Page 36 of The Winter Princess
I cough away a laugh and catch Freja’s eye. “I have no idea what he’s talking about.”
Freja doesn’t share my confusion. “Do you remember those coffee commercials from when we were kids?” she asks. “The woman runs out of coffee, so she has to ask her neighbor, who happens to be a sexy middle-aged man. The next commercial would be him coming back from walking his dog when the woman comes to return what she borrowed. You know,” she drops her voice into a husky alto, “Coffee and company turn friends into lovers.”
Erik joins in, his laugh like the bark of a seal. “We studied this in class. Her hair was amazing.”
They look at me expectantly.
This happens. It’s a reminder that my childhood was spent reading comic books and watching VHS tapes shipped from Pavieau as my father tried to keep the ties to his homeland stronger than the ones of his host country. He succeeded. And failed. My identity exists in the cracks somewhere.
“I have work,” I remind them, returning to the desk, and picking up the coffee. “I don’t have any time to become fluent in—” I wave a hand indicating social media, Unspeakable Interns, and princesses.
“For sure,” Erik drawls. “That’s my job. You just give me content.”
“I’ll be in charge of collecting that,” Freja breaks in. I look away, my mouth captive to a fleeting smile. She’s shielding me.
“Whatever,” Erik says, walking backward, “just send me the raw video. I’ll text you a list of assignments I’ve worked out with Marie.”
He bangs through the door, and Freja and I are alone. The silence between us prickles with electricity.
“I don’t understand why I need to be more than a cursory part of this,” I say, blowing on the coffee, inching away from her without it being obvious.
She makes the distance vanish by striding across the studio and slipping into my desk chair, crossing her legs at the knee. She laces her fingers and the chair bounces slightly as she considers me.
I look away.
“Did you see the comments from people who hold Provisional Residency Cards?” she asks. I mean to replace the coffee lid, but my hand stills. “Most of them talked about how exciting it was to have one of their own inviting them to The National Museum.”
In my mind’s eye, I can see a series of countless football pitches and hear the shout ofHej, Pa-vi!I’m in a classroom, shrugging when my surname is mangled so that the teacher will stop trying to get it right and move on to another Larsen or Sorensen or Christensen. I’m being interviewed for my first job and asked to account for why I speak Sondish so well. I remember why it became easier and easier to narrow my circle down to those who gather at Uncle Timo’s.
I secure the lid, careful to set it all the way around. Freja is playing dirty.
“How many comments told me to go back to where I came from?” I ask, taking a swallow of coffee.
I frown into the cup.Stultes es.This is excellent.
When I look at Freja, she holds my gaze.
“About one in twenty. Too many.” Her gaze flicks away but returns. At least she doesn’t lie and tell me there were none. “Have you ever thought of trying for citizenship?”
I was beginning to think this strange creature and I were starting to understand one another. I thought we’d reached some unspoken truce so that we wouldn’t mind appearing on camera together and it wouldn’t be inconceivable to touch her hand again.
This happens.
“Do you know when the Battle of Podense was fought?” I ask, and she straightens, her mouth pulling in confusion. She doesn’t know what to make of this shift.
“Yes. Sixteenth century,” she answers.
“The exact date?”
“Let’s see.” She runs a finger gently along her lower lip.Vede.
“The Battle of Podense was a lesser skirmish in the War of the Amber Cross, sparked off by an incident involving a stolen pig, if I recall correctly.”
Of course she knows. Her ancestor probably stole the pig. “When?”
“1546?”
“Wrong. May 9, 1556. It rained in the morning, giving the archers from the Duchy of Lowenwald a strategic advantage. Can you tell me what industries flourished at the neck of the Aunslev Valley between 750 AD and 850 AD?”
