The loaf crackles as a knife hacks through it. “My pride has taken a blow, but Henrik’s not a prize I want to win.”
“No, he’s more like a chunk of coal. Probably much more appealing when you don’t realize he’s sleeping with others.” I’m puzzled at how unfazed she appears. “You’re taking it very well, though.”
She stops the knife halfway through the bread. “Am I?”
I nod, noticing for the first time how quiet the apartment is. At home, cars drive by and music blasts from nearby bars, but here there’s nothing.
“Oh, well, it’s my protection mechanism. I guess watching how Henrik behaves shut off my feelings for him.” The knife knocks through to the wooden cutting board below.
“I guess Thea and Katelyn would agree.”
She stacks slices in a basket. “Maybe. They’ll fall off Henrik’s train soon enough, along with any other flirts fluttering around him like pesky mosquitos waiting to draw blood. If he’s texting you every day, he won’t have enough hours to keep up with them all.”
“There shouldn’t be, but somehow he does keep up.” I get back to texting Henrik. In contrast to real life, in his texts, he’s forward, demanding, and curious, which shows in his next message.
I wouldn’t have said no if you invited me to stay over.
And now you’re testing to see if I wanted that too.
I’m starting to question your intentions ;) My bedroom?
Neighbor’s ;)
Imagining Mr. and Mrs. Nerli’s expression if he showed up at their door to sleep over makes me laugh. Mr. Nerli would chase him out of the building and call the police.
Don’t think you’re their type.
Henrik’s following message comes across as an order, and I don’t like it.
Ask me questions.
What’s the point?
No. You’re too tough here compared to real life. I don’t see you asking to sleep over face to face.
All you do is observe.
I watch the screen, waiting for some insight and explanation. It takes a minute, but when Henrik writes back, he’s more open than any other messages I’ve seen from him so far.
I’m looking for someone to love, and I hope it won’t be long until I can lie next to you again.
So that’s why you took your time. He’s never written anything like this to any of the other girls. Not easy for him to be vulnerable.
Let’s take the edge off.
You’re not sick of me yet?
No. Your mind entertains me. It was a good feeling having you next to me on your couch. Are you free to see me next week?
Not if you plan on acting like you did last time.
You’ll have to talk more.
I’ll talk when I know who I’m talking to.
Shit. I’m not ready to open up, and lying at this stage will only bite me in the ass going forward.
“Breakfast is ready.” Cecilia walks over to me.
I show her Henrik’s text. “Did he talk much when you met him?”
“Yes. And he joked all the time. He’s a prankster.”
“Hmm. Not good. He doesn’t trust me.”
Cecilia laughs. “Henrik’s a terrible guy, but he’s not stupid, I’m afraid.”
“No. I have to step this up, especially since he’s decided to choose one woman to date exclusively by the beginning of next year and get rid of the rest.”
“Then I agree. But first, we eat.”
“Give me a few more minutes. Can I use your restroom?”
“Second door on the right.” She points towards the hallway.
I text while I’m walking and I grab the handle, but it’s locked.
Cecilia calls after me. “Second door counting from us, not from the entrance.”
I move a door down. “Hidden office?”
She laughs. “Something like that.”
White hexagon mosaic tile covers the floors and walls. The faucet is black and matches the wall sconces above the round mirror. Scented sticks placed on a shelf above the toilet emit the scent of jasmine. I answer Henrik after washing my hands.
What do you want to know?
I want to understand who you are. I can’t see through you, and that makes me take my time.
If you could see through me, you wouldn’t like it.
That might be a long journey.
I enjoy long journeys the most. Had a feeling there’s something there. That you’d be different. I think I’ve found what I’ve been looking for. You’ve grown on me. To sum up: I thought something was interesting behind your pictures and I’m starting to figure it out. The ironic part is you portray yourself as this hard, tough, strict person - which usually I don’t like - but when you smile your genuine smile, you charm me.
When I return to the kitchen, Cecilia is texting too, but she tucks her phone in her pocket when she sees me.
I finish the last message.
Talk with me in person instead of just through messages and I might smile more next time we meet ;) I have to go. Have a nice day.
Nice day to you too
“How are you coping with Isac’s death in all this?” Cecilia asks. “Do you have someone to talk to about it?”
“I miss him every day, but Henrik helps me keep my mind off the grief for now,” I say.
At the dining table, Cecilia pours coffee for both of us. “Any plans for the next date?”
I dive into the freshly baked bread in front of me. “We’re taking a stroll through the city. Henrik says he’s not into heels, but according to his social media likes, he loves the femininity of skirts, dresses, and also heels. I’ll make sure to grab his attention.”
“I pity Katelyn. I doubt a single mother can compete with you.” Cecilia ignores her phone vibrating in her pocket.
“No woman should ever compete with this.”
