Page 28 of A Copenhagen Snowmance
“Who’s this?”
Anna snaps, “None of your business,” just as Jamie says, “The boyfriend.” Bollocks. The entire conversation has been in rapid Danish, but Jamie can clearly pick out “Who’s this?”
Carl’s eyes widen a bit at that, but he has the sense not to ask for details. She just wants him gone and this to be over.
“Go home, Carl. You’ve said you’re unhappy about me throwing your stuff out. Noted. Don’t expect an apology.”
She really hopes he’ll go. This is excruciating. She’s praying none of the neighbours have caught wind of what’s going on.
Jamie lays his hand on her shoulder, which she takes as a show of strength to Carl.
Carl’s lips are pursed in anger, his eyes blazing, though she doesn’t know what he was expecting to achieve. Unless it was to make her feel uncomfortable, and she must give him that. Bullseye, there.
“Maiken wants her locket back,” he suddenly says to her, staunchly ignoring Jamie.
“What?”
Carl looks less assured, like he’s been tasked with an unwanted job. He switches to English. It’s a tactical move to pressure her. “You took her necklace, and she wants it back. The big locket. The one she always wore. Her mother’s.”
“I am aware of her locket, Carl,” Anna says indignantly. “I don’t have it, and I don’t know why you’d think I do. So, you can take your accusations and… and… stuff them up your bum.” OK, so that didn’t come out as eviscerating as she’d hoped.
Anna shoves her hand in her pocket to dig out her keys. “You should go. There’s nothing to say here,” she reiterates and heads up the stairs, not looking back, to wrestle with the key for much longer than helps her badass stance, until Jamie’s hand settles on hers and takes over.
* * *
“Tell me about Carl,” Jamie says, the two of them having resumed normal housemates-mode the moment the front door closed behind them. He hands her a mug of tea and places a bowl ofbrunkageron the coffee table, before taking a seat in the chair opposite the sofa, giving her space. She’s not sure she wants it. The space, that is. The tea is welcome. She’s still shaking.
Anna sinks back in the sofa, pulls up her feet and wraps the throw around her, with a sigh. Where to start?
“I really thought it was The Big Love, you know? We met at twenty-four and we were sure it was forever. Wewere just in tune with each other, or so I thought. Ithought…” Anna feels ridiculous saying this now, and keeps her eyes squarely on the flickers of the trio of candles on the coffee table. “I thought we were a team; invincible. That there was nothing we couldn’t overcome or withstand. Because we talked about things, discussed them and knew each other.” A bitter laugh bursts out of her now. “I was so naïve! Turns out we only talked aboutsomethings and actually were far from untouchable, and were felled by the most common, tawdry of events. We weren’t special at all. He slept with someone else. Turns out it wasn’t something I could withstand or overcome. Or forgive. So, I threw out his things and it was over.”
“And you ran?”
Putting it like that makes her wince.
“Iremoved myselffrom all that was painful. Being here in the house was agonising. And the whole city felt tainted; everywhere we’d been, they’d probably been. I couldn’t,can’tbelieve that people we know, friends, hadn’t seen them out, too, andknew. The humiliation was savage. Still is.”
“OK,” he ventures carefully, “and having ‘removed’ yourself, did the pain go away?”
Anna scowls at him. Is he making a point?
“I’m just hypothesising that perhaps, the pain is in you, and travels, too,” he says, “and that removing yourself from somewhere you love, hasn’t made that better.”
She takes a breath to interject but he leans forward and offers her abrunkage, to cut her off.
“You love this city, Anna, and the country. The things you crave when you get here, the food, the sights, the memories– and from how you’ve described your new place, you’ve made a little shrine to your homeland. You might not see it, but it’s obvious to me. You’re homesick and at some point, that might be worth recognising.
“But back to my hypothesising about your pain. It isn’t going to go away, no matter where you remove yourself to, it needs dealing with. At the source. You need to say what you need to say, to the people who hurt you. And they need a chance to explain themselves.”
Well, that’s not a thing. “I have zero interest in hearing a single word either of them has to say. I don’t want to see them or hear their lies. I don’t want the conflict of the arguing, like just now,” she gives a shudder at the thought of what just happened in the street, “and I don’t need more humiliation on top of what I’ve already had. Can you hypothesise on that?”
She’s getting defensive and she can hear her voice becoming shriller. Conflict and drama are something she avoids as much as possible. Having grown up with Ida, drama usually heralded her life was about to go sideways. Her experience with Carl, showed her she was right. All she really wants is calm and a simple life of respect and trust. Is that too much to ask?
A silent stand-off ensues. Anna snaffles anotherbrunkage, unrelenting.
“Can I ask you something? Something else. Something personal?” he asks, finally giving up.
“Sure.” She figures she can always lie if needs be.
