by Willow Rose
"You really shouldn't…" my mom started, but my dad put a hand on top of hers to make her stop. She looked at him. "She's got high blood pressure for cryin' out loud. She should lose weight."
I rolled my eyes at her, then gulped down another bite, feeling like a rebellious teenager. Maya gave me a look, then sighed like I was the most embarrassing person in the world, which I admit I probably was. Luckily, her friend had returned to her own house after the sleepover. I liked Christina, especially since she was such a good friend to Maya, but I couldn't stand how she was constantly all over me. I knew Maya hated it too. It had to be annoying for her.
"So, tell us, Morten, why are you late?" my dad asked, trying to change the subject. He was my accomplice in all this, my only helper whenever Morten and my mom ganged up on me.
Morten hooked a piece of pork on his fork, then ate it. "We had to respond to a death."
"What?" I asked, quickly turning my head.
"Yeah, it's quite disturbing actually," Morten said with a sigh. "You remember the Mortensens from Granvej? Brian and Ann? We met them last year at a dinner party. He worked for that shipping company on the mainland, and she worked for that research lab, the one out of town?"
"Omicon? Yeah, I remember them. Nice couple. Did something happen to them?" I asked.
"She's dead," he said, nodding.
"What? How?"
"We don't know that yet," Morten said. "But according to Brian, he came home in the middle of the night and found her in the bed. Dead."
"Was she…killed?"
Morten shook his head. "We don't think so, no. It looked like she just died in her sleep. Probably a heart attack. The autopsy will let us know later this week, hopefully."
I clasped my mouth. "Oh, dear God. Poor Brian."
Morten nodded. "I know."
"Yeah, maybe now you'll understand why it’s important to keep your heart healthy," my mom chirped.
"I have a little high blood pressure," I said angrily. "Half of the population has high blood pressure. It's not like I’m going to die."
"And cholesterol," my mom added. "Don't forget about that. Besides, I bet that Ann-character said the same and look what happened to her."
"Would you let it go already?" I snapped.
I had regretted so many times telling her what Dr. Williamsen had said. It was so stupid of me, but back then, I hadn't thought she would turn this into a big deal and be on my case all the time. I was a little surprised myself and just wanted to get it off my chest. Now she insisted on stuffing it back in over and over again, filling me with guilt.
"Please…Ulla," my dad said. "Can't we just have a nice family dinner for once?"
My mom rose to her feet, her plate between her hands. "I am just concerned for my daughter's well being. Is that a crime now?"
"No, Mom, that is not a crime, but…" I sighed and rubbed my forehead while my mom snorted and left for the kitchen without waiting for me to finish my sentence. My dad got up and followed her. He kissed me on the forehead.
"We'll probably head home, sweetie. Mom is tired."
"Thanks for coming over, Dad," I said while he blew finger kisses at the children. Maya had already left the table, her face probably red in embarrassment, while Victor and Skye were sitting eerily quiet, staring into each other's eyes, probably sharing all kinds of secrets between them. I couldn't quite figure out if their relationship was healthy or not. In the beginning, I had believed Skye had gotten Victor out of his shell a little, but as the days passed, it seemed like she was dragging him more and more into her world, a world none of us could enter, while Victor became more and more distant to me. Was it just him growing up? Or was it unhealthy for him?
I heard the front door slam as my parents left, then looked at Morten, who had grabbed a beer from the kitchen.
"Can you believe her?" I said. "How inappropriate of her. To use Ann Mortensen's tragedy like that for her little vendetta against me? Like that had anything to do with me."
Morten didn't say anything. He drank from his beer.
"You agree with her, don't you?" I said.
He looked at me, tired. "Why won't you listen to what the doctor says?"
"Great. Take her side. That's perfect, Morten," I said, grabbed the pan in front of me, and walked out to the kitchen with it. Morten didn't follow me but stayed in the dining room drinking his beer.
Chapter Ten
Next morning, I sent off Victor with the minibus taking him to Fishy Pines while Maya took care of getting herself to the high school on her own. It had snowed heavily all night, so she couldn't ride her bike, but the school was so close that she decided to walk instead.
I tried to kiss her before she left, but she brushed me off and rushed out the door. I stood in the kitchen and looked after her, my favorite cup between my hands. On the side it read I DON'T NEED TO DEAL WITH REALITY. I AM A WRITER. Maya had bought it for me on my birthday, and I loved it. I stared at Maya fighting her way through the snow, then thought about myself when I was her age. Gosh, I had hated my mother. I guessed I should count myself lucky that Maya at least tolerated me. And every now and then, we actually had a good and nice conversation with no rolling of eyes or deep sighs. But those days were rarer now than they used to be.
I walked upstairs to my office and sat down by my computer when suddenly my phone started to ring. Praying it wasn't Victor's school telling me something had happened, I picked it up. It wasn't Fishy Pines. It was my publisher.
"What have you done?"
"Well, hello to you too, Inger," I said.
"Quit it. I’m being serious here, Emma. What the heck have you done? Why would you do such a thing?"
