And as I stand there in Jörn’s kitchen watching him do the carafe …. but I am somewhere else
I think about —and turn to look out the window of his kitchen ….and….I just noticed this …. At this angle from his kitchen window ….and how the sun is in the morning coming from the north almost like the dream memory and get a chill; but no….
you can see directly into the penthouse bedroom ….
my bedroom
I swiftly turn to look at him now
“So, you need to marry an American?” I say this but all the while I am calculating new information ….I keep a poker face as good as anyone…. why should I let on information —does he?
“Well….” awkward now with the plunger —no, he is pretending; what.a.faker. “that’s Mama—“ he shrugs with a half searching glance at me but covered up with a laugh. Forced.
I get up real close to him.
I put my hand on the plunger
as I lean up against his hip and look up into his eyes ….veiled kryptonite as deadly as a barbarian but I say,
“it is that, isn’t it? A war crime….” I have my hand over his but I move it. I lightly use my fingertips to run up his arm but stop when I get to his hip level and grab another plunger
“Who did you fuck with this?” I ask him
He takes my hand,
“it was a case,” he says this steadily
“That you fucked up,” I say ….because my mind rewinds to the time frame of these events. His odd behavior toward me. I look up at him, “fucking liar!”
“Duva, it has nothing to do with us—“
Shit.
Again.
Like a tick.
I do it again without realizing.
Slap.across his face.
“How did your mother put it? ‘Sleeping under a metal curtain,’ that was brilliant, because now I get it!”
“It was sheer ignorance because she never gets the phrases right.”
“It was brilliant.” I say this as I think but I say, “so what happened? Was your cover to fuck her? Did you enjoy it? Was it drudgery work, oh, poor you? Were you getting out secrets tying her up—or him?—was it a him or a her?—or a them or—whatever….I really don’t care except for the fact that you acted so innocent to me and ….no, it’s not that it’s ….I think you got scared. The loss of control. And this job; this case—you lost your head, and I’ve always thought you had anger issues ….did they push you and you went too far—“
“Ahem!”
I jump
There is Elsa by the kitchen entree-way
“How is that coffee coming along?” she asks as she glances at first me and then Jörn ….and I swear, I don’t think she misses anything
She walks right over to us
By now my hand has safely landed on the kitchen counter. But she looks right at it. And then at me . And then she pats it,
“good girl!” she says with a sly smile and looks up at Jörn
She mumbles something to him in Swedish that I cannot even try to make out the sounds but what ever she says makes her giggle as she walks away
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