More smörgås/e.d.&film noir

 

And as I find myself blankly staring at Elsa with, no idea how to respond to that, I sort of just stammer there frozen, “uh….yeah….” on the spot. 

Déjà vu. 

How does she always do this to me?

I turn to Jörn for help but he seems slightly terrified of his mother at the moment judging by the look on his face,

“mamma!”

But she turns her icy gaze at him with her perfectly arched brows that could shoot an apple off your head and slice it with their precision,

“ja, Jörn?  har du något att säga?”

but I don’t don’t know what it means 

But Jörn replies in English,

“really?”

“‘Really’ —vad?” And shoots more arrows 

“‘Nice of you to rejoin the party’? Would you say you rolled out the red carpet in the past?”

“What are you talking about? I brought a gift for her that time when you were —“

“I think your presentation might have been lacking that time too,” but he says this under his breath

Oh right, the perfume. Which she opened on the spot. She thought I needed a shower as I recall,

“oh the Hamptons!” I say foolishly as it suddenly vividly dawns. 

That was the day when we were hiding from Stina and the Swedish intelligence director guy; what was his name? I think it was Marcus ….but now I am here in Jörn’s New York City apartment which …. 

“Has anyone seen Ilya or the penthouse lately?” I blurt out before considering who I’m addressing. Must be concussed 

“Coffee?” Jörn suddenly says and looks at me 

Josef clears his throat loudly and everyone looks at him. When I look at him he gives me a wink, but not within Elsa’s view and gestures for me to go to the kitchen with Jörn with two jerks of his head in both directions respectively 

I don’t need coercion to get out of her line of fire and walk straight for the kitchen. 

“What are you doing? Have you forgotten where I keep the coffee?”

As I’m opening cabinets and searching his refrigerator,

“no I’m starving, I don’t remember when I last ate but ….” most of what I find seem more Ikea than what I know ….”what is this?” I ask pulling a bowl from a shelf

“Mamma’s saffron batter,” he says 

No idea what that means, so I put it back,

“maybe Ilya has stocked the penthouse fridge,” I say and start to head out towards the direction out

“Wait, where’re you going?” Jörn grabs my shoulder and stops me, turns me around 

“Wha—excuse me? I am not obligated to—“

“Duvan!” but it is Hanna now, “I’m so glad to see you—I wanted to tell you news with Eric and I!”

“Oh please—!” Jörn seems suddenly enraged 

“Pappa! You have no business trying to—“

“What am I trying to do, Hanna? Stop you from making a huge mistake—“

I manage to slip past without them being aware, not realizing Andreas was watching from the other room and walks over to me.

“Ambush,” I say looking up at him

“If you really want to get out of here for a few minutes, I wouldn’t mind seeing the penthouse again, but don’t you need a key?”

“No, it has the combination code, remember? Let’s go,” I say

The girl on the train

(or—Like ships in the night) 

and every day she sat on the train and watched the scenery pass her by…. 

she promised herself that if today he was at the window going the other way…. well, this time…. this time she would wave

sometimes he sat in the opposite direction, and how strange to be always on the same schedule. but just going the other way 

and as her thoughts revolved, the scenery flowed by her, and as she daydreamed out the window, she saw the families through their windows in the apartment buildings as the train went by. And ….it gave her such a strange feeling to see, in parallel, lives and families —all doing in unison; the exact same things. Preparing breakfast for the children; variations of the dynamics but …. mostly far too similar. And it made her feel so insignificant. So utterly invisible. Like one of a million ants building their hills over and over and never ever seen nor noticed 

She got lost in thought and suddenly very sad. She wanted to open the window and fly out…. she was disappearing …. 

her eyes blurred and she blinked 

but that was when the other train was going by …..

and ….she’d missed him entirely 

and her mood sank deeper. Well that was just the day, it seemed to her. Starting with the step into the puddle right as she set off, soaking her boot right through. happy day.

she turned her glance to the annoying ads inside the train and noticed some unkind graffiti ….

and reached and took out her phone to find her eBook….re-reading 100 Years of Solitude…. 

