Kim Golden's Blog - Posts Tagged "niklas"
30 Days, 30 Stories: Story #7
And now it's time for another installment of 30 days, 30 stories. This time it's fiction. :) Sorry I forgot to post the other installments here.
Story #7: Drive
------------------------------
“Is she happy?” It was the first thing my father said to me since he’d met me at the arrivals hall. A quick hug, a shake of his head. And then that question. Not are you okay? Or what the hell were you thinking? Or even You know you’re grounded, right? No, the first thing he said to me was Is she happy? And by “she”, he meant Laney. He never said her name.
OK, I’m exaggerating. He said her name, but he never said it around my mom. And he never talked about her when my sister Siri was around.
“She’s okay,” I muttered. I didn’t want to tell him anything. Even though my dad tried to avoid talking about Laney with my mom, there were still those times when her name would come up in conversation. Dad would bristle and fidget but never defended Laney when my mom or Siri began ripping her to shreds.
“Did you meet…him?” By him, he meant Mads, the Danish guy Laney left him for. He never said his name either. And when I say never, I really mean never. For my dad, Mads was just a pronoun, said as though it filled his mouth with a bitter aftertaste.
“Of course I did, Dad. They live together.” We were driving along E4, heading back to the city in the heavy Stockholm gloom that typified winter. I’d hoped there’d be a little snow but instead it was raining.
My dad did that throat-clearing thing he always does when he’s uncomfortable. I let out an audible sigh and stared out the passenger window at the drab line of strip malls we passed. This time yesterday I was still at the workshop with Mads. He'd shown me how to make a tenon joint and how to use the mortiser. He was making a bed frame, well, a crib I guess. For the baby they were expecting. I'd wanted to stay a few more days, finish helping him with the crib. Working in his wood shop was better than being stuck in school, better even than being stuck here listening to my dad go on and on about how he and Mom were worried about me. I didn't really buy it. If Mom was so concerned, why didn't she call me during the entire time I was there?
"Are you listening to me, Jeppe?" My dad jolted me out of my thoughts.
"Yeah, yeah. I heard you."
"You can't just take my credit card and book an airline ticket when you feel like it."
"I know. I won't do it again." It was good to play the remorse card now. If I didn't, he'd psychoanalyse me from here to Vasastan. I freaking hated that. "I was upset, and you weren't here and I missed Laney."
He cleared his throat again. I was starting to think he needed to keep some cough drops with him all the time.
"How is she?"
"She?"
"Laney. Is she okay?"
"Yeah...she's fine," I said. "You know she's pregnant, right?"
Dad coughed. He flicked a glance at me. His lips twitched like he wanted to say something but then he pressed them together.
"You didn't know, did you?"
"I didn't think she really wanted a baby..."
"Well, she's having one. With Mads."
We drove in silence for a while. I could see the cogs turning in Dad's head. He was processing the news. I'd bet anything he was wondering if she would have stayed if he'd changed his mind about the vasectomy. He didn't think I knew about it. I heard him overheard him telling Mom about it--how Laney had told him she wanted to have a baby with him, but he said no. Maybe he regretted it now. Even if he and Mom were sort of back together again, he seemed more confused than anything. I guess he was wondering how the heck he ended up back where he started.
"He told me he would take her seriously if she was his girlfriend," my dad said out of nowhere. "When I mentioned she wanted to have a baby. I thought it was just a whim of hers. But he knew...he already knew."
Story #7: Drive
------------------------------
“Is she happy?” It was the first thing my father said to me since he’d met me at the arrivals hall. A quick hug, a shake of his head. And then that question. Not are you okay? Or what the hell were you thinking? Or even You know you’re grounded, right? No, the first thing he said to me was Is she happy? And by “she”, he meant Laney. He never said her name.
OK, I’m exaggerating. He said her name, but he never said it around my mom. And he never talked about her when my sister Siri was around.
“She’s okay,” I muttered. I didn’t want to tell him anything. Even though my dad tried to avoid talking about Laney with my mom, there were still those times when her name would come up in conversation. Dad would bristle and fidget but never defended Laney when my mom or Siri began ripping her to shreds.
“Did you meet…him?” By him, he meant Mads, the Danish guy Laney left him for. He never said his name either. And when I say never, I really mean never. For my dad, Mads was just a pronoun, said as though it filled his mouth with a bitter aftertaste.
“Of course I did, Dad. They live together.” We were driving along E4, heading back to the city in the heavy Stockholm gloom that typified winter. I’d hoped there’d be a little snow but instead it was raining.
