I have come to honor the knowledge of—in order to move forward, it’s necessary to recognize where you have been
which is why I pace myself
like those celves ….. we step away ….maybe it is from the scene I knew from Peter Pan as a child; how the shadow came apart from his body —
you put it in a drawer all neatly folded. bury under socks
close the drawer
****&I am in the penthouse staring out….
What does Jörn mean to me? and that Manhattan skyline from the view of the penthouse ….watching cars and people like little ants
“Are you coming?” Jörn catches me on my way back towards the kitchens
“I need to do something first,” I say and after he leaves I glance back into the outer hall and I see the usual suspects of two more smörgås Viking shadows just by the bend of the emergency door
I grab hold of the sleeve of Andreas’ jacket
“wait!” and I give a good yank
“Whoa skit!!! fan!!! You are stronger than you appear!” he says to me as I pull him with me back to the first kitchen
“So what is going on?”
“I swear I am not a part of this whole scheme!” he says in his defense
“Oh, so there is a scheme!?” I say and push him into the kitchen chair that parallels the floor to ceiling window exposing a view of Central Park
“I—as….fy….jävlar….” he sighs in defeat “….didn’t say that….” he looks out the window
“Listen….about your dad…. it is not that I don’t care or don’t love him, it is that I don’t know if I know who he really is because he shares so little of himself. And—it feels like …. Andreas, clearly, he is hiding so much! —that I swear!! I mean— I start to imagine his secret lives—I imagine he has kids with someone else or more than just one someone else…. how many or how meaningful are they to him—or am I …even?you see? I dont even know …. not just maybe he’s had secret marriages but what is he really hiding? Inside? Why won’t he be …. real….with me—he should know I am worth the risk by now but….” I look at Andreas and let go of his arm, “I’m sorry,” I say and take a breath and sit down, “I don’t like how it makes me feel. To put my faith in a person who keeps his whole life a secret from me …. I feel extremely insignificant to him…. or, at best, a kind of affliction he must slack when the mood comes over him—“
“He’s written an opera for you!”
“Gosh! ….you sound like your father!” I say and cover my face “you miss the subtle point…. where is he when I need him—the day to day?—the small moments of ….being connected, of trusting ….our shared comfortable silences that only comes from shared moments and time; learned; shared; time ….but what will happen when his game of musical chairs runs out of seats and all he has left is a cache of meaningless sex toys that no longer give him a rise? And he’s left with the last bimbo or whom ever —was dumb enough to take all the insults….and nobody really worth his time.”
“First of all, I don’t think he is married to more than one person,”Andreas laughs
“Oh are you sure? I’d not put it past him. He has a sex toy in every port ….I would bet,” I say as I sit back in the bistro chair and look out at the view and shrug, “but do you know what? I know ….he knows I am capable of knowing ….there is a deeper side to him ….and it is —I —guess he never got over his crutch…. they enable him in his fog —and he treats everyone the way he believes he was wronged by—who was she again?—he told me once—oh, I don’t know—but—so it’s easier to continue blind. I don’t know what I mean to him. I am not really even sure I mean anything to him. A passing curiosity. So I’d rather invest my faith in what I know and that is, nobody owns me, I don’t need anyone. I belong to me.” And after a breath I say, “I was never special to my father. Or my mother either. I was invisible to them. Sometimes I was not even sure I was there or existed…. I’ve been chasing a mirage, you see? To win that from some elusive ….Agamemnon…. to be that to him.Silly how things haunt you forever.”
“Well, all I know is,” Andreas pushes his chair back and stands up, “he’s not married to two people—or at least I can say; my mother is not one of them….”
He stands there and looks at me.
“What?” I say
“No.”
“Since when?”
“Since never,” he says and with his father’s eyes he looks me straight in the eyes.
“But no—I mean, when she came— back in the Adirondaks and your grandmother was there and—“
“It’s been a stupid family joke—or I should say ‘lie’ ….”Andreas laughs, “nobody in Sweden gets married really these days so it doesn’t come up but—I guess once my grandmother made a big deal about it but…. my mother refused so they ….had a pretend ceremony to please my grandmother ….but I realized about a year ago that she knows it’s a lie but we are all forced to play her silly pretend family lie.”
It takes a long stunned moment to fully grasp what he has said
I sit back down.
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