“Magnus.”
The voice is firmer now and there’s a hand on my shoulder and there’s familiar pressure and it’s bringing me back to reality.
I stop, just realizing now that I’ve been pacing back and forth in front of the window.
I’m staring right at Ella who is standing in front of me with a loosely tied robe, her eyes wide with fright with the dim light coming through the windows.
“Magnus,” she says again. “Are you okay? My god, you’re sweating.”
I look down at myself. Not only am I completely naked but I’m drenched with sweat. There are strands of hair in my hands, as if I’ve pulled them out while I’ve paced about like a madman.
Holy fuck.
I never wanted her to see me like this. I’ve been so fucking good until now.
“Come here,” she says, taking my arm and leading me over to a couch in the corner of the room. She sits me down, then goes into the bathroom and comes out with a robe and throws it at me. “Put that on.”
She then disappears into the bathroom again, and I hear the tap running. She brings out a glass of water and a damp cloth and sits down beside me on the couch, handing me the water and dabbing the cold cloth over my shoulders, my chest, my forehead.
“Drink it, you’re dehydrated,” she says softly, gesturing to the cup.
Now that my heart rate has slowed and my breathing is getting normal, I down the glass of water in one gulp.
Ella isn’t saying anything, just keeps running the cloth over me. I glance at her nervously, afraid to see her judgement.
But this Ella we’re talking about here. She’s never judged me. Unless I’ve said something terribly stupid. Which does happen a lot.
This is something else, though. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so exposed and vulnerable before. It’s like she’s finally seen the real me and…I’m ashamed.
“You think I’m crazy, don’t you?” I ask her quietly.
She gives me a small smile. Her eyes are gentle. “Not at all.”
“Maybe I’m sick. I certainly feel like I’m running a fever.”
She sits back and watches me for a few moments and then says, “You’re not sick, Magnus. I’m guessing this has happened to you before.”
“Not really lately…” I admit.
“You’re under a lot of stress, it’s okay.”
I nod. “Yeah. I’m not the best when it comes to that. Emotional stress especially.”
She almost flinches at that. “I hope it’s not because of me.”
I grab her hand and kiss her knuckles, staring deep into her eyes so she understands. “It’s not you. You’re the only thing that’s making sense right now. The only thing that gives me focus. It’s everything else around us. The marriage, the wedding, becoming a king. Getting ready for that. I’m not ready for that.”
“You will be.”
I shake my head. “Not when I’m like this.”
“So, what happened?”
“Same as always. Sometimes I can’t sleep. I can’t shut off my brain. It’s like it holds me hostage and puts me in the passenger seat. Chains me there. Then starts driving faster and faster through the dark, in the rain, no headlights. No wiper blades. Eventually I crash.”
She looks me over, her eyes taking in every detail of my face in this darkened room. Finally, she says, “I’m going to ask you something and I don’t want you to take offense.”
I give her a lazy grin. “You know it’s pretty damn hard to offend me.”
“I know. But that doesn’t mean you’re not sensitive. Some things I know roll right off your back and you don’t pay it a moment’s attention. Other things, well I think they hit deep and they stay there, whether you want to admit it or not.”
I swallow thickly. She might be right about that.
“Okay then. Is this a question time question?”
“This is an ‘I’m going to be your wife and I have a right to know,’ question.”
Oh shit. Those have to be the worst.
“Okaaaay.”
My heart has started to race again.
“Have you ever been diagnosed with anything? Particularly ADHD?”
I stare at her blankly. “No.”
“Does it surprise you that I’m asking that?”
I don’t even have to think about it. “No…”
“Have you ever looked into it?” She squeezes my hand. “I’m no doctor, obviously. I nearly faint when I see blood. But I knew some people at school who have it and not the ‘faking it so they can get Adderall’ version, but the real version. From what you describe about your brain to the way you only focus when you’re knee-deep in adrenaline, it just sounds like that’s what you could have. It’s common and I know it’s underdiagnosed in adults. Nothing to be worried about.”