My dad did that throat-clearing thing he always does when he’s uncomfortable. I let out an audible sigh and stared out the passenger window at the drab line of strip malls we passed. This time yesterday I was still at the workshop with Mads. He'd shown me how to make a tenon joint and how to use the mortiser. He was making a bed frame, well, a crib I guess. For the baby they were expecting. I'd wanted to stay a few more days, finish helping him with the crib. Working in his wood shop was better than being stuck in school, better even than being stuck here listening to my dad go on and on about how he and Mom were worried about me. I didn't really buy it. If Mom was so concerned, why didn't she call me during the entire time I was there?
"Are you listening to me, Jeppe?" My dad jolted me out of my thoughts.
"Yeah, yeah. I heard you."
"You can't just take my credit card and book an airline ticket when you feel like it."
"I know. I won't do it again." It was good to play the remorse card now. If I didn't, he'd psychoanalyse me from here to Vasastan. I freaking hated that. "I was upset, and you weren't here and I missed Laney."
He cleared his throat again. I was starting to think he needed to keep some cough drops with him all the time.
"How is she?"
"She?"
"Laney. Is she okay?"
"Yeah...she's fine," I said. "You know she's pregnant, right?"
Dad coughed. He flicked a glance at me. His lips twitched like he wanted to say something but then he pressed them together.
"You didn't know, did you?"
"I didn't think she really wanted a baby..."
"Well, she's having one. With Mads."
We drove in silence for a while. I could see the cogs turning in Dad's head. He was processing the news. I'd bet anything he was wondering if she would have stayed if he'd changed his mind about the vasectomy. He didn't think I knew about it. I heard him overheard him telling Mom about it--how Laney had told him she wanted to have a baby with him, but he said no. Maybe he regretted it now. Even if he and Mom were sort of back together again, he seemed more confused than anything. I guess he was wondering how the heck he ended up back where he started.
"He told me he would take her seriously if she was his girlfriend," my dad said out of nowhere. "When I mentioned she wanted to have a baby. I thought it was just a whim of hers. But he knew...he already knew."
30 Days, 30 Stories: Story #15
#30Days30Stories
More fiction. A scene I just wrote for my novella about Jesper, Niklas's son in Maybe Baby.
Story 15: The One I Love
------------------------------------
Sometimes it felt like it would never stop snowing. I’d wake up every morning to heavy winter darkness and wish for summer to return. The steam radiator under my window hissed out bursts of heat that always seemed to evade my bed. I stayed in bed as long as possible—until I knew that waiting any longer would make me late.
My dad usually knocked on my bedroom door and reminded me it was time to get ready. But that day the reminder never came. He’d gone to Barcelona for some kind of conference.
Lately he was hardly ever at home. I guess I didn’t blame him. Ever since Laney left, the apartment feels too empty. When he was home, it was like he forgot she didn’t live with us anymore. He’d go into the room that used to be her home office and then stand there looking around like he didn’t get how it happened.
I guess he didn’t. One day she was there, saying she was going to work in Copenhagen for a while. The next day he was packing up all her stuff and saying she was out of our lives.
I forced myself out of bed, skipped breakfast and showered. Siri was in her room. I could hear her laughing. She’d brought one of her bonehead Stureplan idiot guys home with her again. I rushed. I didn’t want to bump into either of them. She was in one of her snarky moods. She’d give me a hard time. She always did.
Outside, the snow was thick and dry. Not that wet, heavy snow we usually got that melted in a couple of hours. Zhara was waiting for me at the bus stop. She didn’t see me at first. I think she was daydreaming. Snowflakes glittered in her dark wavy hair like frozen diamonds. When she finally flicked a glance over her shoulder and saw me approaching, she rewarded me with a sweet smile that pushed aside all the shit in my life and made me want to run away with her. I fucking hated Stockholm, but I loved her like crazy.
More fiction. A scene I just wrote for my novella about Jesper, Niklas's son in Maybe Baby.
Story 15: The One I Love
------------------------------------
Sometimes it felt like it would never stop snowing. I’d wake up every morning to heavy winter darkness and wish for summer to return. The steam radiator under my window hissed out bursts of heat that always seemed to evade my bed. I stayed in bed as long as possible—until I knew that waiting any longer would make me late.
My dad usually knocked on my bedroom door and reminded me it was time to get ready. But that day the reminder never came. He’d gone to Barcelona for some kind of conference.
Lately he was hardly ever at home. I guess I didn’t blame him. Ever since Laney left, the apartment feels too empty. When he was home, it was like he forgot she didn’t live with us anymore. He’d go into the room that used to be her home office and then stand there looking around like he didn’t get how it happened.
I guess he didn’t. One day she was there, saying she was going to work in Copenhagen for a while. The next day he was packing up all her stuff and saying she was out of our lives.
