What am I not giving him?
Shit, I feel like a needy person right now. How can I make him love me? What do I have to do to make him choose me? It’s pathetic, and although these are not my feelings, playing this role forces the same thoughts into me as if they were real. As long as she’s in the picture, he won’t fall hard enough in love with me to want to kill himself when I break his heart. If I left him now, he might not even care, and my sacrifices would all have been for nothing.
Outside my kitchen window, backyard lights from the bar illuminate the black evening. Rain drizzles on the tree. Its few yellow and red leaves are heavy.
Soon it will be November, the darkest month in Oslo. Or so it’s always seemed. If I were going to work, it would be like every eleventh month of the year, dark when I leave home and dark when I get home. It rains almost daily. At least I had Isac here to brighten my day. Now, it’s just me, and the man who could have saved him.
I contemplate calling Victoria, but she didn’t understand when I met Isac. How could she now?
Facing Christmas this year feels unbearable.
I grab my coat, find my umbrella in a box in the guest room, and head out to the shop across the street to get breakfast for tomorrow. When I return, Mr. and Mrs. Nerli exit our apartment building with Melvin trotting in front on a leash. All three are wearing matching yellow raincoats. She grins seeing me notice their attire, and Mr. Nerli tilts his rain hat in a greeting.
I kneel next to Melvin, petting him and inspecting his leash. I’ve never seen him wear one before, but strangely enough, he seems happy in both his coat and in the leash. I can’t help but smile at how the couple makes their own rules, not caring what others think.
Mrs. Nerli leans down towards me. “During the thunder a couple of weeks ago, he ran away. Safer this way until the snow falls.”
I grin as I recall Melvin in his winter coat from past years, jumping like a rabbit through the thick snow in the backyard.
“He looks forward to chasing snowballs you throw,” Mr. Nerli laughs.
Mrs. Nerli straightens and leans her hand on her husband’s upper arm. “Oh, yes. We know it’s been a rough time for you, but if you want to continue the tradition, we’d love to have you over for dinner on December twenty-third.”
Isac never enjoyed those dinners, but he went for my sake. Melvin wore his red bow, and the Nerlis told stories from their travels to Africa. I loved it.
“Perhaps another year.” I’m immediately struck by guilt for lying. “It’s still…” I choke up, and as if to comfort me, Melvin pushes his head into my leg.
Mrs. Nerli moves her hand to my shoulder. “If you want to talk, we’re here.” She squeezes and holds on for a few seconds to confirm she’s serious.
I don’t want to bother them with my struggles, and I especially do not want to inform them of my recent betrayal with Henrik.
“Thank you.” I nod at her, then to Mr. Nerli for holding the door.
They saunter off hand in hand, Melvin looking back at me.
Their relationship is what everyone dreams of. They are too cute.
Henrik arrives later that evening. He continues spending most nights at my place through November. After another trip to Bergen in early December, he comes over, tired.
Cleaning up after dinner, he stops and stands by the table for a while before turning to me. “Do you want to celebrate New Year’s Eve with me in Bodø?”
“What?”
Finally!
He brings over the dirty cutlery and stacks it in the dishwasher. “I mean…I heard you talking to your mother a while ago, saying you’re celebrating with friends. I figured you’re busy.” He smiles, ever so slightly. “But sharing a kiss when the clock strikes twelve sounds like a better deal than not being together, don’t you think?”
Although his words are confident, his tone seems insecure, frail.
“Have you waited to ask me this because you thought I was busy?” I laugh at the hilarity. I’ve waited for him to ask me, while he’s been doing the same.
He nods. “I was hoping you’d invite me to celebrate with your friends.”
The friends Isac and I had disappeared when he died. Veronica chose to cancel our friendship even earlier when I moved in with Isac. I have no friends left, but I can’t tell Henrik that. Bodø is an hour flight up north, and at that time of year on the coast, there will be heavy winds and rain. Not exactly the weather I’d plan to watch fireworks in, but what choice do I have? I return the placemats to the cupboard, hiding my relief that I no longer have to lie to Mom. I am going to celebrate with friends after all, and won’t be alone if she calls. “I’d love to celebrate New Year’s Eve with you in Bodø.”
