It's Friday. Last day of the year—God, that means it'll be 2033 tomorrow. 2033. I know, I know, it's meant to be the future and everything, but it's always weird the direction progress takes. We still don't have flying cars, or meals in a pill. But we have a daughter. I have a husband. I still have a job that I love doing. The world keeps changing, but I don't mind when some things stay the same. Right now, though, I'm on top of a work platform looking at the oversized rollers for a carpet accumulator.
This thing is big. There's five rollers up here, and four on the floating frame in the middle. If the line slows down, the floating frame goes all the way down, taking up a whole lot of slack. It's a pretty simple system, but hard to fault. Except the covers for the drive chains, which are sketchy as hell. That's why I'm here, with a clipboard, some paper, and a pen. Along with a tape measure. This isn't a critical safety thing, but while we're here, doing upgrades and maintenance, it won't hurt to spend some time sketching out an improved system.
This is just something light to end the day on. Audrey's helping clean the workshop, and Maurice is doing pack-up and tool checks. Kristoff is getting the last bits of paperwork finished and signed off before we leave. Probably getting some stuff pre-signed for tomorrow. Safety stuff is like that sometimes. I think I told you, after that accident at Naveen's, but I'm not sure. It's possible we talked about it before, too, when you asked about details of my job. Tomorrow Maurice and I are gonna work on the pneumatic controls—the ones damaged by a forklift—make a new control box and run fresh lines to the cylinders.
"Anna?" It's Audrey, with one of the site engineers in tow. "You still up there?"
"Yeah, I'm here!" I shout back down to them. "Nearly done." I look at the ladder in front of me. That might not be quite up to code either. "Hey, when was this ladder installed?"
"Err, Late 90's?"
"That's what I thought," I'm climbing down, stuff tucked into pockets. "Another thing to talk to your chief about. Eventually, I suppose."
"That structure's outside your guys' current brief, isn't it?"
"It is," I turn to face them at the bottom of the ladder. "We're looking at other things that might need upgrades, if your boss keeps hiring us."
"Oh, Al's got a whole list of upgrades he wants. We just never have enough time."
"That's why you've got us."
The rest of it's just workshop banter, and making sure we've locked up properly. Kristoff is already waiting in the van. I look up again, and I can see snow drifting down. It's going to be another cold one tonight. Blankets and sweaters, and keeping the heating just a little bit warmer. We don't have a dinner plan, yet. But it's early, so there's lots of time when we get home to make something. Or order something. We have been working hard, and I don't mind doing a little more. I say as much to Kristoff.
"We could do the chicken thing, make the sauce ourselves, and use half the kitchen."
"Joan could help."
"She could. All together on a family dinner; seems right."
It was. The kitchen's a mess, in the best way, and I might need a fresh shirt. But honestly, floppy noodles are gonna do that regardless, it's not my fault it escaped the fork so quickly. Dessert was fun too. Brandy snaps, with actual brandy in the cream. Joan tried one. And then another. Opposite reaction to the wine, but it's fine. I caution her about taking a third. Sure, it's mostly a hint of brandy for flavouring, but still.
I'm on cleanup, washing the dishes, and Joan's helping to dry things and put them away. Kristoff's having a shower, then organising the laundry. He's better at it than me anyway, and I'm not really sure how. It's just press the right buttons after you throw the clothes in, put some powder in, and bam, clean clothes come out. Anyway, Joan is actually quite talkative, and I have to apologise for zoning out there.
"Sometimes, mom," she just shakes her head at me. "It's okay, I'd save anything important for later anyway."
"Thanks," I turn back to the dishes, scrubbing out the pots now, last of the bunch. "You want to hear more story later?"
"Of course." And she's full of energy again. "I also kinda wanna know why Elsa did that when you told that stupid joke."
"She told me the next day, and I'll tell you when we get into the story, 'kay?"
"Makes sense. Hmph, I think those pots can just dry themselves overnight."
"I think you're being lazy."
She shrugs at me. "It's not like we're gonna use 'em for breakfast."
She's got me there. "Fine. This time, young lady." I empty the sink and take off my gloves. "So, where are we gonna crash tonight?"
"The lounge is fine. But we need more blankets."
"We've got—" and before I begin counting things on my fingers she just smiles and puts my hands down.
"Not enough if I'm going to make a pillow fort."
I give her a skeptical look. Just how old are you? I'm really not one to talk though, not after that time… "Just remember we have to put things back together again."
"I'll take your blankets first then." And she's off.
She won't, I know. I head upstairs, and up again into the attic. We've still got the spare cushions up here from the other night. I pass her on the stairs.
"Will you help me remake it later?" She tilts her head back towards her room.
"As long as you actually put those pots away tomorrow, before we get back."
"Easy."
We spend a good ten minutes making the best pillow fort we can, dragging a couple of the blankets inside with us. And some cushions. And a torch, because. And from outside I can hear a disgruntled huff. Well, he did just do the laundry.
I peek out of the fort and smile for my husband. "We'll put it back later."
He points to the one on top. "Looks like that one needed a wash anyway."