I forced myself out of bed, skipped breakfast and showered. Siri was in her room. I could hear her laughing. She’d brought one of her bonehead Stureplan idiot guys home with her again. I rushed. I didn’t want to bump into either of them. She was in one of her snarky moods. She’d give me a hard time. She always did.
Outside, the snow was thick and dry. Not that wet, heavy snow we usually got that melted in a couple of hours. Zhara was waiting for me at the bus stop. She didn’t see me at first. I think she was daydreaming. Snowflakes glittered in her dark wavy hair like frozen diamonds. When she finally flicked a glance over her shoulder and saw me approaching, she rewarded me with a sweet smile that pushed aside all the shit in my life and made me want to run away with her. I fucking hated Stockholm, but I loved her like crazy.
30 Days, 30 Stories: Story #25
The Girl in the White Bikini
--------------------------------------------------
“Does she always wear so little clothing?”
Niklas looked up from the newspaper he’d been reading. His sister Ylva was standing by the sliding glass door, clutching her bathrobe around her slim frame. “Does who always wear so little clothing?” But he knew she meant Laney. Ylva had been complaining since Laney’s arrival.
“Your new one.”
“She has a name you know.”
“I’m aware of that. I simply don’t remember it.”
“Her name is Laney.”
“What kind of name is that anyway?”
“I expect it’s the kind her parents gave her.” He said and winked at his sister. He set aside the paper and pushed his chair away from the table. Outside, he could see Laney standing at the foot of the path to the beach. The white bikini she was wearing had seemed so perfect when they were on the beaches of Long Island. But here in Yngsjö…well, perhaps it wasn’t quite ideal. It showed off her assets in a way that made Niklas’s mouth water. He was glad they were staying in the small guest cottage this visit. When she was done bathing, maybe he could convince her to strip for him as she had on Fire island and rinse the sand off her naked skin in the secluded outdoor shower.
“That bikini looks like something from a porn film.”
“Now you’re exaggerating, Ylva,” Niklas laughed. “And what do you know about porn films? Have you ever even seen one?”
“You know exactly what I mean, Nicky. Everything is on display.”
“That’s generally the point of a bikini.”
“What about the children?”
“What children? My kids are back in Stockholm. Your son isn’t even here. He’s still in Malmö.”
“No, but Hugo is coming tomorrow. I don’t really think it’s appropriate for her to dress like that if there’s going to be a teenager around.”
Niklas shook his head. He was fairly certain his nineteen-year-old nephew had seen far worse things in life than a beautiful woman whose skin glowed bronze in the afternoon sunlight, jumping around in the waves of Hanö Bay.
“You worry too much, Ylva,” Niklas said with a laugh. “Hugo probably won’t even notice Laney.”
--------------------------------------------------
“Does she always wear so little clothing?”
Niklas looked up from the newspaper he’d been reading. His sister Ylva was standing by the sliding glass door, clutching her bathrobe around her slim frame. “Does who always wear so little clothing?” But he knew she meant Laney. Ylva had been complaining since Laney’s arrival.
“Your new one.”
“She has a name you know.”
“I’m aware of that. I simply don’t remember it.”
“Her name is Laney.”
“What kind of name is that anyway?”
“I expect it’s the kind her parents gave her.” He said and winked at his sister. He set aside the paper and pushed his chair away from the table. Outside, he could see Laney standing at the foot of the path to the beach. The white bikini she was wearing had seemed so perfect when they were on the beaches of Long Island. But here in Yngsjö…well, perhaps it wasn’t quite ideal. It showed off her assets in a way that made Niklas’s mouth water. He was glad they were staying in the small guest cottage this visit. When she was done bathing, maybe he could convince her to strip for him as she had on Fire island and rinse the sand off her naked skin in the secluded outdoor shower.
“That bikini looks like something from a porn film.”
“Now you’re exaggerating, Ylva,” Niklas laughed. “And what do you know about porn films? Have you ever even seen one?”
“You know exactly what I mean, Nicky. Everything is on display.”
“That’s generally the point of a bikini.”
“What about the children?”
“What children? My kids are back in Stockholm. Your son isn’t even here. He’s still in Malmö.”
“No, but Hugo is coming tomorrow. I don’t really think it’s appropriate for her to dress like that if there’s going to be a teenager around.”
Niklas shook his head. He was fairly certain his nineteen-year-old nephew had seen far worse things in life than a beautiful woman whose skin glowed bronze in the afternoon sunlight, jumping around in the waves of Hanö Bay.
“You worry too much, Ylva,” Niklas said with a laugh. “Hugo probably won’t even notice Laney.”
30 Days, 30 Stories: Story #27
Time for more 30 Days, 30 Stories. Even more of Niklas's story....
Day 27: How Long...?