"I’m guessing that you’re referring to my book and the fact that I have self-published it?" I asked, sipping my coffee. I was quite surprised that Inger was already reacting to this. I had just put it up the day before and hadn't even seen if it was out yet. But apparently, it was.
"Why would you do this to yourself? To your brand?" Inger asked.
To my brand. Yes, of course, that's how they saw me. As a brand, a product.
"Listen, Inger. I know you guys didn't wasn’t to publish it, so I decided to do this instead. At least I didn't take it to another publishing house. You should be happy I didn't do that."
Inger exhaled. "Emma, I am talking to you as a friend here, not your publisher. Do you have any idea what you have done to yourself? To your books? To you as an author?"
Now it was my turn to exhale. "No, Inger, I don't. And, frankly, I don't care. This book is my heart. I have to get it out to my readers."
"Readers who have always seen you as a true crime writer, as someone who wrote wonderful mysteries based on real events. Now, what are they supposed to believe?"
"I put it in as fiction, okay? Supernatural fiction."
"But that’s not what your audience is expecting from you, Emma."
"So, it's something new," I said, not really understanding what the fuss was about. It was just a book. "They might love it."
"So, I’m taking it you haven't read the newspapers this morning?" Inger asked.
"I haven't, no," I said, feeling a little nervous now.
"Maybe you should. Then let's talk about how to do some damage control for your brand."
Chapter Eleven
They hated it. They all hated my book. I couldn't believe my own eyes as I read through the many reviews posted in all the national newspapers in the country. I had sent them a copy of the book, yes, but I had never in my wildest imagination thought they would actually read it. I guess I had underestimated my own status or brand or whatever you want to call it. Apparently, me deciding to self-publish a book was headline news. But not the good kind. It was the kind where they told me I wasn't doing myself any favors by not listening to my publisher and that there was a reason the publishing house rejected the book. It was simply not worth the reader's time.
They really didn't like it?
I didn't understand. I was never one to r
eceive applause or awards for my writing, but the last couple of books I had written had received decent reviews, and I was beginning to consider myself to be quite good. But now this? Was Inger really right about the book?
Feeling sorry for myself, I walked back down to the kitchen and poured myself another cup of coffee, then found my secret stash of chocolate chip cookies behind the cereal boxes in the cabinet and dug in while looking at the falling snow outside my window. It was pretty but merciless.
As I lost myself in my thoughts, I suddenly spotted Sophia fighting her way through the thick curtain of snowflakes toward my house. I hurried to the door and opened it for her, so she could get in.
"Thanks," she said and stomped her feet to let the snow fall off on my floor where it soon melted and became a puddle. "It's nasty out."
"Tell me about it," I said and helped her get her jacket off, then put it on a hanger where it could dry off. Sophia had snow in her hair and brushed it off. Realizing someone was here (as always, way too late), Kenneth came storming out, barking aggressively at her.
"Easy Kenneth II," I said. "It’s just Sophia, even though she does look like a yeti."
"Brrr," Sophia said and swung her arms to get warmer. "You got the fireplace going?"
"Not yet, but now I will," I said and walked into the living room, while Kenneth threw himself at Sophia's shoes and, realizing this, Sophia grabbed them, and they started a fight of tug-of-war till the dog finally let go. I put wood in the fireplace and lit it, then looked at Sophia.
"How about some hot chocolate?" I asked.
"Sounds great."
I warmed it up for us and put whipped cream on top of it along with a giant marshmallow, then walked back to Sophia with the cups between my hands. When Sophia saw it, she gave me a look.
"Marshmallow, huh? What's going on? Are you and Morten fighting? Or is it Maya? Or Victor? Something's up with Victor at the school? Don't tell me they’ve thrown him out too?"
"No, that's not it."
"Phew, because I wouldn't know where you'd put him after that. Fishy Pines is the last resort if you know what I mean."
I ignored her remark. I was becoming increasingly happy with Fishy Pines and the work H.P. was doing with Victor. I didn't know if he was actually learning anything, but he didn't seem to get himself into as much trouble as he did in the ordinary school, and they hadn't talked about medicating him at all, much to my surprise.
"Then, what's up?" Sophia asked and sipped her hot chocolate. When she moved the cup from her mouth, a smear of whipped cream was left on the tip of her nose.
I grabbed my iPad and showed her an article in a newspaper. My picture was above it. Sophia read:
"The self-published Waltzing Matilda is undeniably news in the world of books. Unfortunately, it is bad news. There are two equally serious reasons why this book isn't worth any reader's attention. The first is that it is dull. Dull in a pretentious, florid, and archly fatuous fashion. The second is that it is repulsive…"
Sophia stopped herself and put the iPad down. "Oh."
"I know." I sipped my own hot chocolate while staring into the fire.
"So, you self-published it? Because they didn't want to publish it?" Sophia asked.
"Yes. It seemed like a great idea at the time. Now, they're all speculating that I think I’m better than everyone else and that, from now on, I’ll just be one of those self-published authors who couldn't get their books published by a real publishing house and so on. Because I refused to accept the fact that my book isn't good enough."
"But isn't that the truth?" Sophia asked. "That you self-published it because no one else would?"
"This is a good book. I love it, and I wanted my readers to read it and love it too."
