so much time staring at the map of the city, she’s memorized the rest of the way, the turns and the unpronounceable street names.

And then there she is. Lilja, short hair fluttering in the summer breeze. Standing in front of the apartment building. She lifts a hand when she spots Agnes through the windshield.

“H?!” she hears Lilja shout. “Welcome home.”

Agnes reaches her scarred hand toward the glass, toward Lilja beyond.

Hi .