by A. E. Radley
It only took her a couple of minutes to throw her clothes on the bedroom floor and dress herself in comfortable jeans, a baggy sweater, and her favourite woollen socks. She bounded down the stairs again and into the living room.
Amber had pushed the coffee table to one side and was sitting on the rug with two pizza boxes and two cans of soda beside her. Emilia quickly joined her, pulling a thin blanket over her shoulders, more for comfort than to keep out any chill.
“Nice socks,” Amber said with a smirk.
“They were my mother’s,” Emilia replied. “Made by my grandmother.”
“I can tell.” Amber laughed and passed her pizza box over to her.
“There’s nothing wrong with these socks,” Emilia defended through a smile.
“Whatever you say. They just appear to be a little more hole than sock.”
“They are just perfect, thank you very much.” Emilia took a large bite of pizza while smiling at Amber.
It felt good to eat. And so good to be home. She still felt shaken up by everything that had happened, but she knew she was now fully on the road to recovery.
That said, the whole drama had made her consider that maybe she wasn’t supposed to have friends. Things had been going so well with Amber, but then she had ruined it by being… her.
What kind of person can’t even go to a mall? she asked herself. And who faints in public just because it’s too busy and noisy?
Her pulse started to race again. She took a deep breath before eating another bite of pizza. She stared at the flames flickering in the fireplace. Being home felt good, but it also felt like a failure. Like she’d had to retreat. Yes, home was safe, but that didn’t mean she had to like it right now.
“You’re angry-thinking,” Amber whispered.
“I’m not,” Emilia denied.
“You are. Your face is all scrunched up. And you’re rage-eating.”
“Angry-thinking and rage-eating are not things.”
“They are, you’re doing them both.” Amber playfully elbowed her.
She stopped eating and lowered the slice of pizza into the box. “Fine. I’m angry at myself.”
“I know. It will die down,” Amber reassured her.
“You’re not going to tell me to not worry?”
“Would you listen?”
Emilia considered that for a few seconds. “No. I’d carry on being angry.”
“There you go then. You’re angry, it will die down.” Amber opened up a can of soda and took a long sip straight from the can.
Emilia wondered how Amber could know her so well after so little time together. It seemed amazing that Amber knew exactly what to do and what to say, while she was ruining everything.
A new theory asserted itself in her mind. Maybe Amber was capable of making friends with Emilia, but Emilia was incapable of returning the favour.
Could there be a possibility that her isolation and solitary ways weren’t the reasons for her lack of friends? Maybe she was just no good at it.
Suddenly, she felt a desperate longing to see Hugo. Her closest friend, the one who understood everything about her. Dear, sweet Hugo, who was always there for her and never wavered. She never pushed him away with her foolish behaviour.
She decided to use the phone he had given her to text him and invite him to dinner. Then she could prove to Hugo that she could make new friends. And prove to Amber that she had a friend, because surely Amber must have had her doubts by now?
He would also be able to help on the conversation front, which she was clearly lacking on. When Amber was quiet, they were both quiet.
The whole idea of her being able to make friends now seemed utterly ridiculous. She couldn’t believe that she had thought she could do it.
“So, tell me about these winter markets?” Amber asked.
Emilia blinked a couple of times. She realised that she had become lost in her own thoughts. She was so consumed with assuming that she was unable to make conversation that she had remained silent until Amber took up the mantle.
“They are wooden buildings, selling different things. Food… gifts.” She paused. “It’s outside, though, so it will be cold.”
She didn’t want Amber to freeze like she had the day before, even if she did want to show her the markets. It was one of the few shopping experiences she actually enjoyed, being outside in the fresh air and having the option to walk to the side and leave the crowds at any point. And she only attended in the middle of the day, in the middle of the week, when she knew it would be quiet.
“I’ll remember to wrap up warm,” Amber said.
Emilia knew it was an olive branch, and she was grateful for it.
“You can borrow some scarves, I have lots of them. They were knitted by my grandmother and my mother.”
“Ah, full of holes then?” Amber joked.
“No,” Emilia lightly admonished her. “They will keep you nice and warm. But if you get cold, then you must tell me immediately and we will go home.”
“Agreed. And if you feel in the slightest bit overwhelmed, you must tell me.”
Emilia nodded her agreement.
Amber nodded towards the bookcase. “Will you read with me again tonight? I felt like I was getting the hang of this Swedish business last night.”
Emilia chuckled. Amber’s pronunciation was terrible, but her accent was adorable. Emilia would never admit to making Amber repeat the same few words over and over again because it sounded so cute.
“Sure, maybe you can read a whole one to me?” Emilia suggested.
“Haven’t you suffered enough?” Amber laughed.
“Reading with you isn’t punishment,” Emilia said seriously. “I enjoy it a lot.”
“Me too,” Amber admitted in a soft whisper.
The atmosphere in the room had changed. Emilia didn’t know when or why, but she knew it had. And she didn’t dislike it.
23
How Different We Are
Emilia snuggled into Amber’s side and watched as she flipped through photographs on her phone, showing Emilia more of her day-to-day life.