He grins. “Great. I’ll get you tickets for the thirty-first, and book a nice hotel room for us close by. You can meet me there and we’ll dress up and go to the party together.”
20
Christmas arrives, and on December twenty-third, heavy snow falls outside, silencing Oslo.
Henrik has been nagging me to decorate my apartment. While he’s at work, I finally pick out a few pieces from the upstairs boxes, but I only choose those that hold no sentimental value for me. These next few days will be enough of a strain without having to see decorations everywhere that hold happy memories. In my window, I place a red Santa Claus figurine, which I’ve hated ever since learning that Coca Cola made him red for marketing purposes. I also put out a few wooden Christmas trees and three decorative pillows on the couch.
Making sure I have a good excuse for avoiding the Nerlis’ dinner invitation, I’ve offered to drive Henrik to the train station. He’s stayed with me every night except when traveling for work to Bergen. He’s still living with Katelyn when he’s there, and according to their messages, having lots of sex, breaking his promise to me.
Snow invades Oslo like peaceful bombs, forcing the city to its knees. There are no cars on the roads and snowplows are continuously out but losing the battle.
What is usually only a ten minute drive takes me half an hour.
“Merry Christmas.” Henrik kisses me fast before sprinting from the car to his train.
The way he runs off reminds me once again that I’m alone. It’s been different until now when he’s left for Bergen. I’ve had my daily routine of tracking him and analyzing what he’s doing. It’s been a great distraction for me. Now, it’s only me and my thoughts left, which is not a good place to be. Especially not during the holidays. With Henrik back with his family for Christmas, there won’t be women walking in and out.
Without the distraction of spying on him, a wave of longing for Isac crashes into me. Tears threaten, and my face tightens with tension. I stop breathing as I realize the inevitable truth that I can never be happy again. My body bursts from the strain of keeping itself under control. It lets go, and tears run down my face. I droop forward, resting my forehead on the cold steering wheel. I’m not only deceiving Isac but myself. What I felt that first night Cecilia rushed in and ruined my suicide plan is heightened by even more profound loathing and regret.
I pass Barcode on my way home and activate the wipers in a vain attempt to fight the heavy snow assailing the windshield. The thump of the blades chugs louder as ice accumulates, weighing down each one. Fog turns to frost, pasting another thin sheet of ice onto the glass. No amount of swiping or rubbing with my sleeve improves the vision, so I crank up the fan, desperate to avoid stopping the car altogether. Following behind the tram is a colossal struggle as its wheel tracks dig deeper waves of slush and mist. Maintaining control in the lane is next to impossible while the deep snow acts like a glacier beneath my wheels. After another half hour of battling snowy streets and piles left behind by the snowplows, I finally turn onto my street. Driving over a bump that feels like neither snow nor pothole causes my heart to stop cold. This final bump made a screeching sound, like an animal. Like a cat.
Frantically, I slam on the red hazard lights, their pink reflection glistening against th
e snow’s topcoat. Exiting the car, a trail of crimson ink leads me to a horrible discovery.
In the street and almost invisible with his white coat, Melvin lies on a blanket of red. He opens his eyes, blinking and staring as though I’m not even there.
No!
I fight the urge to inspect him, knowing there’s nothing I can do, and instead leave Melvin and run inside to the Nerlis’ apartment. I pound on their door.
A startled Mrs. Nerli opens it and beams seeing me. “Oh, how wonderful. You ca…” She stops, and it’s clear that my expression is telling.
“I ran over Melvin,” I confess, tears streaming down. “He’s outside.”
Mrs. Nerli’s complexion withers and she steps back. Mr. Nerli appears and, despite their old age, they move fast. Mrs. Nerli is on the phone with the vet, while Mr. Nerli is dressed and already on his way downstairs.
