Reaching the dealership, I cut the prices on all the ads, on every car, which results in two visits that day. One car sold. The first in weeks.
The grass has settled on the lot, so I spend Sunday moving all of Dad’s silly cars back in their places. When I finish, I drive home to Nana where I recognize Mom’s shoes in her hallway. What is she doing here? Maybe she’s apologizing to Nana. Their voices ring out from the kitchen, so I tiptoe into the library to eavesdrop.
At first, there’s too much noise from the radio behind me. But when the music stops, Mom’s harsh voice tells Nana, “I’m so disappointed in myself, you have no idea. From what I understand, I became you. I don’t know how this happened. I tried so hard not to be like you.”
I see Nana’s face strain in worry as she walks into the living room. A new song plays on the radio, blocking out her response. An urge to throw it out the window almost takes over, but that will reveal that I’m here, so I wait for the song to end and turn down the volume enough to hear.
Mom’s on a rampage. “I was heading places. I had a job in London and could get far away from this tiny life in Årøysund. Now it turns out I live my life like you did? Living in your house? I don’t want to be like you. Stuck in a dead-end town with no future? No, I refuse to accept it. I can’t. I just can’t.” Mom walks towards me, and I fear she’ll barge straight into the library and see me leaning up against the door. Instead, she puts her shoes on. “I don’t want you or that girl in my life.”
“Celina. This is not…”
Mom cuts Nana off. “This is what you made of your life? You’re pathetic, you know that? I don’t ever want to see you again.”
Nana walks towards the library where I’m hiding and closes the door. Through the keyhole, I see Mom frown as if deep in thought.
Nana says in her firm voice, “You are happier than you’ve ever been, Celina.”
“No.” Mom’s cold answer sends chills down my spine. “But this amnesia is a blessing in disguise. I have a chance to start over again. I won’t have the same life. I won’t end up like you.”
Mom slams the door when she exits, and Nana walks into the library. Her eyes empty and without looking at me she says, “I believe making her remember might be a challenge, my dear.”
I fall into the armchair by the radio. Like a tsunami drowns a city, the realization shatters all my hope. My body jerks in response to the news and I bawl, with no control. I can’t speak, think or do anything, my body’s in charge. When I finally calm down, my legs are pulled up underneath me, shoes still on in the chair, my lips salty and Nana’s on the floor in front of me, red-eyed and worried.
“I’m sorry.” I push my feet down to the floor. “I’ll clean it.”
“Oh, nonsense. It’s a chair, not your heart, which is what I am afraid for,” Nana says.
“I’m fine,” I say. But I can tell Nana doesn’t believe me. Rightfully so because I don’t believe it myself, but I have no choice. “I’ll be fine. And I’m so sorry, Nana.”
“Me too.” She picks up a book, places the bookmark on the wooden table next to me, and falls into the armchair.
I go get the sketchbook from my bedroom upstairs. When I return to the library, Nana’s still staring at the same page as when I left the room.
“She’ll come around,” I say, and sit in the antique armchair. I let my pencil glide over the page like skates on ice creating Mom’s smiling face the way I remember her.
When Monday arrives, I start my day at Skar’s Auto, and when I close up, I’m overjoyed after selling two cars. They might have been priced way too low, but better with money in the bank than in stupid vehicles. The drive to The Bluebird seems endless, yet way too fast knowing what awaits me.
Mom won’t be happy to see me, and with her giving me another chance, I don’t expect her to let that go unnoticed with the other staff. I’ll be an example to the rest that nobody’s safe, and they’ll all know it was Mr. Jensen that hired me back.
Or, she’ll be pleased to see me.
The thought makes me scoff out loud to myself.
Yeah right.
When I arrive, Mom is sitting in the back of the restaurant, papers on the table. She’s wearing a black suit, hair pulled back in a tight bun again, and I so want to rip out the elastic band and ruffle her hair up so she’ll look like herself.
As if that’ll make her like me.
I take a deep breath before walking over to her. “Can I get you an espresso?”
“For you to pour it into my lap again? No, thank you.” She turns her attention back to the documents. There’s one with my name, and I hold my breath as I realize they are evaluation forms. They’re blank, but she’s apparently planning to keep an eye on all of us during the summer rush of customers.
Josefine nods to me from behind the bar as if she owns the place, but when she hints for me to join her in cleaning the wine glasses, I head to the kitchen. I’m not here to participate in her drama.
I set tables, fold napkins, and prepare for war. That evaluation form will read one thing when the summer is over: Amalie is the best waiter we have.
At twelve o’clock that night, our last customers leave, and William walks in the door with red roses in his hands. Josefine sighs when she sees him, and so does Ms. Berg. “Oh, what a nice man.”
You have no idea.
“What do you want?” The strict tone of my voice raises eyebrows on Josefine and Ms. Berg, who sneak into the kitchen, no doubt listening in.
“To apologize,” William says. He holds out the bouquet of roses in front of me, but I don’t take them. “Can we please talk about what happened?”
“I don’t like roses.”
