they had been snogging for a while in the bar at the Green Hunter she’d pulled him into the toilet.
It had been a magical evening and there had been a few more like that, before her interest in him seemed to subside. It was now almost two weeks since they’d had such a good time together. She blamed it first on one thing, then another, and sometimes – like yesterday – was simply unavailable or didn’t show up when they made a date.
Joakim was at a loss about what to do, but he thought the whole situation was unpleasant. He knocked back the last drops of beer and pushed the glass away. Just as he was getting up to leave he caught sight of her. Far away, in the other part of the dance hall and half hidden by the long, semicircular bar he saw her from behind. Slouched in an armchair and with a reddish drink in her hand, she sat talking to two middle-aged men in suits.
Joakim froze mid-movement. He turned completely cold inside when he saw how she gestured and laughed with the two strangers. Why was she acting like that? He was the one she was here with; who were those men? They both seemed to move a little closer to her. One placed his hand on her thigh; the other stroked her cheek. She didn’t pull away and didn’t seem the least bit bothered. On the contrary, she laughed again and again – he could see that from the way she moved her shoulders. She held out her glass and toasted them and they brought their glasses next to hers. Dance music was playing through theloudspeakers and Joakim was sitting too far away to hear the clinking glasses or their voices. But he’d had enough. He felt his worry turn to rage and knew inside that it was all over now. Definitely over.
* * *
Jennifer tried to tell herself that she was only looking for excitement. But she knew there was something else besides – attention, not just from Joakim, not just from the usual losers who filled her world. Right now this felt right. And it would tomorrow too. The thought of poor Joakim flitted through her mind, but to hell with him, he was an adult; he could take her as she was or not at all. She was the smith of her own happiness; that was enough. She wasn’t prepared to be the smith of Joakim’s too.
She felt pleasantly tipsy; now if she could just keep this perfect level of intoxication going. Not get more drunk, not get sober.
‘Are you here alone?’ asked the darker and thinner of the two men.
They both spoke with that wonderful Finnish accent, and even though they sounded like Moomintrolls she thought the dialect only reinforced their manliness.
‘No, I’m here with a few friends. I just got a little tired of them,’ Jennifer replied apologetically. ‘They’re so … immature.’
‘That’s not good. We’ll have to cheer you up a little. We’re very mature,’ laughed the other one. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Jennifer.’
‘I’m Erik,’ said the huskier one, ‘and this is Henrik. We’ve been on a business trip to Stockholm. What are you drinking?’
‘Tequila Sunrise,’ she answered, thinking it sounded glamorous.
‘What the hell. That is mature,’ the one named Erik grinned, getting up and going over to the bar.
Jennifer felt herself blushing a little, and glanced at the clock over by the bar as if to divert their attention.
‘So, how old are you?’ asked Henrik, placing his hand on her shoulder.
‘Almost seventeen. How old are you?’
‘What do you think?’ he countered. ‘We’re two men in our prime.’
‘Forty-three,’ she guessed, and Henrik nodded appreciatively.
‘Not bad, not bad at all. At our age, you know, you don’t really like talking about your age. Do you have a boyfriend?’
He gathered up the papers they had been looking at before they rescued her from that disgusting man, and placed them in a briefcase on the couch beside him.
‘Well, what should I say? Sometimes, sometimes not.’
Henrik was not content with that, and persisted.
‘Okay, but right now?’
After
It had been a magical evening and there had been a few more like that, before her interest in him seemed to subside. It was now almost two weeks since they’d had such a good time together. She blamed it first on one thing, then another, and sometimes – like yesterday – was simply unavailable or didn’t show up when they made a date.
Joakim was at a loss about what to do, but he thought the whole situation was unpleasant. He knocked back the last drops of beer and pushed the glass away. Just as he was getting up to leave he caught sight of her. Far away, in the other part of the dance hall and half hidden by the long, semicircular bar he saw her from behind. Slouched in an armchair and with a reddish drink in her hand, she sat talking to two middle-aged men in suits.
Joakim froze mid-movement. He turned completely cold inside when he saw how she gestured and laughed with the two strangers. Why was she acting like that? He was the one she was here with; who were those men? They both seemed to move a little closer to her. One placed his hand on her thigh; the other stroked her cheek. She didn’t pull away and didn’t seem the least bit bothered. On the contrary, she laughed again and again – he could see that from the way she moved her shoulders. She held out her glass and toasted them and they brought their glasses next to hers. Dance music was playing through theloudspeakers and Joakim was sitting too far away to hear the clinking glasses or their voices. But he’d had enough. He felt his worry turn to rage and knew inside that it was all over now. Definitely over.
* * *
Jennifer tried to tell herself that she was only looking for excitement. But she knew there was something else besides – attention, not just from Joakim, not just from the usual losers who filled her world. Right now this felt right. And it would tomorrow too. The thought of poor Joakim flitted through her mind, but to hell with him, he was an adult; he could take her as she was or not at all. She was the smith of her own happiness; that was enough. She wasn’t prepared to be the smith of Joakim’s too.
She felt pleasantly tipsy; now if she could just keep this perfect level of intoxication going. Not get more drunk, not get sober.
‘Are you here alone?’ asked the darker and thinner of the two men.
They both spoke with that wonderful Finnish accent, and even though they sounded like Moomintrolls she thought the dialect only reinforced their manliness.
‘No, I’m here with a few friends. I just got a little tired of them,’ Jennifer replied apologetically. ‘They’re so … immature.’
‘That’s not good. We’ll have to cheer you up a little. We’re very mature,’ laughed the other one. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Jennifer.’
‘I’m Erik,’ said the huskier one, ‘and this is Henrik. We’ve been on a business trip to Stockholm. What are you drinking?’
‘Tequila Sunrise,’ she answered, thinking it sounded glamorous.
‘What the hell. That is mature,’ the one named Erik grinned, getting up and going over to the bar.
Jennifer felt herself blushing a little, and glanced at the clock over by the bar as if to divert their attention.
‘So, how old are you?’ asked Henrik, placing his hand on her shoulder.
‘Almost seventeen. How old are you?’
‘What do you think?’ he countered. ‘We’re two men in our prime.’
‘Forty-three,’ she guessed, and Henrik nodded appreciatively.
‘Not bad, not bad at all. At our age, you know, you don’t really like talking about your age. Do you have a boyfriend?’
He gathered up the papers they had been looking at before they rescued her from that disgusting man, and placed them in a briefcase on the couch beside him.
‘Well, what should I say? Sometimes, sometimes not.’
Henrik was not content with that, and persisted.
‘Okay, but right now?’
After
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