I found an old picture of you the other day, and I can't believe I forgot about this one. You were so sad after you lost your hair I thought it would cheer you up. You remember, right—and trying to get the mirrors on just the right angle so you could see what I'd done. God I loved your laugh that day, it had been so long since I last heard it. Yeah, it's the picture where I drew the smiley face on the back of your head. I think I need to show Joan so that she knows even later, towards the end, you still had some light in your life.
Right now though, I'm just gonna lie on the couch, my head in Kristoff's lap, and pretend like I'm not falling asleep. I've already made my lunch, and showered, so I really should be in bed, but it's Sunday night so there's always family time. Even if Joan is texting Tina more than watching the movie. I try to poke her with my foot but can't quite reach from the couch. Kristoff gives her a pointed look which she only just seems to notice, putting her phone down rather reluctantly.
"I think Tink's as bored as I am."
"Well, it is late enough you could be in bed, young lady," I tease. She shoots me a dirty look. I shrug, snuggling up against Kristoff as he rubs my shoulder.
"Five bucks says your mom falls asleep before the movie's done," he mock whispers.
"Hey!" I roll just far enough to look up at him.
"Go ahead, tell me I'm wrong." I hate that smug little smile sometimes. He knows he's right, and he knows I can't do anything about it. I cross my arms and turn back to the movie.
Of course I fell asleep on the couch. Later I can half feel Kristoff carrying me to bed, and I sleepily recall the times I used to do that for Elsa. Monday morning is nothing special, and I blink a little sleep from my eyes as I inspect another coupling in the tank farm at Naveen's factory. More than two dozen tanks, each with three or four line couplings—infeed, vent, gas, and usually overflow as well. We've got a boom lift and some scaffold set up.
I put the c-spanners down for a second and itch beneath my harness. If it was comfortable though, it'd be too loose. I'm hooked back to the boom lift for this tank, so if I fall it'll be embarrassing and something of a wait to get me down, even with Kristoff as my standby down there. Best not to fall, and if it doesn't feel safe, don't do it. Simple, really. I pick the c-spanner back up along with its partner hanging from my belt and undo the next coupling. Seal's worn, and I shout the size down to Kristoff so he can note it down along with the tank number. We'll swap roles after lunch, and we should be completed with the inspection by the middle of tomorrow.
Being a standby is both tense and boring. There's a little tension because if something goes wrong, you're the first responder and responsible for initiating the rescue plan. Boring, because if all goes well, nothing will happen and you'll never need that rescue plan. The day ends without incident, and Kristoff gently nudges the boom lift next to an outlet so we can charge it overnight. We make a quick stop at the workshop to see how Maurice and Audrey are getting on, and if Maurice needs any materials picked up tomorrow—he does, so we'll leave him the van in the morning and use the car to get to Naveen's plant.
At home it's my turn to cook. I just really don't feel like cooking tonight. What the hell, we haven't had takeout in a long time.
"Hey Joan, how do you feel about pizza tonight?"
"I guess," she shrugs at me. "Meatlovers?"
"And you, scruffy?" I give my husband a questioning look.
"Hey, I am not"—he can see his reflection in the darkened window out here—"hmph. Something fancy-ish. No seafood."
"I'll ask, then. Garlic bread?"
"Of course." This from both of them. Here we don't order pizza without getting at least two loaves.
It doesn't take long to place the order, and about half an hour later—because delivery guarantees, right?—we're scoffing down slices of pizza and garlic bread while sitting in the living room. It's been a while since we had dinner in here too, and when we're done Joan collects all our plates and washes the day's dishes. I guess she's trying to earn those last few things from her room back. That, or trying to get un-grounded for running away. I'm tempted, but I think maybe another week of restrictions will let it really sink in; that should make it one calendar month she was grounded for.
Later, I'm sitting in Joan's room, and the radio is on the classic rock station. Absolutely (Story of a Girl). Man, that takes me back, and for a moment I'm quiet as I remember Elsa's smile. She was sad and lonely, and sometimes, yes, she hid from the world… but when she smiled. I shake my head sadly. When you smiled it lit up the sky. I can't help feeling like that. Then Joan prods me and reminds I'm meant to be telling her about Elsa, not just wandering through a house of memories.
