Through the line, Mom asks, “Could you, can you, get Nana at the hospital? Mr. Jensen should be here soon, and I’ll walk home.”
I look over at William, grateful he’s here. “Of course, William will drive us.” I point in the direction of Tønsberg. He smiles gently and turns the car around.
At the hospital, Nana is waiting for us outside the front entrance, her gray hat pulled down. She looks empty.
I jump out of the car and sprint to her. “I’m so sorry,” I say, and wrap my arms around her. She feels smaller than before as if her loss has killed a part of her as well.
Her body trembles and I fight to keep my own from doing the same. I want to be strong for her, to be the rock she is to me. If I cry, she will comfort me. Today is my opportunity to comfort her.
She folds her glasses and drops them into her coat pocket. Like burnt trees, her eyes are red from burst blood vessels.
I wipe her eyes and put my arm around her waist to support her. For the first time, she lets me. “Let’s go home.”
I lead her towards the car where William opens the passenger door for her. “I’m so sorry for your loss.” He helps her in and buckles her seatbelt.
Nana stares at him, her jaw quivering. “Thank you.”
When I open the door to the back seat, a voice calling out to Nana catches my attention. Nana doesn’t react.
A nurse comes running out the entrance to the hospital with a paper bag in his hands. “Your medicine.” Nana looks at the man as if he’s invading her most private moment, disgust on her face. He hands the bag to Nana, who tucks it into her purse.
Why would she need medicine? Is she sick?
I don’t dare to ask.
Drizzling rain covers the windshield, and the rhythmic sound of the wipers are louder than I’ve ever heard before. But then again, I’ve never noticed them as I do now.
Nana’s staring out the window as we drive away from the hospital. In the side window, her reflection shows tears running down her face, mixing with the strands of raindrops from outside. In the rearview mirror, William mouths, “I’m sorry.”
I sigh a light relief in response to his concern and gentleness before I mouth back, “Thank you.”
Driving into Årøysund, I guide William to our house where Mom’s waiting for us with umbrellas by the front door. She rushes to Nana and helps her out of the car.
I watch them walk across the lawn, and I can’t let go of the sight of them until they’re safe inside the house.
William puts his arms around me, pulling my head into his chest. I can’t fight it anymore. Like a wave crashing into rocks, my body jerks as my eyes fill with tears his sweater absorbs. I lose myself in his grip, the warmth and safety of his body. I don’t know how long we’re standing there, with him holding me, but after a while, there are no tears left in me.
What a second date this is.
“I’m so sorry. This is not how today was supposed to be,” I say.
When he releases me, I step back. I have to see his reaction.
“I’m not.” He kisses my cheek. “Go be with your family, Amalie. We have plenty of time.”
He drives off, leaving me in the rain, staring after his brake lights whispering to myself. “I hope so.”
I run inside to find Mom leaning over the kitchen sink, her tears dripping into the soapy water.
“I tucked Nana into bed in the guest room,” she says.
“I’m so sorry.” I wrap my arms around her, standing silently, holding on to her.
“The worst part…” She gasps for air and shakes her head before covering her mouth with both hands. “…is that I’m relieved.” Mom continues to shake her head as if not able to believe what she’s saying and disagreeing with herself, then wipes her tears away. “I’m a horrible person for saying this because I love my father, but he’s held Nana back for so many years. First by demanding they start a family, trying for so many years to have me, and I don’t know if he ever got over not having a boy. Then he got sick, and she’s spent almost seventy years taking care of everyone but herself. Now that she’s finally free to pursue her dreams and travel the world like she always wanted, I’m afraid it’s too late for her.”
No wonder Nana pushes for me to do something more than to stay here.
“You’re not terrible. He’s been sick for a long time.” I wonder, though, what Nana’s life will be like from now on when she’s not in and out of that hospital.
Mom looks in the direction of the guest room where Nana’s sleeping. “I hope it’s not too late. She deserves to live her dream, she really does. I can’t see her embarking on any journey alone, though.”
I can’t picture her going anywhere alone. “If I get the scholarship, she has to come with us to Portugal. We’ll get her there.”
Mom picks up her phone. “I hope so.”
“Did you talk to Dad?”
“I couldn’t reach him. I’ll try again now. He needs to know.” She calls Dad, and as I walk up to my bedroom, her pleading voice begs Dad for Nana to stay. “It’s not ideal, but she’s my mother, and when we needed help she took us in, remember?” There’s a long pause, and I wait outside my door for the verdict.
“Yes, only a night or two. Thank you.”
THE LETTER
Dad’s worked more than ever this last week while Nana’s stayed with us. She was quiet, and our time together consisted of her reading books and me painting next to her. After Mom and I drive her home, I go to my room and call William.
“Only one more night and you’ll know if you got the scholarship,” he says.
We’ve talked every night since Grandpa died, and although he jokes about me refusing the scholarship if I do get it, he’s supportive and cheers me up.
“I won’t be able to sleep,” I say.
“Want me to come down now that the guestroom’s available?” His tone is flirty, and I want to say yes. “No.”
“Your loss. But tomorrow I’m coming down after work no matter what you say, and we’ll celebrate.”
