He crawls towards me, grinning. “Done what? Had sex?”
A part of me wants to run, but I don’t move. If I leave, William will think I’m not interested, or he’ll want someone like Josefine instead.
But he’ll consider my emotions, I’m sure of it. It’s all about trust. I have to trust him.
Observing my response, William laughs. “Are you serious? You’re a virgin?”
I bite my lip, wanting to say no. “Yes.”
“Oh, honey. Don’t worry. I won’t hurt you.”
In one quick pull, I’m on top of him. He rolls us around, my back against the hard floorboards again. Straddling over me, he slides my shirt up. My arms, as if having a will of their own, cover my breasts.
William pushes them aside. “Don’t hide. You’re too beautiful.”
I’m not beautiful.
“I’m average,” I say.
“Not to me.” He unbuttons my shirt. “Look at you.”
I can’t look. Instead, I recall a dissatisfied man in a movie, because the woman "just laid there," so I have to do something to take my mind off him assessing me.
I stroke my fingers through his hair. But he wiggles his head away. What am I supposed to do?
He slides over me, pressing my body down, his hands underneath my back, opening my bra. His weight on me is making it harder for me to breathe, and this is far from the experience I hoped for when getting into his car two hours ago.
“William? I don’t know if…”
He tosses my bra to the side. My breasts unfold. His face lights up. “You are perfect.” He grabs my boobs, squeezing them.
“Ouch!”
William loosens his grip.
Sensing his sweater on my bare skin, I grab the fabric to pull it off him. But he pushes my hands away.
“William? I'm not sure...”
“Shhhh…Don’t ruin this.”
I stare up at him, his eyes fixated on the wall behind me. He pulls off my shorts, then my Brazilian thong. The sound of ripping plastic, a cold sticky feeling between my legs.
I jerk to get away.
This is not how I’ve imagined sex.
“William? I'm not...”
He pushes himself forward, inside me. Like ripping paper, a stinging sensation spreads.
“Ow!” I pull back. But he follows.
“Relax.” He thrusts inside me again. And again.
I glance up at him. His nostrils are flaring as he thrusts harder. From the streets below, a car horn makes one short signal. I try to copy his expression, close my eyes. However, they shoot open when he pushes in too deep. I open my mouth to scream, but then his movement slows down.
His face trembles, scrunching his eyes shut. He rolls off me, staring at the ceiling.
Was that it?
I swallow the lump in my throat and blink back tears. I can't let him see me cry. In the movies, the women always seem so pleased, snuggling up to their man.
I stutter. “Where’s the bathroom?”
William rips the condom off, ties a knot, and flings it onto the blanket next to me. I glance over at the wet goo-filled rubber. I don't care what William expects, but I’m not touching that.
He points to a door behind us. “Through that door.” He pulls his pants back on and holds out his hand to me. I take it, pull myself up while clenching my teeth together at the burning sensation between my thighs.
Standing, I cover my breasts with one hand while yanking my thong and shorts back on with the other before collecting my bra and shirt, and head into the bathroom. Closing the door behind me, I fall to the floor weeping as silently as I can. A whimper escapes me.
William knocks. “You all right?”
Is he kidding? Of course, I’m not all right. I’m hurting. In a shrill voice, I stutter. “It hurts.”
My hands twist together like they have a life of their own, waiting for his response.
His voice is further from the bathroom door now, as if shouting across the room. “Yeah, it sucks that women are made that way. It gets better, though. I promise.”
I don’t know what to say to that. I have no experience, but there’s no way this experience is something anyone wants to repeat. If this is sex, we’d have far fewer people on this earth. I can’t yell at him. What if he leaves me here? Getting home will be a nightmare. He wouldn’t leave me, would he? Dad pops into my mind, the way his eyes turned black, how he smashed Mom’s head into the carpet.
Shit. I have no way of knowing what William will do.
