Let Go

by Alexandra Winter

  “We can manage. You’re tired, I can tell. Go sit.” I follow her to her armchair by the fireplace, but from there she glares at us, weighing every word we speak to each other.

  William notices and nudges my arm. “Are you waiting for us to attack each other?”

  Nana’s eyes narrow and her glasses slide down her nose. “You seem too friendly with each other to me. Are you sure you are broken up?”

  William shrugs. “Yes. But that doesn’t change that I love her.”

  Our eyes meet, and I give him a gentle smile. We’re both hurting and trying to make the best of the situation. Fighting won’t make it any better, and I will always be grateful for our time together.

  I’ll love you too.

  It’s just not enough.

  After William leaves, Nana makes us ginger tea, and we sit in the living room overlooking the garden. “Any day now, spring will provide new life. What will you do with your house?”

  “William’s going to live there alone for a bit, feel it out. Either he buys me out, or we sell. It’s up to him.” I’m thankful we have our contract telling us precisely what belongs to whom so we don’t have to discuss that on top of the heartache.

  Nana sips her tea and grins. “You do have an apartment in Porto. Why not move there in August? We already have the airplane tickets, and I can help you settle in.”

  I chuckle. Moving to Portugal seemed like a natural step a year ago; now it sounds preposterous. But then I think about it. Mom doesn’t want anything to do with me, and Nana is going with me. But then there’s Dad. “I can’t leave knowing Dad’s roaming around.” Not that I’m in any state to prevent him from doing anything, but I wouldn’t be able to sleep without checking on Mom every night to make sure she’s safe. “Besides, I’ll need a job there. I can’t go with no income.”

  “Of course not. Not if you focus on finding excuses instead of doing what you want,” Nana says.

  My phone rings upstairs. I put my tea down and catch the call just in time. “Hello?”

  “Si, Hooooolaaaa.” A woman clears her throat on the other end of the line. “Eh, hello. I am Sonia, your decorator.” The accent is thick, and she speaks in a rapid pace making it almost impossible to understand her words. “Erica tell me to call about apartment.”

  She’s almost shouting through the phone, so I lower the volume to prevent my eardrum from bursting. “So nice to finally hear from you. Have you seen the apartment? How is it?”

  “I am spectacular. Your apartment is to die for. Don’t you love it?”

  Her enthusiasm throws me off. Communication will be a challenge. I speak slower. “I am amazed at the size of—”

  “I know,” she cuts me off. “I know!” In the background, her heels clack on what sounds like the floor of a great hall, and I picture her pacing back and forth in her office. “I am here now, builders let me in. This view…This view, and the space, and…Oh, this is magnificent.” A long pause, but when I open my mouth to speak, she continues. “A few adjustments needed, of course, and the builders have no vision. Thankfully, you have me.”

  Sonia’s in my apartment. In Porto.

  She’s too dramatic for my liking, but if she’s half as good as Erica says, she’s an angel.

  “You can help me with everything?” I’m not sure what I’m asking for, but when I’m not there to see what’s happening, I need her to do it for me.

  “Of course, of course. I send you all my recommendations and prices, you email me back what you love or hate. No detail will be missed. I fix everything for you. Every cushion, linen, and blanket will be perfect when you arrive. Which is when exactly?”

  “Um, in August.”

  “What?” The shock in her voice sounds like I told her I’m arriving tomorrow and expect the apartment to be ready.

  Silence.

  “Oh, you do serve me with a challenge, but I have done my magic before. Can you please send me some pictures today of what styles you enjoy, and I will begin?”

  I agree, hang up the phone, and sit on my bed. My head is buzzing.

  Ideas. My ideas. I can decide for myself what it will look like.

  I walk downstairs to rejoin Nana. “That was the decorator for the Porto apartment. Want to look at styles with me?”

  She beams. “Oh, yes. What good timing too, since we were discussing Porto.”

  “Coincidence,” I say.

