I finish the kiss with a hand on his bearded face, and the texture is wonderful. I want to caress his cheek and scratch his rough chin. I want to go home and kiss him until the sun rises, naked in my bed with him.
The crowd applauds, and I feel like they are clapping for us. Erik opens his eyes too, slowly, and our gazes meet. We are in shock, confused about what happened. Bewildered at how absolutely amazing it felt.
Because he must have felt it all too. I can see it in his eyes. I can feel it in his hand, still on the small of my back. He wants to pull me closer. It was just a teaser for him too.
I’m suddenly eager to go home.
“Wonderful, wasn’t it?” Anika asks us with a sly grin.
“There is no kissing tradition,” Chiara reprimands her girlfriend, but looks like she found the prank amusing.
“Yeah, I made that up. But look at them.” She gestures at us with her head. “They had a wonderful moment.”
Indeed, we had.
“We should get going.” Chiara checks her watch. “We have to go to work tomorrow.”
“Oh, don’t remind me,” Anika groans. She told us she works as a content creator for a clothing company, and that while she enjoys it, what she truly wants is to be a jewelry designer.
We all walk together to the exit, and I avoid looking at Erik. What happened in the light show affected us both. We don’t know how to act now. What we did out there was so convincing that holding hands is not needed at this point.
Chiara and Anika have already left us when we reach our bikes. I’m opening my lock when Erik’s phone rings. He looks at it, a line appearing between his brows, as if he’s wondering why someone would disturb him at this hour.
“Mor?” He takes the call, his frown deepening.
I watch him as he speaks, increasingly concerned. As the talk is all in Danish, I understand nothing he is saying. When he ends the call, I ask, “What’s wrong?”
“My dad fell off a ladder when changing a lamp and is at the hospital now.”
I raise my eyebrows, worried. “Is he okay?”
“Just a broken leg, and maybe a rib, they think. But he’ll be staying overnight.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“I’m going there now.”
“What, tonight? But don’t your parents live, like, three hours away?”
“I’ll borrow my cousin’s car. My mom shouldn’t skip work, ideally, and she’ll need help in the next few days. My sister’s in Amsterdam, and I don’t have a job. So it’s not a hassle for me.”
I nod, understanding. I’m proud of him. I like that he won’t hesitate to help his family. On the other hand, something tells me this is the escape route he wanted to find after what happened between us tonight. It came at the perfect time...
I know I shouldn’t think about that when his dad is in the hospital. It’s selfish of me. If it were my parents, and I could reach them after driving for three hours, I would have done the same.
“Do you think you’ll be safe driving at night? Aren’t you tired?”
He shakes his head, and I know what he’s thinking. He wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight anyway.
I know for a fact that I won’t.
Seventeen
I close the calendar app on my computer with a sigh. November 20.
Twenty days without Erik.
When he left to help his parents, I expected to be alone in the apartment for a couple of days. Maybe a week.
Not the eternity it has been.
Every day, I look at the door anxiously. I check my phone every five minutes, but the entire Brazilian population texts me before he sends any news.
At regular intervals, a seed of panic grows in me. The fear that he won’t come back. That he will stay where his parents live and find a job there. That I will lose my home—our home—because I won’t be able to afford it alone.
The fear that I will lose him forever.
Not that he was ever mine. But that’s not how it feels in my heart.
Sometimes I feel like texting him and saying how much I miss him. Most likely, though, this would only make him decide to stay in Jutland for good.
He is running away from me. From us and all that we could be.
I do write to him, but we keep it to roommate subjects. And he is incredibly slow at answering. As far as I know, his dad is feeling better, moving around with crutches and some help, and will make a full recovery.
The project is on a halt. Erik brought his laptop with him, but I don’t think he’s been working. I also can’t find inspiration and discipline without him here.
I get home from work exhausted—physically, mentally, and emotionally. All I want in the silence of my too-empty apartment is to lock myself in my room, lie in bed, watch movies, read, or speak with my family and friends on the iPad.