Outside, my car is still running, the lights illuminating the red snow.
As though I’ve hit him in the gut and the air is forced out of him, Mr. Nerli yelps at the sight of his beloved cat.
“I can drive you,” I say.
Mr. Nerli ignores me and swoops Melvin into his arms, revealing more blood underneath. He carries him into the garage, placing him in their car. “We’ll manage.” He closes the back door.
Mrs. Nerli appears and gets in. Their red taillights vanish in the white night.
My hands shake as I drive into the garage. Inside my apartment, I fall to the floor. If Melvin dies, I’ve ruined their lives. If I had ended mine when I planned to, this wouldn’t have happened. I don’t sleep that night, but listen for them to return.
At seven o’clock the next morning, it’s dark outside but no longer snowing when the front door to our building opens. Tears press my eyes and I grab the door handle to face them. But it’s not the Nerlis. The postman is standing by the mailbox with a white envelope in his hand. My name is on the front in red letters.
“Merry Christmas.” He smiles, holding the envelope up for me to see. “Daniella?”
The tears I held back stream from my eyes, and he hands it to me before stalking out.
Back inside, I slump to the floor, my back against the door. Any moment now, the Nerlis will come home. If they’re without their beloved cat, it’s my fault.
I cut my name in half tearing open the envelope. Inside is a Christmas card from the office.
Dear coolest and brilliant boss,
Merry Christmas. We miss you here, but everyone is so happy you are taking this time to heal. We’re here if you want to stop by.
PS: Your temporary replacement is excellent, but not nearly as good as you are. Welcome back when you’re ready.
Everyone has signed it, except for my replacement, which makes me cry even harder for some reason. I am losing it.
I retrieve my wedding photo, suicide envelopes, and pills from upstairs where I’ve hidden them away and bring them back down to the dining table. I was so naive about how brutal the world is. Dating a man like Henrik makes me question everything. In fact, it’s destroying me to know there are people capable of living several deceitful lives.
The building entrance opens again. It must be the Nerlis.
They are halfway up the stairs when I exit my apartment and see their bloodshot eyes.
Oh no!
“I’m so sorry,” I say.
Mr. Nerli gestures for his wife to continue, and she passes me without a word, grasping the railing as she climbs the stairs. He removes his hat. “We…I must comfort my wife. If you’ll excuse us…”
“Of course.” I step back to let him pass too.
Back at the dining table, I stare at Isac in our wedding picture. I thought I could push it off, pretend what I’m doing is okay. But it’s not. I’ve betrayed the man I love, my family, and myself. And Melvin’s dead.
I set the frame down and reread the Christmas card from work before tucking it behind the envelope with my resignation letter.
I’m back to where I started. More heartache. I fill a glass with water and place it in front of me, near the bag of pills.
My phone rings, and I pick it up, seeing it’s Cecilia.
“Want company this gloomy Christmas Eve?” Her voice shivers.
“Not really.”
“Well, I’m here. Please let me in, it’s freezing.”
What? Again?
I go to my window. Cecilia’s outside peering up, so I throw the pills, envelopes, and wedding photo into the drawer next to the table and buzz her in.
“Why aren’t you with family?” I take her coat while she shakes snow from her hair.
“I put two and two together and thought about your parents in Portugal and your brothers with their families. I figured you might be spending the evening alone. Or is Henrik hiding upstairs and I’ve just barged in on a romantic evening?” She kicks off her wet shoes.
“He’s in Bodø.” My facade shatters. “I killed Melvin.” I slide to the floor on top of her snowy shoes, bawling.
“Who’s Mel…the cat?”
I curl into a ball with my head down on my knees, trying to hide. “Please leave.” I struggle to speak.
I shouldn’t have let you in again.
She sits next to me and her hand strokes my back. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“I took what they loved away from them. Like Henrik took Isac away from me. I’ve ruined their lives. Melvin was such a lovely cat.”
