This Christmas in Stockholm

by Betham, Michelle

  “It’s fine. You’ve got nothing to apologise for.” I stop walking again; turn to face him, again. “I’ve only just met you, so, I’m just not comfortable sharing my personal life with you, that’s all.”

  “I understand.”

  “And my hotel, it’s only down that street, there’s no need for you to come any further. I think I can just about manage to make my way over there without anything terrible happening.”

  “If that’s what you want.”

  “It is. But thank you, for dinner. That was very kind of you. You have a lovely restaurant.”

  “Will you be coming back?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “It’s on the house, if you do.”

  I throw him a small smile, because dinner really was appreciated. But food was all I was after. As handsome as he is, as kind as he seems, I’m not looking for company. I don’t know if I’m ready for that yet. I guess that’s what I’m here to find out. “Maybe. I can’t promise. There’s a lot of this city I want to see, and I’m only here for a few days, so…”

  I leave that sentence hanging, I want to go now. I want to crawl into bed in my cosy hotel room and sleep.

  “Is this your first time in Sweden?”

  I sigh quietly, not one he would’ve heard, I’m not that rude. But I do just want to go now. “No, it isn’t.”

  “How long are you in Stockholm for?”

  “Just a few days.”

  “There’s a lot to see, in just a few days.” He looks at me, his blue eyes remaining locked on mine for what feels like a long time, but in reality, it’s just a few seconds. “You should stay longer.”

  I keep my eyes on him as he walks away, and for a moment or two I just stand there, even when he’s out of my sight my eyes are focused on where he was.

  I should stay longer.

  That’s not something I was planning on doing.

  Two

  The Christmas market in Stortorget Square, in the centre of the Old Town, is almost picture-postcard perfect. Tyrolean-style wooden stalls surround a huge Christmas tree, and the air around me is filled with the smell of smoked sausage and Glögg – Sweden’s version of mulled wine, something I learnt this morning from Lina, who works in the little café next to the hotel, as she served me warm croissants and cloudberry jam for breakfast.

  I’ve spent the day exploring the city, taking in the sights such as Stockholm Cathedral and Köpmangatan, the oldest street in Stockholm. I’ve fallen in love with the narrow, winding cobblestone streets and all the buildings in their different shades of gold, something which gives Gamla Stan its own unique character. This was just what I needed, to come somewhere like this, somewhere so completely different to home. A place where the memories don’t crowd my mind, where I don’t feel that frustration still raging inside of me. The sadness swamping me. The confusion overwhelming me. I’m calm, here.

  I stop at a stall selling Glögg and buy myself a mug, smiling at the young man who hands it to me, and I thank him in Swedish, which he seems to appreciate. I’m trying, but I think it’s quite obvious Swedish isn’t my first language.

  “Still practicing, huh?”

  I almost drop my mug of Glögg as I spin around to find him – Erik – standing behind me, all cocky grin and ridiculously blue eyes, a dark-grey scarf wrapped around his neck, because it’s cold out tonight.

  “Are you sure you’re not stalking me?”

  “I can understand how it might look that way but, actually, no. I mean, I did look out for you in the restaurant tonight, I was hoping you’d come back there. We do a mean reindeer fillet with lingonberries that I think you’d enjoy.”

  I look at him as I take a sip of my Glögg, but I don’t say anything. I had dinner in another restaurant tonight, one recommended by Lina.

  “But you didn’t show. I was disappointed.”

  Was he? Really?

  I remain silent, I don’t respond to that, I don’t even know whether I’m pleased to see him or not, but maybe I should be flattered that he’s taken the time to come looking for me.

  “So, have you had a good day?”

  I nod, wrapping my gloved hands tighter around my warm mug. “It’s been nice. This is a beautiful place.”

  We find a vacant bench near the Christmas tree and sit down, staring out at the market stalls and festive lights and the crowds of people all milling around the square.

  “I wanted to see you again, Eva.”

