He looks down, silent, and I wait.
“I know I’m not being fair to you,” he says.
“So why are you doing that?” I keep my eyes on him, and he still avoids me. He looks embarrassed, but not entirely apologetic.
“You know why.”
I take a deep breath, trying to stop the tears from coming out. “Yeah, I know you think I’m going back to Brazil, but I’m trying to figure out if it’s because you don’t believe I’m getting the promotion or because you don’t want me to get it.”
Erik reaches for my hand on the table. His gaze meets mine, and he frowns, intense. “I want you to get it, okay? And I believe you can. I’ve just been thinking...you should do it without me.” He swallows hard. “Look at me, Sol. I’m a mess. And it’s not because of you.”
I shake my head, pursing my lips. “You’re obsessed. Even if it’s not about us, you can’t keep going like this.”
He runs a hand over his forehead and his wild, untrimmed beard. “It’s my weakness. I’m sorry. I told myself I would finish this project and nothing would stop me, and now I literally can’t stop before it’s over.”
I’ve pushed him. I told him to not surrender, but my wish came true as a botched spell. “Is this how it will be every time you’re on a deadline?”
He squeezes my hand. “I’m sorry, Sol. I’m an idiot. I know.”
“What should I do about the talent show if you’re not going with me?”
I have one week before I’m onstage, and I have absolutely no clue what I can do that will remotely impress Lars.
“You’ll figure it out,” Erik says. “It’s going to be good for you to be there without me for once. You can use the opportunity to show them something about the real you.”
I frown. “What is that supposed to mean—‘the real me’? Because I lied about us? Because I’ve been ‘hiding behind you’ all this time?”
I’m not a sweet person today. Erik may apologize and justify his behavior, but I simply don’t have the patience left for his hurtful remarks.
“Well, you did lie, Sol. We both did.” His voice is also not exactly sweet. “You’ve only decided to do that Brazilian dance because I told you it was a good idea. But you keep being embarrassed of your origins, thinking we Danish people can’t understand you or welcome you the way you are.”
I snort. “Easy for the privileged white man to say.”
“This is not about privilege, Sol. It’s about you standing up for yourself and who you are.” Erik leans forward, his light blue eyes hard like diamonds. “You don’t need me. You don’t have to be more Danish for Lars to like you. Fuck that. Fuck him. Just show them the fucking amazing person you are, and screw them if they don’t like you.”
I stare at the crumbs on my plate. He thinks I’m a fucking amazing person. Why does that not seem enough right now, in every way?
“I just can’t afford to gamble the way you can,” I say.
That’s the difference between us. Erik will always be where he belongs no matter what he does or how he plays his “I don’t give a shit” attitude. He will always be in his own country while I will be away from mine and at risk of being kicked out of his. I will always have to watch him be at home while I struggle to adapt and belong.
He is right about one thing though. I need to be a separate person from him if I want to succeed in Denmark. I can’t let his concerns and dreams get in the way of mine. Especially now that I have seen how he will dive into his ambitions and leave me in second place, regardless of all the sweet things he said that day in the playground.
My phone rings. It’s my dad. Glad for the opportunity to leave the table, I lock myself in my bedroom and sit on the bed to answer the video call.
“Hey, Dad,” I say, happy that he called. I could use some advice.
Just seeing his face makes my heart warm up—and then become tight and small. As he smiles and says hi, I realize how much I miss him, with his Nike cap and Palmeiras T-shirt, drinking beer on the couch, both of us laughing at the ugly names he keeps finding for the referees when his beloved team is losing. My creativity for finding alternative swear words came from him, as he had to watch his language constantly at my mom’s request.
I thought I didn’t miss my life in Brazil, but homesickness comes crashing down on me, taking my breath away.
I realize I miss those sunny weekends when we would barbecue in the backyard, gathering the family and the neighbors. I miss the sense of community we always had in our neighborhood. I miss being there with them—watching soccer with my dad, helping Mom in the kitchen, and sitting with Larissa and my cousins in plastic chairs outside to eat beef on a stick and drink Guaraná Antarctica while listening to the corny Brazilian country music my mom enjoys. We’d sing along, loud, until my uncles would come and dance with us. I was the worst forró dancer among the girls, but only because they were so good.
“How are you doing, Sol?” Dad’s voice comes out of my headphones, loud and clear as if he’s sitting next to me. “It’s been a while since we talked.”
I give him a smile, but what comes out is a sob. I discreetly wipe my eyes on my sleeve, but, of course, he notices it.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
His protective-dad tone and the fact that we can’t hug only makes me shed more tears. But I keep my composure, barely. “I’m fine, Dad, don’t worry.”
“Of course you’re not fine.” His face moves closer to the screen, and the camera makes his nose look disproportionately big. “Tell me what’s going on. Are you homesick?”
I nod, sniffing.
“Are you thinking about coming back?”
I can’t deny I’ve considered that option over the past few weeks. The more distant Erik became, the more I felt the need to be with my family. I realized this would be my life in Denmark. Whenever Erik is not with me, I’ll feel lonely and separated from the rest of the world.
“I...can’t go back, Dad.” I look up to stop the tears that are pooling. “I’m...” But I can’t finish my sentence.
“You’re in love. I know.”
I look at him wide-eyed. He knows I’ve been dating Erik because the gossip never ends in my family, but we never talked about my feelings. “And you’re okay with me dating a Viking who lives on the other half of the world?”
Dad chuckles, and God, I’ve missed the sound of his laughter. I realize I’ve been avoiding my family to not feel the distance as much. I told myself it was to not have them interfere with my life and my decisions, but I was in fact trying to protect myself on a much deeper level.
This is not so bad though. It’s comforting to know that my dad is one call away. Talking like this makes me feel like I’m not alone, no matter how far we are. I get to choose when I want to see my family, and they will be there. Here. Right in front of me, in my Danish home.