I look at where he's pointing, seeing the crumbs, and dust, and what might be a few drips of spilt tea or coffee. He's not wrong, but we'll save it for next time. I crawl back under the blankets and snuggle up next to Joan.
"So, you did… stuff… on Christmas day…" she's looking at me rather intently. "And Elsa nearly slapped you for that stupid joke."
"Nearly." I smile, remembering. "She had willpower."
—∞—
Friday—Boxing day—was going to be another lazy day for us. I was going to do some apology baking—Elsa forgave me, but I still felt like I needed to do something to actually deserve it. Plus, she gave me the cookbook. And apparently she'd stashed some cloudberries in the fridge. Shortbreads, ring cakes, creams, and some more savoury options. There was a lot to work with. But bløtkake looked simple enough. Multekreme would be easy to make for a filling—or probably a topping.
Of course—for reasons—Elsa was forbidden from the kitchen. For the moment, anyway. I got busy, getting everything ready, and making something of a mess. I could always clean it up later. The big mixing bowl, and a simple round cake tin. Various measuring cups scattered across the sink, covered in flour, or with tiny dregs of milk or water left in them. Then I saw the jelly crystals in the pantry. Not a traditional Norwegian addition, I was sure, but something we would both know. Blue lemonade, which I hoped would contrast nicely with the orange cloudberries I planned to top the cake with. On top of the multekreme, that was.
With the cake in the oven, I rinsed out some of the dishes to make it easier later. That was when Elsa leaned in through the door.
"Hey, I thought we were going to watch some more of the show today?"
"Yeah," I gestured to everything in the sink, then at the oven. "You think baking a cake is that simple?"
"I honestly wouldn't know." She gave me a petulant look. "You wouldn't even let me watch."
"Because I know you'd probably do more than watch, and I shouldn't be distracted like that around hot things."
"Well, you did seem pretty focused yesterday."
It took me a moment to register. "Elsa!"
She just laughed. "Oh, come on, you walked right into that one."
"I did." I hung my head in mock-shame.
"Come, watch the show with me." She offered me her hand. I noticed she was wearing the gloves.
"Bold."
"You said you liked to be little spoon. Maybe it is okay to try again—at least just touching?"
"I did, and I would like that." I met her eyes and held her gaze. "We have to find something that works."
"Or I could introduce you to Crystal." There was real mischief in her eyes now.
"What?" The look on my face…
"Sorry, I did not mean to scare you." She started using her hands to sketch out various dimensions. "Crystal is petite, about this long, bright blue, and makes me shout other girl's names sometimes. She sleeps under my bed a lot. Sometimes in the top drawer."
Only then did I figure out what she was actually talking about. In her own prudish, roundabout way. It was also kind of cute. I hadn't thought of naming any of my toys.
"So, watch some cartoons with me?" She smiled, completely unashamed about switching topics so quickly.
"Sure." I basically leapt onto the couch. "These blankets are mine!" I wrapped them around me dramatically. "But I could be convinced to share."
"A kiss, perhaps?" Elsa knelt in front of me.
I stole the kiss, pulling her down on top of me, into the blankets.
"Gyah, the couch is eating me!" And she vanished into the blankets, snuggling up behind me. "Oh. I can't reach the remote."
I reached out, just able to snag it from the armrest at the end. I pushed play. "Let's go. I want to know more about that island they were on."
"There's a bit more later in the series," I felt her arms around me, just holding me close. "And the Ava—actually, that would probably be a spoiler. It's a pretty cool scene."
"The fight scenes are pretty good," I admitted. "And the world is really interesting. The magic—or martial arts that they do."
"Bending." Elsa corrected me automatically. "It's called bending, it's based on real martial arts."
"Okay, that's cool."
This time they were in a city, made of stone. Mostly. There were riddles, and a very unfortunate cabbage merchant—which I learned later became a running gag throughout the series, and beyond—along with a giant goat-rabbit-gorilla thing, and the crazy old king actually being stupidly buff. And a very old friend of the main kid. The next episode was kind of passé, except for a certain celebrity voice, and it was during this one that Elsa started doing more than just hugging me.
She'd actually worked one of her hands inside my sweater. I knew exactly what she was going for, and I didn't mind. I just about felt her fingertips through the fabric of my bra. I definitely felt them when she tried getting under it, attempting to tickle me right there, awkward though it was. I shuffled down a bit and sighed with contentment. That day I was willing to let her have my body, and play with it. The gloves were certainly helping. Then that hand moved down, and softly tickled my stomach as it passed. I knew where it was going.
"If you are too nervous, I will stop."
"Try, please." My voice shook, but I was sure.
I felt that hand press against my stomach, then above. Then the fingers were below the waistband of my pants—but still on top of my briefs. I let out a breath, still unsure. She stopped, but before she had taken her hand away, I caught her wrist. I rested both our hands down there, below my stomach, dangerously close. I really wasn't paying much attention to the show anymore. I closed my eyes and tried to breathe calmly. To banish those memories. I probably held Elsa's hand far too tightly.