I shrug. I’m not sure if I should be telling her that she’s wrong or that this sounds impossible or there’s no way I could possibly have that but everything she said makes a lot of sense. “When I was young I was definitely hyperactive and always thumbing my nose at authority. I thought that was my personality.”
“That is your personality, Magnus,” she says. “You were probably a little drittsekk when you were a kid.” I laugh. “But maybe you had a hard time concentrating on school, on math, on books. That would be part of the disorder. It’s complex, and it’s part of who you are.”
“I guess Magnus the Mad was a pretty accurate nickname.”
She lets out a soft laugh. “Just because it’s classified as a disorder, it doesn’t mean you’re crazy. It doesn’t even have to be a disorder, it’s all how you look at it.”
“How do you know so much about this?”
“I had a beloved professor last year who had it. He was very open about it. Actually, he taught some of the best, most engaging classes. Nothing was boring about the way he approached life. Same goes for you.”
“So, what, you think I should see a doctor and go on medication?” The thought makes me grind my teeth together.
“I think you should do whatever you want to do,” she says. “If it gives you piece of mind, then yeah. You have to ask yourself if you’re happy the way things are inside that brain of yours. If you are and you feel you’re doing just fine in life, then just keep on keeping on and I’ll be there by your side. But if you feel there’s room for improvement, if you need help concentrating on things in the future, if you hate the way your brain feels, especially on nights like this, well maybe it’s worth looking into.”
“I don’t want to be a different person,” I tell her.
“I don’t think that’s how it works, Magnus. You’ll still be you. You’ll still be funny, quirky, smart…and devastatingly handsome.”
I grin at her. “You really know all the right things to say.”
“I hope so,” she says. “That’s why I’m here. Now, is there anything I can do to help you fall asleep?”
From the wicked glint in her eyes, I know she means something sexual. But actually, for the first time ever, that’s not what I’m craving right now. That’s not what I need. I need something more intimate and meaningful than another roll in the hay, if that’s even possible.
“That might make me more hyped up,” I tell her. “But there is something you can do.”
I get up and walk across to the bookshelf which has had the same books in it since I was a kid and pull out the three-volume hardback set of Lord of the Rings.
“Come on,” I tell her, heading over to the bed. I switch on the bedside lamp and climb under the covers.
She gives me a curious look and then comes over and gets in bed beside me, taking the book from my hands. “It’s in English,” she remarks, turning it over.
“It took me years to read the trilogy when I was younger,” I tell her. “Even though they’re my favorite books, I couldn’t understand why I was so slow. Maybe now I do. Anyway, when I finally got through them, I decided to read them again on audiobook. Worked so much better.” I tap the cover of the book. “I bought the English edition when the movies came out. Would you mind?”
“You want me to read to you?”
I nod, feeling uncharacteristically shy all of a sudden. “I think it will help. Transport me to that world for a bit.” I take in a deep breath. “I want to fall asleep to your voice.”
And there it is. I think I just uttered the most vulnerable and nerdy words that have ever come out of my mouth. The Magnus of a few months ago would kick my fucking ass for that. But that Magnus wasn’t a man who was falling in love.
Ella stares at me, not with pity but with this sweetness that does something to my heart, melts it ten times over. “Of course, I’ll read to you.” She clears her throat and starts flipping through the pages. “Prologue. Concerning Hobbits…”
And as Ella reads on, my eyes close and I’m lost.
Not in a racing mind.
Not in the world of Middle Earth.
I’m lost in my feelings for her.
And for the first time, I don’t want to be found.
Nineteen
Magnus
Time flies when you’re having fun.
Time also flies when you’re about to be married and there are million of things left to do, a million places you have to be, a million things you have to say.
The last few weeks have been crazy, or as Einar would say, as sticky as a polar bear’s hairy asshole. I don’t know what those Northerners are doing up there but there are some things I’d rather not know.
In addition to Ella and I being the constant talk of the town and doing countless engagements around the country as well as the regular interviews, Ella is dealing with wedding plans that seem never ending. Even though my mother is still at the helm of all of them and acting like a major Bridezilla, Ella is stressing out pretty hard. She’s taken to drinking a few fingers of scotch with me at night now, which is a long way from those dainty bird sips she used to take.