She got to the part where the phrase is repeated “he stood before a firing squad….”

And still it boggles her mind

“Excuse me, hey—“

someone said stepping close to her seat and made her have to look up

It was him

“Is this seat taken?” he smiled at her knowingly 

“Um….” but struck dumb, she only stared at his eyes —which were quite nice now that she could see them up close ….as she moved over making room on the seat for him

“You know, it took awhile —but I finally worked out the train time….you always go ….”

E.d.&Film noir/jmmusechrontinyteaser

 And when I am brave enough to face Jörn’s living room who would I expect to give the warmest greeting?

“So nice of you to drop in and rejoin the party!”it is Elsa of course 

of spies & codes

 ….and as my thoughts wander they go to him, and what I know of him is that he would never say if something were the matter.he would give the impression of having his world in control.he would not tell me.he cannot be weak;what he thinks is weak;to show it….especially to me.never.but it is what you do after you recover from your moments of weakness that are what count.but —if it is his pride, then his war is within ….and myself be silent; because, as always, I know he will emerge more powerful in his contrition.yet,id never waver

 i shall miss you

Electra’s dictionary/Invisible Ink;scene continues

 

He says to me,

“I do see you.”

I am by his window looking out. 

The distance between us feels infinite

 it seems

 and the energy it takes for faith far less so 

I don’t believe him. He only shows me what he decides to let me see. And I wonder if then he can only see as much of me as he feels in the mood to bother and try. it makes me wonder who I have been in love with—he gives as much as he is inclined and then he retracts as if everything between us never was and so I am the idiot ….but then that means he too is another fraud…. 

“Duva….”he walks over to me and pulls my face up to look at him taking my chin in his grip, “I am your father figure,” he whispers into my ear

I say,

“no! a father—? someone to raise me up high and be my cheer-leader, daddy, no, you lock me out —you don’t allow me near you—how can you see me?” and move away but he pulls me back as I fight him, “how can you see me when you are pretending and playing your games? I’m not at your disposal—“

“Duva—“

“You don’t see me, you stopped looking.”

“I never stopped,” he says

“You don’t even read my words anymore,” I say

“How would you know?”

but what I wish I could really understand is—what is it he is afraid of….? what I would see if he showed me his whole self —or of how he would feel showing it?

left in stitches(scene continues)/e.d.&muse

 

But whatever Jörn was about to say is upstaged by a sudden interruption of more familiar voices entering the apartment in an excited rush and —in a heated argument that…. is making my head pound as their language is not kind to migraines 

“Oh!” I gasp and cover my ears and eyes, “why does my head still hurt?”

“Don’t touch the stitches!” Jörn says as he rushes towards me from the window where he had been pacing to but almost defeating the purpose, I’d hazard to guess, he calls out loudly in operatic tenor,

“snälla håll nere rösten!”

and this rings and seems to echo in revolutions 

“What do you mean stitches?” I am horrified now as I look up at him

But he is too busy looking at the back of my head and pulling away my hair in the exact spot that has been pounding and—

“ouwh! fuck!” I say and reach back to feel what he is looking at—but—he slaps my hand away! with a sort of reprimand —I can only guess— as it’s in his language and I cannot spell what he just said; still, the tone says everything, doesn’t it? As I suddenly feel like I’m ten 

“Your hands are dirty!” he says in English 

“I’ve been unconscious—“ I start to get up to wash my hands but he pushes me back 

“You shouldn’t be walking around —the doctor said,” he tells me and then he looks at me in —that way— which makes me think I’m risking being put over his knee with a spanking if I don’t get back in bed

So I give him a look displaying my surrender because I ….actually don’t care enough anyway 

I get back in bed and crawl under the covers as suddenly it feels like I ran a marathon