  When he says my name my stomach does that flip-thing again, and this time I know it isn’t because I’m hungry. I’ve eaten, I’m full, that flip wasn’t hunger-related.

  “Well, you found me.”

  He sits forward, clasps his hands together, rests his elbows on his knees as he stares out ahead of him. “I don’t believe in fate, do you?” He looks at me, just a fleeting glance before he shifts his gaze back to the crowds gathering around the Christmas market stalls. “I never believed in any of that. I’m far too cynical.”

  “You don’t strike me as the cynical type.”

  He doesn’t. But then, we’ve known each other all of two hours in total, how can I possibly know anything about him?

  He laughs quietly, still staring out ahead of him. “Circumstances, they can change a person.”

  He leaves it at that, and there’s a part of me that wants to push him further, but if I’m not willing to divulge any personal details of my own, why should he be? So, I leave it, too. Take another sip of Glögg. And then he turns his head to look at me, his face breaking into a small smile, and I allow my stomach one more flip.

  “Fate, all that crap, I believe it’s all in our hands. There’s nothing mystical about any of it. A lot of people seem to think, at this time of year, that miracles happen. That fairytales, happen.”

  I frown, I have no idea what he’s talking about. But I’m quite enjoying watching his mouth move. He has a beautiful mouth. Perfect, even. And when he parts his lips to smile again, I realise his smile is slightly lopsided. I want to kiss that mouth. I want that mouth to kiss me… And then I snap out of that trance, that dream-like state, and I stand up. I should go. It’s been a long day. I might just go back to the hotel, watch some Swedish TV, read a book, I don’t know. I just think I should leave now.

  “Eva…”

  I feel his hand gently grasp my forearm and I turn to look at him.

  “Come have a drink with me. Please.”

  No. I didn’t come here for this, I didn’t come here, for this. It’s too soon…

  I shake my head, wrenching my arm free of his grip, and I start to walk away but he follows me. I knew he would, I expected it, but I don’t stop walking. If I stop he won’t get the message and, right now, I need him to get the message.

  “Eva, wait!”

  I turn the corner onto the street where my hotel is, and it’s there that he finally catches up with me, and for some reason I stop. I can see the hotel, the entrance is just a few yards away and yet, I stop. I turn around and I look up at him.

  It’s cold, it feels like snow might be on the way, and I watch him as he unravels his scarf, pulls it away from his neck and wraps it around mine, a gesture that – for a reason I can’t quite explain – makes me want to cry. I haven’t cried in so long, not even when I realised my marriage was falling apart. Even then, I didn’t cry. And yet, a stranger wrapping his scarf around my neck to keep me warm, that’s making me cry. Oh, Jesus, no, please don’t let me turn into some weak, grateful woman who’s glad of this man turning up to save her. I can’t be her. I’m not, her.

  I look up at the night sky, and I squint as I try to both spot the stars that were there earlier, and also stop myself from crying. I really do think a change of weather is on the way, that’s why I can’t see those stars anymore, the sky is too heavy with snow.

  And then I feel him, touch me. Feel his fingers cold against my cheek, so cold it makes me flinch, and I drop my head, my eyes locking with his. His fingers aren’t cold anymore, my skin�
�s warmed them, and I reach up and cover his hand with my gloved one. I close my eyes as he leans in to me, and when he kisses me I don’t even care that it’s freezing, that it has actually started to snow, all I know is that mouth I wanted to kiss not ten minutes ago, I’m kissing it. And he tastes of beer and spices and I’m loathe to let him go. The second his lips touched mine I felt a connection I’m in no hurry to break, but I didn’t come here, for this. This wasn’t something I’d wanted, not yet, why would I want this when the break-up of my marriage is still so raw? And this man, he’s a stranger. He’s a stranger… and that could be just what I need. This man means no ties, no strings attached, no need to forge any kind of trust because I go home in a few days. I go home. Back to my life as a single woman. So, why is this a problem?

  “One drink, Eva. Just one drink.”

