HEJ, MY LOVE

STRAYED

"How did it go?" Jonas asked.

"They said they would call me back," Sierra shrugged and fell back on the sofa.

Sierra spent every day since their return looking for a full-time job.

If some woman dreamt of being a housewife, Sierra always had in mind to work. The notion of bringing something to the table was vital for her. She watched her father provide for their family all her life.

The woman refused to let Jonas carry the task alone. Jonas respected her choice even if he was far from being in her father's position, and Sierra could stay at home if she desired. He wasn't in direct straits financially, even if his company was floating rocky.

Sierra could not hope to have the same position she had in France without speaking Swedish. The woman got married and thought she had thoroughly planned the move. Sierra couldn't be more wrong. She didn't think of how she would integrate the Swedish society. The language barrier wasn't a hill but a mountain. She had no friends, and her only contact was Jonas' family. People spoke English, but Sierra could tell it annoyed some people who found themselves speaking a foreign language in their country.

Jonas saw how Sierra was stressed, but there was no stopping the woman.

Sierra finally took up a morning class and found a part-time where she translated English articles in French and vice versa for a tourist website that made an A to Z listing of the best places to visit a few weeks later. It wasn't what she hoped for, but it was better than nothing.

From then on, the Potsmann had their routine. The days had the same rhythm as in France, with nuance as Jonas now spent his days at the office while Sierra worked at home. Jonas would drop Leone off at daycare while Sierra went to class, and she would pick Leone up. For the articles, she worked from home and only went to the office on Tuesday.

The team Sierra worked with was small. Sierra was the second translater to join. The other was Prussia, she was from the Czech Republic, and she translated English to Czech and Russian. The rest of the staff members were journalists.

"Bonjour, Sierra."

"Hej, Erik."

The chief editor was a man in his early forties.

Erik Bergstrom stood out, not by his height as he was just another giant, but he was one of the rare bi-racial adults Sierra met in Stockholm.

The man was handsome, with shaved hair and alluding hazel eyes. One had to take a second look. He was on holiday when they hired Sierra. Thus he was happy to discover a new face at their first encounter.

"Erik, this is Sierra Potsmann."

The man had hoped Potsmann was an adoption name and found his expectations crushed when Sierra shook his hand and her three-band ring tapped against his fingers.

Sierra was very secretive when it came to her personal life. She piqued the man's interest, Erik, like many other people who knew local businesses were aware she was married to Moder Yoder's director. Her husband, a talented architect, also had a reputation for avoiding the public radar. His company's scandal put Jonas in the limelight, and many wished to know more about the entrepreneur.

"Eh, Sierra, there's a new restaurant we want to list. We could check it out after work."

"I'm sorry, Erik. I have to pick up my son," Sierra replied.

"Oh, sorry, I forgot," the man walked away. Sierra didn't read anything behind Erik's invitation. The woman automatically deleted herself from the dating market, thinking marriage made her less desirable.

"Erik, you know she's married."

"I know."

"Then what are you doing?" Ingrid asked, tilting her head to the side.

Erik shrugged, smiled, and took a seat behind his desk, "I don't know. I guess I like chasing what I can't have."

His secretary shook her head in disapproval.

The man had his eye on Sierra, and he didn't hide his intent. What blew Ingrid's mind away was how Sierra genuinely didn't seem to realize she interested the man. 

For Erik, Sierra was a newlywed. Anything could happen. People were foolish to think a few vows could prevent things from happening.

Hours passed, Sierra saved her last translation and hurried to get Leone.

The little boy was back to square one. Leone observed his surroundings and played little with others. The boy was lost; he missed his friends Naya, Osman, Kenji.

His new daycare was far behind his former diversity-wise, and the boy used to see people of color in his environment was a little perplexed.

"Mama," he ran to Sierra's arms.

"Hi, Ms. Potsmann."

There, no one was aware of the child's circumstances. For most, Jonas had custody of his child and just happened to marry a foreigner met abroad. Liddy, who usually gave Sierra a short recap, was off on that day. The days' caregivers didn't seem to want to do the same.

Sierra left; seeing Leone's sad face, she decided to stop at the park. Yes, life seemed to become a steady stream. They were walking along the banks when someone tapped on her shoulder.

"Hello."

Sierra turned to find a woman who seemed from a South Asian country. Tanned skin, long black hair, and a bindi on her forehead, Sierra presumed she was a tourist who lost her way.

"Hello."

"Do you speak English?" The woman asked.

"Yes."

"I'm Saanvi; I'm part of a small group that helps people who have moved to Sweden to find a job or housing."

"I'm sorry, but I've got all that," Sierra said, ready to resume her stride.

"We don't just do that. We also have a listening group where we share our different experiences on living here."

Leone tugged on Sierra's arm as he watched a swan land during that time. He wanted to have a closer look.

"Eh, I don't really have time," Sierra replied.

"It's once a week," Saanvi insisted.

Sierra got the same impression and pressure she had when various religious groups knocked on her door in Paris, "excuse me, Iㅡ."

Sierra stopped; she no longer felt Leone's hand. Her eyes darted and searched for the boy," Leone," her heart began to race like her legs, "Leone."

The woman began to run; the world seemed to swerve around her as she stopped to look around, "LEONE," Sierra screamed.