Catch My Fall (43 page)

The official ‘coming out,’ was at Christmas. We slept at my house and had breakfast and presents with my mother before walking over to the Ødegård manor.

Lennart was already in his chair when we arrived, and he hopped up to greet us. Linda rushed out from the kitchen as well. I was hugged and kissed by both before being led into the front room and offered Lennart’s chair. I refused of course and sat by the windows. They’d clearly been told.

Lennart spoke loud enough to be heard in the kitchen. “I can’t imagine you’re hungry yet, so Linda says we have to do presents first.”

Linda told him to quit whining, and Stellan hollered something in Swedish.

I smiled and tried to apologize, but Lennart simply smiled before yelling back, also in Swedish. I was used to this, but today it almost made me nervous. Suddenly, I wanted to make a good impression. Suddenly, I needed to be on my best behavior. I wasn’t Stellan’s goofball friend anymore, I was his girlfriend.

Wow. Even just saying that feels earth shattering.

I nestled in with Lennart and let him regale me with tales, many of which I’d already heard once or twice. Linda came in carrying a tray of
Pâté
, cheese and crackers, which Lennart quickly jumped on. Lennart spoke between – or perhaps in the midst of – crunchy bites. He explained the finer workings of the recent stock market behavior, and seemed to be in a good mood. I took this to mean his investments were doing well. Still, investments was all he was doing since retirement, and he said the futility of retired life was setting in.

I looked up just in time to see Stellan follow his mother into the room with mulled wine and a few glasses. He was wearing a tall pointy red hat and a fake white beard. Linda turned and feigned surprise. “Tomte! Tomte’s here!”

Stellan flashed me a smile as he settled on the floor beside the tree.

I’d asked Stellan about the immortal Tomte when we were younger, and I’d spotted a little bearded figuring on their mantel in the weeks before Christmas. Apparently, Tomte was the slightly unkempt, tiny gnome like Swedish version of a Santa Claus who may or may not kill your livestock if he thinks you’re rude.

I told him Sweden was so fucking metal.

This was the first time I’d witness the great Tomte tradition in person. It was endearing as all hell.

I leaned close enough so he and only he could hear me. “I’d still bang you.”

His eyes betrayed a smile hidden under his nonsensical beard. “Good to know, I’ll bring the beard to bed later.”

I returned to Lennart, and Stellan rubbed his knuckles against my ankle as he spoke to his mother.

Presents were passed out, many of them between Lennart and Linda. Stellan gave his mother a set of Creuset cookware, and I practically drooled. It was purple for Christ’s sake! He gave Lennart a few new tools for their joint workshop and then a couple little items here and there. Lennart and Linda jointly gave me a beautiful little vase, a set of pens that Stellan had clearly advised on (they were my favorite), and then as the rest of the presents were all passed out, Stellan pushed me a large wrapped shape from behind the tree.

I lifted it up into my lap as the room grew quiet, and I shrank to half my size. I tore at the paper as gently as I could, pulling it back to see worn wood finish underneath. I lifted the wooden box out of the paper and let the wrapping fall to Stellan before setting the box in my lap. It was old, the top slanted toward me with a hinged cover, and the corners were worn lighter than the rest of the stain. I lifted the top of the box to find a small sketchpad inside. I looked up at the faces of the room, searching for the source of the gift, the person whose inspiration could be blamed.

Linda leaned in. “I know you’re an artist, so a writer’s box might not be quite appropriate, but I thought you might be able to use it for your sketching too?”

I nodded. I could. I certainly could, and I had no words. I ran my hand over the top of the box, feeling the nicks and knots along its edges. I felt Stellan’s hand run up my calf and squeeze as I put my hand to my mouth.

Linda hopped up and coaxed me to turn the box over. I did.

“Here, Lennart thought this was the best part.”

I saw it. In perfect penmanship, a name was carved into the bottom of the box. Some other soul had loved this box enough to mark it as hers. “Providence Merle Fields – 1862”

My mouth fell open. I did my best to hide the emotion, keeping my head down as I inspected the name, traced my fingers over this ancient thing.

Maintain your cool, damn it
.

