Breathe (9 page)

‘
Yes?’ He turned before reaching the door, and walked to the windows instead, fidgeting with the curtains. I didn’t know if I should leave. This was probably not a conversation I wanted to hear. Still, I stayed and listened.

‘
I know about that, you can cancel it or handle it yourself.’ He seemed annoyed.

‘
Well, did she also tell you that I didn’t want to be interrupted? … I don’t know yet. No, I haven’t forgotten. Look, I’ll call you when I’m on my way home, ok?’ He hung up without another word.

If I was astonished by his last conversation, this was worse. Did she know were he was?
Did she know he spent the night here? I suddenly felt nauseous. The realization of my actions slammed into me. How could I be so stupid?

‘
Maybe you should leave.’ My words were an echo from yesterday, but I felt sadder saying them now. The joy of having him stay the day was overshadowed by my guilty conscience. I kept my eyes on the table. I knew he had stopped in the middle of the floor, but I didn’t dare look at him.

‘
Are you throwing me out?’ He sounded surprised.

‘
No, of course not, but...’

He cut me o
ff. ‘Then I’m staying.’

He sat down next to me
like nothing had happened and started flipping through messages on the phone. I could hear him laugh at something he read. I got up and took both our mugs to the kitchen for a refill. While waiting, I drew the curtains back to let some sunshine in. The sky was beautiful blue and cloud-free, this was going to be a hot day. I heard Christopher step behind me, and he leaned over me to close the curtains again.

‘
Lets keep them closed today, ok?’

‘
But it’s such a beautiful day. We should enjoy the sun while its here.’

‘
But if we can see outside, then the outside can see us.’

‘
What? Are you afraid that someone might see you?’

I could see that he was.
‘But we’re at the seventh floor. And nobody knows that you’re here.’

He didn’t smile like I did. He didn’t think it was absurd.

‘And we should keep it that way,’ he said seriously, and went back to the espresso machine and replaced the mug. He handed me the finished one. Suddenly I felt dirty. I didn’t like being the secret. I ran from that in Norway. I didn’t want to be hidden away like something to be ashamed of. I should deserve better. Then I started to think about the consequence if somebody knew he was here. I pictured the headlines again. Maybe it was best to stay hidden, and enjoy the time I had with him. I could save the regret and shame for later. I shouldn’t waste my time with him now. I was going to focus on the positive, and be happy the rest of the day.

We took both our mugs back to the living room again. My stomach did a nice job of informing me I hadn’t eaten yet, but I was experienced in ignoring it.
It wasn’t a smart thing to do. I knew I had to be careful not to fall back to my old ways, I was recovered, but not cured.

‘
What do you want to do to day? We can do anything. You decide.’ We sat down again as he said it.

‘
Well,’ I answered him, trying to hold my face serious, ‘I was thinking we could take a walk through Kensington Gardens, it’s such a lovely day. Then maybe we can have lunch. I know a perfect café in Notting Hill. Oh, and I can text Alice, and have the gang meet us at Red Lion, it’s a bar not far from here.’ He’d frozen, and I tried hard not to laugh at his reaction.    

‘
No, I meant anything here. We can’t go out together.’ He was actually blushing. I thought that was my thing. I couldn’t hold myself. I started laughing.

‘
You were kidding!’ He seemed relived. ‘Ha ha!’ He fake-laughed.

‘
Oh! I know! Why don’t you tell me your story again? I could probably use a couple of hours of sleep.’ That comment got me a pillow in the head, but now he was laughing too.

He did tell me the story again, but I didn’t
fall asleep this time. Then he’d ask about my home country and how it was growing up there. I didn’t like to talk about that, and changed the subject over to him each time. We sat there for an hour just talking, when the caller buzzed. I got up and answered it, praying it wasn’t Alice showing up unannounced.

‘
Miss Nord, there is a deliverance for you. The carrier says he is Mr Charles, and that you are expecting him.’ I didn’t know why Frank sounded unsure.

‘
Yes, that’s right. Thank you, Frank. Just send him up.’

A few minutes later, I opened the door to a big, muscular black man with larges tattoos on his biceps. He would have scared me if I weren’t expecting him. Frankly, he scared me anyway. But Christopher was right b
ehind me, greeting him and asking him to follow into the kitchen. Charles put five full bags on the dining table, and then handed a backpack to Christopher. I started to unpack it all while Christopher showed him out. I heard them mumble something to each other in the hallway. To minutes after he came, Charles was out the door again.

‘
This is insane!’ I told Christopher as I placed the groceries on the kitchen counter. ‘This is a month worth of food.’

‘
No, it’s not. You need to eat more. Is there anything here your missing?’ He started to look over what we got.

‘
I think the whole store is here.’

He shakes his head laughing.
‘Do you mind if I use your shower again?’

‘
Sure, I’ll make us some lunch in the meantime.’ I started putting away the things I didn’t need right now, wondering how I would fit it all. I needed to find a way to pay him back the money; I couldn’t take all this food for free. I decided to make some sandwiches for lunch, and hoped he liked pastrami. Anna had made sure we had fresh bread, salad, vegetables and mayo. And fresh squeezed orange juice; I loved that.

I could hear the shower running, and I started picturing him inside.
I’ve been staring at his perfect naked chest all day, and knew every curve. My imagination fantasied of the parts below.