  I look down, not realising how tightly I’m gripping his jacket. I’m clutching it like my life depends on me never letting go. “I can’t…” Because I’m scared. It isn’t what I do, I’ve never done this. This is new, this is different. This isn’t me. I’ve been so used to being one half of a couple, to having someone else there, I’ve forgotten what it feels like to be attracted to another man; to someone new.

  That realisation kicks in like a swift smack to the face, and I look up into Erik’s eyes. My marriage is over. It’s done. My husband left me, so I have no reason to feel guilty or cheap or scared of being here. Scared of being with this man. This stranger. This hot, handsome, sexy Swedish stranger…

  I feel something stir in the pit of my stomach, feel his hand cup my cheek again, pushing my head gently back as he kisses me once more, and I fall against him. I give in, I surrender, I don’t care anymore.

  For too many years I knew only one man. Kissed only one man. Had sex with only one man. Is that about to change…?

  Three

  His apartment is close to the city centre, just a short walk from the square. A large open-plan space with smaller rooms coming off it and a beautiful, well-equipped kitchen at the far end, but I expected nothing less from a man whose life is based around food.

  I take off my coat and hang it up on a rack by the door, following him into the main living area, watching as he switches on lights, sets a fire going; pours us each a glass of brandy. My lips are still tingling from his kiss, my gut a mess of mixed-up emotions, why the hell am I even entertaining guilt? But for some reason I am, despite the fact my husband left me months ago. He isn’t mine anymore, he hadn’t really been mine for a long time, and that still makes me sad, when I think about it. Which, for a while, I tried not to do. Until one day I realised that the only way to get past that sadness was to face up to the reality. Only then could I even begin to think about moving on.

  “Are you okay?”

  Erik’s voice drags me back from those thoughts and I look at him. “I’m fine.”

  He just wants me for sex, I’m sure of it. Maybe he can see how vulnerable I am… am I vulnerable? I didn’t exactly come across as easy when we first met, at least, I don’t think I did. If anything, the message I’d sent out was very much a ‘stay away’ one. Besides, what am I here for? I’m not sure I know, actually…

  “Are you hungry?” he asks as he heads into the kitchen and opens the fridge. “I’ve got some leftovers from the restaurant – cold chicken, some salmon, plenty of cheese…”

  “No, I’m not hungry.”

  He closes the fridge and turns to look at me, smiling as he comes back into the living room.

  “Please, make yourself at home.”

  “Oh… Okay. Thank you.”

  He sits down on the floor by the fire – on a thick-pile, dark-grey rug – and I tentatively lower myself down opposite him, sitting back against the couch, clutching my brandy.

  “You’re still nervous, huh?” He’s still smiling, and now I feel a little stupid.

  “A bit, yes. This – it’s all very strange to me.”

  “There’s nothing to be nervous about. We’re only having a drink.”

  “I know.”

  He arches an eyebrow. “Did you think I’d want more than that?”

  He’s making me a little uncomfortable now, and I look down into my glass.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uneasy.”

  I slowly raise my gaze, my eyes meeting his. “You haven’t.” He has, but I’d rather he thought he hadn’t.

  “So, what brings you to this beautiful city of mine?”

  I take a sip of brandy, leaving a couple of beats before I answer him. “I needed a break, that’s all.”

  “Okay…”

  I narrow my eyes as I look at him, he doesn’t believe me. I don’t care. I know why I’m here, and that’s all that matters.

  “Are you married, Eva?”

  “That’s a pretty personal question to ask of someone you’ve only just met. Are you?”

  “I was. Once.”

  I look down at my left hand. And seeing it without my wedding ring there, it still makes me feel sad.

  “Eva?”

  “I was married, too.” I look at him, and I smile slightly. “But I don’t want to talk about it. It’s over, and now I’m trying to move on.”

  “Yeah. Me too.”

  “And how’s that going for you?”

  He smiles back at me. “I’m getting there.”

