The Boyfriend Sessions (33 page)

The snow had started to melt.

Upon reflection, visiting a Scandinavian country in the heart of winter wasn’t up there with my best ideas. At least the flights were cheaper than usual, which was saying something because Oslo made London seem cheap.

When I first arrived, there were only a few hours of daylight left. As an Aussie girl, you could barely call it that. The sun hung so low in the sky, its journey traveled an imperceptible arc and it felt like dawn or dusk the entire time. The darkness should have depressed me. Right now it suited my mood. In the beginning, I slept, and when I surfaced I enjoyed the cover of darkness as I navigated the city that felt more like an oversized town.

Numb from the cold and numb to life, Oslo still managed to charm me. It was quaint and accessible, with cobblestone streets and a royal palace that looked like you could walk up and knock on the front door. The gentle rhythm of trams was comforting and so were the areas of sleek modern buildings. I liked how the city could live in the present as well as celebrate the past.

The people largely kept to themselves—I’d been warned they were shy—and it endeared them to me because I needed the distance. They switched between English and Norwegian effortlessly, and I was left to meander through the streets not as an outsider, but as a local, as there were so few tourists at this time of year. I had a list as long as my arm of activities to do once the weather warmed up and all the tourist venues opened. For now, I was content to enjoy my hibernation and the warmth of the strategically placed coffee shops when required.

And the park.

On my first visit, it was dark and the sculptures emerged out of the black as though conjured from my imagination. A veil of snow covered them, but it didn’t disguise their beauty. Silent caretakers of the park, they signified every stage of life, from birth to death, from pain to joy, with an honesty that was breathtaking.

And standing there on that frigid night, my toes going numb through my wool socks and thick boots, I finally understood. I thought I had come here to escape, but I hadn’t. I had tried to hide, to run from everything and look where it had taken me.

Here.

To life.

The knowledge had settled on me instantly and I cried that night, my boots pressing an outline of my presence into the snow. I had to wipe my tears away quickly or they would have turned to ice on my face. Any longer and I would have remained frozen like one of the sculptures in the park. There was a new, unfamiliar emotion taking over, and I turned and walked with deliberate steps back to my hotel.

Inside, I ran myself a hot bath and warmed my numb fingers and toes until they hurt.

I didn’t care about the pain anymore.

It meant I was alive.

*

By coincidence or fate, I found a minuscule studio apartment within walking distance of the park. The rent was exorbitant, but it seemed the Spencers weren’t through with rescuing me just yet. Maddy sent me a steady stream of design work and I spent nights working and talking on Skype, which suited me fine because it was too cold to go out.

I could only just barely afford food and rent, but it was enough. Then she put me in contact with an old client of hers in London and he started sending me design work too. Pounds weren’t quite as good as the Norwegian Kroner, but it was better than the Aussie dollar. And I’d done what Max had suggested. I’d set up a Facebook page and a basic brochure website to showcase my work for authors and publishers. To my surprise, I’d already had two requests for book designs.

The steady stream of work gave me a boost. I had two months before I had to leave the country and I intended to stay until the very last day.

As the weather began to improve I watched with wonder as the city emerged from hibernation. I started jogging in the park. At first, the sight of zealous joggers in their scarves, beanies and gloves made me giggle, but after a couple of weeks, I became one of them. I forced myself to acclimatise to the painful sting of the cold as I breathed in the icy, pristine air. There was no such thing as bad weather in Norway, only bad clothes apparently.

I started to sit and sketch in the park for as many hours as I could manage. The constantly changing light and weather were unending inspiration for me and the statues seemed to change with the conditions. Today, I had just finished sketching a pair of muscled men sitting overlooking the park, one of the many stages of life depicted around the monolith. I ran my gloved hands across the smoothness of the freezing granite on one of the men’s impressive shoulders, and suddenly I knew what I wanted to do.

I wasn’t sure if it was selfish of me, or right or wrong, but I felt compelled.

I went back to my apartment, switched on my laptop, and typed.

I read over my email a couple of times, then attached the scans of my sketches from Vigeland Park, as well as the series of Mighty Max drawings I had done at home in Sydney.

I typed in his work email address and filled out the subject line:
Thank you.

Then I hit send.

Closure, goodbye, an apology—it was all those things, but it didn’t matter now. It was sent.

*

“I’m coming over.”

Scarlett’s dark eyes stared at me determinedly via our Skype hook up.

“That’s awesome,” I replied. “I mean, are you sure? It’s a long way and it’s not exactly the best weather right now … ”

“It’s got to be a damn sight better than enduring another fucking management meeting.” Her image lagged behind her words slightly and I laughed as her expression caught up with her oath.

“Well sure, I’m not going anywhere for a couple of months at least.”

“Good—”

“I’m coming too!”

I watched as Scarlett moved over and Cate came into frame.

“Really?” Now I was getting excited. I could be their tour guide in this city that somehow felt like my second home.

“I’m handing in my resignation tomorrow,” Cate announced.

“What?” I cried, while Scarlett winked at me.

“I’m done. I don’t want to be a partner in my accounting firm and I definitely don’t want to have to see Dave’s slimy face every single day while I wonder why I’m the only one still not married, so I’m going to go and live life for a change,” Cate told me in a rush.

