Bright Midnight

“You were?”

“I saw your message on Facebook. That made me happy.”

I look away, busying myself with the scenery. “Oh,” I say. I’m not sure how I feel about that, but my cheeks grow hot.

Soon we’re heading through tunnels until the world to the right of me opens up and we’re coasting along an absolute fairy-tale.

Holy shit. It’s even more beautiful than I could have ever imagined.

“Welcome to Todalen,” Anders says, pulling to small look-out point on the side of the road.

I get out and am immediately overwhelmed by it all. Behind us are the steep, forested mountains that come crashing down to our feet, the narrow road snaking along the base and into a picturesque valley. In front of us are more mountains with snow-dusted caps that seem to rise straight out of the blue sea like an ancient jawbone. In the space between us and the land, gulls dance above a small fishing boat cutting through the water.

“Wow,” I say, sitting down on a bolder at the edge of the cliff, a sharp path below leading down a few feet to the deep water. “It’s stunning.”

“Ja,” he says, standing beside me, hands on hips. “I must say, whenever I come back home it’s nice to have this view greeting me.”

The sun feels stronger here and I’m quickly shedding my sweater and holding out my arms, trying to soak up the sun while I can. “I don’t think I’ve felt the sun since I left Italy.”

“I bet you have a lot of stories about that place,” he says, grinning down at me. “A girl like you.”

I glance up at him, wincing from the sun in my eyes. “A girl like me?”

He just nods. “Come on.” And he goes around the car, getting back in.

Honestly I could just sit here forever, holding on to happiness, but I get up, dusting off my ass, and hop back in.

The engine revs and with a quick smile from Anders, we take off.

8

Anders

Loneliness is a ragged dog

howling at your door

It haunts you

Sinks in your bones

Because you know these dogs are everywhere

Waiting outside everyone’s door

Crying, whimpering, shaking

Begging to be let inside

It’s okay to let them in once

Let them sniff around

Piss on your heart

Curl up at the foot of your soul

But always let them out in the morning

And never, ever feed them.

I have to pinch myself.

My fingers cutting into the palm of my hand should do the trick.

But there are no tricks to make this all seem real.

This impossible reality.

Shay Lavji is sitting across from me in the restaurant, delicately sipping a glass of water and trying hard not to stare at all the people and the sights around her, just as the people are trying hard not to stare at her. It’s all locals—seniors mostly—in this place and rarely do we have anyone that looks like Shay.

But if she notices, she doesn’t show it. And she’s not always so good at pretending.

That’s one of the reasons I fell for her in the first place.

I could read everything in her eyes.

I liked what I saw.

Until I saw myself reflected back in them.

I didn’t quite like that.

“So, potato dumplings are all they do,” Shay says, keeping her voice down as if she’s afraid to offend someone. The people here don’t care. They all know me, though they pretend not to, and they’re just happy to be eating.

“When you have something that works, you do it,” I tell her.

The restaurant we’re in is the only one in the village. It’s not open every day, and sometimes only for lunch, sometimes only for dinner, and rarely outside of tourist season. It’s also an old lodge, the only place in town to stay. It’s a grand old thing, done up traditionally with a pine interior, along with the grass on the roof that Shay seems so fascinated by. To be honest, the roof could use a little trim.

“Do you know what the leading cause of death in Norway is?”

She looks at me curiously. “What?”

I point at the ceiling. “Mowing the roof. I can’t tell you how many times those lawnmowers end up crushing someone.”

Her eyes widen, so big, beautiful and brown. “Really?”

I grin at her and nod. I’ll let her believe it for as long as she wants.

“Ah, Anders I haven’t seen you in so long,” Hilde says to me in Norwegian, smiling big and showing off her missing tooth as she delivers us our plates of dumplings. She looks over at Shay. “Oh, sorry,” she says, in stunted English. “So glad to have visitors to our town. Welcome.”

Hilde scuttles her overly plump behind away to run an order to another table.

“Is she the one running the place?” Shay asks as she stares down at the meal. I know she looks a bit unsure, but in my eyes it looks fucking delicious. Fluffy potato dumplings, sausage, and boiled carrots and onions. It’s enough to feed two people.