Despite my best efforts, my eyes welled too quickly and a tear fell onto the wood. Before I could wipe it away, Stellan kissed my knee.

I couldn’t quite explain why it moved me so much – the fact that Lennart had been involved in the choosing of a gift for me? The fact that Stellan’s family had enveloped me with such warmth, finding such a thoughtful gift in the mere two and a half weeks since their son and myself had become a couple?

I’d never had a Christmas outside my mother’s home, and that was simple enough since Grammy Jensen died. My mother was a lot of things, but a rabid Christian observer of the holy day of Christ’s birth? Not so much.

Linda reached over and patted the back of my hand.

For future reference, when someone is clearly trying to keep their shit together, don’t make it harder by being all loving, damn it.

I swallowed hard and whispered. “Thank you so much.”

We ate dinner early; a smorgasbord. No really, an actual smorgasbord. Dessert was a sweet porridge that Linda assured me was a Swedish tradition. She passed out the bowls as Lennart grumbled about how he’d take one of my apple pies over this any day.

I smiled.

I dug into my bowl of Swedish rice pudding only to discover a hard object in my mouth after the third bite. I pulled it out to look at it.

“Oh oh! Faye found the almond! Everybody, Faye found the almond! Looks like somebody is going to be getting married next year, hmmm?”

The tone was so syrupy that I couldn’t help but laugh. Lennart and Stellan called Linda out, accusing her of having planted the almond in my
Risgryngrot. She feigned complete ignorance, winking at me over the table.

Stellan and Lennart assured me that it meant I got a wish, not a marriage proposal.

“Well, what if I wish for a marriage proposal?”

I stared Stellan down with a wicked smile on my face.

He smiled back and raised an eyebrow. “Better wish hard then.”

His mother swatted at him, and he smiled, taking my hand and kissing it.

I held the almond in my hand and made my wish.

We spent the evening with my mother, a good amount of it spent in the living room while she and Stellan conversed. I watched.

There’s a strange pride to watching your partner engage in easy conversation, but all the moreso when it is with your people – your tribe.

I don’t know how else to phrase that.

Your family doesn’t quite cut it – your kindred, perhaps. Seeing the one you choose fit seamlessly into the clan you come from – it validates your choice. After hours of him making my mother smile, I was ready to eat him alive, I was so fond of him.

I brought the writing box upstairs to my room and settled it into an open spot on my bookshelves. Stellan followed me up and snuck up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. I went to squeeze his arms into my belly and found a present in his hands.

Thus far that day, he’d given me a few little things; candy, a wind up robot that did backflips, and an iPhone case with
Calvin and Hobbes
on it. Ownership of the digital sketchpad had been unceremoniously transferred to me a day or two earlier with the words, “Call it a Christmas Present. It’s not like I’m using it.” It was now plugged into my laptop in the office. And above all, that morning he’d given me an original still from the Goofy cartoon,
How to Ski
. In case I didn’t mention this by now, Walt Disney is my hero. One can imagine I was rather pleased with that gift.

Still, here he was handing me yet another present. Baked goods were the extent of my broke ass gift giving that year – baked goods and blow job coupons - so I felt almost bad to see he’d gotten me something more.

I turned to him and he smiled, waiting for me to take it. I sat on the edge of the bed and opened it.

“I was going to save it for when you start your job -”

It was an iPad. I shook my head as I opened the box and found it already charged and in a purple case. He sat beside me, and I turned to him and smiled.

He leaned in, excited to show me the gadget. “Here, look.”

The screen lit up and as Stellan’s fingers danced over the surface, I saw many familiar images peppered into the foreign shapes and squares. “I downloaded you a few comic strip compilations;
Far Side
and stuff. And I signed you into my Netflix account so you can watch whenever you want to.”

“Oh, you know I’d be watching it with you.”

He gave a half smile. “Well, this is for when you’re on the road. I know you’re not sure when you’ll start traveling again, but I wanted you to have something, you know, when you do. I figure airports have Wi-Fi and most hotels these days, but the LTE -”

He was off.

My Stellan and his gadgets.

His fingers continued to dance, showing me
Gorilla Warfare
ready to play, but he’d lost me. I couldn’t hear him over the sound of my own thoughts.

