“It’s a sign he likes you, though.” She waves her hand at me to be quiet. I fill my mouth with coffee, savoring the burnt fruity flavor on my tongue while Cecilia continues. “Second, sex. Third, you meet Henrik’s family. No man…”
At the mention of sex, coffee fills my windpipe. My body jerks while I struggle not to cough it back out. I hold on to the edge of the counter, heaving for air between jolts. Not even two days after trying to kill myself, my body is fighting for life.
When I stop, Cecilia grins at me.
“You didn’t think about sex, did you, Miss Martyr?” Her grin vanishes. “Hopefully, this won’t have to go that far. We can call this off whenever you want.”
I can’t envision having his naked body anywhere near mine. I shake my head. “We’ll cross that planet when we get to it. Besides that, I don’t agree with your list.”
“Of course you don’t. Tell me yours then.”
Who am I kidding? I have no plans for this. I don’t know how to make anyone fall in love with me like I loved Isac. That just happened, and I had no control over it.
“Um…First…”
Thankfully, she cuts me off, waving her blue fingernails at me. “I have to write this all down so I can cross off ideas.” Cecilia pulls a pen and notebook from her bag and positions herself at the dining table. “Ready.”
I cough again as if to rid myself of the concept of me having to pretend to like Henrik and flirt with him. Then I sigh at the task ahead. “How do we make a man without a heart fall in love?”
“Don’t be so dramatic. You just have to be interesting enough. Perfect for him.”
Is she kidding?
Involuntarily, my left eyebrow rises as I stare at her in disbelief. “Perfect? Well, that won’t be difficult at all since people spend their whole lives looking for a perfect person.”
“We study the crap out of him, and when we’re ready, we set the bait.” Cecilia drags me by the hand up to the office. “Since he contacted you so quickly after you two matched, it won’t be difficult to at least get a date.”
Three hours later, the office wall is filled with research notes. After reading through text messages, emails, and watching photos women have sent Henrik over the last two years, Cecilia blurts out in exasperation, “This is a full-time job for him. He’s even got tickets booked to Italy in October with this single mom, Katelyn. Why would he do that if he’s not serious about her?”
“Entertainment?” I lean back in the chair. “He calls Katelyn The Milf?”
“To remember she has three children?”
I roll my eyes. “What will my nickname be?”
Cecilia laughs. “No idea, but I can’t wait to find out.”
A string of new texts pops up from Katelyn’s mother.
She’ll be thrilled. I am so grateful to you for arranging this surprise party for Katelyn. No one has ever done that for her before. It is a bit costly, flying the whole family there, but we’ve discussed it, and we’ll manage.
Henrik replies right away.
She deserves it. Your daughter is a wonderful person.
Cecilia frowns. “What are they talking about?”
I check Henrik’s password file and log onto his Facebook account. Through Messenger, he’s arranged with her family to meet next weekend. “A surprise birthday party.” I open Katelyn’s profile and point to the screen where it shows she’ll be turning thirty in two weeks. Checking his bank account, he’s paid for his plane ticket and one room at the Surf Lodge. Her family has covered the rest.
“He’s manipulating her and her entire family, while he’s fucking around with and pretending to plan different futures with other women?” Cecilia flips back a few pages, showing me conversations he’s had with Katelyn where they discuss having a child together. “We should warn her.”
“Would you believe two strangers telling you that the person you believe is the greatest man you’ve ever met is an asshole?”
“I’d refuse to believe it.” Cecilia glides her chair over to mine. “This is how Henrik hooks women! On the surface, he seems like a great guy—caring, attentive, and kind.”
“He’s calculating as hell.” I pull Henrik and Katelyn’s correspondence off Facebook. “See here? She even asks him to post on Facebook that they’re a couple, but he refuses, blaming it on a made-up relationship where he got dumped recently after they posted theirs.”
“She has to know something’s wrong. She can’t be that stupid?” Cecilia swallows and rolls her eyes when she hears her own words. “I was that stupid. I believed everything he told me, not because I’m dumb, but because I so badly wanted it to be true, for someone to see me, love me, just as I am.”
“They’re all mind games to him.” I print out clear examples of how he tells them that they’re perfect, just as they are, cheering them on in whatever challenge they’re facing. Not once has he criticized a woman. They’re sure they’ve found their soul mate, while he discusses their flaws with his friends Simen.
Cecilia pins them to the wall.
My expectations of Henrik being a sleazy player go out the window. This guy is smart, manipulative, and he knows how to communicate to get women hooked.
“They’re thoughtful women, some a bit hornier than others, but kind. What’s missing here?”
“The bad girl. A challenge.” Cecilia winks at me, then laughs. “Maybe that’s what I’m doing wrong?” She nods as if confirming her own statement. “And if they’re just bad, that can be fun for one night, but impossible to be with over time. Trust me, I know.”
Isn’t Henrik just a bad boy?