—∞—
Monday… I'm fairly sure it was the following Monday, quite wet too. I remember getting soaked just walking to the door. We'd been working at Naveen's factory—even back then, it's been a long term thing. I barrelled into the door full tilt, nearly knocking it from its hinges. I closed it behind me rather more quietly.
"Hey, Elsa!" I shouted through the house to be heard over the rain. "I'm gonna have a shower. Did you want to order out for dinner?"
A platinum braid swung round the doorway into the kitchen and she smiled at me. "Not so loud Anniken, I'm right here." She wrung her hands and looked kind of nervous. Only then did I notice the apron, and I was about to comment when she spoke further. "I–I thought I might cook something for you, you have been so nice to me, letting me stay here."
"I look forward to it. Do I have time for that shower?"
She looked at the living room clock, then at me, then shrugged. "If you don't take too long."
I hurried up the stairs, stripping off as I went. It was only us, after all, and she was busy in the kitchen anyway. I wondered what kind of cook she was. Also what she might cook for me—I wondered if maybe it might be something special from her homeland. I showered quickly—well, what passed for quickly for me—and then rather than getting some regular clothes on I thought I'd dress it up a little for Elsa. If she was going to make the effort to cook for me, then I'd make the effort to look nice for her.
A rich turquoise evening gown was my choice. I'd worn it only once before, when Hans had graduated the academy. I pushed that memory aside and inspected myself in the mirror. I think I was blushing a little, because the front had a rather lower cut than I recalled, and the back was completely open. The sleeves were just as short, but they had a quirky little motif on them that I really liked. I pinned my hair up, ummed and ahhed for a while, then decided I'd have it down and loose. It looked better with the dress, but I still felt a little exposed. And if Elsa looked at me from just the right angle she'd be able to see my scar, and then some.
I slipped out of the gown for a moment to pull on a lacy black camisole. I looked at myself in the mirror again after pulling the gown on once more. Much better. I didn't hear any shouts, but I did hear footsteps coming up the stairs and a soft knock at my door.
"It's okay, I'm dressed." I heard the door creak open.
"You take so lo—Wow." I turned around and I swear she was struck speechless.
"I guess I dressed up fancy enough then."
"Anna, you look gorgeous."
"Thank you," and I felt bold enough to kiss her on the cheek as I walked past. "So, you wanted to take me to dinner?"
Rain pelted down especially hard at that moment, pounding against the roof. I flinched. She smiled at me, taking my hand and leading me down the stairs. Thunder cracked and rumbled making me jump and her laugh, and I wondered if winter hadn't come early to try and destroy our first special home meal together. Putting an arm around my shoulder Elsa led me into the dining room and sat me down. Cutlery was in place, but no food yet.
Elsa disappeared into the kitchen, coming back a moment later with two plates each holding what I considered to be a decent amount of food. More than decent. She found a pair of wineglasses and poured us a little. It really was quite romantic. Until I actually looked at my food. At that moment I resolved to just grin and bear it. It couldn't have been as bad as it looked. It was only fish, after all. And vegetables. Even if they were a little burnt.
Sitting on the other side of the table with her own plate—which looked pretty much the same as mine—Elsa gave me a weak smile. I got the feeling she didn't actually cook all that often, for herself or otherwise. I speared a piece of what looked like potato on my fork and raised it to my lips. Elsa was almost comically covering her face, with both hands, and I'm fairly sure trying not to breathe lest she influence my judgement.
"Well, it tastes like potato," I shrugged, taking a quick sip of the wine. The burn of the alcohol helped.
"It's terrible, isn't it?" Elsa was only just peeking out from behind her hands.
"A little undercooked, I think. Maybe the veggies could have been diced a little finer." I hated the way her face fell then. I hated myself for it, but I had to be honest. I tried to soften the blow. "Do you cook much?"
"I've always had to cook for myself. Especially at college."
I tried humour. "I thought college students lived on coffee and instant ramen."
