Featured Excerpt: The Bachelorette Party by Camilla Sten

PROLOGUE 

May 12, 2012 

The bonfire was starting to die out. It had been a pitiful attempt at a fire to begin with, fueled by optimism and vodka. The few skinny, damp branches they’d managed to find on the island had barely agreed to catch flame after half an hour of gentle coercion at the beginning of the night. 

Not that they had needed a bonfire, anyway. Summer was almost upon them. The sky was still high and blue, the sun hanging low over the horizon, stubbornly refusing to set. The few trees that had managed to defy the odds and maintain their grip on the stony surface of the small island seemed to glow in the soft summer light. 

If only the temperature had been as obliging. This early in the season the ground still held on to the cold, and even though Matilda was sitting on a half-rotten log they’d dragged over to the cliffside, she could still feel the chill emanating from below. 

The fire was tradition, though. No matter how small or pathetic. Everything about the party was tradition. 

Matilda took another sip of her beer. It had gone warm and flat in her hand, the glass clammy against her palm. She was tired enough to feel cold, but too antsy and self-conscious to do anything about it. Wondering if this had been a mistake.

She could have been at home with Carl. They’d have gone to bed by now. Carl wasn’t much for late evenings. He was one of those early risers, the kind of person who liked to get a run in before breakfast and didn’t sleep in even on the weekends. Neat hair, smallish hands, perpetually fresh and organized. So very different from her. He was all logic and rationality, carefully made plans followed to the letter, with contingencies upon contingencies to ensure nothing would go wrong. 

It would have been enough to drive her mad if she hadn’t somehow managed to fall in love with him. One surprisingly successful hungover date, scheduled last minute over Match.com, and two years later they were looking at wedding venues. 

God, if her teenage self could see her now. 

Matilda smiled, small and tight-lipped. 

Something about the trip always made her nostalgic. 

Maybe that was why they kept doing them. Despite everything. 

Over by the dying fire Linnea and Evelina were dancing, hair flying, plastic wineglasses in hand. The small, rounded speaker Linnea had brought for the evening was fighting the good fight, attempting to transcend its physical limitations and fill the night with ’90s nostalgia. 

They had been coming here every May for eleven years now. It sounded to Matilda like an impossibly long time. In her memory, the trips tended to bleed into one another. They had aged, their hairstyles had changed, they’d gone to university and found jobs and rectified youthful mistakes like piercings and boyfriends in bands, but out here on Isle Blind, time seemed to stand still. 

Someone always cried. Someone always threw up. Someone always had a life-changing realization. 

It was here that Anna had come out to them. It was here that Linnea had told them about her dad’s cancer. It was to Isle Blind they’d come when Evelina landed the job in Paris, for one last big hurrah before she left, and it was on Isle Blind they’d seen her again for the first time after she came back home. 

When it started, they had all been teenagers throbbing with angst and sexual frustration. Desperate to feel like their real lives were about to begin. Wanting more than anything a space to call their own, if only for a night. 

Isle Blind had been Anna’s idea. The naked, barren little sliver of land in the Baltic Sea belonged to her parents, as part of the fishing waters her dad had inherited along with the big summerhouse on Harö. According to Anna, her father had looked into building a house on the island but failed to get a permit, and so it wasn’t worth anything to anyone. It wasn’t beautiful enough to be a destination, and the rocky beaches weren’t appealing enough to draw any sailors. Isle Blind had been sitting there, the wilting wallflower of the Baltic, since it rose from the sea a couple of hundred years previously. 

It was theirs for the taking. 

Matilda noticed without much surprise that her beer bottle was empty. She couldn’t remember drinking the last of it. She didn’t particularly want another one but knew that the others would protest if she didn’t have a drink in her hand. She was already far behind Evelina, and Linnea looked to be catching up rather than slowing down. 

The log she was sitting on thumped as Anna sat down next to her, and Matilda started. 

“Where have you been?” Matilda asked. 

Anna handed her another beer, already open. Matilda pretended to take a sip, felt the burn of the bubbles on her lips. 

“Had to take a piss,” Anna said. 

The cold humidity of the archipelago made Anna’s long blond hair hang heavy against her shoulders. Her mascara had smudged a bit, echoing the kohl-heavy look she’d preferred as a teenager, back when Anna had attempted to tattoo “Baby Goth” on the inside of her wrist with a needle and a ballpoint pen, and when Matilda’s preferred choice of jewelry had been safety pins. 

“How are you holding up?” Anna asked her. 

Matilda smiled. 

“Tired,” she said. “I don’t have the stamina I used to.” 