“What if I don’t get in?”
“Then we’ll celebrate that.”
I laugh although a part of me wants to cry. I’ve promised Nana never to let a man get in the way of my dreams and right now I’m grateful I made that promise. “It’s a date.”
At four o’clock in the morning, I give up sleep. Staring up at the ceiling of my room, my legs itch for me to move. I kick my duvet off, glancing over to the window. Light already floats in around my navy curtains. Like every summer, it won’t be completely dark at night until fall returns.
Am I able to hear the postman from my room? I ease out of bed to open the window. Convinced I hear the metal sound of the mailbox slamming shut outside, I glance across the lawn at the empty driveway.
Wishful thinking.
Pulse quickening, I get back into bed, and redesign the poster and rewrite the essay in my head. I must have dozed off when wheels on the gravel outside grab my attention. I dart to the window and fling the curtains open. The red three-wheeled post car rolls up towards our house, and this time, I do not imagine it. I throw on my robe and sprint barefoot down the stairs and out the front door.
The postman raises an eyebrow at me before rooting around in the trunk. The grass beneath my feet tickles as I drum my toes on the ground.
“Here.” He hands me a newspaper with three envelopes held in place on top of it by a rubber band.
I grin. “Thanks.” Flipping through the envelopes, one is for Dad from the bank, and I don’t want to think about what they want from him right now. The next is for Mom from the hospital, probably regarding Grandpa. I look at the last letter, and my breath catches in my chest. Seeing the logo in the upper left-hand corner forces my heart to beat so hard I have to concentrate so as not to hyperventilate.
I rip the envelope open, fold up the letter to read.
Dear Amalie Vogt Skar
Congratulations!
I fall to the ground. Tears flood my
eyes. I can’t see, so I wipe my tears with the robe sleeve before rereading the top of the letter to make sure.
Congratulations!
I did it!
I’m not able to take my eyes off the word for what feels like hours. Images are flashing before me, packing, getting on an airplane for the first time, and landing in a foreign country, until the moist grass sieves through my robe, tearing me out of my trance.
Dad’s car is still in the driveway, Mom’s car missing. I tuck the letter back into its envelope, and into my pocket. I can’t tell Dad before Mom, so I decide to wait until dinner tonight. It will be a pleasant surprise. Especially for Dad to see that dreams do come true. A chill runs through me as if cold water has replaced the blood in my body. He should be happy for me, but I’m not sure he will be.
I hurry inside, shower and head off to work before he wakes up. I resist the urge to text William and decide I’ll tell him when he picks me up later tonight. Giddy at the thought of seeing him again, on top of knowing I am good enough to be accepted to a top design school, puts an extra jump in my step through the day.
Scared I’ll blurt it out when Dad arrives around lunchtime, I avoid him, and stay outside cleaning.
Nana should know first, then Mom and Dad, then William. Yes, that’s how I’ll share the news. Then Mr. Jensen. Oh, he’ll be thrilled for me.
When we finally close at six o’clock in the evening, I run to the bus before Dad has a chance to stop me or ask any questions.
Exiting the bus at Årøysund, a warm summer wind welcomes me as I walk down the narrow road to Nana’s house. City tourists have begun moving into their summerhouses, playing badminton and filling the air with the scent of barbeque. On her front door, a wooden sign reads:
I’m in the garden.
So I walk around the house to find Nana in her rattan chair facing the water. Her white hair is pulled back in a braid. She wears a long light gray summer dress that waves around her ankles in the wind. She sits so still, appearing lifeless from a distance, stopping me from walking over to her. “Nana?”
She jumps in her seat, raising her hands above her head, ready to cheer even though her facial expression turns strained for a second before she lowers her arms again. “I didn’t hear you. Did the letter arrive today?” Her deep-set wrinkles stretch across her face as her lips pull back in an anticipating smile.
I hand her the envelope. She adjusts her glasses, and it only takes a second for her to register its message. Her smile grows wider than I’ve ever seen and in one swift inhale she catches her breath. “I knew you could do it!”
Nana cups my face and kisses both my cheeks before gesturing for me to take a seat next to her. She pours tea into a cup in front of me.
I tilt my head. “No coffee?”
“Ginger tea is better for me.” Nana turns away from me, her gaze locked on the ripples glimmering in the sunlight.
She clings to the letter, her jaw tight. “Nana? Are you, all right?”
“Oh, yes.”
The old rotary phone rings from inside her house. Nana’s eyes widen, and I jump to my feet. “Shall I get that for you?”
“No!” She yells. “Help me up, please. I need the exercise.”
I watch her walk towards the white glass door leading into her living room and closing it behind her. She lifts the telephone, supporting herself on the small wooden table where it stands.
When she returns, her eyes are moist. Her voice thick. “Grandpa would be so proud of you.” But she doesn’t seem happy. These tears are sad. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
Lowering herself back into her chair, she lifts her head towards the sun and closes her eyes.
A gust of wind spreads pink flowers across the lawn from the tree above us. One lands in Nana’s lap. While she’s studying it her voice shakes while asking, “Do you know there is a café in Porto built in 1921, Café Majestic on Rua de Santa Catarina, with original mirrors carved into the wood on the walls?”