She just stared at me, this terrible crestfallen look on her face and I couldn't bear to watch anymore. The one time she wasn't trying to push me away and I kept hurting her. Even trying to fix things just made it worse. My appetite was gone—I was pissed off for being so insensitive, and really, the wine had been the best thing I tasted that night. I stared forlornly down at my fish. It looked dry and flaky. Was it overcooked? Reluctantly I took my fork up in one hand and cut off a small slice of fish. For her, I told myself, looking across the table. I had to do at least one thing right.
I chewed. It really was quite dry. I could feel it almost flaking apart on my tongue. I grimaced and tried to hide it. I'd swallowed worse than this; and this I was doing for someone I loved. It couldn't be that hard. Except it caught in my throat and I gagged, nearly retching, and I had to down half the wine in my glass to get it down. Then I did an odd little burp from all the bubbles and I tasted it again. I really regretted that, and it made my eyes water. Elsa looked like she was on the verge of either being absolutely crushed or laughing hysterically.
"It tried to kill me," I croaked out, my voice a hoarse whisper. I drained the rest of my glass. "Also, I have to tell you something."
I beckoned her closer so I could whisper in her ear. "I don't like fish. Sorry."
Elsa slammed her hands against the table, making me jump. My chair squeaked as it slid back an inch. Burying her face in her hands, elbows resting on the table, Elsa shook with silent sobs. At least, I thought they were sobs. I heard an odd sound come from her. Something crossed between a giggle and a snort. And then suddenly she was laughing so hard she was crying. She looked up and I could see the tears in her eyes, but I could also see her smile.
"You don't like fish?"
I nodded, and she continued to laugh. I was growing a little concerned, given the continuing hysterical laughter from across the table. Eventually the laughter died down, and she had an odd little hiccough until she sipped at her wine.
"I wanted to do something really nice for you, and I thought you'd like fish, and so I looked up this recipe for smoked salmon and thought it was perfect and it'd be a great surprise for you to come home to and… and…"
"And you forgot to ask if I liked fish?"
"And I forgot to ask if you liked fish." She sighed, facepalming. "I am such an idiot. Anniken, do you forgive me?"
"Umm, what?" I shook my head in confusion. As far as I knew there wasn't anything she needed to be forgiven for.
"For making you eat fish. I saw those faces you made, and I'm sorry you thought you had to do that."
"I'm sorry too," I winked at her. "That fish tried to kill me. And I did it for you, Elsa. I—"
"You tried. You tried it even though you hated it. I have never known anyone quite like you Anniken."
"Thank you?" that really came out as more of a question than it should have.
"It was a compliment, Anna. I really do appreciate that you at least tried the salmon."
"It's very dry."
She cut a slice of hers off, chewed, and swallowed. "Huh." She frowned. "That is kinda dry."
I laughed as she reached for the wine. "The vegetables were mostly okay though."
She gave me a little grin and gestured towards the kitchen. "I won't be too insulted if you want to make something else."
"It's alright," I shrug, pouring myself a little more wine. "I kind of lost my appetite—but because I kept thinking I was insulting you, not because of the fish."
"I wouldn't have blamed you if you said it was the fish." She finished by giving me a wry smile. I smiled back, and did my best not to taste the slightly undercooked vegetables I'd been served. I wasn't going to cook anything else, but I made sure to have a big dessert that night. Of course she stole half of it.
—∞—
"You know mom, that doesn't sound like that much of a disaster."
I look Joan straight in the eye. "Baby, you never tasted her cooking."
"I guess I never will either," I can see a sad smile slowly forming on our daughter's lips. "Does it make sense to miss someone you've never met?"
Oh, how I wish it didn't. I was always afraid telling her about you would do this, but she deserves to know. She really does. I don't give her an answer, I just lie on the bed and give her a great big hug. She understands.
"So, was auntie Elsa's cooking always that terrible?"
"No," I smile to myself. "And that was the worst part. She wasn't a terrible cook, just plain bad. So yeah, some things were better than others, and she could bake a couple of fancy Norwegian desserts, but other than that it tended to be rather messy, but not completely inedible. She made a stew once. It kept for six months."
Joan's just staring at me. I smile at her and leave the room.
"It wasn't edible, but it kept for six months."
