Shit.
I adjust my hair in my reflection of the glass door leading into the café, use the toilet, and kiss Henrik on the cheek when I return to the table.
At the ferry dock, Henrik opens his window and inhales the salty ocean air. Waves crash only feet away. “It’s a small island.”
Katelyn was with him on this dock, waiting for the ferry to the neighboring island. Now I’m on my way to the island he refused to bring her to. His family must be strange for him to turn out like he has. Does his brother know about Henrik’s mother?
The ride over to his home is beautiful but bumpy. Surrounding the fjord are mountains covered in snow, angling into the water below.
No wonder tourists come here to see the fjords. It’s rugged, harsh, and stunning.
Driving off the ferry, the tiny village on Værøy appears dead. The houses are beaten up by the harsh weather, the paint ripped off the walls by the wind. Only six hundred and forty people live here according to a sign, and it shows.
We head left along the waterline. Not a single person in sight.
Henrik parks the car at a deserted beach as if changing his mind about coming here. He has to introduce me. I have no plans on taking another trip to this godforsaken island again.
I reflect on the last twenty-four hours. Have they been too ordinary for Henrik? I set out to be a homemaker, whore, and challenge, the perfect mixture of angel and bad girl. Am I doing this wrong? Is that why he stopped here? Am I acting too normal?
I force my door open against the harsh winds pushing back against it as if telling me to stay in the car, that I don’t belong here. Once I’m outside, raindrops splash in a mixture of frozen water and slush on my coat, hair, and eyes.
“We should go,” Henrik shouts out his window, through the noise of the wind.
Have you changed your mind? You can’t. My goal is an introduction to your family, and I’m not leaving without one.
Every time a date has hinted about meeting them, he’s never responded well and guarded himself even more. I need another tactic to set me apart from Katelyn, Thea, and all the other women he’s ever been with.
I wipe both eyes, trying not to ruin my mascara, but soon give up. Any sane woman would want to look her best, but with my mascara running everywhere, I’m showing that I don’t care.
It’s liberating, leaning against the wind, surrounded by nature’s sour mood, the rawness of it, reminding me how small I am compared to the vastness of earth’s power. I spin around and start laughing. It’s absurd, standing on this small island in the slush.
Out on the black sea, wild white waves splash up, and the ferry disappears in the distance on its way to the next island.
I forgot to ask when our return ferry leaves, but it can’t be too long of a wait. We need to speed this introduction up if we want to catch the ferry back in time.
“Join me,” I call out to him, laughing with my arms outstretched.
He can’t hear me through the rising winds, and I can’t make out his response, so I get back inside the car.
Henrik shifts towards me, cups my face and locks his lips on mine. “You’re amazing, you know that?”
I chuckle and pull off the hair glued to my face. “Sure I do.”
“I’m serious. Standing in the rain, not caring what you look like. You don’t care about silly stuff other women get hung up on.”
I flip the mirror down. “I look like a raccoon.” I’m laughing so hard I’m struggling to breathe. My hands shake from the cold. If Henrik wants a wild card, then this is perfect.
“My raccoon,” he says.
I smile, not forcing it this time. Isac always emphasized the importance of portraying ourselves in the best way possible. It feels good having Henrik not care about how I look, but having him like me with my flaws and all, just like I’m pretending with him. And above all, it’s nice to be allowed to act a bit crazy and be loved for it. “Your raccoon.”
“Arriving here, I was hesitant whether we should visit my brother after all. I hate family introductions. They’re always so shallow and fake.” Henrik smiles and strokes his thumbs under my eyes. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I love you. Let’s get you warm and see my family.”
Yes! At least I won’t have to lie to your father.
I turn, pretending to look at the sea to hide the happy dance inside me. Henrik wants craziness, but how on earth do I combine that with meeting his family? I look insane, like I’ve bawled my eyes out. Can I make a good impression on them while still holding onto the carefree version of me?
Henrik clenches the steering wheel with both hands. “I promised to be honest.” Then as fast as he can, he blurts out, “I slept with my brother’s wife, Beate, a while ago. Vidar doesn’t know.”
What? Your family situation was awkward already. You’re intent on making it unbearable, it seems.
“How long is a while ago?” I keep my voice low to avoid showing my frustration with him.
Seriously! Don’t you realize that whenever you’re in the same room, there’ll be tension? Especially if you bring a potential girlfriend home. It should be illegal to be this shortsighted.
“Six years. It only happened once.”
I shake my head. “One time is all it takes to ruin the future.”
Driving back onto the main road, the wind pushes on the car as Henrik steers away from the coast and into the heart of the island. Værøy looks like it used to be one big mountain sticking out of the ocean before nature took a colossal scoop out of it and left a gap running through the middle.
I picture Henrik as a child, alone in a house with his depressed father. “Must have been lonely if your father shifted all his attention to women, secluded from the world on this island.”
He takes my hand, braids his fingers into mine, and rests them on the center console. “I take after my father, I guess. Because I’m fine too. We’re both like islands ourselves.”
Neither of you seems okay, and you need to stop lying to yourself.