“That’s not what Carl’s made it sound like,” Anna said and pumped her eyebrows at Matilda with a dirty chuckle. 

Matilda rolled her eyes.

“Please,” she said. “Don’t start. We’re old and stale by now. Eleven minutes of missionary twice a week if I’m lucky.” 

It was an old refrain, worn and comfortable. Whichever one of them was in a relationship had to make it out like it was dying on the vine, floundering under the weight of monogamy and routine, so as not to make the other one feel left out. 

Maybe that’s what had made her hang on to Anna, Matilda thought, why she’d put in the effort with her in a way she hadn’t with the other two. Anna was the linchpin that kept them coming back, both to one another and to Isle Blind, even though they’d grown apart over the years. When you were a teenager, all you needed to have in common was time and circumstance. Who could have guessed when they were all running wild and ragged that Linnea would end up gleaming and polished, that Evelina would shoot up and turn out cold and statuesque? Who could have foreseen that Matilda herself would go from an angry little hissing ball of eyeliner and studded jackets to a junior executive with an apartment in central Stockholm where the countertops gleamed and the kitchen chairs cost more than some of her old classmates made in a month? 

Sometimes she wondered what she’d lost, leaving that girl behind. It hadn’t been dramatic. It had been incremental, piece by piece, a haircut here and a blazer there. 

She liked who she was now. She liked her life. Sometimes she even loved it. 

But that untamed quality, that feral lust for something else, something different—that she could miss. 

Sometimes when she couldn’t sleep, she could feel that girl whispering in her ear. Breath hot and ragged. 

You could just leave. Run far, far away and start over. Let it all go. 

And that was the answer, wasn’t it? That was why she kept responding in the affirmative every year when the group chat came back to life in early spring, even as she groaned inwardly at the thought of the long trip out to the cold island. 

The trip was the last thing connecting her to that girl. The girl she’d been.

“How are you feeling?” she asked Anna, suspecting she’d duck and deflect. 

Anna had her gaze fastened on the other two, who were still dancing, albeit slower. 

Evelina wasn’t looking too steady. She must have been drinking more than usual; she had seemed a bit stressed and standoffish all night, but with her job, that was probably to be expected. She’d almost flaked out of the trip this year, citing work, and Matilda was happy she’d managed to convince her otherwise. 

Might be time to pour some chips down her throat to soak up the alcohol. With her running and swimming and biking Evelina didn’t have enough body fat to sustain even mild drunkenness for long. 

“Eh,” Anna said. “Not great.” She shrugged. 

“Thinking about the ex?” Matilda asked. 

Anna shook her head, then sighed. 

“I don’t know,” she said. “Not really. Sigrid was great.” She paused. 

“Is great. She’ll make someone really happy, I’m sure.” There was a bitter twist to her mouth that contradicted her breezy tone. 

“But?” Matilda coaxed. 

She knew you had to be careful with Anna. Her happy-go-lucky, mildly vulgar front was a defense that could easily turn into an offense if she sensed you were trying to pry. 

But on Isle Blind, it was okay to ask. 

It was where they’d come to escape the adults, and the boys, and the girls who didn’t understand. The place where they had been able to drop all pretenses for a while. Where they had been able to stop trying so hard and just exist. 

“It wasn’t Sigrid,” Anna said. “It was the whole thing. You know, my mom thinks I have attachment issues. She offered to pay for a therapist if I want to, and I quote, work out my ‘kinks.’” Anna mimicked her mom’s dry upper-class tone, made air quotes with one hand and put her middle finger up on the other one. 

“I don’t think there’s a therapist on earth who can handle your kinks,” Matilda said, and Anna hooted with laughter. 

“Would you mind repeating that to my mother?”

“I don’t have a death wish,” Matilda replied, and they grew silent. 

“I don’t think I have attachment issues,” Anna eventually said. “I’ve managed to stay attached to you guys, right?” 

Matilda weighed her words carefully. 

“Yeah,” she settled on. “You have. You’ve kept us together.” 

“But?” Anna said. 

Frightfully perceptive, even after having a few. As she always had been. 

“Well, I guess it depends on what you want,” Matilda said. “Friendships and relationships are different, right? I mean, I think I’m pretty good at relationships, but I’m kind of shit at friendships. I do well with acquaintances and work friends. But aside from you guys I’m not sure I have a lot of close friends.” She paused. 

“Maybe I need therapy for bad friend-attachment,” Matilda added. 

“So you’re saying I have crap attachment when it comes to girlfriends?” Anna said, and Matilda groaned. 

“Jesus, Anna, not everything is about you,” she said. 