  I take another sip of brandy and glance at the clock above the fireplace. It’s getting late, and I should really be getting back to the hotel.

  “You don’t have to go just yet.”

  “Do you read minds or something?”

  “Something,” he laughs, and all of a sudden that uneasiness I’d felt before starts to slowly ebb away. Or maybe it’s the brandy, I don’t know. But I might stay just a little while longer.

  “What do you do, Eva? For a job, I mean. Back in England… I’m guessing you’re from England?”

  I nod, and I drop my gaze again, just for a second or two. “I work in the theatre.”

  “Really?”

  “I’ve been with the same theatre company for a while now, as a Deputy Stage Manager.”

  “That must be interesting.”

  “It has its moments. But it’s a job I love, even if the hours can sometimes be a little unsociable.”

  He looks at me in a way that tells me he understands exactly what I mean by that, and so he should. He works in hospitality, the hours can be brutal in that business.

  “Did that have anything to do with your marriage breaking up?”

  “I said I didn’t want to talk about that.”

  He drops his head, his fingers tightening around his glass. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. Look, I don’t mean to come across quite so…”

  “Ice-maiden?”

  I look at him, and he smiles again, and I can’t help laughing. “Yeah, okay, maybe but, I’ve got a lot on my mind right now and I guess, sometimes, I take it out on all the wrong people.”

  “I did that a lot, too. In the beginning.”

  “Then you must be moving on a lot quicker than me, because I’m still doing it.”

  He throws me another smile, and I’m starting to feel more and more comfortable in his company now.

  “When did it happen?”

  “When did what happen?” I ask, frowning slightly.

  “When did your marriage end?”

  We seem to have moved back to asking way too personal questions; talking about broken marriages and failed relationships, but I’m kind of okay with it now. For some reason. But, you know what people say – sometimes talking to a stranger is the best way to get everything off your chest.

  “A few months ago. Everything’s still a bit raw, I suppose.”

  “Which is why you can do without men like me trying to take advantage, huh?”

  I laugh quietly, because I know he’s got his tongue firmly in his cheek now. “Is that what you’re trying to do? Take advantage?”

  “Not really. I mean, I’ve
only just found out how emotionally damaged you are, I should at least wait a few more hours.”

  “You see, now you’re being a dick.”

  He holds his hands up in mock surrender, lowering his head, but I can see he’s still smiling. “It happens.”

  “Idiot,” I laugh, and when he looks up at me, and our eyes meet again, there’s this brief, fleeting moment – a second when we both feel something. A connection. And yet, there’s also something stopping us both from acting on it any more than we already have. We’re holding back, we both are, and I think we both have our own reasons for doing that. I definitely have mine. “Look, Erik, this has been nice but, I really should be getting back to the hotel.”

  “Yeah. It has been nice.”

  I place my empty glass on the table behind me and pull myself to my feet. He follows me into the hall, leaning back against the wall, his hands in his pockets as I slip on my coat, hat and gloves.

  “Let me walk you back.”

  “No, I – I’d rather walk back alone. It isn’t far, I’ll be fine. Really.”

  “I don’t like leaving you…”

  “I’ll be fine, Erik.”

  He sighs and shakes his head, but he’s smiling. He smiles a lot, and I like that he does that. He has a beautiful smile. “Stubborn, huh?”

  “Very.”

  I go over to him, but I keep my distance. We might have shared a kiss, but I think we should leave it at that. “Thank you, for tonight.”

  “I didn’t really do anything.”

  “Yeah. You did.”

  Another smile. And this time, I’m smiling, too.

  “Will I see you again, Eva?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “I’d really like to. See you again, I mean.”

  I look at him, throwing him one last, small smile. But I don’t respond, because I don’t know if I will see him again. I don’t know if I want to. I’m going to sleep on that one…

  Four

  I’m woken by daylight flooding in through the window, and I lie back and stretch out in my extremely comfortable bed. And then I remember last night, and I smile.