I recall Dad’s admiration of him, Josefine’s warning. I shudder. Does this mean William is violent too? Josefine knew how Dad would react; she told me he wouldn’t be happy for me. Has she seen something like that in William also?
I get dressed. No part of me wants to exit the bathroom and face him, the crime scene, or the used condom. But I don’t have a choice. I yank open the door and say as decisively as I can manage. “I’d like to go back to Nana’s now.”
“Sure.” He leans toward me, and I freeze as he pecks me on the lips. “I'm tired anyway.”
HOPE
I take the elevator down alone, happy to be away from him as he locks up the apartment.
When he gets down, he’s on the phone with what sounds like some business associate. “It’s a safe investment. Porto is on the rise and doubled in value last quarter.” The phone switches to his car speaker and what sounds like an old man’s voice fills the car.
How can he talk business now, after what he’s done to me? Is this what he enjoys? Causing me pain and ignoring me after? What kind of man is this?
“We’ll discuss the details tomorrow,” William says, then hangs up. We’re about halfway home when he plants his hand on my thigh, stroking it like he did when we drove up.
Shit, my skin is sore.
I push his hand away, but he puts it back, this time grabbing the inside of my thigh. I’d rather walk home than have his hands on me like this now, or ever again. “Are you serious?” I grab his hand and push it back to his side of the car with such force that he has to concentrate to keep the car in its lane. I hiss, “Don’t touch me!”
Tears fill my eyes, unwelcomed, and I wipe them off. I should have known I couldn’t trust William. Dad liked him, Josefine warned me, and still, like the idiot I am, I let him do this to me. My voice chokes and anger builds as the tears threaten to escape again. I don’t want to cry. I’m not sad, I’m furious. “You like to see me in pain, is that it?”
“No! What are you talking about?” His voice is pained. “I never want to hurt you.”
“So that was normal sex to you, was it? Showing me you care?” Streams of tears spill down my cheeks, and I brush them frantically aside.
William slows the car down and parks it in a pocket along the highway. Great, now I’ll have to find a bus to get home. I unbuckle my seatbelt, but when I turn to get out, he holds me back.
“Don’t touch me,” I scream.
“Where are you going? We have to talk about this!”
Over the fields the sun is setting, turning the sky pink. The color reflects in a tear running down his face. His voice is pleading. “Please don’t leave. We’re in the middle of nowhere. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“So that’s your idea of pleasuring someone?” I’m fuming. How the hell was this not meant to hurt me? He even said it’s normal for women, that it sucks. Well, guess what. He’s right. It does suck. And in no universe should sex be like this.
“No…I mean…I…I didn’t…”
“Yeah. You, you, you! It’s all about you.”
Just like Dad.
Thinking about Dad disgusts me when we’re talking about sex. But I can’t help it. He was self-centered, and now I find myself with a man that’s like my father. “If you’re not kicking me out, then please drive. I don’t want to discuss this anymore.”
When the car moves, I sit back in my seat, unable to take my eyes off the sunset outside. Beautiful colors are covering the sky
in orange and pink. It’s only when William exits onto the highway for Tønsberg that I forget how angry I am and glance over at him. He stares out on the road ahead, fixated on it.
“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice breaking.
I don’t want to pity him. He should be sad for treating me this way.
When he turns the car off the main road and down towards Årøysund, I’m about to give in, ask him how he feels, but I don’t want to. “Let me out,” I say.
“Please let me drop you off at Nana’s at least, so you’re safe.” He continues to drive down the road. “You never told me to stop. If you had, I would have.”
My fault? You’re blaming me?
“I shouldn’t have to tell you to stop. You should have known when I said I was in pain and tried to get away from you.”
His face twists as if I’ve hit him in the balls. “I’m sorry. You made sounds, but I guess the moment got hold of me and I thought you were into it too, not that I was hurting you.”
We pass the dirt road leading home to where Mom is. I don’t care if she doesn’t remember me now. I have to see her, and I’m done listening to his apologies. “Stop the car.”
“Can’t we talk about this? I’m baffled by this whole thing,” William says.