We both jumped when someone knocked at the door. I also heard the timer ding for the cake. I dashed for the kitchen—fixing my sweater and pants—and Elsa walked over to the door. As I took the cake out of the oven, I could hear conversation coming from the lounge room. It seemed odd, considering the few friends Elsa had told me about. None of them had visited before either. But I recognised the voice, and at that, I stuck my head out the door to check.
"Afternoon, Anna," Kristoff waved at me with a very genuine smile. "I wanted to give you this."
And he handed me a catalogue—a trade catalogue—with various pieces of equipment circled. I had completely forgotten about the workshop upgrades. A bigger welder, for one. New welding masks. Yearly replacements for gloves, overalls, and safety shields. Some more cordless tools for lighter site work.
"You forgot, didn't you?" He wasn't accusing me, just amused. "I also got you something else, but it's still in the van."
"What?" I gave him a skeptical look.
"Remember when you asked about those bike mods?"
"You found them?"
"Some. I'll pay for part of it. Consider it a gift—or a Christmas bonus, whatever you like."
"Thank you!" I rushed over to hug him. Not entirely appropriate, I know, but I'd been looking for so long, and he was even paying for some of it. It was just such a nice gesture. At the time I didn't know how good he really was, and the things he'd made for Maurice, or organised for Audrey. A moment later he gently prised me off, and gestured to Elsa.
"I got something for you too."
It was a small box, about four inches to a side. It seemed relatively heavy from the way they handled it. Elsa unwrapped it and carefully took it out.
"Anna said you were from Norway, but couldn't be more specific, but I thought it might be nice."
"Oslo…" Elsa whispered, turning the globe upside down, a wistful note in her voice. "Thank you, Kristoff, it's very thoughtful."
She set the snowglobe on the corner shelf, watching for a moment the miniature blizzard descend upon the city.
"You're welcome. Now, Anna, if you'd like to grab yours from the back of the van?"
Kristoff didn't stay long after that, just enough to check I was okay, and to ask when I would next need time off for therapy. I told him the 14th, and he scribbled it down in his notebook.
Then it was just me and Elsa—and a cake I needed to finish. I hurried back out to the kitchen, preparing to make the multekreme, fishing the cloudberries out of the fridge. It turned out to be a bit messier than anticipated, but the remaining berries helped cover up some of the imperfections. And as a final touch, a dusting of powdered sugar, just lightly over the berries. It looked like snow on some tiny orange mountains. I called Elsa into the kitchen.
"That looks good, Anna—It's a bløtkake, right?"
"Oh, so that's how you say it. I was wondering. And yes." I was over by the sink. "I made a couple of tweaks, and I still need to cut it."
"I am excited to try it." She looked at me warily, then sat at the table. "I know you mean this as an apology for what happened yesterday, but you did not need to."
"I feel like I do, though," I cut a small slice and handed it to her on a small plate. "You barely stopped yourself from slapping me."
"That is… that's much more about me, Anniken."
I cut a slice of cake for myself, then sat across from her at the table. The cake was good, and the cream perhaps just a little rich for my tastes. The jelly crystals added a nice bit of not-quite-crunchy texture. "Hmph. This is a good recipe."
"It is—I think the cloudberries on top needed to be fresh, they have gone sweet." She gave me an odd look. "I know you want to ask me about yesterday, so I will just tell you. I would not normally be hurt by a silly joke like that, but… the words you were using. I told you how Yuriko led me on, in the past. They are not happy memories, and we broke up after Christmas that year. I was less open then, not good with trusting people, so I opened up to her, hoping she would do the same for me. She did not—she used those same words, and meant them to hurt."
"I'm so sorry, Elsa." I gave her the best smile I could. "I'm sorry she treated you like that, and I'm sorry I reminded you of it."
Elsa just shook her head. "It is not your fault. I never told you this, so how could you be knowing?" She took another bite of the cake, chewing thoughtfully, and obviously stalling for time.
"I'm still sorry," I reiterated. "You deserved better than that."
I saw her thoughtful look turn pensive, and the way she cast her eyes down.
"You don't need to say it. I'm still here. I'll be here for you, just like I know you'll be there for me." I couldn't add anything else. We both knew.
There was an overly long silence, both of us just finishing our bløtkake. I couldn't really think of what to say, and it seemed like neither could she. This wasn't the time for those kinds of discussions.
So I decided we should just get on with our lazy afternoon. "We've still got a couple more episodes on this disc, right?"
She smiled. "Oh, yes. And I think these ones are top ten material for the whole show."
"Oooh, I guess we better go watch them then."
Back on the couch, cake covered on the bench, and we were ready. I saw Elsa pulling her gloves back on—she'd taken them off to eat—but I just shook my head, unsure if I was in the mood for that anymore. She kept them on, but she also just held me, nothing more. It was nice, just lying there with my girlfriend, watching cartoons into the evening. She was right, too. Definitely top ten material, especially the action sequence at the end of episode eight, bringing down a temple by channelling a spirit and making a volcano.
After the credits, I rolled over, facing Elsa again. I kissed her, tasting a hint of cloudberries and cream.
"Thank you for sharing this with me."
