Maybe Baby (22 page)

By the end of our conversation, my guilty feelings had flourished at an uncontrollable rate.

It wasn't just Jesper who called that day. Just when I was walking into the apartment, Ida called. She was terse, businesslike, with me as she informed me that she was very disappointed I'd started a relationship with Mads.

"It's against the rules, Laney," Ida explained in a cold, businesslike voice. "Any contact of this nature is expressly forbidden. It was outlined in the information packet I gave you."

"
I'm not exactly a client, though," I said quickly. "I never signed any contract. I was still trying to decide what to do."

"
Yes, well, now suddenly Mads has pulled out of the donations he was scheduled to make and it's a loss of income for the clinic."

"
I don't believe you. You must surely have his... 'donations' in a freezer somewhere, just waiting to be used."

"
We could file a loss of income suit against both of you, if we were so inclined," Ida continued, without addressing a word of what I'd said. "You two have put us in a terrible bind."

"
I don't really see how terrible this could be." I was pacing, trying to figure out what to say to make her see that I didn't feel any obligation or guilt towards her or her company. "Mads isn't some superhero who has the sole responsibility for repopulating the planet or anything."

Just then, Mads opened the door and kissed me quickly before heading to the kitchen with shopping bags.
"I'm making some Danish specialties for you," he said over his shoulder. "I think you'll like them."

I gestured at the phone and mouthed
"Ida" at him. He stopped.

"
I'd like to speak with Mads, if I may," Ida said curtly. "He hasn't answered any of my calls."

I held the phone out to him.
"Ida wants to talk to you."

His shoulders tensed.
"What does she want?"

"She'll tell you."
             

He took the phone and went back to the kitchen. I didn't want to listen anymore. I retreated to my be
droom. A little quiet, no drama from Ida, no bullshit from her about me or Mads. I changed into my loungewear of yoga pants and a T-shirt. I pulled my hair out of the tight bun I'd trapped it in this morning. And then I waited. Mads's voice carried. He was speaking Danish with Ida, so I couldn't understand everything but his tone of voice let me know he wasn't happy with anything Ida was saying.

I couldn't simply hide in the bedroom, but I was worn out emotionally after my conversation with Jesper. It had taken a lot for him to call me. And the stepson whom I'd thought had no feelings for me—who sometimes treated me like a thorn in his side and other times stuck to me like glue—told me he loved me. Why did he wait so long? Why did he wait until I'd already left his father?

A tiny part of me, the part that missed my life in Stockholm, whispered, "You would have stayed if you'd known your step-kids liked you. You would have stayed because you'd have felt like you had a family."

And I wasn't sure I dared admit it to myself. As much as I loved being here with Mads, if I'd met him, and
Niklas's children had been more loving towards me, I would have stayed. I would have made do with being the extra mom. But there was also a part of me that would have struggled to come to the surface. And that was the part that practically screamed, "What about me? I want to have my own family, not just one on loan from his ex-wife! And Niklas didn't really love you enough to even fight for you. If he did, he wouldn't have just walked out and given up so easily."

When it was finally quiet in the living room, I emerged from the bedroom. Mads was at the stove, ma
king dinner for us. Tense vibes rolled off him. I wasn't sure if I should go over to him, or just sit at the table and wait for him to open up. We were still so new to one another that I couldn't always read his signals. I hesitated. He sensed me behind him and said without looking at me, "The clinic is saying I have to return money to them or they're going to take me to court."

"
How much money are we talking about?"

"
Around 75,000 kroner." He drummed his knuckles on the countertop. "I don't understand, though. There was nothing in my contract that said I couldn't date someone I met at the mingle. It just says I can't date anyone I've provided with a donation."

"
So why is she trying to make you pay?"

He finally turned around.
"She claims I was scheduled to make another donation this week and it's a loss of income for them. It's bullshit. I checked. I wasn't due to do anything. I'd already gone inactive."

"
We'll figure something out."

"
Yeah, we probably will." I didn't like how resigned and uncertain he sounded as he returned to preparing our dinner. I took over peeling potatoes while he made beef patties.

After a while, he said,
"She made it sound like if we broke up, and went back to 'normal,' then all was forgiven."

"
Is that what you want?"

"
No. Fucking hell, we've only just started, haven't we?"

"
I just wanted to make sure you weren't having second thoughts."

"
I'm not. Are you?"

"
No. This is where I want to be."

"
It's the same for me. I want to be here with you right now."

But later, when we were in bed together, our lov
emaking felt awkward and strained. I couldn't concentrate, and Mads seemed less enthusiastic than usual. We gave up after a while, both of us agreeing we were too tired to continue. I was thinking about Jesper and whether I should tell Mads about the phone call, and about the money he was going to have to pay to get the clinic to leave us alone.

*      *      *

"I'm sorry, but your card has been cancelled."

"
I don't understand. I haven't missed a payment," I said quickly into my phone. I was standing at the sales counter in Illum Department Store on Strøget, hoping to buy a new pair of running shoes, but the cashier had just informed me my card was being rejected for payment. 

"
Ms. Halliwell, your ex-husband called and cancelled the card last week." The customer service representative informed me. "It's all in the file. I'm sorry."