“What if I become both? If I get past the first date, I can be both devil and angel, homemaker and whore, not expecting anything from him in regards to commitment. Only provide plain fun, flirting, and the freedom to do whatever we like. I won’t be human, while I simultaneously portray myself as the perfect woman to take home and introduce to his parents.” I search online and find his father, Torkild Larsen, living on a small island outside of Bodø, and a half-brother, Vidar Larsen, also living there with his wife, Beate. I write their names on a Post-it. “Does Henrik visit them often?”
“Not that I know of. He likes to travel, though, so an hour flight up north wouldn’t be far for him.” Cecilia pulls the note out of my hand and hangs it with the others. “What about his mother? Or other relatives?”
“His grandfather died many years ago, his grandmother only two years ago. Can’t find his mother, though. What did he tell you about her?”
“Nothing. We never spoke about his family.”
Why would he?
Henrik’s father Torkild hasn’t posted anything to his Facebook page since he got it nine years ago, no images or information, except that he’s a member of a group called ‘Siebe RS.’ When I search the name, a website of what appears to be a rehabilitation center close to the Finnish border appears. I use the center’s public URL to lead me to the database server and do an SQL injection attack to get in. Inside their database, Torkild Larsen is the contact person for a woman named Judit Moen. She’s registered as having a son named Henrik Larsen and has lived at the center since Henrik was five years old.
Cecilia has zoned out by now, drawing waves on her notebook. I print the information and place it on top of her drawing.
She clicks the back of her pen, reading. “She’s a crystal meth addict?”
“From what I can see, Torkild is the only one in contact with her.” I point to the phone log. “He calls her every month. No one else has ever visited or called.”
“Henrik never mentioned his mother. No wonder, though. Could you imagine?” Cecilia covers her mouth with the note. “I have to call my mother after we finish.”
After spending weeks reassuring my mother that I’m fine and that she doesn’t need to come and visit, I should too.
Cecilia tapes the paper to the wall. “No use including his mother in our plan then, but it would help to win his father and half-brother over.�
�
I sigh. “It’s fun to punish Henrik, but his family didn’t ask for this.”
Voices of people outside enjoying the great weather in the backyard of the local bar drifts through my open window.
My phone rings and we both jerk to our feet. On the screen, Mom’s face looks up at me as if she has a sixth sense. “I have to take this.” I press the green phone icon. “Hi, Mom.”
“I’ll call mine.” Cecilia whispers and heads downstairs.
“Daniella, are you all right? I’ve been calling and calling, but you’re not answering. I asked your father…”
I cut her off. “I’m fine. Calm down. I needed time to myself. You have to stop worrying.”
“Why don’t you come to live here for a while, huh? Get away from the apartment. We miss you.”
“I’m fine, Mom. Say hi to Dad for me. I have to go.”
“Oh. Think about it. Country living will do you good.”
No. It will only remind me of our wedding and Isac’s proposal there.
“Mom, please. I’m not going to Portugal. Say hi to Dad.”
I hang up.
“I love you too.” Cecilia hangs up her phone downstairs.
My guilty conscience gnaws at me for ending my call on a sour note.
“You have to become his soul mate,” Cecilia says as if she’s had an epiphany while on the phone. “It doesn’t matter what any theory says, what he does to others, or what’s worked in the past. We must convince Henrik that you’re the only woman in the world perfect for him.”
“How are we going to pull this off, huh? People search their whole lives for a soul mate and never find them.”
“Yes, but they have to be themselves. Or, at least accepted by Henrik as they are, and be vulnerable. You don’t want Henrik’s acceptance or love. You can be whatever he needs you to be.”
I open the Tinder profile Cecilia has made for me and press Henrik’s image. He’s a mile and a half away, active now. He likes impulsive and positive people, question marks better than exclamation marks, Saturday mornings, adventure, admiring views, and clean sheets. Does not like self-righteousness. “He’s giving us a pretty good recipe already,” I say.
“His sheets were always clean.” Cecilia shakes her head. “Of course they would be. He wouldn’t risk me finding other women’s hair or smell someone else’s perfume on them.” She sticks her tongue out at the screen. “Asshole.” She turns to me. “I said this wouldn’t be easy for me. No comment, please.”
I smile.
No comment needed.
It feels good to join in her frustration. With her so caught up in Henrik’s dreadful ways, my sadness takes a back seat.
Cecilia rereads the text on his Tinder profile. “How ‘bout if we get him to delete his profile?”
“Tinder is huge for him, so that would be a good way to track our progress.” I scroll back to the messages he’s received from over two hundred women the last two years. We’ve categorized them and saved trends in typical exchanges that make him withdraw and those that pique his interest. “Since he’s never broken off the contact with anyone, I have no idea how many he’s currently sleeping with.”
“I’ll pretend nothing’s changed in the meantime in case I need to plant something or retrieve information you can’t get.” Cecilia writes a Post-it with ‘H delete Tinder profile’ and sticks it to the wall. “He’ll ghost me once we’ve got him hooked on you.”
A loud moan escapes me.
I’ll have to kiss this man. I grab the pen and a fresh Post-it and write down ‘Kiss.’ I fasten it above her note.
