I Love You (Jag älskar dig)

"Does it pass the test?"

"Test?" I blinked as I tried to translate. English has so many different meanings depending on where you live.

"Do you like it?"

"Ja, I love it. So, now you are a blonde."

"For now," she smiled crookedly, "I had a hair appointment this morning and I was going to get the usual cut and trim but then I decided to jump in with both feet."

Laura chuckled at that as she moved towards a landscape of Stockholm that was painted in the late '60s.

"Do you paint?"

"A little," I confessed, "but my work isn't good enough to hang here and even if it was I couldn't display it here for obvious reasons."

"I've thought about doing a photography course. Annie bought me a digital SLR camera last year for my birthday," she winked at Annie, "it has more buttons than the space shuttle and now that I've decided to file for divorce I'll certainly have the time."

I didn't want to pursue that line of conversation and so I took her on a guided tour. Annie had seen the gallery once before but our newest exhibition had a feminist flair with a selection of portraits of women from the 1900s up until the year 2000. The tour took a good half an hour although I had to leave them at the end of the tour to deal with a phone call. When I got back to them they were ready to leave and Annie smiled.

"Var ska vi ta fika?"

Laura raised her eyebrows at that.

"What did you just say?"

"Where are we going for coffee and cake," I translated.

"Well, how about that?" Laura rubbed Annie's shoulder, "you actually sounded Swedish."

"Swedish with an east coast accent," Annie smiled crookedly.

"I'll just get my coat," I took a step back, "and let Mariette know I am going."

The fika eventually turned into a dinner when we jumped on the subway and headed to Norrmalm where I paid the bill as a way of welcoming her to Sweden. It was a generous gesture that didn't go unnoticed by Annie and she said as much when Laura went to the toilet after I'd paid.

"I would have paid."

"I know," I replied off-handedly, "but I thought I'd break the mould, we're supposed to be oh so reserved and we are but sometimes we're screaming inside. I like your sister and I like you too, so why shouldn't I pay for dinner?"

"Thank you," she murmured.

Laura returned a few minutes later and it was Annie's turn to go to the toilet.

"You've made quite an impression on my sister," Laura took out her lipstick.

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

"Sure," I replied.

"How do I put this delicately?" Laura pursed her lips and applied a layer of lipstick, "are you and Annie involved?"

"Romantically?" I stared at the toilet door on the other side of the restaurant, "no, she's not like that."

"And are you?"

"I'm gay," I replied, "like Zara."

"Whatever," Laura applied another layer of lipstick to her bottom lip, "sorry, I don't mean to be so blunt but it just had me wondering. She's always been straight but at Zara's reception she was quite taken by one of the guests, Nina. They even hung out together for about six weeks or so, but then she hooked up with our cousin from Australia out in California and met Gustav."

"Okay, and you're telling me this because?"

"Just thinking out loud," our eyes met, "it's none of my business, as long as she's happy. I always thought she jumped on Gustav too quickly. She's not the spontaneous type, she checks out the scenery, ticks the boxes on her checklist and even then she might not jump. That's what surprised me about her dates with Nina, there was no checklist, no hesitation, she just went out with her. Mom thought she was going to have to organise another gay wedding," she finished with her lipstick and smiled crookedly.

"Hell, I'd try the old three finger fiddle with some woman but I like the pecker too much."

"She's a great friend," I finally replied, "my best friend but I'd be too worried about driving a wedge between Annie and her mother."

"Mom?" Laura stared at me, "God, mom wouldn't give a damn these days. You should have seen the fallout when she sided with Zara. She was getting rape threats from so called Christians, she still believes in God but hasn't found a church that suits her," she put her lipstick back into her bag.

"If you and Annie hit it off then I'd say that's your business entirely. Mom will be the least of your worries, trust me."

She glanced at the receipt on the tray, "thanks for springing for dinner, if you ever skip over the pond it's my treat," she fixed me with a steady smile.

"We've got a deal?"

"Of course," I straightened up as Annie came out of the toilet, "my turn."