"But it's so different," Sophia said. "People have come to expect a certain type of book from you, and this…well, it's not the same."
"I still think it's good," I said with a sigh.
Sophia put a hand on my shoulder. "I think it's good too. I really like it. You know I do. What do you care what everyone else thinks? If you're proud of it, then so be it. You should be."
"You don't think I should take it down then?" I asked.
"And let them win? Never! The book is out there, and there is nothing you can do about that. If you take it down, they'll think they were right. You won't hear the end of it. It's like kids. You can never let them think they were right."
I nodded. My marshmallow had become gooey from the warm chocolate milk, just the way I liked it.
"Okay," I said. "I'll leave it up."
"Just stay away from reviews and newspapers from now on. And don't Google yourself anymore. I know you say you don't do that, but I know you do. Stop it. Don't read any of the nonsense they're writing. And no Facebook. Don't read emails either. Just stop going on your computer and enjoy your family instead. Maybe write a new book. Do you have any new ideas?"
"Not really," I said and looked into the fire. After the reviews I had spent the morning reading, I wasn't sure I even wanted to write anymore. It was going to be very hard getting back up on that horse again.
Chapter Twelve
"Omigosh! Alexander is wearing that red sweater today. It makes him look sooo yummy."
Maya looked at Christina, then glanced at Alexander at the table next to them where he was sitting with all his friends eating their lunch. As he sensed her eyes on him, he lifted his head and smiled at her. She didn't smile back.
"He's so into you, Maya. You have to do something about it. You have to go out with him."
Maya shook her head. "I don't have to do anything. I’m fine where I am. I told you."
Maya looked down at her algebra book. She had a test later today and wanted to read up for it. She thought she heard Christina shriek, then lifted her head again and realized Alexander was standing right in front of her. Her heart dropped.
"Hi," he said.
Maya finally smiled, but only to be polite. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she was into him. She kind of was; she thought he was really cute, but she didn't want to be. She wanted to finish high school and move on.
"Hey, there."
Alexander sat down across from her. "I saw you riding your bike through downtown this weekend."
"Really?" she said unimpressed.
He looked at his fingers. "And I was wondering if maybe one day you and I…could…bike downtown together? Maybe to see a movie or get something to eat? Or how about this Saturday you and me bike to Thomas K's party together?"
And there it was. The question she had dreaded would come. She had prepared for it, but it was always harder when you actually sat in front of the person. Especially since this person was so cute and, had things been different, if it hadn't been for what she went through with Samuel, then well…she would probably have said yes.
"I don't think so," Maya said, her eyes returning to the book.
Please, go away now. Please.
Alexander's friends made noises in the background, and someone yelled. "Ouch."
Maya didn't look at him till after he got up. She felt heartbroken and lifted her gaze to watch him walk away.
In another lifetime maybe.
"You turned him down?" Christina could hardly breathe.
Maya closed her book. "I told you I would."
"But why? He's so hot!"
"I told you. I need to focus on school."
Maya grabbed her book and held it against her chest, then rushed out of the cafeteria, feeling devastated yet determined. Alexander was cute, yes, but she didn't want to go down that road again. She simply didn't dare to. If Christina couldn't understand that, then, well…then that was her problem.
Chapter Thirteen
I tried my best; I really, honestly did. I baked a ton of cookies, then prepared a pie for dessert tonight, while getting the roast ready and marinating the potatoes. I listened to music while cooking, whistling along, trying hard to push all the bad thoughts away and not wonder wha
t else people were writing about me online.
And, much to my surprise, I succeeded. I managed to go all day without opening my computer, checking emails or looking on Facebook on my phone, and I even let the voicemail handle my many phone calls. Most of them were from journalists who wanted a comment on the bad reviews and on my decision to self-publish, but I deleted them as fast as they arrived.
At two-thirty, Skye came down from upstairs and rushed toward the front door. I knew then that Victor was almost home and, just as I suspected, the minibus drove up into our driveway less than a second later.
He came up to the house, and I opened the door to greet him, but he completely ignored me and rushed toward Skye. They hugged, and I felt so jealous it screamed inside of me. I hadn't been able to touch my son for years and here she was, hugging him? Just wrapping her arms around him and holding him tight? And he didn't scream. He didn't even complain?
I should be happy that my son was socializing with other kids, letting them come close to him and actually touch him; I know I should, but I was just so…jealous. I missed holding my boy.
"Afternoon tea in thirty minutes," I yelled after them as they rushed into the living room. I knew they would be playing in the yard in only a few seconds, talking to the trees or whatever weird stuff they did out there.
I followed them, then noticed that both of them had stopped in front of the bathroom door. Both small bodies stood like they were frozen, staring at the closed door.
"What's going on?" I asked. "Aren't you going to the yard?"
That was when I noticed that Brutus, Victor's strange and very quiet pit-bull was also sitting there, glaring at the door, like he expected someone to come out of it.
"Victor?"
He didn't move. I noticed his hands were shaking as he stood there staring at the door.
"Vic? What's going on? Skye?"
But no one paid any attention to me. They just stood there, completely paralyzed, looking at the darn door like they expected it to open or something, but nothing happened.