  “No such thing. Signs leading us, not coincidences.”

  That evening, we google hardwood floors, floor heating, and furniture. We decide on a mix between rustic oaks, warm white sofas and walls, all floating together as a neutral base for me to decorate with my own personal touch when I arrive. The more images I see, the wider my smile grows. It’s supposed to be a rental apartment, but if Nana is right, if this was no coincidence, and Dad gets arrested, nothing’s holding me back. Why wouldn’t I live there myself?

  At The Bluebird the following day, Josefine and I hang up our aprons to have lunch. We choose a table by the window, looking out on the melting snow.

  “Spring is late this year,” she says.

  I pepper my tuna salad. “William and I broke up.”

  Like she didn’t hear me, she continues to gaze out the window with sparkling eyes. “Johan wants us to make the apartment our home.”

  I arch my left eyebrow. But welcome the subject to avoid talking about William and I. “At his place?”

  “Yes. We’re at a good place, and he’s been faithful since I confronted him after the Christmas holiday. He lets me decorate how I want. Last night we painted the bedroom. It looked dreadful before, but now it’s more our home. It’s perfect. He’s perfect.”

  I don’t trust he’ll change like that. Josefine's blind. “Be careful so you don’t spend your money fixing up his place, and then you break up.”

  She gasps. “We love each other.”

  Wow. This is an entirely different tone than before. I take a deep breath, then before I’m able to respond, William’s voice cuts me off.

  “I wanted to ask if you would have lunch with me, but you’re already eating,” he says.

  Josefine stares up at him. “You two are such a great couple. I’ll go call Johan, I’m sure he misses me. You can have my seat.” Giggling, she heads into the kitchen, leaving me with William.

  Is she high?

  If this were a cartoon, my jaw would be on the floor.

  I gesture for him to sit. “Are you all right?”

  “I miss you, that’s all. I wasn’t joking when I said you’re my only friend here.”

  He says it in a way that warms my heart and assures me once again that although it is sad, it’s right. I take his hand. “I miss you too.”

  Ms. Berg rushes out of the kitchen with William’s favorite, eggs, avocado, and coriander cream. “I’m so sorry to hear about you two.” She sniffles, then she rushes back.

  “I told her this morning,” I say.

  “I haven’t told anyone yet. Don’t want to deal with their opinions. But I’ve decided to sell the house.”

  I stare at him; my throat tightens as our home will soon belong to someone else. There was something romantic about the thought of him living on and creating his dream life in that house. “Are you sure?”

  “After our refurbishments, it will sell for a lot more than when we bought it. We both need that money. I need a fresh start, without our history lurking in the walls.”

  “Moving back to Oslo?”

  “No, I like it here. What about you?” William begins eating.

  “I have to find something to rent, I guess. Haven’t looked at anything yet, though.”

  William’s entire body deflates. “Renting? Have I taught you nothing? You don’t rent, you buy.”

  “I can’t afford anything. Or maybe I can now that we’re selling the house. Besides, I think I want to stay in Porto for a while. Feel it out.” My hands shake when I say it out loud to him.

  “I knew it.” William sits back in his seat. �
��What did I tell you?”

  Soon you’ll leave me and move to Portugal were his words. My lips shrivel up to the left. “I know.”

  “Come on. You buy an apartment here, it’s cheap enough, then you rent it out when you go. That way, you have an income when you travel.”

  I stare down on my food. “You have to stop being so nice to me.”

  “Eat your lunch.” He lifts my chin and grins. “Not for better or for worse, but I’ll always love you.”

  “Me too. Thanks. I’ll see what I can find,” I say.

  “What about your job here?”

  I chuckle. “I’ll quit. It’ll make Mom’s day, I’m sure. But if Dad’s still lurking around I can’t leave.”

  “I don’t understand how it’s so difficult to catch him. Don’t they have any leads?”

  “Apparently not. Dad hasn’t used any of his credit cards. He’s doing his best to hide. I don’t get it. His parents must know where he is if he’s not living with them. Why don’t they turn him in?”