“Why do you want me to meet your brother then? If you’re an island? Don’t islands keep to themselves?” I wink at him, and he smiles back.
“My island’s got a ferry connecting it to the mainland. I choose when I want to board.”
Clouds fly past the mountain tops.
“I guess introducing your date to your family is what you do when you’re in love,” Henrik says, catching me off guard.
You haven’t asked me to be your girlfriend again, and today, you’re sober. Are you testing me?
“People in general, or you?”
“Wouldn’t know. I haven’t been in love before, but it does make me think more.”
Henrik points to a yellow wooden building. “My old school.”
It resembles a private house that would have fit about twenty students in its one classroom.
I contemplate what the right move will be when we arrive at his brother’s house. Should my approach be to get their approval, or should I just focus on Henrik and me? Do they know what he’s like?
When the road ends, Henrik drives into the last street up a narrow driveway. Guilt for including his family hits me as he parks in front of the house. I turn towards Henrik. “I don’t know if this is a good idea. Maybe…”
Loud knocks from behind on the car window scare me. A woman grins from inside a thick winter coat, its hood tightened around her face.
“Henrik?” she screams.
The brother’s wife, I presume, opens my door, and before I know it, we’re rushed into the house and out of the storm. She’s a tall skinny woman with short black hair who embraces him as soon as we’re safe inside. “I didn’t think I’d see you again for years.”
Years? Didn’t he just celebrate Christmas with you?
“Two years between visits is far too long. This is a bit of a shock, but we’re thrilled to see you both.” She extends her hand to me. It’s tiny but with long slender fingers. “I’m Beate.”
“Daniel
la.” I give her a hug to get over the pleasantries faster and break any barriers that might linger in the cold air. It also gives me a chance to judge how Henrik will react, seeing me get closer to her.
He looks away.
Perhaps regret is hitting you? If so, good.
A gust of wind tries forcing its way through the door and I shiver.
“I’ll prepare some coffee and cakes.” Beate heads upstairs, calling out, “Vidar, Henrik’s here.”
“Henrik?” A man’s voice shouts back in disbelief.
We follow Beate upstairs where Vidar sits in a large armchair in front of the TV. His hair is messy. He looks like a typical father with his tummy hanging over his jeans. Grete is reading on the couch next to her father. She’s wearing big red glasses and has long brown hair in a top bun, like Henrik.
Burgundy wallpaper covers the living room walls, and the floors are worn oak. Seeing his brother, Vidar’s face lights up as he stands to greet us. “What are you doing here?”
“We were in the neighborhood,” Henrik says, and they both laugh at this.
I join in.
Grete throws us a quick glance before diving back into her book.
“I’m Vidar.” He holds his hand out to greet me, but I ignore it and hug him too. Henrik seems more relaxed over this hug than the one I shared with Beate.
No wonder.
Beate sets coffee and cakes on the table, then disappears into the kitchen.
“Let me help you.” I forget for a moment to keep my attention on Henrik.
“No, no.” Beate almost pushes me out of the kitchen when I follow her as if telling me to stay out of her business. “I’ve finished anyways.” Then she darts back for plates, glasses, cups, and serviettes while I throw Henrik a flirtatious smile.
Henrik sits next to Grete. “Nice hair,” he says.
She looks up at his long hair in his usual top knot. “It’s annoying.” She focuses back on her book.
He smiles at me as if to tell me to observe how great he is with her, then asks her, “What are you reading?”
She marks her place and lifts the cover to show him her J.K Rowling’s first Harry Potter book. “I’ve read it before.”
“Good choice,” he says.
“I know.” She beams and locks her gaze back into her wizarding world.
Henrik frowns to himself, clearly frustrated she doesn’t pay him more attention but tries to hide it behind a smile. He notices me looking at him.
What is going on in that head of yours?
“I’m thankful to you for bringing Henrik home, Daniella.” Vidar pours coffee while Beate serves us cake.
The coffee is too bitter for my taste, and I chew on a cookie to get rid of the flavor. I want to tell them I don’t plan on staying in a relationship with Henrik, but that would ruin my goal. Still, sipping coffee in their living room gnaws at my conscience. We should leave.
Henrik notices me fidgeting, as Vidar tells the story about how he would often forget that Henrik was in the room because he sat so quiet, reading.
Just like Grete.
Vidar is in the middle of a story about a song Henrik used to sing as a child and how he’d put on shows when Henrik interrupts him. “I think we should head back.”
“The ferries are stranded for tonight,” Beate says, and I almost spit the dry cake out.
Vidar slaps his knee. “Why don’t you two stay the night?”
No! It’s torture enough lying to their faces over coffee. I can’t do it over dinner and breakfast too.
“I’ll make the beds,” Beate says as if finding a purpose in life. She darts out of the living room and down the stairs.
What the hell? Why isn’t Henrik stopping them?
In what seems like only seconds, she calls up. “Your room is ready.”
No. I don’t want to stay here.
Henrik puts his hand on my knee. “Shall we?”
Oh, you bastard.
He’s clearly enjoying watching me squirm.
This from the man who didn’t want to introduce any woman to his family. Suddenly you’re okay with spending the night?