Her words seem to hang in the air as I went to the toilet. I hadn't been completely honest with her but that was because she'd taken me by surprise with that information about Annie. So, she'd been out with a gay woman? I stared at my reflection in the mirror. I was in my middle thirties, a few years older than Annie with long blonde hair and a slim figure. When I was younger I thought of having children, it was one of those things we argued about when I was married. I wanted to start a family but he was happy to just wait.

I undid the bun and letting my hair fall free, I started brushing it. Annie's sudden decision to just dye her hair was unusual. She was a woman who thought before she opened her mouth, much like myself, when I'm sober! Despite Laura's comments I wasn't about to make a move on Annie and that had a lot to do with my state of mind at the time. I was just enjoying the chance to be with someone without wondering if we were going to have sex afterwards. The only option that made sense in the end was to just keep going with our arrangement.

However, I was still curious because Annie hadn't mentioned Nina. I had no idea what things were like between them and I wasn't sure about raising the issue with her because I was under the impression that Laura had told me something in confidence.

Thankfully I didn't have to ask the question because Annie did it for me the week after Laura went back to America. We were out walking a path at Slussen that overlooks the Old Town, it's a popular spot for tourists and couples. Whenever you see a postcard of the Old Town and the Town Hall the picture was probably taken from Slussen.

We'd stopped to sit on a bench and I took the opportunity to have a cigarette. I'm not a regular smoker, I'm one of those disgusting social smokers. I can have two in one night and then nothing for two months or more. I prefer cigarettes to our snus (snuff) because the latter leaves black stains on your teeth and Annie asked me if I'd ever tried it.

"Once, when I was in my last year of high school," I put the cigarette lighter back in my bag, "it's the most disgusting habit. I dated a guy in my twenties who used to chew it and I used to refuse to kiss him until he'd brushed his teeth."

"I'll bet that killed the moment."

"It killed more than the moment," I chuckled, "it killed the relationship, we lasted three weeks and then I told him I was having doubts."

"You lied to him?"

"You could say that," I replied, "I didn't blame the snus, I told him I was doubting my sexuality and he ended it in a heartbeat. He wasn't a bad guy, he just had bad habits."

"And were you?"

"Not exactly," I puffed on the cigarette, "I did go out with Birgit for a few weeks, we were good friends and she knew I just needed to make it look like I was gay."

Annie squinted into the distance for a minute or two.

"I did something similar, before I met Gustav."

"You did?"

"Yeah, with Nina. This girl I met at Zara's reception," she turned back to stare at the railway bridge leading to the Old Town.

"She asked me out and I agreed to go out with her once, just to be polite but then she asked me out again and I just said yes."

"That doesn't sound like the Annie I know," I took another puff, "no checklist?"

"No, nothing, although to be honest I didn't have one for women, just men. I think that's why it went on for six weeks. We never did anything together, I was her straight girlfriend and she was my gay best friend but if she'd come onto me I don't think I would have resisted. It was," she frowned and flicked at her jeans.

"Alluring," she glanced at me, "what's the Swedish word for that?"

"Lockande," I replied, "or you could say förförisk," I grinned.

"We nearly slept together," Annie replied.

"With Nina?"

"Ja," she inclined her head, "we had kissed a couple of times but I was always careful to keep it to a peck on the cheek, not a sexual thing if you know what I mean."

"So, what stopped you?"

"It was silly at the time," she looked past me, "I didn't want to be like Zara and even though mom had accepted her sexual preference I still felt a little put off by it. Maybe I'm more like mom than I thought," she finished suddenly.

"Well there is nothing wrong with stepping back from the edge," I replied.

"You and I go out for fika but we don't take it further," I continued, "and that is fine for me, taking it further is always risky."

"Yeah, I know," she replied a moment or two later, "but it's on my mind, I feel as if I'm holding out on you."

"On me?" I stared at her, "do not think that for a moment. We are friends not friends with benefits."

"So, what would you look for in a woman?"

I raised an eyebrow at that and she smiled crookedly.

"Sorry, my bad, you don't have to answer that question."

I took another couple of puffs before answering.

"She would have to respect my boundaries, I am not looking for a partner to move into my place, but I don't want to feel, what is the word for a fear of closed spaces?"

"Claustrophobia."

"That is the word, the Swedish word is quite similar but I value my own privacy and I also value other people's privacy too."

