This is not a love story

Jag tänkte i brist på skrivfeeling bjuda med mig av en liten novell jag skrev förra veckan. Inget masterpiece direkt men om ni känner för att läsa en liten historia på knacklig engelska så... enjoy! Passar bra så här inför alla hjärtans dag haha.

 

It was a classic winter day in the beginning of January. The snow lay almost like a thick white blanket and lulled all that would flourish in the spring. The snow crust sparkled beautifully and reflected the sun’s rays. It was a beautiful day and I was happy, albeit a little nervous. If I had known what I had to wait my stomach would have been whined of nervousness, happiness would have been replaced by feelings of misfortune. But what did I know when I expectantly drank my morning coffee while I thumbed trough todays GP. Intoxicated by love I never thought beyond the idea that we would see each other. Nothing could go wrong; no one could wake me from my magical love sleep. But so painful and humiliating only life can be was I torn, that beautiful winter day of January, out of my pink mist just as brutal as I once ended up there. 

 

Looking back I remember how I facile hummed on my way to the bus, how I now and then stopped and squinted at the sun. It was cold but I was warm inside and the sunlight warmed. The bus was a few minutes late; the public transport has always had a remarkable capacity to forget that winter will return year after year. I was not touched by the delay. I would surely soon meet him. Just the thought of it made me smile. At the same time I knew that what we were doing was not okay. He was married and had a child. The smile disappeared and reality caught up for a few seconds. Then came the picture of him and his laughter into my head again and my doubts were gone. It did not matter if we were doing something that was wrong. It was he and I and how could we be wrong, we could not.

 

Finally the bus arrived and I got on, greeted the driver and slid down on an empty two-seated seat. It was a bit crowded on the bus, a mixed troop of people. I was wondering where all these people were going, what they were thinking about? Maybe I was not the only one who would go on a date. I glanced at the woman who was sitting on the seat diagonally in front of me. She seemed to be deeply sunken into her book. I tried to get a glimpse of which book she was reading, it was a long time ago I read a really good book. I used to blame the fact that I did not have time to read, if I had been honest with myself, I had realized that I simply did not prioritized my time after that. Even though a bad conscience often stroked me because of my lack of reading skills I did not do anything to change the situation. Reading books and get along with the authors’ jungle belongs to today’s general education. You are automatically considered a bit unwise if you do not read.  Now I decided that I would get better when it came to prioritize book reading. There are, after all, few things more satisfying things than reading a really good book. If I only could see which book the woman diagonally in front of me was reading, I would next day go to the library and borrow it, that I promised myself.

 

Suddenly the woman looked up and eyed the surroundings. Could it be that she had felt my gaze burning her neck? I looked down, embarrassed. I looked up to be greeted by two curious eyes. She had apparently not been very into her book; she had noticed that I had been staring at her. What an embarrassment! What would I do now? I did not have time to neither think nor worry because soon she sat down on the seat next to me, held out her hand.

 

-       Hi, she said. Do you like the book?

-       Ehm, what book? I said.

-       Yeah, I mean, I thought the reason you looked at me was because you recognized the book I am reading. But perhaps I was mistaken?

I felt like sinking trough the earth but eventually squeezed out:

-       Oh, haha, so you noticed… I just got curious, I want to become better at reading books.

 

After I confessed my desire it said, “click”, then the conversation floated. Her name was Marit. She proved to be a publisher and therefor very interested in literature. She told me about innumerous authors and books. And when we glided over to the movie world could I also contribute with inspiration. Marit was truly a person with character.  I had not met a person with so much energy and enthusiasm like her for a very long time.  I wrote down book tip after book tip.

 

While the bus was taking us from stop to stop our conversation became more personal. Who was she? Who was I? She told me about how she got interested in literature. It was when she started a course about literary history at the university. The fact was that she saw her job as her hobby. I listened a bit jealous and thought about my own job as a lawyer. It was not a bad job, on the contrary, many would have given a lot to be in my position. But I was tired of it. I was tired of hearing people lying in court, see cases being closed by lack of evidence even if we all were more or less certain that the offender sat right in front of us.

 

Marit listened with interest while I was telling her about my job. She thought it seemed exiting but asked me if I was not scared of being threatened in or outside the job. That was something I had not reflected that much about. As a lawyer you have to be objective and there for did not oral abuses touch me that much. It was a part of the job.

 

I changed subject. I asked her about her family, if she had any. She lit up and I saw how her eyes sparkled a little. She told me about the first time they met. How dorky she thought he was for studying to become an engineer. He acted a bit swishy at first but not so much later they were, and still are, inseparable. They had a two years old son and they had recently moved in to a new apartment. When she told me that he worked as an engineer I could not prevent myself from thinking about Henry, my date, he also worked as an engineer. Maybe they were colleges. And she said that they recently moved to a new apartment, what a coincidence. Henry had not been able to meet so much the past because he was moving to a new apartment. 

 

Marit must have noticed that I did not any longer listen. She asked me where I was heading. I started to blush as I began to tell her about my date.

-       Wow, she said. How existing is that! Who is the man who makes you blush like that?

I did not know what to say. I could never tell a married woman that I dated a married guy. She would judge me with good rights. So I said that he was the cutest thing I had ever met and that even though things were very good between us there were some complications.

-       Yeah, life is wonderful and amazing but I have always wondered why it has to be so complicated, she said.

I nodded agreeing and asked her what plans she had for today.

-       My husband has a lot to do at work right now, he feels like he is never home. I thought I was going to kidnap him for lunch. Then we can make some plans for the weekend as well.  We are going away somewhere. Maybe to a spa or something.

I expressed my jealousy and did in the same time discover that I had to push the “stop” button. I had to go off the bus the next station. So did Marit.

 

Henry had promised to meet me at the station. The idea that I would soon be in his arms made me shudder. The heat from the sun’s rays warmed through the window panes. I saw some birds high up in the blue sky. They looked so free and careless. 

 

We went off the bus and Marit and I said good-bye. Maybe we would see each other again sometime. Then I saw him standing a couple of meters away. I started to walk in his direction. I smiled at him, trying to get eye contact. But he did not look at me, he looked through me, he stared at something behind me. As soon as I heard here voice I understood what had happened. Engineer, wife, a kid and a new apartment. Of course, Henry was Marit’s husband. My heart froze but I continued walking. I walked passed the man I just now had visioned about a future with. That vision was crushed to pieces. I continued walking with tears rushing down my face. I did not look back. I would never look back just to see the future I would never reach.

 

 


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