23
We carry our bags down to the basement where Beate has made up a king-sized bed. The room has dark gray wallpaper and matching curtains.
It’s like a dungeon.
“Thank you, this is lovely,” I say, as she closes the door before heading back up to Vidar. I saunter over to the bed and fall onto the pillow.
The less time I spend lying to your family, the better. I can only imagine what they’ll feel once they realize I’ve used you. Shit, if anyone ever did that to my family, I’d explode.
Closing my eyes, my body is heavy, exhausted, and I’m drifting into sleep when Henrik’s hand slides up my thigh.
Sex, now? They’ll hear us.
“That’s why you didn’t argue? Sex?” I laugh and kiss him.
He shrugs. “I thought you’d be happy that I took you home to meet my family.”
I’m not Katelyn, and you know it.
She would never agree to fuck you while your brother and his too-eager-to-please wife, which you’ve had sex with already, wait upstairs. They haven’t seen you in years, and this is how you want to spend your time? You must want me to refuse you, give you a reason to dislike me, cast me aside. Well, I won’t let that happen.
I won’t see them again, anyway.
I force a grin and crawl towards him, lust and flirtation oozing from my voice. “Family won’t get in the way of me having you to myself.”
Henrik grabs me, opens the fly of my pants, and rips them off before spreading my legs and disappearing between them.
I place the pillow over my mouth once my body climaxes, screaming into it. The naughtiness of having sex underneath the family makes the sensation stronger.
My mouth is dry from heaving for air through the pillow. When I fall over to the side, sweat runs down my breasts from cramping in ecstasy, and he slides into me from the front. He’s more excited than usual, and thrusts about ten times but finishes without a sound.
There’s no way they didn’t hear that. I don’t care that you always orgasm without a sound. You wanted them to know.
Henrik stares up at the ceiling as if waiting for a comment about his family upstairs.
You want a bad girl breaking rules? Fine.
I pretend not to think about his family upstairs. “How come you never make a single sound when you orgasm?”
He rolls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. “Never have. You want me to?”
“You want me to stop making sounds?” I let out a soft moan.
“No. I love hearing you come,” Henrik says.
“And…?” I’m waiting for him to put the pieces together, but he doesn’t. “If you love hearing me, don’t you think I would love hearing you?”
He frowns. “No?”
“Then you’re wrong.” I pull the duvet up to cover the lower half of my body. I’m too hot to cover more, and knowing how much he enjoys glancing at my breasts, I leave them perky and exposed.
He spoons up against me, cupping both. “I’ll try next time.” He kisses my neck. “I’m looking forward to hearing you without the pillow muffling your screams.”
Four knocks on the door shut us up, and we both suppress laughter. It’s as if we’re teenagers sneaking around our parents’ house.
“Do you want dinner?” Beate calls from outside the room, sensible enough not to enter.
I shake my head, whispering. “No.”
I can’t face them now.
“Love to,” Henrik calls back. He nudges me. “I want them to get to know you.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
At the dinner table, Beate passes me a tray of what looks like flour tennis balls. “Have you known each other long?”
Next to Vidar sits Grete with her book and a ball cut in half on her plate. She manages to eat without looking up from her story, which I’m quite impressed by.
The ball makes a squishing sound as I scoop one up with the large serving spoon and roll it onto my plate. From the corner of my eye, Henrik suppresses his laughter. I place the spoon back on the tray and pass it on to him, lifting an eyebrow. “Not long enough for me to meet you, I guess.” I withhold my smile at the sight of the lime green suit Vidar wears in their wedding photo behind Beate. “But thank you for letting me stay the night.”
“Of course,” she says.
Hoping to get an entertaining story, I direct the same question back to Beate. “How long have you and Vidar been married?”
My question causes Henrik to cough, and Beate jumps from her seat to get him a glass of water.
“We married six years ago.” Vidar appears concerned while Henrik gulps water.
Henrik slept with Beate six years ago.
I glare at Henrik.
“That was an expensive day,” Vidar continues, seeming to talk to himself.
Henrik shrugs apologetically to me.
Did you sleep with Beate after they got married?
Once the coughing stops, Henrik takes a ball and cuts it in half, showing me the dark lump of meat inside. “Lamb sausage. Ever had it before?”
Who cares about lamb sausage?
I push on the slimy beige snowball and answer in a cheery voice. “Never had the pleasure.” Then I follow his lead and cut the ball in half.
I slice a big piece off and fill my mouth with it to focus on something other than revealing to Vidar what Henrik and Beate have done. It grows in my mouth as I try to stop myself from asking out loud if they had sex before or after they married, and Henrik continues to hide his laughter. Even Vidar hides a smile on the opposite side of the table. “It’s not for everyone.” He pours bacon fat onto his plate.
I swallow. “It tastes like a salty crepe.” I cut off another slice and eat that too.
If you’ve never tasted crepes before. Tradition covers all kinds of strange choices.
After dinner, we excuse ourselves, and I do my best to seem unfazed by Henrik’s non-stop cheating surprises.
He walks down the stairs in front of me.
He's got it coming: Love is the best revenge Page 17