‘
Ouch! Shit!’ I curse, as the knife that should be cutting the tomato, slashed my index finger instead. It wasn’t a deep cut, but the pain got excruciating as tomato juice ran into the open cut. I stomped my foot, I didn’t do pain good. There was blood on the cutting board. I threw the tomato in the trash, and wrapped some paper towel around my finger. I needed to clean it and put on a patch, but that was in the first aid kit in the bathroom. The pain decreased but I couldn’t continue with the food with a bleeding finger. I walked towards the bedroom. The shower wasn’t running anymore, but I couldn’t bring myself to enter. Instead I waited outside the bathroom door. I could hear him roaming inside. A minute later, the door opened. His naked chest was now covered in a white shirt. And the long johns were replaced with a black Nike pants. He was still breath-taking. He seemed startled to see me standing outside the door, then he noticed the finger wrapped in paper towel.

‘
Excuse me, I just need to get the first aid kit.’ I said, and waited for him to move.

‘
You cut yourself?’ he asked, taking a step closer to me.

‘
Yes.’ I felt stupid. ‘It’s just a small cut, but I need to clean and patch it up before I continue making our lunch.’

He reached for the hand
, and unwrapped it carefully. I got embarrass as he studied the cut with a frown on his face. I pulled my arm back. ‘It’s nothing, really. I just didn’t want to get blood on the food.’ I started to walk passed him, but he backed up into the bathroom ahead of me. When I found the first aid kit, he took it from me and found the antiseptic. Then he started to clean my cut with gentle movements, and when all the blood was gone, he patched it up. He kissed my forehead afterwards, making me feel like a little schoolgirl. I felt my tears well up, I hadn’t had anyone taken care of me for a very long time. He looked worried.

‘
Does it hurt? It didn’t look like it needed stitches,’ he said.

‘
No, its not that. It’s just... Never mind.’ I didn’t want to tell him. I didn’t want him to think of me as a pathetic lonely girl. I was supposed to be an adult. He didn’t push me. We went back to the kitchen. I found a new knife and cutting board and grabbed another tomato.  

‘
Maybe I should do that.’ He took the knife from my hand. ‘I wouldn’t want you to loose all your fingers.’

‘
It wasn’t my fault,’ I said. ‘I got distracted.’ I knew I shouldn’t have said it the second the words left my mouth.

‘
Distracted with what?’ He had stopped cutting, and turned around to look at me. Naturally I blush. I tried to turn away, grabbing plates and cups, and pouring some soda. When I turned back, he was still grinning.

The rest of the day went by in a blur. We ate and talked, and I even painted a portrait of him.
Painting a natural picture weren’t my usual style, but I manage. And it was the perfect pastime. I could openly gawk at him for an hour, trace every line of his face. And I got to have a souvenir of him when he left. Alice had called while I was painting, wondering what happened last night. I got evasive and asked if she hooked up with Kiro. I didn’t want to tell her anything while Christopher was listening. I didn’t even know what I could tell her. She was my best friend, but I didn’t know if I could trust her with this. She probably wouldn’t believe me anyway. I was surprised to hear that she went home with Kiro, and were meeting him later tonight for a movie. I wished her a good time, and asked her to call me tomorrow to tell me how it went. Christopher looked uncomfortable when I hung up, and had asked if we told each other everything. I told him I might hold back a few details.

We made
Saltimbocca with veal for dinner, and oven baked vegetables. Anna had even bought a red win to go with the veal. Christopher didn’t let me cut anything, ‘in case I got distracted,’ so mainly I sat on the counter sipping wine.

We ate at a small dining table in the kitchen
. The lights were off, and two candlelights gave the dinner a romantic atmosphere. I started imagining that this was a real date. We were almost done eating when he commented a picture on the wall above the table. It contained only majestic mountains that came up from the ocean, but more realistic than the one he bought. It even had a shore and a small yellow house in the lower end. It wasn’t in my usual style, and he wondered if I had painted it.

‘
I did this one right before I came here. It’s the only one I brought with me. It’s from where I grew up.’

‘
Yes, I recognise the mountains. Is that the house you grew up in?’

‘
Yes, with my mom.’

I didn’t know how much I wanted to share. It was still too painful.

‘I’ve been there once. In the capitol. Oslo, is it?’ I nodded to his question.

‘
Have you ever been there?’ he continued.

‘
Once.’ That was especially something I didn’t want to talk about. I tried to block out that memory as much as possible.

‘
Do you have much family back there?’ His voice was casual, and he shoved his plate away and leaned backwards. After our previous conversation about my father, I was a little surprised that he would bring it up. I guess this was a common topic when people started to get to know each other. I didn’t care for it much. I shook my head, refusing to answer more on the matter. I tried to wiggle my mind to come up with a topic changer, but it was to busy blocking the memories of my trip to Oslo. 

He was about to say something more, when his phone rang again. He looked at the number and
then excused him self as he walked towards the living room. I was fidgeting with the remains on my plate, trying not to listen to his conversation. Instead my thoughts drifted back to the things I didn’t want to talk about. To the day my mother died, and the letter I found a week later. How I found out that I had a father somewhere. Until that day I believed my father was dead. He might as well be dead. I thought about the lawyer, Alfred, coming to help me with the funeral. He hadn’t told me about him, but he did explain about the money. My money. A part of it was given to my mother to help raise me, but she’d never touched it. The other part was money being transferred every month until I was eighteen. Alfred had refused to tell me whom the money came from. He never mentioned that he worked for my father, not then. I didn’t read the letter until he left. It was hidden in my mother’s nightstand, and had my name on it. I still remember every word of it.  It was dated two month before she died. That would be the same time the doctors told us there weren’t any more they could do. I had stayed with her the last few weeks at the hospital, refusing to let her go. She didn’t tell me about the letter. She knew I would find it.

«Love is a fire. But whether it is going to warm your hearth or

burn down
your house, you can never tell.»
- Joan Crawford