“That’s two goals.” Cecilia leans back in her chair, staring at me as if to ensure I’m okay. I’m not, but I force a half-smile to reassure her, and she grins back in response.
She focuses on the messages on the wall and nods to herself. “He deserves to suffer. The goal should be to get him to surrender his entire life for you. Like these women do.”
“Yes. Henrik should say he loves me and introduce me to his family, telling them he wants to marry me.”
“Wow.” Cecilia laughs. “That’ll do the trick.” She writes it down and puts three new Post-its on the wall: ‘Say I love you’, ‘Introduce to father and half-brother,’ and ‘Tell family he wants to propose.’
I study the Post-its, refusing to relate to the fact that I’m the one who has to do these things, experience all of it, with Henrik.
Cecilia stands with her face to the wall, her back to me, oblivious to my struggle. “If he tells a family member he’s planning to propose, we’ve got him hooked. But it has to come from him. It won’t work any other way. He has to want to take you off the market because he’s planning his future with you.”
I straighten up as she turns to me with pursed lips. “I agree. The goal isn’t a proposal, but making him love me, forsaking others, and dreaming of spending the rest of his life with me.”
What a sick thought.
Saying the words out loud forces me to swallow hard as a lump forms in my throat. “Over to the real challenge—making it happen. Why don’t I text Henrik.” I hope it will provide a good distraction.
Cecilia looks at her watch. “Wow, three thirty already. Time travels fast when scheming.” She hands me a Post-it with the login details for the account she created in my name.
In Tinder, Henrik’s opened our conversation with the eloquent exclamation of:
Hi
It’s been a day since he reached out, and incapable of creating any other response, I need this project to end as soon as possible and send back:
Hi
He opens Tinder and answers me immediately.
Well well, a cross country skiing, wine drinking cutie here.
7
My reflex is to lock the phone, and the screen turns black.
Cecilia laughs. “Come on, he’s already informed you of what he’s looking for. Be positive.”
Trying to focus my mind on the task, I look at the wall where we’ve gathered hundreds of text messages that Henrik has exchanged with women. “I have to give a little, but not too much all at one time. He doesn’t care about anyone too available or willing.” I pull up a dialogue on the screen with his friend Simen in which Henrik calls women clingy when they ask to meet. “I must be hard to get and show him I have my own life and don’t sit around waiting for a man to fill my time.”
Cecilia scrolls further through Henrik’s texts with Simen. “He’s also complained about two girls being messy.” She laughs, dragging her finger along the desk surface, holding it up to me. “That won’t be a problem for you. You’re not just clean and tidy. You’re antiseptic.”
“One less thing to fake.” I evaluate our Post-it notes that by now look like a plan. “I have to get Henrik to ask me out first, though.” I write it on a Post-it, and Cecilia sticks it to the wall above ‘Kiss.’
“You should make him look forward to meeting you. Be more interesting than other women.” Cecilia’s tone indicates she’s sorry for delivering the message.
I shudder at the thought. “I have to make sure it’s not a dinner date.”
At this, she laughs. “Why not? If he pays, it’s a free meal.”
“Seriously? Dinner on a first date is the worst idea possible. For one, I show him I have nothing better to do than plan my entire evening with a stranger, which seems desperate. Since I’ll hate it, I’m stuck after ordering the meal. I don’t even know if I can stand being in the same room as him. I need an escape plan.”
Cecilia scrolls through messages he’s had with other women before and after their first dates. “No dinner dates. He’s a professional. Every first date has an easy escape. Going for walks, drinks, nothing that traps him.”
Which is a massive relief to me.
I turn the phone back on and swipe through the photos Cecilia uploaded to my profile. As I flip back and forth, I understand why she chose these. I look happy. Although Isac’s been cut out, I’m grinning and giggling to him in the
photos.
“Answer him back by suggesting a date.” Cecilia winks.
“Me? If Henrik wants to date me, he’ll have to ask.”
“Why?”
I gesture to the wall. “Because I want to say no, show how unimportant a date is to me.”
She laughs. “Well, you’ve certainly made him wait for a response long enough.”
I fight the urge to delete Henrik and the app altogether and reread his text.
Well well, a cross country skiing, wine drinking cutie here.
Snow won’t fall for months, so going along with skiing together seems harmless. I type in the most joyful response I can muster, adding a smiley face at the end to hide the sarcasm behind the words.
Skis and wine? Yes, please :)
“Ask questions, that’ll keep the conversation going and make Henrik think you’re intrigued, make him feel important,” Cecilia says, more than eager.
Shit, this will be a struggle.
I force my fingers to write my question.
What about you?
Henrik responds immediately.
Haha, I’m better with wine than cross country skis, but I’m game for a few swooshing strides if the opportunity presents itself. How about you meet me at a pub this week? That sounds like a great idea.
Cecilia grabs her pen and crosses out the first Post-it: ‘Ask out.’ She holds up her hand as if to give me a high five. “That was fast. All that’s left now is to give him a challenge.”
I slap my uninspired palm to hers, then type my message, making sure he’ll need to earn his date with me.
He's got it coming: Love is the best revenge Page 5