I wasn’t sure if she could see how bright my smile was at that second, but my mouth hurt. “Oh, Cate, I’m so happy for you, good on you.”

Cate’s face turned serious. “Thanks. You look so much better, Christa.”

“I feel better.”

We spent the rest of the conversation figuring out if we could drag Maddy away from her business long enough to come over for a few weeks and do a fjord cruise with us.

“It’ll never happen,” Scarlett concluded.

“I’m not giving up,” Cate said, ever the optimist. She looked at me sheepishly. “Christa, I was just wondering, would you have a problem with me going to Paris after I come and see you?”

I frowned, confused. “Why would I have a problem..?” I stopped, then grinned. “Oh.
Oh
! Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“No!” she replied quickly. “I mean not really. It’s just that after you left, when Ben came back to Sydney after traveling around the Northern Territory, we hung out a bit and we got along well.” She winced. “Nothing happened, I promise! It’s just that he said if I was ever in Paris … ”

Scarlett shook her head in mock disgust and I laughed.

“It’s fine,” I told her. And I realized, to my surprise, it was.

“Really?” Her face lit up when she said it. I wanted Cate to be happy, and if that involved Ben, then I could think of a lot worse.

“Alright,” Scarlett cut in. “We’ll email you with some flight info in the next couple of days and go from there.”

“Sounds good.”

It was really good. I was enjoying my self-imposed exile, but it would be fantastic to see them again. It would also be the next step on my road to recovery. I was determined to look forward and not back anymore. I’d accepted it was time to leave the pain in the past and be open to the future—whatever it might hold.

“You’re about the only person I’d do this for, you know.”

“That’s because I’m the love of your life,” I shot back with a grin.

Maddy gave me a wry smile. “Don’t you know it. I’m really glad I came, even if I am having major heart palpitations about leaving Grounded Marketing.” She reached over and squeezed my hand, then sighed. “I’ve missed you, and it’s beautiful here.”

I ignored the short, sharp pang in my chest and instead squeezed her hand in reply. As much as I loved Maddy, I wished it was another Spencer saying those words to me right now. I hadn’t heard from Max since I’d sent my email two weeks before. I guessed by now, I probably never would. I tried to remind myself that the aching hurt meant I was alive and not playing dead locked away in my apartment in Sydney.

To distract myself, I turned to look at the view of the park spread out before us. They had started work on the gardens located between the monolith and the bridge, and in another month or two—depending on the weather—the fountain would be turned on. I was sad I was going to miss it, but knew I’d be back. Of that I was certain.

“Is Max still in London?” I asked carefully.

Maddy eyed me sharply. “He’s still posted there for now, if that’s what you mean. He’ll be coming home in a couple of months apparently.”

“I’m glad. I don’t think London is the place for him.”

“Neither do I.”

Why was she grinning at me? Actually, Madeleine was dead set grinning at me like a fool, which was very unlike her. “What?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly. “I just remembered there’s something I need to go and hassle Scarlett about. Silly woman has Cate sharing a room with her in Bergen the night after our fjord cruise, and we all know how that’s going to end.”

She jumped up and headed toward Cate and Scarlett, who were about twenty metres away. They were doing their best to throw snowballs at each other and failing miserably.

“Sure.” Strange woman. I watched as she bounded—since when did Maddy bound?—over to them and then ganged up with Cate against Scarlett. Oh dear. Scarlett was tough, but it looked like she might need some reinforcements.

I turned to get my bag, then inhaled a tight breath when I realized someone had come to sit far too closely beside me. Hadn’t they heard of personal space?

“You’re right. It’s amazing.”

I blinked as I registered who the person was. Waterproof black jacket, fitted to broad shoulders, a curl of dark brown hair escaping from underneath a black beanie. Silver reflective Ray Bans reflecting my shocked expression back at me and a long, languid smile across a rough chiselled jawline.

I had no words. None. Maddeningly, I felt the prick of tears in the corners of my eyes.

Max pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head. He offered me a self-satisfied grin but his dark eyes were perfectly serious. “So I’m your superhero am I?”

“Yes,” I whispered.
God yes
, I wanted to shout.
Always. Forever
. Instead I stared at him stupidly, my heart caught in my throat.

“That’s strange.” He leaned in closer, until his face was only inches away. I could feel the blood rushing through my veins as if the presence of my superhero had brought me to life. “Judging from your last email, it doesn’t sound like you need rescuing anymore.”

I somehow found my voice. “You’re right, I don’t. So where does that leave us?”

He reached over and grazed a gloved hand across my cheek. It wasn’t even skin on skin, yet it burned.

“Here’s the thing,” he said. “I’m in need of a sidekick. You can’t really have a superhero without a number two.”

I grinned at him and a tear escaped to run down my cheek. Max brushed it away.

“I’m not sure about the term sidekick,” I told him.

He tilted his head thoughtfully. “You’re right. It has to be partners. Partners all the way, then?” he suggested.

“Agreed. Mighty Max and Bubbles—sound alright to you?”

His eyes softened. “Sounds perfect.”

I stifled a sob, but it was a happy sob, an ecstatic sob. Max’s grin faded and in the warmth of his eyes, I saw it.

Life. My life. Our life.

And I wasn’t scared anymore.

The last thing I heard before he engulfed me in a giant hug and pressed his lips fervently to mine, were the whoops of joy from my crazy girlfriends.