They’d started off reading, but Amber soon became disheartened with the extra letters and the strange grammar rules that applied to Swedish. Emilia found she couldn’t explain why things were the way they were, she just knew what was right and what wasn’t.
After a short debate about grammar, and how some things just didn’t make sense, they’d put the books to one side. They leaned against each other and chatted in soft tones. Amber talked about her family, her childhood, her schooling, and university. She’d slid her phone out of her pocket and started to scroll through photographs of friends, holidays, family birthdays, and more.
Emilia soaked it all up. She couldn’t believe how much Amber did. One day she was skiing on a dry ski slope with her friends from an old job, the next day she was at an aquarium with someone she met at a bar.
Amber was adventurous and outgoing. Emilia was still in awe from having eaten pizza in the living room directly from the box. She wondered why she had never done it before. It was such a simple pleasure and one she could recreate easily, but it had never even occurred to her.
“Oh, ignore that one,” Amber said, swiping past a picture of a drunken night out.
Emilia’s cheeks heated up at the split-second sight of Amber in an intense lip lock with another woman.
“Your girlfriend?” Emilia asked. She knew she should leave the subject alone, but she was suddenly desperate to know. Amber had claimed she was single, but that was before she admitted she was bisexual. She wondered if that was a lie and Amber hadn’t wanted to out herself at first.
“Ex. I’m single, have been for way too long,” Amber confessed. “Work gets in the way.”
Emilia decided to remain silent. She’d been single for ages, and work had nothing to do with it. She wondered if Amber assumed that she was a never-been-kissed hermit. Suddenly she felt the need to let Amber know that simply wasn’t the case.
“Yes, it’s been a while since my last relationship, too,” she said.
Amber was still scrolling through photos of the night out, and Emilia wondered if she’d even heard her. She couldn’t repeat herself, even if she did so desperately want Amber to know that she’d not always been single.
“I envy you,” she admitted as Amber hurriedly scrolled through various pictures of parties.
“Why?”
“Because you have so many friends and you are always doing things with them,” Emilia explained. “Not that I’d want that, I’d need to be a different person to be able to cope with it. But it seems nice in theory.”
“I envy you,” Amber said, not looking up as she scrolled through endless dark pictures. “Sometimes, I just want to be at home. But then home is a cold and lonely place, so I end up going out. You’ve made your house your safe place, and it’s beautiful and homely and I can understand why you love it so much.”
Emilia didn’t know what to say. She didn’t think anyone could ever envy her life. Especially not someone as impressive as Amber.
Maybe the grass is always greener, she considered.
The party pictures ended, and there was a picture of Amber sitting on a small chair with a child on her lap, reading a book.
“Who’s that?” Emilia asked.
“That’s Michael. I’m a part of a local reading group. I donate books from work, and sometimes I read them to the kids. He’s dyslexic so reading is tough, but he’s getting better all the time.”
“It’s nice that you take the time to do that.”
“It’s important,” Amber said. “I used to read so much as a child. My mum would joke that I read the print off so many of our books. I think reading is so important, it’s why I went into the career I did. Without reading, you can’t learn or grow.”
Emilia knew they were skating dangerously close to the subject that she had been trying to avoid, business and the dreaded contract that she had no intention of signing.
“Oh! Remember to wear two pairs of socks to the market tomorrow,” she changed the subject in a way she hoped was tactful. “In case your feet start to get cold.”
“I’ll be fine,” Amber promised. “Besides, I don’t think you’ll be able to get me out from under this blanket.”
She nestled deeper into the material, and Emilia felt every point where their bodies touched. It was a bizarre feeling, she’d cuddled under blankets with Hugo in the past, but she’d never felt like this. With Hugo things felt comfortable, warm, and friendly. This felt like more.
She knew it was probably wrong and something she should put a stop to, but she didn’t want to. And there was no way she was going to admit her feelings to Amber, in case she pulled away and the moment ended.
“Now, this picture has a story behind her,” Amber started as she scrolled to the next image in her library.
Emilia burrowed in closer, under the guise that she was leaning in to look at the photo. She only half-listened to Amber’s softly spoken story. Instead she focused on the feel of Amber’s warm body beside her, the vibration of her voice, the scent of her perfume.
Her day had been a horrible and traumatic experience, but her evening was turning out to be more perfect than she could ever imagine.
In the back of her mind, she knew that all that would have to end soon.
24
Christmas Market
Amber felt as if she had fallen into a typical stock photo of a charming Christmas market. She’d often thought about going to visit a winter market in Europe, but the timing was never right.
She held onto Emilia’s arm as they strolled past the wooden huts with various products for sale. Strings of lights ran in a zigzag from building to building, and in the middle of everything was a tall Christmas tree decorated in simple, elegant white lights.
The weather was dark and gloomy. Occasionally snow fell in light dustings, but it only added to the atmosphere.
“This place is perfect,” Amber said for about the tenth time since they arrived.
“Do you not have Christmas markets back home?”