"Me too," she leaned back against the seat and narrowed her eyes, "God, it's magical out here."

"I know," I rose and stretched, "I love it out here, I used to hate it because it brought back memories of Bjorn, a guy I went out with when I was eighteen," I turned around and put my back against the railing.

"We used to snuggle here and we also broke up here."

"What happened?"

"He wanted to move to Indonesia but I wanted to live in Scotland. He thought I would just follow him halfway across the world but it was not to be and so we broke up just a hundred metres down there," I pointed down the path.

"I cried for a couple of days and then realised that I'd actually done the right thing because he slept with someone else and took her to Indonesia with him," I grinned.

"She came back to Sweden after six months swearing that he was a total control freak. He was never like that with me but I was taller and had an older brother who was a policeman."

She rose and joined me at the railing. We stood silently for a couple of minutes and then she spoke quietly.

"What are you doing on Friday night?"

"Nothing at the moment. Why? Are you asking me out on a date?"

"Maybe," she glanced at me briefly, "I've been thinking of going out for dinner. Laura bought me a voucher for dinner for two. I kind of thought of Marcus, this guy I know at work but it would be a shame to waste it on him."

"So, we go out for dinner on Friday night?"

"Would you like to?" Annie stared down the steep slope, "I'd totally understand if you said no."

"Okay," I replied, "we'll go out for dinner."

Nonetheless, despite my answer I found myself battling with doubts and fears. I know it sounds as if I'm being pedantic but my life is highly compartmentalised. It's a well documented aspect of life in Scandinavian countries and I'm speaking generally but we are highly organised, to the point that we can find the most subtle changes exciting or testing, depending on your outlook.

With that in mind, Annie was first and foremost, my straight friend, and I had become used to thinking of her in those terms and yet I couldn't deny that I found her attractive and I was not her only admirer. Several of my friends had also remarked that she was a beautiful woman and a few had asked why we weren't together.

The answer is a little more complicated because as I mentioned before my life is quite structured, I am a slave to routine and Annie had become part of my weekly schedule. I enjoyed meeting her for coffee and found myself looking forward to it halfway through the day. On the one occasion she had to cancel at the last minute because of work commitments I felt deflated. What would it be like if we were involved?

I still didn't have an answer on Friday morning as I left for work. Mariette noticed I looked tense and asked me about it over lunch. I tried to shrug it off but she's one of those people who seems able to peel back the layers.

"I am going out for dinner with Annie," I finally told her.

"Oh ho," she smiled, "so, you are finally taking the plunge."

"I am not thinking that is a good way of putting it," I peered at her over the rim of my coffee cup, "we are friends."

"What are you most afraid of?"

"What if it doesn't work out? I am gay, she is straight, well maybe questioning but if it doesn't work out what then? I will have lost a friend."

"Then she was not such a good friend I think," Mariette leaned on her elbows, "I do not agree with everything my friends believe but we are still friends. I agree you should not sleep with all of your friends, I would not have enough hours in the week to have sex with them but if your friendship is strong then that is a good start. What makes you think she is not thinking the same thing? You are going out for dinner, not dinner and sex. If it happens then you will have the talk and if not then you had a night out with your best friend."

Had someone else said that to me I might have had a decent response but Mariette has a logical mind that always thinks of the next step forward. For her, there are no insurmountable problems, there are obstacles and blind alleys, and you have to find your way around or through them. She was right of course, I had been so fixated on the after dinner entertainment that I had elevated that aspect to a level that can have significant fallout if you're not careful.

I chose my outfit with a little more attention to detail that night. I've always liked white, so I wore a white blouse with a black, knee-length skirt with an elasticised waistband, black boots and a black leather belt. Along with the cream-coloured overcoat and matching beret, it gave me a modernised beatnik look. I was not entirely sure about the outfit until Annie opened the door and took a step back for a better look.

"Du är vacker," she smiled, which translates to, 'you are beautiful.'

"So are you," I ran my eyes over her outfit.

"Are you in fancy dress?"

"It is a special occasion," her eyes shifted, "is it too strong?"

I ran another eye over her outfit. She had also chosen a white blouse and that colour theme had continued to the white bowtie, white trousers, white waistcoat and white jacket. The only black items were the belt and her shoes.