And I don’t like discussing my private life in front of my coworkers, and especially not Josefine.
I get my coat and call into the kitchen. “I’m leaving.” I’m behaving like an ungrateful brat, but roses won’t buy my forgiveness. Nothing can buy a change in my emotions, and nothing should. “You can walk me home,” I say.
His face lights up, and I’m puzzled by why it’s so important to him. I get that he liked me in my bunad the first day we met, but many other women would die for a date with William. Why is he here with me?
As I head towards the door, William hands the roses to Ms. Berg who’s thrilled and kisses him on the cheek. I think she tells him “good luck,” but I’m not sure. She should be on my side in this, even though she doesn’t know what’s happened. Just because a man shows up with flowers doesn’t mean he’s a good guy. He can be an asshole in sheep’s clothing.
When William catches up with me, he doesn’t waste any time. “I messed up. Please let me show you I’m not that guy.”
“But you are, William. You know what? Nana’s told me that people show you who they are and that we should believe them when they do. You showed me who you were when we had sex, or whatever that was.”
“But that’s not who I am. I’m the guy that stands up for your painting on May seventeenth when your father mocked it. I’m the guy that worries about you when you didn’t show up to our date. Enough to go home to you and phone the ambulance when you were unconscious and bleeding on the floor. I’m the guy that helps you with a dealership that’s in ruins, and I’m begging you not to let this one mistake ruin what we can be.”
My head is spinning with the moments of joy from the examples he’s throwing at me. He has helped me; he’s supported me and been there for me. “I don’t know if I can trust you,” I say.
“Let me show you that you can.”
When Nana’s house is in front of me, I stop walking. I don’t want to involve her in this. A part of me wants to scream at him, push him out of my life and not see him again. When I think that, I miss him already. “Why am I so important to you? You can have any woman you want. Josefine drools every time she sees you, and all the women in your office steal glances at you every chance they get.”
“I don’t know. I’ve never felt this way, but you’re diff
erent. You’re not demanding and needy, you’re…You’re just you.”
I can’t hold back my smile.
Shit, I can’t stay mad at William.
“I might become demanding if I’m to see you again.”
“Look forward to it.” He sighs and a smile forms on his lips. “So, no roses, huh?”
“Roses would be Dad’s choice. Daisies are my favorite flower, and I don’t want to date a man who cares more about what others think over me when he buys me flowers.”
It’s still light out, and around us, voices begin to speak. They must have listened in, but I was too frustrated to notice.
“I’ll remember that for next time.” William opens his arms, cocks his head and smiles an apologetic smile. “Can I please hug you? I hate that our last touch was that day.”
I want to stomp my feet and refuse. Instead, I walk into his embrace, and after resisting for a few seconds, I wrap my arms around him.
He kisses my hair and whispers, “I’ll never hurt you like that again.”
No, you won’t. Because I won’t let you.
NOTE THE DATE
I work at Skar’s in the morning as usual. There are more customers now that I’ve lowered the prices, but when it’s quiet, I sketch and read up on how to increase sales, then drive to The Bluebird to test the theories out with every new order. “What would you like for dessert? How many beers?” Never a yes or no question. With my increasing sales, my tips go up, and I spend it all on ads for the cars at Skar’s.
I’ve hung some of my paintings up at the dealership, and luckily some people buy one if they don’t get a car. Both Skar’s Auto and my work at The Bluebird is going great, but Mom still seems to hate me, and I’ve had no time to see William in the last two weeks since we spoke last. He texts and calls me every day asking to meet, but I have no time. Or maybe I’m not finding the time. I don’t know. I’m working as hard as I can to save my future, stuck between two jobs I hate, and a man I’m confident I feel both ways for right now. During the day he’s working in the real estate office at the local bank. At night, I’m at The Bluebird desperately trying to impress Mom.
I’m signing a contract for the dreadful red Porsche I’ve been driving, wanting to warn the buyer of the mileage, but don’t, when William’s black Mercedes drives into the lot. I so want to resent him, but no matter how hard I try to be angry, I can’t. If I were my friend, I’d tell myself never to see him again. Still I hide a smile, blaming my mixed feelings on loneliness, since no friends my age are left in town, and Mr. Jensen and Nana don’t count. I can’t avoid William.
Shit.
I jump into his arms.
He lifts me and kisses me. “I hope this is okay,” he says.
I grin. “More than okay.” He’s a greater kisser than I remember and, although I’m not ready to be more intimate with him, it’s as though our lips belong together in a perfect union. “How’s living with your parents going?”
“There’s a reason I moved out early. They mean well, but they’re driving me insane. Know anyone with a big enough bed for both of us?”
“Nope,” I say, knowing he’s referring to my room at Nana’s. Every night, he shares properties that he feels are overvalued and that he hasn’t been able to get to the price he thinks is right. “If you stop being so picky, you’ll be out of there in a week,” I say.
“I refuse to make a bad deal. It’s what I’m good at. It just takes a little longer than expected down here. Not much to choose from.”
I glance at the clock. “I have to go, I’m afraid.”
“I know. I had to see you. Any luck with your mother yet?”