Her strange response makes the muscles in my neck stiffen. “No.” Perhaps it’s because Grandpa isn’t here anymore, and it’s a reality now to travel knowing she’ll do it without him. “We can visit it together.”
Nana hands me my envelope back before smiling, ever so slightly. “I would love to.”
Walking home, Josefine calls my name from the bus stop. “It’s today, right?”
“What?” I keep walking but stop when she’s following behind trying to catch up.
“The scholarship. Did you get it?”
How can you possibly remember that?
I don’t want to tell you, go away.
“Um, I got the letter this morning.”
“Oh no, I’m so sorry, Amalie. I was sure you’d get it. If they don’t let you in, they don’t know what they’re doing. Fuck ‘em.”
“What?”
Great, now you’ll tell everyone I didn’t get it.
“No, I got it.”
“Hah, I knew it. Of course, you did!” Josefine raises her hand for a high five. “Oh, come on. Don’t leave me hanging here. This is great news!”
I slap my palm to hers, and although I want to stay frustrated with her ruining my plan to tell Mom and Dad next, I can’t withhold the laughter forcing its way through my relief.
Why on earth does she care about this?
“Let’s go celebrate. I’m buying,” Josefine says.
Immediately my laughter disappears. “No.”
I refuse to let you steal this moment.
“Sorry, I want to tell Mom and Dad first.”
Not telling you William is coming in a few hours, then I’ll never get rid of you.
“Your Dad? You’re kidding right?”
“Sorry?”
“You’d rather tell him than celebrate with me?”
“Of course.”
You’re the last person I want to celebrate with.
“Your choice. Don’t get your hopes up for a positive response, though.”
That would be stupid, wouldn’t it? Because Dad will be furious to know that there actually is hope for people like us. Sure. “I have to go.”
“Oh, come on. I’m just warning you.”
Yeah, right.
“I don’t want your warning, or anybody else’s who I don’t ask.”
Josefine calls after me. “If he gets upset it’s not your fault. He’s just scared you’ll outshine him.”
“Sure.” Like that’s ever going to happen. He’ll be happy for me, for us.
I have to believe that!
As if I’m in a bubble, all sounds around me muffle when I walk away from Josefine. I pull out my phone and call William.
His voice is cheery. “Did you get the scholarship?”
I walk off to the side of the road. Long strains of hay tickle my leg. “Pick me up at nine tonight?”
“I already have the bottle of chilled champagne in my car.”
“Perfect, I’ll see you in a few hours.”
He hangs up. Does this mean I’m losing him? In no way do I see him having a long-distance relationship with me if I move to Portugal. Feeling dramatic, I try to shake the thought off, but it doesn’t work. I pull out my phone again to redial his number when Mom’s car pulls up beside me.
“Do you want to catch a ride home?”
Next to her are takeout food items from The Bluebird. I’ll talk to William later. We have plenty of time.
THE ATTACK
As I set the table, the harsh glare of headlights from Dad’s car lights up the house as he pulls into the driveway. Thunderclouds resound in the distance. I hope they’ll pass. Why hasn’t Mom asked me about the letter yet? She knows today’s the deadline, and she’s asked about it every day leading up to now. I stick my hand down my pocket to make sure it’s there. My pulse increases as my fingertips touch the soft paper.
I glance into the kitchen where Mom heats a steak in the frying pan. It’s Dad’s favorite meal. Ever since she picked me up, my news has be
en pecking at me from the inside, like a baby chicken ready to burst the eggshell. I have to tell her.
“Mom?”
She puts her spatula down and turns around with a smile. I grab the letter and pull it out when Dad’s car door slams shut.
Mom’s smile falls. Instinctively, I tuck the letter back inside my pocket. Why am I scared to tell Dad about this? He is my father; he needs hope now. I try to recall how he shared the news of Mom’s promotion with his parents, but can’t. It’s as if a fog surrounds the memory, hiding it from me.
Mom drizzles cilantro over the salad, throws away the takeaway boxes and sets the bowl on the table.
The front door opens. Lightning flashes as my father enters the house. So much for nice weather when meeting William after dinner. Rain doesn’t matter, though. Thinking about him is enough to make me smile.
I look at Dad, kicking his shoes off in the hallway. He passes me on his way to the dining table. As he takes his seat up against the wall, facing us, my pulse quickens. Something is off. He falls onto his chair like a bag would drop to the floor.
Mom kisses him on the cheek. “Hello, my darling.” She places a big chunk of meat in front of him. That typically cheers him up, but not now.
Mom tucks her hair behind her ears. “I invited Nana, but she was busy apparently.”
I pour us water. “Busy? I just had tea with her.”
“Tea?” Mom frowns. “That doesn’t sound like her?”
A familiar scent creeps across the table. Not able to place it, I inhale. It’s whiskey again.
Dad shakes his head. “Who cares what that silly old woman drinks.”
I do.
Especially now that Mom seems curious about it as well. “Nana isn’t silly.”
He laughs. “Well, she’s overstayed her welcome, that’s for sure.”
“Grandpa died!” I look to Mom, but she’s not getting involved.
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