“We do in some places, but they are nothing like this. This is… classy.”
Emilia chuckled. “You are silly.”
It was her go-to descriptor for Amber, said with a light and kind tone. She suspected Emilia was actually so surprised that anything could be different to what she knew that it was automatically labelled as silly.
She tightened her grip on Emilia’s arm and whispered in her ear, “Never change.”
Emilia looked at her curiously but didn’t say anything.
They continued walking for a while, the smells of various foods and drinks mixing into a perfect Christmas blend. She could smell meats cooking and sweet treats flavoured with nutmeg and cinnamon.
“You have to try glögg,” Emilia said, pointing towards a stall.
“Isn’t that mulled wine?”
“Sort of.” Emilia scrunched her nose up, clearly not quite happy with the comparison. “We add raisins and almonds to the bottom of the glass. And it’s much more alcoholic.”
“Oh, I see,” she teased. “You’re trying to get me drunk.”
“No!” Emilia’s cheeks became even redder than the cold air had already made them. “Never, I—”
“I’m just joking,” Amber reassured her. “I can’t try any. I’m driving, remember?”
“Oh, yes, sorry. When I come here with Hugo we always take a taxi. I forgot.”
Amber sighed. She was almost becoming fed up with the mention of Hugo. She was sure he was a very nice man, but it was painfully clear that he was Emilia’s one and only friend. Everything was about Hugo.
Not that it was his fault. Or, in fact, anyone’s fault. It just made Amber feel depressed that someone as wonderful as Emilia wasn’t surrounded by friends.
“No problem, I’ll take your word for it that it’s delicious. I’ll definitely try some of those buns, though.”
She waited for Emilia to correct her and provide the name of the baked goods. When the silence continued, she looked at Emilia who appeared pensive.
“What’s wrong?” Amber wondered if Emilia was starting to feel overwhelmed. She started to mentally plan a quiet route back to where she had parked the car.
“I… I lied to you,” Emilia admitted.
Amber couldn’t help but smile at the guilty expression. “Okay?”
“I do have a phone. Well, I didn’t have one when you first contacted me. Well, I did but it was under my bed, dead. So, really, I didn’t. But I would never have spoken to you on it, phones scare me a lot.”
Amber tried to smother her grin. Emilia really was cute when she worked herself up like this.
“So, you have a phone?”
“Yes. I… I was thinking that I could text Hugo and ask him to come to dinner tonight, if he is free. We could eat some traditional food and have glögg, homemade, of course.”
“That sounds like a great idea if he is available.”
“I’m sure he will be. He doesn’t like to miss out on my cooking,” Emilia boasted.
“I can see why, you’re an excellent cook,” Amber said. “Does this mean we can buy some ingredients and stuff while we’re here?” She looked around at the stalls, her mouth salivating at the prospect of buying some produce and trying it that evening.
“So, you’re not mad?” Emilia asked as she dug around in her handbag.
“About what?”
“The phone.”
“Oh, that! No. As you said, you wouldn’t have spoken to me on it anyway, so what difference does it make?”
Emilia pulled out the most basic phone Amber had seen in years. It looked like something she would have given to her grandmother if she were still alive. She held back the snort of laughter that had risen up within her.
“I feel bad for making you come all the way here,” Emilia confessed.
“Don’t. I’m glad I came. We’re getting to know each other, a
nd I’m having a great time. We do need to talk about that contract at some point, though, before we have too much fun and all the time runs out.”
Emilia paused, staring at the phone.
Amber chuckled. “Do you want some help with that? Do you even know how to text?”
“Do you know how to text in Swedish?” Emilia batted back, quick as a flash.
Amber laughed. “Touché!”
Emilia quickly typed out a text message, proving that her lack of physical technology wasn’t due to a lack of technical ability.
“So, what kind of food should we get?” Amber asked.
“Whatever they have. We should have a true Swedish smorgasbord, or, in this case, a Julbord.”
“Christmas table?” Amber translated, insanely pleased with herself in spite of the relatively simple translation.
“Precis!” Emilia looked genuinely proud of her. She pulled her arm and dragged her towards one of the nearest food stands.
In what came as a shock to Amber, Emilia started engaging in a quick-fire conversation with the stall holder. Amber just watched as they chatted and laughed, with no idea what was being said.
She didn’t mind being left out of the conversation because it was such a joy to see Emilia so happily engaging with someone. It was as if all of her nerves surrounding social interaction had been suspended while she planned her feast.
Amber decided to leave them to it and walked to a nearby stall. The owner smiled warmly at her but said nothing. She got the distinct impression that the man knew she was British, or at least not Swedish. She’d noticed this before, especially at the mall. Before she even opened her mouth to speak, she was being greeted in English rather than Swedish. She wondered what was giving her away.
“We’ll need to stop by the supermarket on the way home.”
Amber jumped at Emilia’s sudden reappearance.
“Oops, sorry.”
“It’s okay, just didn’t see you there.” She looked down and was surprised to see Emilia already had two bags. “Wow, you don’t hang around, do you?”