I unbuckle my seatbelt. “Stop!”
The car jolts to a halt.
“I get that you’re sorry. But I need time away from you to think.” I don’t wait for his response, but jump out, slam the door, and walk onto the dirt road leading home.
First Mom fires me, and now this with William. Can this day get any worse? Mom used to be kind and caring to the core. I need that now and hate Dad for beating Mom’s loving spirit out of her. He’s knocked out the woman who used to braid my hair, sing me to sleep when I was young, and make even the gloomiest day seem bright. When I got scared of lightning, she’d wake me up with hot cocoa, and we’d count the seconds between the light flashing across the sky and the roar of thunder. She made my fears go away. The Mom I know would be devastated by firing anyone. Instead, she trained the ones who struggled, supported them, and made them better.
Lights from a car scare me into the forest, and I hide behind a bush. If it’s Mom, I don’t want her to chase me away.
Adrenaline fills me as I watch through the branches while Mr. Jensen exits the car with Mom, terrified to make any noise and make a spectacle of myself.
I look insane.
Mom has changed into a new clean skirt and blouse, holding her head high, looking nothing like my Mom. Even her walk seems harder, not flowing as it used to. Mr. Jensen pauses for a second, then glances my way. I duck down and lay on the ground. I’m an idiot; if they catch me, I’ll never be able to get close to Mom.
Please don’t come over here.
When I look up again, he’s waving goodnight to Mom from his car. She thanks him, but as she walks down the pathway to the front door, she pauses for a second. Then it happens, the one glimmer of hope I have waited for, a tiny movement that shows me that my Mom, the way I know her, is inside there, behind the makeup and the fancy clothes. She loosens her bun, and her hair flows loose before she’s fluffing it like she always has done. There it is, Mom’s beautiful face framed by her blonde hair.
I miss you.
She opens the door and disappears into the house. But for one brief moment, I saw Mom again. Now I have to figure out a way to get her out.
Leaning my back up against the inside of Nana’s front door, I slide down to the floor.
“Amalie!” Nana barges towards me from the library. “What happened?”
It’s as if my body has given in now that I’m on safe ground knowing Nana is there to take care of me. I gasp for air, tears running down my cheeks. I don’t want to tell her about William and what happened between us. “Mom fired me today,” I stutter.
Nana sits down next to me on the floor, rocking me. Just like Mom used to do when I was little. We say nothing. There’s nothing we can do. So we sit here, in silence, and I’m safe. As long as I have Nana, I’m safe.
My voice cracks as I whisper. “I can’t take any more disappointment now.”
SEPARATE
The following morning, the sun lights up the kitchen where Nana’s preparing breakfast. She stirs eggs in the frying pan, and places half an avocado on each plate for us. I’m setting the table when the doorbell rings.
Nana heads out to the hallway. “Please set one more plate, Amalie.”
Since I’m not expecting anyone, I listen carefully for who it might be. The door clicks open, and a familiar voice rings through the house.
“How kind of you to invite me.” There’s a pause, untying of shoelaces and a jacket hung up. “This is an absolutely extraordinary house. Beautiful, just beautiful.”
“I saw how upset Amalie was last night, so I imagined a breakfast together could be pleasant,” Nana says.
If she only knew why I was upset.
Which I hope she never will. I sigh, as Mr. Jensen rounds the corner into the kitchen.
“I spoke to your mother last night after you left,” Mr. Jensen says.
My face heats up from a thousand worries streaming across my mind about what they’ve discussed.
He smiles. “I explained to Ms. Vogt that finding good employees during high season is close to impossible. Which is true. I also told her you show great potential. So, she agreed to hire you back beginning Monday. If you want to, that is.”
“Let us eat,” Nana says, and serves breakfast.
Mr. Jensen treats his avocado like a steak, cutting thin slices before each bite. “Avocado. So simple, but so delicious.”
