Page 26 of Baking Battles

“It’s not, because I am a freaking grown-up and I am supposed to be this red-hot perma-horny male, wanking to porn every night, and it’s just not who I am.”

“Mattias, you don’t have to explain yourself. Nobody has to put a label on you, and I’m sorry that I asked. But sex is something that is so wide and large and unexplainable, and everyone's perception of it is different. You don’t have to conform. Just be who you are.”

“I’m just nothing. I’m almost thirty and a dad with a good job and my own home and I just don’t understand why people gush over sticking your dick in a vagina. It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

“Well, I wouldn't know.” Christopher laughs, his chuckles echoing through the houses on the narrow lane they are climbing towards the top of Torshov. The soft light of Advent candle holders and ornamental stars, already randomly placed in the windows of the apartments they pass. “I skipped the whole having sex with girls thing and went all in for boys instead. Much more my thing. I never understood the attraction to boobs and pussy, even though Isolde tried hard to teach me the delights of a bit of straight sex. It isn’t for me, and never was. I was always into flat-chested boys with broad shoulders and messy hair and dimples. In case you were wondering.”

Christopher goes quiet, and looks over at Mattias, who pretends to be looking at the ground. Trailing his feet and digging his hands even deeper in his pockets.

“Isolde said you used to be in love with me.” It seems a reasonable way to start to ask. Hope that Christopher will tell him himself. Because it would be much easier if he could just understand.

“She told me that she tore you a new one today. Sorry. She’s very protective of me and she will fight like a Tiger Mum if she thinks anyone wants to hurt me. She’s always been like that since the day she rescued me from some bully in sixth grade. Picked me up and brushed me off and told me I was her boyfriend. Just like that. It was quite surreal for a skinny kid with a bad haircut and too many freckles, but she’s always loved me. And I will love her back to the day I die. It’s just the way things are, Mattias. She married this bloke, Stein, two years ago, and he worships the ground she walks on, which is exactly how it should be. He works from home and when he gets up at seven to start his day and finds me sleeping on a blow-up mattress under his desk, it’s not always the best way to keep in his good books. He’s a patient man but I know I drive him crazy.”

“But why? You didn’t know me?” He has to stop to punch the code in the door, automatically reaching down to help Christopher carry the pram up the steps into the hallway. Christopher, who stays silent and seemingly deep in thought.

They work in silence, Christopher sorting out his bag as Mattias places Emi back in bed, tucked in and snug with her blanket around her, her cheeks red and cold from her impromptu evening walk.

He lets himself sit there, on the edge of the bed, holding his phone in his hand. Just watching his daughter sleep as his fingers fly over the screen.

MATTIAS: Answer me honestly. Was I really that bad at the sex thing?

SARA: Are you drunk?

MATTIAS: No. I’m just thinking too much.

SARA: Are you thinking that you want to sleep with someone?

MATTIAS: Says the woman who is away on a dirty weekend with someone she met on Tinder.

SARA: I’m a single adult woman and I’m allowed to be a total slut.

MATTIAS: Absolutely. You deserve to let go and have some fun.

SARA: I’m not having fun, I am getting laid. Epically.

MATTIAS: Rub it in.

SARA: You’re allowed to find someone. You’re allowed to be happy.

MATTIAS: It’s not that easy.

SARA: You were never bad at sex. You just didn’t fancy me.

MATTIAS: I did fancy you. You are beautiful and sexy and attractive.

SARA: You were never into me that way, and babe, you can admit it. It’s fine. It’s time for you to stop the bloody guilt trip. You don’t want to be with me, and I don’t want to be with you. It’s okay. We are doing good now, aren’t we?

MATTIAS: Yeah. We are okay.

SARA: So… who is it you want to sleep with?

MATTIAS: I don’t want to sleep with anyone. I just asked a simple question. Am I really bad at sex?

SARA: No. You are clumsy and nervous and never into it. That doesn’t mean you are bad at it. You are the best person I know, and you are Emi’s daddy. That will never change, and I will always love you for sharing her with me. But you need to find someone that makes you happy. Someone who you want to have sex with, not because you are supposed to, or because I tell you to.

MATTIAS: That would be fucked up. You telling me to have sex with someone.

SARA: GO HAVE SEX WITH SOMEONE. And leave me to have my dirty weekend away. Unless Emi needs to go to hospital or the world is going to end, don’t text me.

MATTIAS: Still so bloody bossy.

SARA: Night babe.

He gets up and slips out of his jeans, letting them fall to the floor with a dull clunk from his belt buckle hitting the floor. Unbuttons his shirt, throwing it carelessly on the floor, and leaves his t-shirt on. He should probably go brush his teeth, but right now he can’t be arsed. He just needs to lie down in bed, right here, and breathe for a little while, to the soundtrack of Christopher brushing his teeth in the bathroom. The slow hum of the water sloshing into the sink. The soft click of the light switch when the hallway goes dark.

Mattias Strømme is home. His baby is home. And there is a man wearing ridiculous cartoon boxers, teamed with a washed-out designer t-shirt, a man who makes Mattias’s mouth curl into a little smile, climbing into his bed, carefully negotiating the covers so he won’t wake the baby girl sleeping in between them.

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