The All-Night Sun by Diane Zinna

Author:Diane Zinna [Zinna, Diane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2020-07-13T18:30:00+00:00

THE CAMPSITE CAME into view. I wished we were back at the start of our adventure, or even back in that old man’s plain, collapsing room, with time to talk between ourselves. At the mouth of the campground, Siri pointed at a wooden sign. “It’s nearly ten o’clock,” she said. “We are in for the night. After ten there is no readmission, even by way of the pedestrian gate.”

That felt like an announcement of nighttime, of an ending, though the sky was still as light as it had been when we left. She didn’t want me to tell her about my feelings for Magnus. She knew, and she wanted me to know she knew and feel guilty, and that was the end. There would be this long, all-night party with strangers, the time in the car with the girls back to Olofstorp, breakfast at her house—but our time together, alone, our storytelling, word-sharing, whispering time, was done.

We walked toward our plot with our bouquets draped over our arms, the long reeds fanning the ground as we strode along. The place appeared, now, like a military encampment. We passed tiny campfires and rows of overflowing garbage cans. People saw our bundles and called out to us, “Are you going to make crowns?” “Make me a crown!” Beer cans littered the ground.

Siri’s friends seemed jealous that she’d taken me to gather flowers. Siri sat down on the moose-skin blanket and spread the flowers before her. She plaited some stems to form the shape of the crown and wove in flowers until it grew large. The other girls tried to pick up some unused pieces to start their own, but Siri slapped their hands away, saying, “No, these are just for me and Lauren.”

Margareta slinked toward me. “Do you even know what a midsommarkrans is? Or why it is for?”

“Sluta, Margareta!” Siri said.

The girl pursed her lips and fell silent.

“I’m serious. I’m tired of you all being rude to Lauren. Back up!”

They did as they were told and glowered at us from the perimeter of the blanket, scolded into silence. She was back to defending me, and the girls hated that. I hated it. I knew there was something false about it now.

Siri went back to trying to show me how to make the flower crown. I tried to follow her example, but I was conscious of the girls’ silence, and my flowers were falling to pieces. I had collected flowers primarily for their beauty, but Siri had known to choose hardier types. Some people came around to watch Siri finish hers. When she was done, she popped the old man’s pink rose in the center, placed the crown on her blond head, and smiled. It was perfect.

Strangers asked to take pictures with Siri, and she posed with them. Her crown was a hit. I told her she looked like a movie star, and she snapped out her sunglasses and slid them on for effect.

As I pulled my array of broken flowers into a pile in front of me, Viktor came over to us holding clear plastic cups with purple drinks.

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