All I can think of is Mom, the stale tone of her voice when she fired me last night. I don’t dare imagine what her arguments for keeping me from The Bluebird were. Facing her again feels like putting my hand on a hot stove for the second time, knowing I’ll burn myself. “It’s my only chance at her getting to know me. Trick her into liking me.”
“You don’t need tricks, Amalie. Deep down, you know the way to your mother’s heart,” Mr. Jensen says.
I do, and I won’t waste the precious time I have with her.
He finishes his plate, then helps clear the table.
After Mr. Jensen leaves, I join Nana for tea in her garden. A warm summer wind blows.
“What was Mom like when she was my age?”
Nana closes her eyes for a moment, soaking up every ray of sun. “Love is tricky, Amalie. Your mother told me once she didn’t know true love until she had you, so if you ask me how to make her love you again? I can only tell you to look within.”
“But Mom loved Dad before me, didn’t she?”
“There is a difference between being infatuated and truly loving someone. But when it comes to loving a man, Amalie, make sure he loves you, unconditionally, before you give him your heart. True love is always unconditional.”
“That’s the problem, isn’t it? I can’t control it.” I think about William, his selfishness last night, and how sad he seemed when realizing what he’d done. I recall how he’s helped me at Skar’s and how safe I’ve felt with him, until yesterday.
Was it my fault?
Should I have said stop loud and clear? Thinking back, I see that he lost himself in the moment, but still, he should have sensed I was hurting, shouldn’t he?
Nana looks at me. “Have they caught Hermann yet?”
Ugh, Dad.
I shake my head. “I wish they had.” I glance nervously around us now that I’m reminded he’s out there somewhere, and shift the theme of the conversation. “What do you think about William?”
Nana’s reaction surprises me as she laughs out loud. “If I like him or not is of no importance, Amalie. You see, only you know your heart and what it needs. So you must ask yourself that question.”
“I think I do,” I say.
“Stop thinking, feel it.” Nana sips her tea and leans back in her chair soaking up the sun that peeks out from behind a cloud.
Feel.
That seems too dangerous. Isn’t that what makes us do stupid things? Mom married Dad because she felt love for him. Dad beat us because he felt angry. “What if he turns out to be like Dad?”
“My darling Amalie. I beg of you to not let your father’s behavior control your life. If you want to find out about William, explore with him. Talk to him. You’ll know if he’s not a good man, we women always do. He will show you what kind of man he is. Believe what you see, that will lead you right.”
Great.
“What if he’s shown me both good and bad?”
“If you’re unsure, spend time with him. If a warning sign comes up, you will know when to leave.”
Is this what Mom did? Choose to stay when Dad promised he wouldn’t beat me? I’m getting a headache from all this. I can’t understand why Mom didn’t leave Dad. She knew there was a chance he’d blow up. Still, she stayed with him. It doesn’t make any sense to me.
According to Dad’s letter, he had hit her once before. When was that? It’s difficult to believe him, yet knowing Mom, the old Mom, I can’t see her staying with him if he hit her regularly. Or just once.
Mom was stronger than that.
“Love is only kind. Be brave enough to find the man who will love you for who you are, and how you grow as a person.”
Love is only kind.
I’ll keep that in mind.
Nana rises from her chair. “How about a walk?”
“You don’t like to walk,” I say, puzzled by Nana’s request.
She laughs. “I have to move more. If not I will struggle to move around in Porto.”
I swallow. The scholarship is lingering in the back of my mind. With Mom not recovering and Skar’s Auto being my responsibility, I can’t see how I can go. “Another time. I have to get to Skar’s.”
Driving to the shop, the gas warning lights up.
This is insane. I don’t have enough money to drive this stupid Porsche.
I can’t afford any of this, and I’m like a fraud behind the wheel. Anyone willing to pay this much to drive around in this stupid car must have real self-confidence issues because this is silly. Pulling into the gas station, I fill it up halfway before driving on. Mom’s electric car is silent, and costs practically nothing to drive, and to me, the acceleration feels the same.
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