Page 34 of Pucking Strong

“Who?”

“Julio,” he cries. “Julio, with the flashlight and the mustache and the ‘How long are you traveling to Sweden?’ bullshit.”

“Wait, you’re talking about the immigration officer who checked our passports?”

“Yes. God, will you keep up?”

His voice carries a tinge of panic as he spills forth everything that’s been boiling inside him overnight. Forget Elsa, he’s like some kind of mythical volcano, all quiet and serene, until you feel the ground start to rumble. Now he’s spouting hot lava all over the inside of this rental car, and I’m powerless to stop it.

I may also be the one who set him off.

“I need to know what the fuck we’re doing here,” he goes on. “This was so fucking irresponsible. Of both of us. I need rules, Henrik. I need a plan. We got married withnofucking plan. I mean, who does that?”

“Teddy—”

“No, I know me, obviously. But you? You don’t do this. You don’t make life-altering changes at the drop of a hat. My god, you wear the same brand of socks under your skates for every practice and game. You eat the same fucking breakfast every day. You’re a robot. You drink your coffee black, Henrik. No milk. No sugar. Who drinks their coffee black?”

I shrug, changing lanes to move around a truck. “I like my coffee black.” Though it hasn’t escaped my notice that when he makes me coffee, he adds a little cream. His way tastes good too.

He huffs, his left knee bouncing like he’s tapping out a distress signal in Morse code. “You’re not getting it. I know all these things about you, but you don’t know me. I mean, do you know anything about me besides my fucking name? I’m your husband now—”

“Iknow,” I say for what feels like the hundredth time.

“Well, if we’re gonna pretend for the sake of some Swedish child welfare review board, you should maybe know, like, one real thing about me. But you never ask. About anyone. Ever! You make no effort, Henrik. You don’t know me. You don’t knowanyof us. And now we’re stuck together, and I don’t know how the hell we’re gonna fake this.”

His harsh words cut almost as deep as his clear lack of faith in me. “I know you, Teddy. I’ll admit, not well. But Idoknow you.”

“Prove it.”

I keep my eyes on the winding road. “How?”

His knee stops shaking as he considers for a moment. “Give me three things.”

“What?”

“Three things you know about me. Prove that I’m not crazy. Prove there’s something here, something we can build a foundation on. It won’t be a real marriage, and I know that. I’m not asking for that. I’llneverask you for that. But I need to know you can at least be my friend. I can’t do this if you’re not even my friend. I can’t pretend. It’ll kill me, Henrik.”

I’m quiet for a moment, considering.

In my silence, he curses under his breath. “Seriously? God, just pull over.”

“Teddy—”

“Pull the fucking car over!”

Slowing down, I pull over onto the wide shoulder, leaving plenty of space for cars to pass around. “There. Better? Now, let’s just take a moment and—”

Flinging off his seat belt, Teddy throws open his car door and exits the vehicle.

My anger surges as I unbuckle. “What the hell are you doing? Get back in the car!”

“Just go,” he shouts over his shoulder. “I’ll find my own way back to Stockholm.”

I launch from the car and chase after him. “Teddy, wait!”

“Go away!”

“Don’t you think this is a bit dramatic?”

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