14
At eight on Friday evening, Henrik rings my doorbell for our third date. I’m dressed to impress in my walking heels and a flowing skirt that highlights my waist and ends right under my knees. Since I showed off my legs on our last date, he’ll have even more to fantasize about tonight when he sees me in this tight red top.
“You’re walking in that?” He sounds disappointed, but he’s smirking and can’t take his eyes off me.
“We’re strolling, aren’t we?” I say in my most seductive voice.
He grins. “Yes. Stroll.”
I grab a thin woolen shawl and sway my hips as I walk past him. When I turn back to him after locking the door behind us, I catch his eyes darting up from my butt to my face.
“You okay?” I wink.
“Mhmm.”
At the entrance, I wait for him to open the door for me. When he shows no signs of doing so, I go ahead and hold it open for him to pass.
Not exactly a gentleman, but I’m all for equality. Takes away expectations.
At the end of my block, we pass the kindergarten playground. Henrik shakes his head at it. “I’m impressed, no, fascinated by people working in kindergartens. There’s one outside the place I stay in Bergen, and, shit, there’s a lot of crying during a single day.”
I stop, waiting for him to suggest a direction. Instead, he continues on, and I follow his lead like a child scared to lose their parent. “Do you like kids?”
“I like everyone.” He laughs, then looks away as though reflecting on the question. “I try, at least.”
I walk around a manhole cover on the sidewalk, making sure I graze his arm before I move back to a comfortable distance. “Some tougher than others?”
“Met a lot of judgmental people through my thirty-five years. Don’t like those.” He positions himself against my side steering us both around the next manhole.
I smile at this. He’s not wearing heels, so there’s no need to avoid them.
“In my quest to become more open,” he tucks his hands in his pockets, “in my bedroom I have sliding doors but no built-in wardrobe behind them. It’s just an empty space. Suggesti
ons?”
You’re asking me about your closet? You should ask Cecilia, not me.
I walk closer alongside Henrik. “I’d keep hanging shirts above and drawers with a glass window underneath; that way you see what’s inside.”
Isac wanted shelves, not drawers. I still regret them every time I have to dig into the back to find my sweaters.
“Drawers with windows it is. I like the knowledge behind your face.”
My nervousness comes out as a laugh at his strange attempt at a compliment.
“And I like your laugh,” he says.
My face heats up.
Shit. Am I blushing? Why the hell did I challenge you to be more open?
Discussing drawers and sharing my opinion about them, of all silly things, actually makes me happy. I clench my teeth to gain control of the grin threatening to show on my face, straighten up and lift my chin.
“Clinging to your supremacy? You’re good at that,” Henrik nudges his elbow into mine.
Supremacy?
I shake my head but laugh as I do because he’s right. I am good at being supreme. Compared to this asshole, I will always be better. But it’s no way of getting him to fall in love with me. “Oh, no. I’m not being…”
His playful expression stops me. I nudge him back, making my voice smooth. “I’m boring too. What are you getting yourself into?”
He stops too, takes my hands and steps closer, continuing his playful tone. “Something great it seems.”
The urge to wiggle my hand from his and run grows in me like water rushing towards a cliff, knowing it will be my downfall. His piercing blue eyes have specks of green in them, and I catch myself staring. Every movement he’s making is leading up to a kiss, and I’ve played my cards right.
I laugh. “Which one? Haughtiness? Negativity? Or boredom?”
“The package.” He braids his fingers in mine. “It has beautiful wrapping, and its contents are exciting and different. You don’t crave my validation. You know you’re perfect just as you are. Most people I meet try too hard being liked.”
My pulse quickens and I concentrate on not shivering. I lick my lips. Heat sparks through my body, and I force myself to keep the grip of Henrik’s warm palms and not shake it off.
Keep flirting. Stay calm.
He leans forward.
Shit. Okay, this is it. You’re going in for a kiss. Don’t panic.
I tighten every muscle not to run.
I can’t do this. Please don’t.
But instead of kissing me, Henrik retreats and laughs. Not laughing at me, but as if he heard my soul screaming for him not to do it, he laughs to ease the tension. “I’m telling you what I see.” He lets go of one hand, but holds on to the other and walks on. As we pass the church, he releases my other hand too. “What’s your relationship to God?”
I fight the urge to rub my palm on my skirt to remove the feel of his touch. He’s never mentioned God or church in any texts I’ve seen so I keep it light. “I say ‘Oh my God’ a lot.”
He laughs at this and tucks his hands back in his pockets.
I step away from him, creating distance as we walk across Birkelunden Park. “What about you? Baptized?”
“Yes.”
“Confirmed?”
“Yes.”
The tram passes behind us, its wheels screeching on the tracks.
“Marriage?”
“Against.” Henrik changes direction towards the center of the park and its fountain.
“Smart.” The response falls out of me, and he stops walking, looks around, and takes a seat on the steps surrounding the fountain.