Anna shot Matilda a shrewd look. Matilda wasn’t quite sure how to interpret it. 

“So,” Anna said, setting her gaze on the dying fire. “When are you going to tell them?” 

Matilda stilled. She suddenly felt acutely aware of the fact that she needed to pee. Or throw up. Possibly both. 

Her mouth felt very dry. Sort of fuzzy, as though she’d been chewing on a ball of cotton. 

“Carl told you?” she asked Anna, who shook her head. 

“Come on, Mattie,” she said, the old nickname fitting snugly in Matilda’s ear. “I knew. You’ve gone all weird and quiet on me lately.” 

Anna still wasn’t looking at her. Matilda could see the fire reflected in her eyes, a mild glow that for a moment seemed to grant her an otherworldly quality. 

“Also,” she added, suddenly snapping out of it and smirking, “I know what alcohol-free beer looks like.” 

She clinked her own bottle against Matilda’s. 

“That was just my final test. You thought I wouldn’t see you fake-sipping?” She laughed, snorting a bit, and the knot in Matilda’s chest loosened. 

“Fuck you,” she said easily, laughing as she rested her head against Anna’s shoulder for a second. 

“How far along are you?” Anna asked her. 

“Nine weeks,” Matilda replied. It felt weird talking about it, oddly forbidden, like she was telling a secret she’d sworn to keep. So far it hadn’t quite felt real. It felt more like a game she was playing with Carl, making lists of names and looking at bigger places, discussing pros and cons of getting married before or after the baby came. 

The baby. What a strange thought. What an odd, foreign thing to imagine. 

“Ah,” Anna said. “So we’re not telling them yet, then?” 

Matilda rolled her eyes. 

“It’s ‘we’ now, is it?” 

“Of course,” Anna said easily. “As resident auntie I naturally get a say in anything to do with my future niece or nephew.” 

“God, you’re impossible,” Matilda said, wanting to say more but falling silent. 

The breeze had picked up in the last few minutes. The sky had gone a couple of shades darker, a mild indigo patterned by the few stars brave enough to pierce through the northern summer sky. When she concentrated, Matilda could hear the soft lapping of the waves against the rocky shore a couple of hundred yards away. 

She wanted to say it. She needed to say it, or she was sure she was going to break; in the last few weeks she had felt the words bubbling under her skin, clawing their way up her throat, had sometimes had to clap her hand over her mouth to prevent them from escaping. 

“I’m not sure about it,” Matilda said, so quietly it was barely louder than the whisper from the waves. 

She fastened her eyes on the fire. It was almost fully out now. Nothing but dying embers under skinny, twisted branches of wet and blackened wood. The mark it left on the cliff would get washed away by the rain within a couple of weeks. 

“Okay,” Anna said, slowly.

Matilda waited for her to continue before she realized that Anna wasn’t going to say anything at all. She was listening. 

“I think I want it,” Matilda said. “It’s the right time.” She paused. 

“Carl really wants it.” 

She almost took a sip from the beer Anna had given her before she remembered and stopped herself. The nonalcoholic ones she’d brought for herself were just a few yards away, but she felt that if she stood up now, broke the spell, she wouldn’t have the guts to try again. She’d just swallow it all down again, keep trying to make it not true, plaster a joyous smile over the cracks. 

“Is it because you’re scared?” Anna asked. “Or because it doesn’t feel right?” 

Matilda shook her head. 

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “I have no idea. I just . . . I thought I’d have more time. It wasn’t like we were trying or anything. I mean, it took my parents two years to get pregnant with my sister! And then four more to have me, even though they started trying again almost immediately. I always assumed I’d be the same. I thought I’d have some time to make up my mind, or get used to the idea, or . . . something.” 

Anna nodded. 

“Of course, Carl would have type A, overachieving super-sperm,” she said. 

Matilda stared at her. Then she burst out laughing, louder than she’d expected, surprising both herself and Anna, who raised her eyebrows before smiling. 

Out of the corner of her eye Matilda saw Evelina look over at them, and she smiled at her, trying to look normal, and drunk, and like they weren’t talking about anything important. Evelina didn’t smile back. She’d never liked being left out of the joke. 

“Are you guys ready to go skinny-dipping yet?” Evelina yelled, louder than necessary. Her face was very red, and very shiny, courtesy of both the alcohol and the joint she’d shared with Anna and Linnea earlier. Her short, caramel-colored hair was hanging frizzy around her face, and she had spilled beer on her sweater. She would have been mortified if she’d known.

