It is the awkwardness of the situation that has me baffled, so I stop as they walk on ….and turn and walk back in the direction towards the bedroom
I am not there more than ten seconds before Jörn appears as I am dumping out the clothes in my suitcase and starting to kick off my boots on my way to the bathroom
“What are you doing? I told you they’re here! We don’t have time—“ Jörn stops me in my progress to dreams of a shower, cutting me short by pulling my boot back on without any warning to me —and by my shoulders he is turning me and insistently, pushing me back into the direction out the door
and again catch a glimpse of myself….
and detain again over my hair
“Duva! There’s no time!” he is annoyed
“Your mother?” I look at him expecting he gets my meaning
“Yes! And she’ll have your head if you don’t go open the door!” and with it the kind of push you give a toddler to go jump in the wading pool
“I would place bets she is still not over the opera coat….”
I stand there to consider one second to linger longer in front of the mirror
“Duva!” he pulls me out the door
And there is Stina standing there still and spying from down the hall as I hear the man named Marcus call after her from further on
and so, Jörn says outside in the hallway shutting the door, “there’s a meeting I’m now two minutes late for—“
“Two? Actually two? Are you sure it’s not one minute and thirty five seconds?” ….”
“They are downstairs! They are waiting to come in! Don’t give mama more reasons to irritate her —it’s too early in the day for that!”
I catch the look in Stina’s eye as she implores me with her eyes with a look of disapproval catching the gist of conversation
I take a deep breath and look at them; first Stina and then Jörn—but then I notice Marcus has reappeared and is looking at me with —humor?—in x-ray vision
****
I pass the hallway mirror by the door that I never appreciated until now. That is, until I see what I look like, but the doorbell starts ringing.
In fact, it does not stop
It seems to be broken, I think and with a sense of doom, I fling open the door
Mama
It is another awkward moment from my life I would like to never have rivaled as she stands there looking me over; she looks me up and down —then, to add to the humiliation, it is the indicative sniff she gives me when suddenly she opens her bag and produces a little atomizer,
She shows me the bottle,
“Calyx—you see, I remember?—I was going to give you this later but….” then with emphasis, sprays me before she hands me the gift box with the torn open gift paper, and walking towards the closet in the hall, “where is it?“ she asks me
“Uhh….what?” I watch her opening the closet, looking through people’s coats
“Oh, Hanna’s opera coat, I am suddenly in the mood to see it on you—“ there she pauses and turns to look at me, her gaze paused on the mid hello kitty region, while softly under breath,“feral….”
I think of those Norse curses I’ve heard Jörn say and no idea what they mean—but just now seem kind of perfect to wish to say
With relief, I see Josef walking up and catch a quick glimpse at myself and the backwards image in the hallway mirror of hello kitty with a smart pair of pinstripes and motorcycle boots; power dressing
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