The words sank in slowly. I should have expected this. I snatched another credit card from my wallet—one that was in my name only—and handed it to the waiting sales assistant. She'd been watching, listening with interest to my call with American Express customer services. I wished she would look away. I wanted to slap her, but I tried to keep my expression friendly, effusive. Inside my embarrassment was taunting me, poking at my own st
upidity for blindly assuming he'd let me keep the card if I just paid the bill myself. I should have known better. That wasn't Niklas's style at all. He liked finality, and he was serving it to me on a platter.

When my father first left my mother, he cancelled all of their credit cards without telling her. She’d tried to buy back-to-school clothes for me with her John Wanamaker’s card, but the card ended up being cut in half by the sales assistant while other waiting customers watched and tittered. My mother barely shuddered. She was too proud for that. She put on her game face, impa
ssive and calm, and pulled out cash instead from her wallet. I glared at the other shoppers, hoping the anger and shame emanating from me would be withering enough that they’d stop treating us like we were afternoon entertainment. But they continued to whisper. One woman even had the nerve to say, "That’s what you get for not saving your pennies, hon."

"
You don’t know anything about us!" I lashed out.

My mother shushed me and said,
"It doesn’t matter. We’ve paid already."

On the subway ride home, though, she couldn’t keep her cool. Tears streamed down her face. I held her hand and thought, I will never let any man do this to me.

And yet, here I was.

"You could have told me you were going to cancel my Amex card," I said tersely when he finally returned my call.

"
Hello to you, too, Laney."

"
Why didn't you warn me?"

"
I did. I told you there was no going back. I should have thought that was warning enough."

"
Why did you do it?"

"
I've got no intention of funding your life while you're fucking someone else."

"
I paid that bill with my own money, so you weren't funding me."

"
What happened? Did you try to buy your boy toy a present and your card was denied?"

"
I was trying to buy a pair of running shoes for me with the card that was in my name." I tried to stay calm, but the beginnings of a tension headache were creeping along the back of my neck. My scalp prickled. "I've never used that card to buy anything for Mads."

"
You left me, Laney. You don't get to keep the privileges of being with me when we are no longer together."

"
Niklas..."

"
No, you don't get it, do you?" His words came out hard and fast. "You're not my responsibility anymore. You wanted out, so you don't get to have me topping up your account or making life easy for you. So, yes, I canceled your card because it was still connected to my account. If we're over, we're over."

"
You should have told me, Niklas." But I didn't have the right to complain. He was right. I was the one being unfair. I made my choice. I walked away from that gilded cage of life with him. I gave it up.

"
Likewise. But all I did was cut you off financially. I didn't lie to you, I didn't sneak around behind your back."

"
What do you call that little fling you had with your ex-wife? That wasn't lying? That wasn't 'sneaking around'? At least I told you I was in love with someone else. You let me stay with you for five years while you kept on flirting with Karolina, comparing me to her, dishing out advice to me that she thought of! You may as well still be married to her. I was just your sexy piece of ass. Your good time girl. You didn't want a real future with me."

I waited for his response. I could hear him breathing and imagined him in our... his apartment, standing in the sterile kitchen, one hand gripping the edge of the gra
nite countertop as he tried to think of a worthy response.

"
I hope he's worth it, Laney. You wanted your freedom, and you got it. So I hope he's worth it."

*      *      *

The next few days weren't easy. I was so busy at work that I didn't have much time left over for meeting Mads. He was also swamped—he was still helping Anton finish his table, and he had a delivery of kitchen cabinets to make and he was behind schedule.  Every day we texted or had quick coffee dates that took no more than thirty minutes. My colleagues teased me and said I was testy, when really I was just tired of sleeping alone. I shrugged away their teasing, but they were right. I was testier than usual. I wanted to curl up in Mads's lap and absorb a little of his strength. I wanted more than just a quick brush of our lips or a Post-It note in the morning with a few hastily scrawled words.

But there wasn't much to be done. Marius, Johan, and I had been called into a meeting and informed that our clients wanted major changes to the print and film ca
mpaign we'd pitched, the one they swore they loved, and they wanted the changes done before the first of November. Their request hadn't really come as a surprise; as far as I was concerned, this was standard practice. It happened with nearly every project. But Marius was furious. He was so in love with the original idea that Johan and I had to cajole him into making any changes. And it was hard going. It meant we were still in the office when everyone else went home. It meant we were often there before everyone else arrived. And it ate away at our weekends.

So when we finally finished making the changes and the constant merry-go-round of status meetings and update meetings and debriefings—a moment that finally commenced on a Friday afternoon—the only thing on my mind was going home to Mads, to his apartment in
Østerbrø and making love without any work pressure looming over me. I called him, but there was no answer. I skipped out of work early and rode my bike—yes, I was turning into a true Copenhagener and I was biking everywhere—to his apartment in Østerbrø. It was one of those afternoons when you realize that winter will soon arrive, with a perpetual layer of gray in the sky that feels dense and impenetrable, and already the sky was going dark. I hated days like this, but I kept telling myself things would be better by First Advent, when there would be Christmas lights everywhere brightening the darkness. I tried not to think about having to wait another month before any of that would happen.

Instead, I reveled in the freedom of moving across the city on my bike. And the only thing going through my mind was that soon I'd be able to focus on Mads and we could reconnect.