by Jamie Knight
“Hardly working, but don’t tell anyone, okay?”
“My lips are sealed.”
“I knew I could count on you.”
“Always.”
A hand closed in my chest. She was taking my lines. Just one more indication of how much our roles had reversed. Her the stable, married mom, and me the jumbled alleged career woman obsessed with a metalhead five years my junior.
Still, if there was anyone who might understand, it was Jonna.
“I was wondering if you might like to meet us for dinner,” she said.
“Us, you mean you and Seth?”
“No, I wish that’s what I meant. He has to work tonight. It will be just the two of us, and Casey of course. He’s still on the boob and all.”
I chuckled. “I’d love to, where and when?”
“You choose, I’m no good at this stuff.”
“How about the Cedar Lounge?”
It must have been Opposite Day. That was the only way I could think of to explain how Jonna’s car was in the front lot of the Cedar Lounge as I arrived.
This girl would be late for her own funeral, yet somehow she had made it to dinner first. She must have sensed a disturbance in the balance of the universe as well.
“Hey, sis,” Jonna greeted, with a big hug.
“Hey.”
Casey giggled in his carrier, reaching his little arms out toward me. Much to my shame, I hadn’t really seen my nephew much since he was born. I came and went, but seemed to never have much time to spend with him.
“Do you want to hold him?” Jonna asked.
“Okay.”
Lifting Casey from the carrier, Jonna showed me how to hold him and support his head. Casey seemed happy with the situation, nuzzling his face into my chest.
“I think he likes you.”
“Looks like,” I agreed, looking down at the snoozing infant.
I’d never really considered having kids. It wasn’t that I was against it or had any silly ideas about it ‘ruining’ me. It just never really came. I had other things to focus on, like how to stay alive after graduation.
I could have gone to Mom and Dad for help, they hadn’t disowned me or anything, it just didn’t feel right. I was too self-sufficient, besides which, I still had Jonna to think about. I wasn’t that much older than her, but I had still always felt more like a mom than a sister.
It was only in the past few months, since she had really been flourishing so well with Seth, that I really started to feel like it would be okay to let go. She had her own life, and it was well past time I got one of my own!
“What’s up?” she asked me, making me realize I had been zoning out.
“Sorry, what?” I asked her.
“Sister-sense. I have it too, you know.”
“Right,” I chuckled, then sighed. “I’m just trying to decide about something.”
“Whether or not it’s a good idea to be with Ragnar in a serious way?” Jonna asked knowingly.
“Wow, good guess.”
“The benefit of experience.”
She had me there. Jonna had a lot more experience, at least in particular aspects of life. What used to look like mistakes, she reshaped into adventures and leaning opportunities.
If anyone would understand what was going on with Ragnar, it was her. Jonna could see it from both sides.
“We’re just so different,” I admitted to her.
“How so?” Jonna pressed.
“Well, we have different cultures.”
“Do you now, Olga? You think you have a radically different culture than Ragnar Karlssen?” she asked.
I grimaced at the pointed use of my first name.
“Okay, in terms of background no, but he grew up in Norway, and we were raised here. I’m American, really.”
“And Ragnar is a Norwegian living in America. Sounds like an opportunity for both of you.”
“I never really thought about it that way.”
“What are sisters for?”
That was another line she took from me. Things really had gone topsy-turvy. If only that were what was really concerning me.
I liked that Ragnar and I had a shared cultural history. I’d learned a bit on my own, but Norse-Americans were difficult to come by, particularly on the west coast.
“Then there’s the other thing,” Jonna promoted.
“Other thing?”
“Come on, sis. This is me, your screw-up of a baby sister who was nearly disowned twice. I know what it’s like to go against expectations. Ragnar is a metal head and looks it. You definitely don’t, except with special effort. I’m guessing you like his band?”
“Yes,” I confessed, my cheeks getting warm.
“Most people do. They have what most producers would call ‘cross-over appeal,’ like Metallica with the Black Album.”
“I thought it was the White Album.”
“That’s the Beatles. It’s a bit of an inside joke.”
“I wouldn’t have thought they would have fans in common.”
She shrugged.
“Music does that. And sometimes a genre just grabs you, like metal grabbed me. And apparently, now, you.”
The denial caught in my throat, screaming for release despite the ultimate truth of the matter. I had stepped, however shallowly, into the pool of Metal, and surprisingly liked what I found there.
“True,” I finally agreed.
“But you’re worried about your reputation. What might happen if your friends and colleagues found out you’re with a dirty headbanger?”
“Ragnar is not dirty,” I protested on reflex.
“No, he isn’t, and neither am I. I’m as much of a metalhead as Ragnar, but he’s just managed to make it a career. Are you embarrassed by me? Do you try to hide my very existence?”
“No, I would never.”
“Exactly.”
Casey started to fuss a bit, moving, and twisting in my arms, patting my chest with his tiny hand.
“Oh, I think he’s hungry,” she remarked.
