"I remembered it for the first time tonight," I say.
"You had forgotten?" asks Carl.
"I never remembered. I must have blocked it."
"Was there anything else?"
"My ex-wife. Greta. I was in a way unfaithful to her. We still haven't actually divorced, but it's been more than ten years. She moved back to Sweden. I haven't heard from her since. I don't even know if she's still alive, though I don't see why she wouldn't be, she's not older than me."
Carl is looking at me, as though expecting more. But I'm not telling him. Not right now, maybe not ever. It is now almost completely dark outside.
"Was it a girlfriend?" he asks.
Then it blurts out of my mouth, "Her brother became my lover." he seems calm, blank. Nonplussed. "You don't seem too surprised about this."
"You already know my story. I was a rent boy, remember? Nothing surprises me."
"There was something about the pears that reminded me of her face the last time I saw her. So perfect, white and blank. And there was something so horribly vulnerable there, though she didn't show any emotion. Nothing."
"She was in shock."
"She left without saying anything, No emotion, no scene, no drama, no meltdown. She simply said she was going back to Sweden, and so she went."
"And her brother?"
"He went with her."
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