“Are you happily married?”
I sucked in my breath through my teeth. He was so bold with his questioning, asking me things I didn’t want to think about.
“I think so,” I answered and looked down at my thighs.
“Are you happy in life?”
I bit my lip and slowly shook my head, no. I wasn’t happy in my life.
“I’m not either,” he said. “I never have been since I hurt you. Since I lost you. I want to feel that happiness again and I need you.”
He continued on like this for a while, saying his promises and declarations of love and other lovely things. If I were a stronger woman, a good and righteous woman, I would have told him to forget it. I would have left him in that park and I would have gone right home to my loving husband and I would have continued living the life I carved out for myself.
Alas, I did not do that and I am sure you knew that was coming.
I didn’t go home to Karl. I went with Ludie to the hotel room where he was staying (as he had been performing in England until a few days ago) and we made passionate love until I absolutely had to go home.
It wasn’t a so-called “one night fling” either. This lasted for the next year. I was out of the house every other day, pretending I was going to fabric stores or meeting new friends or just exploring and all the while I would meet Ludie at the hotel, and eventually, as he found theatre work again in the city, his house. I was a woman living two lives and though I was happier in Ludie’s arms, I still felt miserable in both. I was the opposite of an honest woman. I had no idea if my parents were alive anymore but if they weren’t, they’d be rolling in their graves.
It was amazing what fifteen years of growth and life would do to a person, however. Though he was still self-centered and short-tempered, I detected a sense of peace in him that I hadn’t seen before.
“You’re amazing, you know that,” he told me one night as we lay sprawled across the sheets of his bed.
I blushed as he still had the ability to bring color and heat to my face and smacked him lightly with my hand. “Oh, stop that.”
“I’m serious,” he went on, reaching for my hair and brushing it out of my face. “You are. I’ve never met anyone like you in my entire life.”
I wasn’t sure what he was talking about since I was as ordinary as everyone else.
“You have this…way about you. I can feel you from across the way, like you give off this energy. It’s…a sadness.”
I looked at him sharply. Sadness?
“It’s a like you have so much life and potential somewhere deep inside, some greater purpose that is dying to come out. But you don’t know what it is or how to reach it. So it festers in this blue pool. I think of blue when I think of you Pippa. Blue, cooling, calming, like the sea, like your eyes. It soothes me to be with you.”
“What do you think I’m meant to do?” I asked quietly. It felt foolish to even humor his ramblings. What could I, at 35-years old, offer the world anymore? What was my purpose if it wasn’t to be a great actress, if it wasn’t to have children?
“I think you’re meant to save people,” he said. His eyes flashed with something like pity. “Let’s start with me.”
That night I cried for the first time during our love making. It was like the damn burst in my soul and I wept for the love I felt and the life I never had.
A week later I was leaving the public library with a stack of books about makeup and fashion design, feeling strangely inspired for the first time in years. Ludie had gone to Gotland to see his sister and I spent the last few days keeping busy, waiting for his return. It was winter and dark out at three in the afternoon, so I was acceptably cautious as I left the library and made my way to the nearest tram station.
This is why when I sensed someone walking behind me, I didn’t turn to look. I kept my eyes forward, my head high. There were a few people on the street but they were hunched to the cold and it was dark as anything. I was paranoid but in this situation I thought it would suit me well.
Wherever I walked though, the presence followed me, until finally I had to spin around and glare at whomever had appointed themselves my stalker.
I saw a shimmer of wavering air and then before my eyes, it became Jakob.
My books went crashing to my feet, sending the snow everywhere.
Jakob was a few paces away and staring at me hard. He looked exactly as he did all those years ago, still a teenage boy, but the expression on his face had changed. His eyes were cold, his smile, what was left of it, was tight.
“Jakob,” I said. I looked around to see if anyone was about, anyone who would catch me talking to myself.
“Follow me, Miss Lindstrom,” he commanded with a soft voice. He walked past me and headed in the direction of a nearby alley. I picked up the books and followed him, feeling as if I had no choice. I was scared but enthralled and let myself go with the strange pull he had over me.
We entered the alley. It smelled of urine and snow and cold pipes. It was dirty and narrow and a dead end and the flakes that fell from the sky disappeared quickly into the darkness. Only a rusted fire escape filled the area, hanging a few feet off the ground.
This would be the perfect place to lose your life, I thought to myself and eyed Jakob carefully. I never thought the boy could or would hurt me but the grim expression on his face didn’t do anything to dissuade my fears.
He didn’t say anything any first, he just stopped in the middle of the alleyway and let his eyes roam all over the bricks, his head cocked slightly as if he was listening. I knew better than to interrupt him, so I kept my mouth shut and licked my dry lips anxiously.