“I definitely don’t have what he’s looking for,” I joked.
I passed Casey back to Jonna, who started to nurse him, a blanket over her shoulder to conceal herself, just as the food she’d already ordered arrived.
Jonna had known exactly what to order. I loved every bit of it, each bite like a jubilee bursting in my mouth. She must have been paying attention during our rare family outings. At periodic intervals, I would look at Casey, and wonder.
Do I want this kind of life, too?
Chapter Ten - Stephanie
It was inexplicable. An impulse from the unexplored depths of being, like the driving urge to climb a mountain, or jump off a low cliff into deep blue water just because the opportunity was there.
But I had to try on the show clothes again. They were even more comfortable this time than they had been the first time.
I tucked in the shirt, just to double-check. My ass indeed looked wonderful in the jeans, still visible under the bottom of the biker jacket. I didn’t have the makeup anymore, but it still worked.
It felt good, if not entirely natural, still one up on my office clothes, which felt neither comfortable nor natural, and were just something I wore because I was told to. I was honestly beginning to see the attraction for people like Jonna and Ragnar. Even if Varg’s look seemed a bit over the top.
Urged by curiosity, I went to my computer and, with little trouble, found the Suspicious Activity Records website. Loki’s Laugh was there of course, listed as a ‘coming soon.’
They’d started playing new songs live which I figured were from the new album. Going further down the drop menu, I found other names, some of which I recognized in passing and others I didn’t know at all. Dante Street Massacre and, of course, Autumn Corrosion rang a bell.
There were a number of others that were complete new to me. In my newfound spirit of discovery, I downloaded everything of theirs I could get, their listings joining Loki’s Laugh on my
account.
And as I pressed play, I reached into my purse and drew out my other impulse of the day and ripped open the cardboard box.
It was a hunch, but certainty was better than worry. The first album playing in my wireless headphones, I headed to the bathroom.
The time it took for the result was almost as nerve wracking as the time I had to take an STD test ‘just in case’ after an incident with a faulty condom. Finally, the answer came, as clear as it was confusing.
Positive.
I was positively pregnant with Ragnar’s baby.
Elation and terror clashed like opposing armies, neither with the obvious upper hand, the battlefield choked with smoke and blood. The music in my ears the perfect soundtrack for the strange film unspooling in my head.
Reality bit, and it was time to make a decision.
My phone pinged and I groaned, not in the mood to deal with anyone right now, my mind racing.
“Really?” I asked out loud to myself.
Pausing the song, I switched to the message to see what it could be about, and my heart pounded when I saw his name.
Ragnar: Want to meet for lunch?
My thumb moved by itself as I tapped out my reply. Only four little letters, back lit on the screen, four letters that could change everything forever.
Me: Okay.
The waist of my skirt suddenly seemed to pinch more than usual. There were all identical, so I couldn’t blame the individual garment. It felt like I had expanded, even though it was impossible.
It hadn’t been that long since Ragnar must have knocked me up, but imagination is a powerful thing.
I was honestly surprised it could be tested for so soon. Yet, there it was, in blue and white. I rubbed my belly again, even thought there was no real change, not yet.
Pat didn’t try to be cheerful as I signed in. Something about my demeanor must have let him know it was best not to. Fair enough, considering I felt— and most likely looked— like absolute hell.
Stress can do that to you.
“Ms. Morris?”
Maddie knocked on the half open door, afraid to come in without invitation. I checked to see if I suddenly had snakes growing out of my head.
“Come in, Maddie.”
She was carrying a large sample box, which could only mean one thing. Fawn had come through. Just in time.
“The samples from Ms. Birch have arrived.”
“That’s great, just put them, on my desk.”
Obeying my instruction, Maddie was gone again, closing the office behind her. The habit I’d gotten her into within week of her starting.
The pieces were beautiful. Exactly the number I’d asked for lined up separate rows, a name marker attached above each of the sections. They were exceptionally good suggestions I was sure would fit the line well.
Too bad it wasn’t really up to me. Even as Artistic Director my powers were limited. I could make recommendations, but what a product was called was ultimately up to marketing.
They were the geniuses who had come up with the name for the new line and basically left it up to me to figure out what the hell that meant.
But it would still be up to them to name the individual items. It wasn’t really fair, but something I just had to put up with. Despite any ambitions, Asgard Fine Jewelry was in the business of sales, not art.
The designs reminded me of Ragnar. Particularly the leather bracelets he wore. It looked like the design marked into them was a traditional rendition of Loki, which stood to reason.
I tried to put him out my mind, so I could at least try and eat some work done, before going to meet him for lunch.
I hoped it was clear enough. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to sleep with him, I just wasn’t really up to it right then.
So, a restaurant it was, neutral ground bereft of any sexual undertones, making it clear I wasn’t available for our usual kind of fun. That didn’t mean I didn’t want to see him though. If anything, having our baby growing inside me made me feel even more connected.