“You’ve given them a tough time, and they’ll always recall this sad Christmas, but you didn’t ruin their lives.”
I want to hit her, yell at her to shut up and get lost. She doesn’t understand.
Cecilia strokes my hair. “My sister died during Christmas.”
What?
I sniffle and look up. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“How could you? I never told you.” She cracks a faint smile.
We sit on the floor together for at least an hour. Me crying, her comforting me.
Cecilia whispers, “Why don’t we celebrate Christmas together? Share our dark night of the soul?”
I want to burst into laughter and cry at the same time at her suggestion. “You read my mind. It’s the loneliest time, Christmas.” The only place on earth that could make it better is our cabin.
I give her a hug and rise to my feet, my butt wet and cold. “I need to change. There’s wine in the cupboard.” I offer to pull her up with my hand.
When I return, Cecilia sits at the dining table with a glass of red wine in front of her, her eyes locked on the stem. “My sister’s name was Rakel, but she hated it. She demanded we call her Pip. She adored Christmas and made me a new playlist with her favorite holiday songs each year. Every December, we’d read her favorite book, Moby Dick, to each other at night before going to sleep. I have no idea why she loved it so, but she did.”
We sit in silence for a while until Cecilia speaks in a low whisper. “If only I had told her how much she meant to me when I had her here. She had no idea how much I loved her when she died.”
Isac knew. He was driving home to me, and my last words to him were that I loved him.
My phone rings again, and this time it’s Mom. “I’m sorry.” I show Cecilia the phone. “It’s my mother, and if I don’t answer, she’ll worry.”
“Go ahead.” She smiles as if in relief from telling her story. It makes me grateful I could be here for her to share her pain.
I head upstairs to my bedroom to talk in private. “Merry Christmas, Mom.”
“Oh, my darling Daniella. We miss you so much. Merry Christmas. Are you having a calm and cozy evening with your friends?”
I deliberate for a second. “Actually, Mom. I am.”
“I guess it’s no use trying to get you to come here for New Year’s Eve?”
“No. I have plans, Mom. And I’ve told you before. I don’t want to go to Portugal. Please stop nagging me about this. I know you mean well, but I’m happy here.”
And I don’t want yo
u to see me before I end my life. If you see me, you’ll know I’m not well. I can’t let you believe you could have saved me.
When I return downstairs, Cecilia is dressed to go out. “Let’s get ourselves a Christmas dinner and cook it here. It’ll be nice to still have the scent of it in the apartment tomorrow.”
She holds my coat out to me.
The pills aren’t going anywhere.
I smile. “Sure. My treat.”
December thirty-first arrives. According to the news, several flights are canceled due to strong winds, but mine is still scheduled. I’ve left the cloned phone in my office to ensure I’m not tempted to check it. Or worse, risk Henrik finding it.
Running late for my flight, I grab my bag to leave when a message sounds from the phone upstairs.
It doesn’t matter what someone’s texting him. Leave it and get out.
But I can’t. Instead, I run upstairs.
“Holy shit!” The sound I make when reading the message Katelyn has sent Henrik sounds like a fusion of gasping and belly laughing.
How the hell will he solve this?
I reread the message.
Great news. Mom was able to get off work after all and offered to watch the kids. Catching a flight tonight. See you soon <3
21
I stare at the screen, waiting to see his response.
Come on! Answer her. I’ll miss my flight.
No response shows up. I check my own phone to see if Henrik’s sent me any messages canceling or asking me not to come, but there’s nothing.
My pulse increases at the thought that she might show up. He said he’d choose by the new year, and if she gets there before me, she might win.
Still no response from Henrik. I tuck the phone in my pocket, determined to hide it from Henrik once I arrive. Then I recheck it. No response.
Shit.
I know myself, and if I bring this phone, I’ll use every opportunity to check it, which only makes me seem less present and less interested in him.
He's got it coming: Love is the best revenge Page 15