-------------------------------------
The next morning, he woke to an empty bed and a case of cotton mouth and aching muscles. Too many gin and tonics last night, too much fucking a younger woman. She was only seven years younger than Niklas but it often seemed like a generation separated them. Laney swore it was because she was American and still learning her way around the unwritten rules of Swedish society. Maybe she was right. Sometimes he thought she was. Other times he was certain she would always be a mystery to him—this black woman whose past she kept hidden. She didn’t talk about it, but the therapist in him sensed she’d not had an easy life. And her unwillingness to talk about it in more than fits and spurts meant he only ever glanced her surface.
It was a lovely surface to be sure. Sometimes he thought she was more beautiful than he deserved. She was all firm curves from the yoga and running she did but claimed she hated. Her large, firm breasts, topped with nipples the shade of dark chocolate, intoxicated him. Her skin reminded him of the finest milk chocolate. She hated when he describe her like food, but seeing her naked ignited an insurmountable craving in him. It made him want to savour and devour her. When they were in bed together, he could not get enough of her. He tried to attune his every action to her reaction. He wanted her to want and crave him with the same vigour and insatiability.
Last night he tried to keep up with her, with the frenetic energy that streamed through her and made her so vibrant, but his body finally gave out. And she was so restless, always looking for something new.
How long would he be able to hold on to a girl like her?
That thought was still running through his mind as he forced himself to get up. He took a quick shower and put on the same swim shorts he’d worn the day before and then grabbed a clean polo shirt. The air already felt sticky and heavy. Another muggy day. He ventured out of the bedroom and into the open-plan kitchen and living room. The doors to the patio were open but the stillness told him everyone else was out. Outside the sea was still and glittered in an almost golden light. It was the perfect day for a swim to clear his head and revive him. Hunger tugged at him but eating is the last thing he wanted. A cup of coffee would have done the trick be great but Ylva has reorganized the cupboards again and he couldn’t find the coffee tin. He looked for Laney instead. Maybe she’d want to sneak away to Simrishamn or Brosarp for brunch at one of the local inns.
He walked down to the beach and shaded his eyes against the sun. She emerged from the water a few feet away from him, in the same white bikini that has rankled his sister. His mouth went dry as he watched her. Rivulets of water streaming between her breasts and down her toned stomach. Her tawny legs glistening with sunscreen and water. She was too beautiful for him, too sexy.
Day 27: How Long...?
-------------------------------------
The next morning, he woke to an empty bed and a case of cotton mouth and aching muscles. Too many gin and tonics last night, too much fucking a younger woman. She was only seven years younger than Niklas but it often seemed like a generation separated them. Laney swore it was because she was American and still learning her way around the unwritten rules of Swedish society. Maybe she was right. Sometimes he thought she was. Other times he was certain she would always be a mystery to him—this black woman whose past she kept hidden. She didn’t talk about it, but the therapist in him sensed she’d not had an easy life. And her unwillingness to talk about it in more than fits and spurts meant he only ever glanced her surface.
It was a lovely surface to be sure. Sometimes he thought she was more beautiful than he deserved. She was all firm curves from the yoga and running she did but claimed she hated. Her large, firm breasts, topped with nipples the shade of dark chocolate, intoxicated him. Her skin reminded him of the finest milk chocolate. She hated when he describe her like food, but seeing her naked ignited an insurmountable craving in him. It made him want to savour and devour her. When they were in bed together, he could not get enough of her. He tried to attune his every action to her reaction. He wanted her to want and crave him with the same vigour and insatiability.
Last night he tried to keep up with her, with the frenetic energy that streamed through her and made her so vibrant, but his body finally gave out. And she was so restless, always looking for something new.
How long would he be able to hold on to a girl like her?
That thought was still running through his mind as he forced himself to get up. He took a quick shower and put on the same swim shorts he’d worn the day before and then grabbed a clean polo shirt. The air already felt sticky and heavy. Another muggy day. He ventured out of the bedroom and into the open-plan kitchen and living room. The doors to the patio were open but the stillness told him everyone else was out. Outside the sea was still and glittered in an almost golden light. It was the perfect day for a swim to clear his head and revive him. Hunger tugged at him but eating is the last thing he wanted. A cup of coffee would have done the trick be great but Ylva has reorganized the cupboards again and he couldn’t find the coffee tin. He looked for Laney instead. Maybe she’d want to sneak away to Simrishamn or Brosarp for brunch at one of the local inns.
He walked down to the beach and shaded his eyes against the sun. She emerged from the water a few feet away from him, in the same white bikini that has rankled his sister. His mouth went dry as he watched her. Rivulets of water streaming between her breasts and down her toned stomach. Her tawny legs glistening with sunscreen and water. She was too beautiful for him, too sexy.