“Not yet, but I’ll get there.”
The day after, William stops by The Bluebird to have lunch with a business associate. In his hands are daisies for me and red roses for Ms. Berg, who seems to swoon at the gesture. “Oh my! William, you shouldn’t have.”
When Mom’s not looking, I steal a kiss, not caring if his colleague is bothered by it, but customers call me before we have time to exchange a sentence, and I’m back delivering food and drinks.
That night, a text pings on my phone. It’s from William: “Hi sexy. Could you imagine yourself living here with me?
http://www.finn.no/realestate/homes/ad.html?finnkode=262543
Kisses, W”
I press the link. A two-story, white-painted wooden house appears on my screen. I scroll through the pictures.
Sure, I can tan in that garden, sip cocoa by that fire, watch “Dinner for One” at Christmas in that living room.
I text him back: “As in us living together?”
The day at his apartment flashes before me and my body spasms. I can’t live with him until we can be intimate in a good way.
A smiley face pops up on my phone: “If I buy it, I hope so.”
Me: “You know we have to figure out a few things first, right?”
William: “Not worried.”
Me: “I am.”
I can’t shake that experience so easily. Although I agree with William, I should have told him to stop when it felt wrong; he should have sensed how uncomfortable I was. We both should have done something different. We should have tried to communicate. Instead, we both lived in our heads, making our own story of what was happening. That can’t happen again.
I hate the word should.
William: “I’m sorry it happened, and I’m sorry you don’t trust me. I promise you nothing like that will ever happen again. So, just know whatever I buy, you’re welcome to call it your home.”
The next day, before the dinner rush starts, I have my break in the old oak tree behind the restaurant. Ms. Berg has prepared me a salad with coriander cream to enjoy while I listen to the chirping birds.
Seeing William walk towards me with coffee brings a smile to my face. His hair blows in the wind, and the sun highlights his tan skin. I glance down at my arms, white, almost blue. Back in the day, being tanned was a sign you were poor and worked outside. Today, it’s the opposite, a sign you don’t have enough free time to lay in the sun. In my case, that’s true.
“Did you mean what you texted last night?”
William climbs up and takes a seat next to me, his feet dangling on either side of the thick branch. “Yes. Why? You thought I was kidding?”
“It’s a bit soon, don’t you think? Moving in together? We’re not even officially dating. Are we?”
“I am.” William passes me a cup of coffee. “You’re using me?”
“Funny.”
Great. Now I feel bad.
“Since when?”
“Since I kissed you two days ago.”
Are you serious?
“And that’s not soon?”
“Sure it is. But when it’s right, it’s right. Besides. You live with your Nana. I live with my parents.” He shrugs. “If I’m ever going to prove to you that having sex doesn’t end up in tears, I need a place to show you where we don’t have to worry about either of them disturbing us.”
Good point.
“It’s still too soon,” I say.
“Any progress with your mother?”
I laugh. “You can’t shift to my mother after talking about sex.”
“Why not? You just told me it’s too soon. So, are you getting through to her?”
“No.” I sigh. “She has no idea who I am.” I bury my face in my hands, take a deep breath to push it all away.
“I think your mother’s coming around. I brought her roses today, and in return, she gave me these.” He points to our coffee.
“Mom gave you these?” It would be typical. Men with money to buy more coffee than they’ll ever need get it for free. “Just like that?”
“Sure. I’m welcome to stop by for coffee any time, according to her.”
“I’m not talking to you anymore.”
How is he able to charm every person he meets?
“She’ll come around.” He flicks his shoes off and kisses me. “They asked about yo
u at the office.”
“About me?”
“Well, they asked if I were single.”
Butterflies bombard my insides. “What did you say?”
He grins. “I said no.”
Oh, come on. I’m dying to know the rest. Spill!
“So, you have a girlfriend then?” I pretend to frown. “You’re using me?”
He laughs out loud, flashing his white smile. “I said you’re my girlfriend. So really, it became official today, I guess.” He shrugs. “We haven’t really discussed it, but…”
“No…” A salad leaf sticks in my throat and I cough to get it up.
William pats me on the back, glaring at me with huge eyes. “No?”
“No,” I say, clearing my throat. “No, we haven’t discussed it. Yes, if you’re asking if I want to be.” Nausea spreads inside me.
That is what he’s asking, right, if I want to be his girlfriend? I’m not making a fool of myself, am I? I do. I want him to ask.
He wraps his arms around me and kisses me passionately. “Note the date, my dear. August first is our anniversary.”
William chuckles as he jumps down from the tree. “Now that we’re girlfriend and boyfriend, we look at houses.”
The cheekiness in his voice is impossible to ignore.
“I am not planning to live with you before we’ve been intimate again. I have to know it can be pleasurable first.”
“Not worried.”
I am.
I can’t say yes to being with him when I’m leaving for Porto. What am I doing? “William?”
“Yes, my dear.” He holds his arms up to catch me when I slide down.
Back on the ground, I stare up at him. “You know I’m planning to leave, right? My scholarship.”
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