  “Turn in their own child? I don’t think so. It would be typical, though. You leave, and he comes back for your mother. Good thing I’m here,” William says.

  “I need to have him arrested before I leave. If not, I won’t be able to enjoy my trip with Nana at all no matter if it’s a vacation or if I stay.”

  I have to lure him out somehow.

  It takes William and me two weeks to get the house ready for the photographer. This is William’s area of expertise. Although I would have chosen daisies, roses are everyone’s favorite according to him, so I give in. They do look fancier. With roses decorating every table in the house and fresh lavender planted outside, the pictures are magazine quality.

  William recommends two open house days, one hour on Saturday and another on Sunday. “That way we’ll create more of a buzz when potential buyers come to see,” he says. A friend of his drives down from Oslo to do the showings. On Monday afternoon, William and I gather at the kitchen table waiting for his calls. Bids are coming in, but William rejects them all. “We can get more,” he says. When only two people are left bidding against each other, William puts the phone on speaker, and I almost fall off my chair when his friend's voice on the other end announces at an immense speed, “It’s double what you paid, William. I can’t get them to go any higher. The bid expires in five minutes. You should accept.”

  Double?

  We gaze at each other, and I nod frantically.

  That means I can buy an apartment here.

  William gives the answer. “Tell the buyer we accept.”

  My hand goes to my heart as I listen to the voice on the other end of the line congratulating us. When William hangs up, we sit there, staring at the phone for what seems like hours. All those nights of painting were worth it.

  I take a deep breath.

  We no longer own a house together.

  My voice breaks. “Now what?”

  “Now we move our things out.” He sighs. “And try to be civil during the process.”

  While a part of me could burst out crying at any moment, another is thrilled. But out of consideration to William, I keep my enthusiasm hidden. “Meet you here tomorrow after work?”

  “Sure. I’ll get a head start tonight, though. Are you moving your things to Nana’s?”

  I nod. “Your parents for yours?”

  “Yeah. They’re not too thrilled about it, makes a mess. But they’ll live.”

  There’s a lightness to my step walking over to Nana’s. She waits for me in the library, glasses pushed down on her nose, intensely concentrating on a book. She jumps at the sight of me. “Oh, Amalie, you startled me. How did it go with your house? Did you sell it?”

  I grin. “For double the price we paid.”

  Her expression turns puzzled. “Did you say double?”

  By now, I’m already in the kitchen with a sparkling wine bottle in my hand. “Let’s celebrate,” I call out into the hallway. “Wine or tea?”

  A long silence.

  “For double the price? Wine. I have been feeling much better these days.”

  I pour us each a glass and clink mine to her in a toast. “To Porto,” I say.

  Nana grins. “To Porto.”

  I’m trembling with excitement now that it’s dawning on me that I’m free to do as I please. “William recommended I buy an apartment here, then rent it out if I decide to stay in Porto.”

  “So, you have decided to stay there?”

  I giggle. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but yes, if Dad’s arrested, I’m deciding it right now.”

  After Nana’s gone to bed, I scan through apartments for sale in Årøysund and find a perfect one-bedroom about one kilometer from the sea in a ten-year-old building. There should be no unexpected expenses, and with the rental price, I can expect I’ll make about five-thousand kroner a month to spend in Portugal. Not enough to live off, but if I save up my tips this summer, I can stay in Porto for a few months without having to work. I send the apartment link to Erica and William. They both respond with a thumbs up.

  At The Bluebird the following morning, Josefine’s sparkle is replaced with a gloomy look. “Johan is driving me insane. How can men act like this? Huh? He doesn’t put down the toilet seat, he puts all the dishes in the dishwasher wrong, he even hangs the paper towel the wrong way. He doesn’t cook or do laundry. Is William like this?”