I just needed to be sure that we had a chance at a future together before I told him. It might not be an issue at all if what was happened was just a fling. I wouldn’t find out unless I saw him.
He was dressed surprisingly nicely. Still like himself, but in a way that wouldn’t get him turned away from the door of the Cedar Lounge. His bracelets weren’t gone but hidden under a black button up shirt.
He still wore a band shirt underneath, though, the collar of which I could see just peeking from the gap at the top. Rather than his usual chucks, he wore old but polished boots, that could easily pass for dress shoes when worn with long pants.
“I’ve already ordered, I hope that’s okay.”
“Yes, fine.”
The spark was definitely there. Had he asked me to marry him in that moment, I would have said yes, without a second thought.
Not just because of his clothes, though I did appreciate the gesture, but Jonna was right. It didn’t matter what other people thought. I didn’t hide her or her interests, so there was no reason to be embarrassed by Ragnar and his lifestyle.
It took all kinds to make a world. And a proposal would put my mind at rest about our future. We could be together, with our baby and have a happy little family.
“I have something to tell you,” he announced.
I could tell from his tone that the news was not good. I took a breath and prepared myself for the worst. It was a mistake to get my hopes up. Something usually went wrong.
“I’m going away for a while. Not back to Norway, at least not for a while— we’ll be back, but there are only about nine other countries to visit first.”
“We?”
“The band. Seth is getting ready to launch the album and has somehow managed to book us on a tour.”
“That was fast.”
“The recording was done in five days. That’s not common but it’s possible, particularly when a band is as practiced as we are. We just went in and did it live, and he recorded us. It was maybe three takes per track. He’s already taking pre-orders and wants to take copies with us to sell at the merch table on tour, particularly in the countries it could be difficult to get shipping to. The importation fees can be a killer.”
“I know it. That sounds like Seth, always thinking of the fans.”
“That’s what I thought too.”
“So, how long will you be gone?”
“About six months.”
The tears were pushing up against the dam, but I fought bravely to hold back the flood. It was good news, in a way. At least I knew.
It wasn’t he conclusion I wanted, but at least one had been reached.
There was no way in hell I was going to burden him with the news of our child now, though. He had other responsibilities, to his bandmates, to their fans, to all the people who counted on him.
It wouldn’t be easy, but I had to let him go. He had his own life to live, and it didn’t look like it could include me.
“We’re playing here tonight,” he said. “The last show before the tour starts, we’re getting the plane to Iceland tomorrow. The it is across most of Europe, and then down to New Zealand and Australia, before heading back into Europe for Norway. I want to see you again before we go.”
“Are you asking me to the show?”
“I’m inviting you— guest list and everything. It’s already getting pretty hard to get tickets. After the album and the tour, it will probably only get more difficult.”
I forced a smile.
“I’d love to.”
Chapter Eleven - Ragnar
Psychic would be putting it too strongly. The connection I had with Stephanie hadn’t yet reached telepathic levels, but I still knew that there was still something wrong. A sort of disturbance in the balance as unsettling as it was indescribable.
There was just something that was off, and I didn’t like it. I’d started to feel very protective of Stephanie in the time that we’d known each other,
at least partly because she felt like she needed it.
Even though the recording was long done, Seth still insisted on regular practice. We really had to wow them on tour. It made sense, since we were a new band few outside Bergman or Seattle had heard of.
We were just one band in a sea of many, particularly online. To get even half the attention it was possible to gain before self-recording, we’d have to work twice as hard, and outshine everyone else in a crowded field. Not as crowded as some, with metal still largely seen as a fringe kind of music, but there was more than enough competition to make existence difficult for those who didn’t stay aware.
We were never going to beat the classics. Sabbath, Metallica, even Mayhem, would always have fans and outsell us by miles, what we had to do was make ourselves look like a viable option among those who were left with when the giants of the genre were already considered. But we could do well enough.
If there was one thing Seth knew how to do it was taking worthy bands, who really had something from the garage to glory. The very reason we decided to send him our demo.
The gang was already gathered when I got to the space. I still wasn’t completely confident with the buses but could get where I needed to be. If a few minutes late, though usually no more than forty-five. Sixty on the outside.
“The prodigal returns,” Stig snarked.
“Bus trouble.”
It was bullshit of course, but the mood was not right to go into the whole Stephanie situation. The tour was great news, as was the record, the fact it was fast tracked nothing but good news.
Everything we’d been working so hard for was finally coming to pass, and the guys were over the moon about it. I’d honestly never seen Varg so mellow, at least not since he hit puberty, and anything that could do that had to be a good thing.
Yet elated was not my state of mind. I should have been thrilled, but the thought of being away from Stephanie, even for six months, physically hurt, like sawing off a limb. Still, there was a job to do, no matter how averse the circumstances. Let it never be said I shirked responsibility.
“What’s the set list?” I asked, taking the stool behind my kit, referred to only half-jokingly as my ‘seat of power.’