“Yeah, let’s do it,” Linnea said, pulling her thick, chestnut curls into a ponytail at the nape of her neck. Matilda had been surprised when she’d seen Linnea had dyed her hair, but it suited her. 

Linnea was just one of those girls. Always had been. Once upon a time, it used to make Matilda feel self-conscious about her own appearance. 

Oh, what the hell. It still made her feel self-conscious. 

“Maybe wait to undress till we’re down by the beach, Evie,” Anna pointed out, and Evelina, who had been in the process of unzipping her hoodie, let go of the zipper. 

“Good point,” Evelina said. “But yeah, let’s go! Before it gets too cold!” 

It was always too cold this time of year. That was sort of the point. But Matilda couldn’t help but smile at her, anyway, at the enthusiasm that was breaking through. 

“You guys go ahead,” she told Evelina and Linnea. “I’ll be right behind you.” 

Evelina and Linnea took off toward the beach, weaving drunkenly over the cliffs between the sparse trees. 

Anna leaned in a little closer to Matilda. 

“Are you okay to go swimming?” she asked quietly. “Or is the embryo going to get freezer burn?” 

Matilda snorted. 

“Dear God, woman, what did they teach you in Sex Ed? No, it’s fine.” She paused. “Actually, I don’t know if I’m allowed to go swimming in cold water or not,” she said. 

Anna smirked. 

“Exactly,” she said. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. You can stay on the shore. We’ll just say you have a cold. I’ll keep them distracted.” 

Matilda smiled. Lopsided and a little wobbly. 

“Thank you,” she said. “We can talk about it more later,” Anna said. “Linnea always passes out first, and Evelina won’t last more than a couple more hours.” She stood up from the log and stretched, her short form elongating against the blue of the sky.

They left their shoes by the fire, walked barefoot down the path that the other two had staked for them. The isle always felt larger at night, as though all the little shadowy crevices in the harsh terrain added some unknown dimension to the rocky surface. Matilda felt herself breathing deeper, smelling the sweet and the salt of the brackish water that surrounded them on all sides, the smoke in her own hair, the nonalcoholic beer on her breath. 

Would they be back here again next year? Or would she be at home, sleep-deprived and hollow-eyed, trying to figure out how to keep a tiny, screaming bundle alive? 

It was so hard to imagine. 

Anna, and Linnea, and Evelina, and Isle Blind; those all felt real, more so, sometimes, than anything else in her life. There was a continuity here that everything else seemed to lack. Something binding her to the past, something she had always assumed would keep on stretching into her future, the thread running through her life. 

Would she have to let go of this? For some new person she’d never met who had the audacity to grow inside her? 

It seemed absurd. 

The shore wasn’t more than a stone’s throw away now, the water glittering softly in the dark. They had anchored the jetty on the other side of the island, but this was the best place to swim, the cliffs sloping gently into the water. 

“What is she doing?” Anna muttered, and Matilda tore herself away from the view of the deep black of the sea, saw Linnea lying on her back on the shore just a couple of feet from the waterline. 

“You were right, she does always pass out first,” Matilda said. 

Anna shook her head. 

“We’ll pour some water on her face,” she said, “that should wake her up enough to get her back to the tent. God, she’s going to snore like a bear tonight. That should be fun.” 

Matilda crouched down by Linnea while Anna stayed a couple of steps behind, looking around. 

“Where’s Evelina? You don’t think she went into the water on her own, do you? I know she’s drunk, but she should know better.”

Matilda was still laughing as she reached over to touch Linnea’s cheek. 

“Hey, Linnea,” Matilda said. She patted her softly on the cheek. “Are you awake? You can’t sleep here, you’re going to get cold.” 

Linnea didn’t respond. 

Matilda’s eyes were registering the details, even as she was rejecting them. The oddness of the way her head was resting against the stone. The very geometry of it was wrong. 

Linnea’s eyes were open, staring up into the sky. They were gleaming but devoid of luster, like shards of glass polished to dullness by the sand. 

Oh, and the stillness of her. That terrible lack of movement. 

Her body reacted before her mind had time to catch up. She felt herself withdrawing her hand, as though she’d been burned. She felt the blood, thick and sticky on her fingertips. She felt her breath catch, as though the air itself had gained mass, lodged itself in her throat. 

Her thoughts grew smaller and seemed to shrink back, make themselves unreachable. 

Linnea had been dancing, just a few minutes ago. She was such a bad dancer. It always made Matilda smile. 

She wanted to say Linnea’s name, but it would not let itself be spoken. The silence was the only thing protecting her against the truth. 

The scream started building in her throat but was cut short by a sudden, horrible gurgling. Matilda grabbed Linnea’s shoulders, leaned down over her, only half aware of the tears streaming soundlessly down her cheeks. 