Fourteen days.

I went back to work in fourteen days.

I kissed Stellan’s shoulder and said, “Thank you, baby.”

Stellan and I curled up into bed, my bare chest pressed against his back and my arms locked tightly around him. He made a lovey dovey sound when I squeezed him, turning to me in bed to kiss me. The kiss quickly shifted to him moving onto me and making love to me as quietly as we could. I locked my hands behind his back, held my legs at his sides and let him move against me, the way he now knew I liked. When we were both spent, he collapsed onto me, settling his head into the crook of my neck. I kept my hands locked behind his back, holding him as tightly to me as I could. Had I the ability, I’d have sewn us together to keep him close.

He didn’t fight the embrace.

When we woke the next morning, we hadn’t moved.

CHAPTER Twenty-Two

D
espite the quiet of the Christmas holiday, I did receive well-wishing texts from everyone I knew. Meghan’s included the word ‘slut,’ and Evan’s made reference to Stellan’s penis, but I responded with “Merry Christmas to you too,” nonetheless.

Jackie’s Christmas texts included a proclamation that I would be spending my New Year with her. I prepared to argue, still quite content at the notion of being holed up by a fireplace, cuddling with my Swede.

She insisted.

When New Year’s arrived, Meghan, Jackie and Kevin all stomped their way up my porch steps around nine. Stellan was plopped into my living room couch with a laptop, silent. Stellan was grumpy at the news that our evening wouldn’t involve complete, naked alone time, but after some grumbling and a promise of a languid blow job, he’d agreed to do whatever it was I was being suckered into.

“Happy New Year, slut! Glad to see you’re alive,” Meghan said as she entered.

I hugged her, fawning at the sight of her. She was yet again dressed to the nines in a short black dress with silver sequins across the low cut breast. Jackie came in her simple tweed trench and scarf, with Kevin in a similar get up behind her. She carried a cardboard box that looked to be from a bakery. I leaned in to look, but she quickly shifted to keep it hidden.

When I was able to shut the door behind them, Stellan and Meghan were already well into berating one another.

“So are we heading out right away? Where are we going?” I asked.

Stellan was standing in the living room, having set the laptop aside to exasperate “Trotsky.”

Jackie beamed at me. “We can go whenever you guys are ready.”

I turned to find Meghan glaring at me. “Why do you hang out with this asshole?”

Stellan gave me a shit eating grin. “Yes, Faye. Why do you hang out with this asshole?”

“Both of you shut it.”

I tossed Stellan his jacket, and he pulled a black ski hat out of the pocket, pulling it down onto his head. I bundled up in a coat and scarf, eyeing Meghan with some trepidation. A part of me felt like I’d almost failed the man I loved by not getting gussied up for the evening. Given that we’d had sex a half hour before everyone arrived, I was strapped for time. I settled for Jeans and one of Stellan’s Bruins shirts. I’d just pulled my boots on as Stellan made comment about Meghan’s dress.

“I love that dress, Trotsky. You’re going to be the classiest hooker out tonight!”

She threw her keys at him. “Die slowly.”

He caught them without flinching. “Love you too.”

We milled out onto the porch, puffing and groaning against the cold. It was snow weather, and I could smell it coming in the air. I shifted over to be by Stellan, forcing him to give Meghan her keys. We followed Jackie down the stairs, ready to suggest a driving plan that included Stell and I driving alone, but instead Jackie walked through the parked cars and headed up the street.

I hustled to follow, Meghan’s heels clacking against the pavement behind me, yelling her disdain.

I met Jackie’s stride. “Where we heading, lady?”

She simply smiled and looked up the road. Wherever we were going, it made her happy.

I hoped it wasn’t too far.

Stellan caught up to me, kicking the back of my heel with his foot as I tried to step down. I stumbled, but he had his arm around me before I could call him names. We rounded the corner and headed for the center of town.

“If I knew we were going for a fucking hike, I’d have worn different shoes,” Meghan said, her heels clacking on the sidewalk.

Stellan glanced back at her. “Lift your skirt when the next car passes, maybe you’ll get a ride.”

“Shut up, waste of skin.”

“What?! I thought that was helpful!”