“Well, not against marriage, but the traditional ceremony. I’d have a love fest instead where guests must be barefoot and swim in the ocean.”
Having read his explanation of this love fest to other women, I grab the opportunity to cut into his thoughts. I jump in front of him and put on the most genuine and eager persona I can. “On a beach with an open bar?”
He lights up. “Almost. On a cliff above the ocean, on the grass, where everyone has a bucket of their favorite drink. Like they do in Thailand. The guests will have no choice but to appreciate getting grass stains on their clothes.”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes as I picture barefoot grandparents with drink buckets in their hands. “Cool.” It’s much more difficult to agree and seem enthusiastic about his ideas face-to-face than through text messages.
“Right? And no boring speeches,” he says.
“Boring speeches should never be allowed.”
His face twists into what reminds me of a child finding his favorite toy. “You’re up for it?”
There’s no way I’m going to confirm my fake interest in you to the point that I’d agree on what you seem to view as a wedding and actually indicate that I’d want one.
“Send me an invite. Love the bucket idea.” I laugh, doing my best to pretend it’s genuine and not me laughing at him and his apparent need for my approval.
He looks at me through his eyelashes. “So if we end up together, no fighting about the wedding ceremony.”
I laugh even more. “You’re funny.”
Henrik’s grin fades when he realizes I won’t say yes or no. “Or do you picture yourself in God’s house?”
“Never. Don’t like the thought.”
He smirks. “Good to know. Why don’t you?”
Isac wanted to marry under Christianity, but I refused to do it in a church, so we brought the priest to the hotel and had both the ceremony and celebration there. “Churches creep me out.”
“Hmmm…” He looks at his feet. “Sliding doors or closet doors?”
That’s a quick subject change…
I smooth my skirt along my butt before sitting next to Henrik. “For the wardrobe? Closet doors if you have space. They don’t break a woman’s nails. Sliding doors if it’s a small room. Two big ones. Three are too much of a puzzle.”
He grins with a questioning spark in his eyes. “I would enjoy sharing a home with you.”
“I’d drive you insane. I have a system for everything. Like you said, it’s very tidy.”
Henrik turns towards me. “Structure won’t drive me crazy. The lack of it might, though…”
My fingers go numb. Ice rushes through my veins.
It’s approaching, our first kiss.
Stay still. Don’t run away or hit him.
Henrik leans in. His breath hits my lips.
I can’t control my body and instinctively pull back. Before I know it, I’m up on my feet.
I can’t do this.
He rises, eyes locked on mine, and strides over, so our bodies clash. His chest is against mine, and it takes all my strength not to push him back. He places his hand under my chin, signaling there’s no escape as he tilts my head up towards his.
I close my eyes, and Henrik locks his lips on mine. His tongue forces itself into my mouth. Saliva floods my cheeks, my body preparing to catapult everything I’ve eaten all over him.
I can’t push him off. A first kiss is supposed to be special.
Get a grip.
I swallow, force my eyes to stay closed, and imagine I’m kissing Isac. How he’d hold me, make the world a safe place. I wrap my arms around him and lose myself in the kiss as if I’m kissing my husband and not this pitiful excuse for a man. To get through this, there’s no other option.
His hands caress my neck, and a moan escapes me as I almost call out Isac’s name but stop myself in time. Jolting out of my daydream, my eyes spring open, and I step back.
Henrik looks at me with an expression I haven’t seen on him before. His eyes are big, sad, as if he’s found a lost pet.
“I have to get home.” I turn to leave.
His hand grabs mine and he pulls me into his arms again. His lips are back on mine, but this time, I can’t control my revulsion.
You’re not my husband!
I pull away. “I’ll…I’ll talk to you later.” I giggle and preten
d I’m embarrassed.
I hate giggling, but if that’s what it takes to get away, I’ll do it.
Henrik holds on to my hand. “Leaving me wanting more?” He grins, and I grab the opportunity.
“It’s important that we have a reason to see each other again.” I wink.
Fortunately, he lets go. “Mission accomplished.”
I leave Henrik behind and stalk back down the block and around the corner. I hurl into a trash can next to a bus stop. Like an avalanche, it’s unstoppable. Tears stream down my face, vomit pours out, and every hair on my body stands erect.
Bus doors open and close. People’s voices fade off into the distance. New doors open and slam shut. It feels like an hour has passed when I find myself staring at the horrified face of a gray-haired woman waiting for her bus.
“Are you all right, dear?”
I take a deep breath and dry my mouth off. My chin shakes as I exhale. “Food poisoning.”
15
Henrik’s first text arrives as I lock my front door behind me.
You looked amazing in that skirt. I forgot to tell you. And you kiss great.
I don’t want to chat with him, so I keep my reply short.
Thanks.
Henrik replies:
I’d love to know your assessment
Assessment? No, you don’t.
He's got it coming: Love is the best revenge Page 11