“Linnea? It’s going to be okay, sweetie, okay, we’re going to call for an ambulance, or an—an ambulance boat, we’ll get you to a hospital, I promise. What happened, did you fall? Did Evelina run to get help?” 

Linnea’s head lolled. Her eyes half closed, only the whites showing. Her lips weren’t moving. 

“Linnea?” 

Still that awful, wet sound. 

But it wasn’t coming from Linnea. 

Matilda raised her eyes to Anna, wanting her to make sense of it, wanting her to take charge, like she always did. Wanting her to already be on her phone, calling for a boat or a helicopter, wanting her to know what to do. To tell Matilda what to do. 

But Anna wasn’t on her phone. Anna wasn’t speaking at all. 

The blade protruding from her throat just under her jaw was thick and flat, almost as wide as her slim, pale neck. The blood was steadily drenching the front of her white T-shirt. The rivulets at the corners of her mouth had already reached her strong, beautiful jawline, dripping down onto those tresses of blond hair. 

How Matilda had coveted that hair when they had been teenagers. 

Matilda knew she had to do something. She should scream, or run. But she just sat there as the black-clad figure behind Anna pulled the knife back, sending her best friend crumpling to the ground. 

Things like this didn’t happen. Not in real life. 

When the figure in black approached, the knife firmly clasped in gloved hand, Matilda sat next to Linnea and looked out at the water. 

She should run. She should scream for her life. She should beg, say she was pregnant, promise not to tell. Do anything and everything to get away. 

Maybe the girl she had once been would have had the strength to do that. 

Instead, she looked out over the water. Feeling her breath coming in small, shallow gulps, the tears drying on her cheeks, her muscles locked in rigid shock, until she felt the metal against her neck. 

It wasn’t cold like she would have expected. It was warm and wet. 

She looked out over the waves and felt with absolute certainty that this wasn’t real. She was about to wake up at any moment. 

When she turned her head, she started, and for a moment, everything seemed so very clear. 

But the insight had come too late. 

There was no time to fight, or to plead. 

When the blade slid through her skin, the pain of realization was almost greater than the pain of the cut. 

Almost.

Subject: IT’S FINALLY TIME! 

Hey ladies! 

Can you believe it’s almost time? After all of the prep and planning it’s finally happening! I am SO excited to see you all and celebrate the end to Anneliese’s single life! 

I assume you’ve all checked out the gorgeous hotel that’s booked for just us the whole weekend. Baltic Vinyasa is an ultraluxe new yoga resort, with in-house vegan catering, and we will be the first guests to EVER get to experience it! 

Extra thanks to Lena for finding this fantastic deal! We all owe you one, girl! 

Since it has yet to open to the public, there will be minimal staff (so don’t do anything crazy in your rooms, as there will be no housekeeping . . . well, don’t do anything crazy without inviting the Maid of Honor!!) 

As I mentioned in the previous two emails, the Baltic Vinyasa philosophy is all about living in the moment and making memories. As such, there is no Wi-Fi on the island, and our phones will be collected on arrival. The owner has requested that we all follow the policy for the sake of our collective experience, so please, no fussing when it’s time! Work can wait until our gorgeous once-in-a-lifetime weekend is over. And if you’re worried about pictures, don’t fret, because our lovely Natalie has donated her services as a photographer! 

Attached is a suggested packing list, your schedule for the weekend, as well as different ways of getting to Stavsnäs Harbor, where a private ferry will be picking us up at 10:00 Thursday morning to bring us out to Isle Blind. I hate to be a nag, but please make sure to be there at 09:30, as the schedule depends on the boat actually departing on time. 

I hope you are all ready for a weekend of yoga, bonding, beauty and cava! Can’t wait!!! 

Xoxo, 

Mikaela (Maid of Honor)

SUGGESTED PACKING 

TO BRING: 

Four sets of athletic clothing 

Three party dresses (can’t phone it in just because it’s on an island in the middle of the 

archipelago, girls! I want to see GLAMOUR!) 

Comfortable shoes for meditative walks 

Two sweaters (it gets cold out there!) 

Moisturizer (the air in the archipelago is very dry, and we don’t want flaking faces in the 

pictures!) 

Sunscreen 

Bridal gift(s) 

Any funny stories or anecdotes you might have about the bride 

LEAVE AT HOME: 

Yoga mat (this will be provided) 

Any “party favors” (Anneliese has requested the only drug at the party be joy) 

Laptops 

Tablets 

Negative thoughts 

Bad vibes