  She’s had no capacity to talk about anything other than how wonderful Johan has been for the last month, so it doesn’t surprise me that William and me breaking up completely passed over her. “We broke up over a month ago,” I say.

  “What?” She grabs my shoulders. “What did he do? Did he cheat? He looks like a cheater.”

  “No, no, no. We want different things.”

  “Mhmm, that’s what they all say. But where do you live now?”

  I show her the apartment I found last night on my phone. “I’m going to see it during lunch today. Want to come?”

  “Absolutely. Anything to keep me away from Johan.”

  As we walk up to the apartment, I can’t shake the creepy feeling that someone’s watching us. But no matter what direction I look, nobody’s there. When we get to the apartment building, the front door is locked and the owner, a bald man around fifty years old, comes down the stairs to let us in. He struggles with the lock, and when he finally opens the door, he’s sweating. “Never forget your keys inside the building if you go outside. The door will smack shut, and you’ll be locked out.”

  “Who leaves their apartment building without their keys?” Josefine rolls her eyes.

  “You’d be surprised.” He leads us up the two floors and down a dark gray corridor where he opens the door to a worn-down apartment that looks nothing like the pictures online.

  “The owner recently evicted the tenants. It has great potential,” he says.

  I expect attitude from Josefine, but she runs around like a caged animal set free. “This place is bigger than Johan’s apartment. You have to buy this.”

  I glare at her, hoping she’ll cool down. I don’t want the owner believing I’m too interested so he’ll expect a higher price than I’m willing to bid. But she doesn’t. “You can have the bed here, the sofa here, we can drink wine on the balcony here.”

  “Josefine? Can I please talk to the owner in private for a few minutes?”

  Her eyes shoot up. “Oh. Sure. I’ll be outside.” She saunters out into the hallway.

  I turn to the owner. “It needs a lot of work. I’ll have to sand the faded oak floors, paint the walls…” I look up. “…and ceiling. Change countertops in the kitchen, refurbish the entire bathroom.” Luckily the tiles are in good condition so I’ll keep those. “If you cut two-hundred-thousand off the price, I’ll take it.”

  His jaw drops. “Listen here, young lady.” He walks towards me, but I don’t move.

  What is it about people hoping to scare me into changing my mind?

  I know what an upgrade costs f
rom doing the exact same thing at the house, and my offer is fair.

  He grunts. “Fine. I’m tired of showing it. I’ll have the realtor send you a contract.”

  “Really?” I completely lose my cool. “Thank you.” If he weren’t here, I’d do a happy dance, but instead, I shake his hand and run out the door. “Josefine! I bought it.”

  We’re still dancing when the owner leaves the building, but I don’t care. A deal is a deal.

  “We have to go back to work,” Josefine says.

  Our lunch break is over in five minutes.

  When my shift ends, an email from the realtor has already arrived in my inbox with a contract ready for me to sign. I run out the door. The snow has melted by now, and it only takes me two minutes to get to the house. William has his head inside a cardboard box when I barge into the living room. “I’m the worst person in the world right now, but can you please look over the contract to my new apartment?”

  “Hello to you too.”

  I hand him my phone, and he quickly reads through it.

  “You did well. It’s a standard contract. The owner uses our real estate firm to sell so just sign, get the insurance in case something unexpected pops up, and you’re done.”

  “Angry?”

  “No,” he says. Which only makes asking his advice worse.

  “Sure?”

  “Of course not. I’m happy you bought something.”

  Packing is a friendly process for us. When William needs a moment to himself, I give him that. When I get stuck in memories, doubt my decision not to marry him and can’t pack anymore, he comforts me. We don’t argue over one single item. A part of me wishes I had met him later in life when I’ll be as ready to settle down as he is now.

  After three nights of packing, the moving van empties the house of furniture. An echo fills the rooms after we send everything off. William meets me in the hallway.

  It’s gone. Our home is gone.

  I crouch down onto the floor.

  What have I done?

  A part of me will always look back and wonder why it wasn’t right to stay.