"You remind me of Marlene Dietrich," I finally spoke up, "I have a poster of her in my bedroom."

"I didn't know that," she took a step back, "if you like I can change into something else."

"Don't," I replied a little too quickly, "it looks very nice."

"You should see what I am wearing underneath."

"Touché," I stepped over the threshold.

"Do you want a drink before we go out?" Annie closed the door behind me, "I picked up some wine from the systemet on the way home."

Systemet is the local name for Systembolaget, the government-owned liquor stores found here, it is universally praised and hated in almost equal measure because it is the only way to buy hard liquor to take home. The prices are extortionate but despite the controls we still have the usual problems of alcohol abuse. Foreigners are constantly bemused or annoyed by this unique Swedish institution as we're known as hard drinkers in general.

"Okay," I replied, "we will have a drink."

Her reason for wanting a drink before we went out became clearer a few minutes later. She was as nervous as I was about this 'date' and she did look on it as a date in the traditional sense. Our small talk seemed even smaller and more mundane than usual, which had me wondering if I was even doing the right thing. Could this work or was her nervousness simply a red flag telling me to slow down or just stop?

It all seemed quite mysterious as we headed into town a little while later. The vouchers she had were for a restaurant in trendy Gamla Stan (the old town), I've eaten out there before and whilst the food was good I thought it overpriced but these places survive because they're tourist traps. In fact all of Gamla Stan is a giant tourist magnet and because of the higher prices and the fact that the vouchers didn't cover alcohol we limited our drinks to some boutique beers.

"We should do this more often," I remarked.

"What, dining out? Or dining out here?"

"The first one," I stirred the remains of my meal, "this place is a tourist trap."

"What is the Swedish word for tourist trap?"

"Turistfälla," I replied.

"This place brings back memories," she stared out the window, "the restaurant two doors down is where my new Swedish boyfriend took me for our engagement dinner," she glanced at me.

"What I didn't know was that his buddy was part owner of the restaurant, so Gustav didn't pay a single krona for the meal but it gave the impression he was rich."

"Didn't you suspect something when he didn't pay?"

"No, because he put his Swish card on the tray and the waitress took it away. I only found out by chance when his buddy mentioned it in passing about six months later," she took another mouthful of lager.

"At the time it seemed trivial, kind of like a white lie but I should have known there was something wrong then and there. I mean, why not just come out and tell me on the night? What was it with the big display of putting his card on the tray?"

"Pride," I shrugged, "Swedish men are no different to American men like that and not just Swedish men," I put my glass down, "Swedish women can be the same."

"But you are different," she studied me, "you don't lie to me and you have no idea how much I admire that quality. You didn't lie the other night when we went for our walk, you have always been truthful," she propped on her palm.

"Do you still feel the same way?"

"I was nervous this afternoon," I admitted, "we are friends and I don't want to lose a friend for one night of pleasure, or even two nights but I am not willing to let a chance go by either. Mariette says that if you are a true friend then our friendship will survive but I think she is being a little," my brow creased as I searched for the English word, "theatrical," I finished.

"Perhaps," Annie took another mouthful, "but she has a point. We are both adults, you are openly gay and I am still questioning, but marrying Gustav was my way of avoiding the issue. I felt things for Nina but I couldn't come across when she made her move. It was awkward and so I went to California with every intention of addressing it when I got back, but then I met Gustav."

Our eyes met once more and she smiled.

"So, there you have it, my pitiful excuse for avoiding Nina."

"But something good came out of it," I replied, "now you are here."

"There is that and all," she glanced out the window. The rain had started again and we both turned to look at it, each lost in our own thoughts. Presently she spoke again.

"I love it here, I used to hate the rain back home but here it seems different."

"How is it different?" I nudged her leg with my foot, "less wet? More wet?"

"Cleaner," she replied, "I love this country and maybe the novelty will wear off but after breaking up with my husband, which is usually a bad thing I'm still in love with this country. I'm planning on taking a trip up north to Kiruna next month, while it's still covered in snow. That's one thing about Gustav, scratch that, one more thing about Gustav that used to annoy me. He didn't want to travel anywhere. We're in a beautiful European country but he was quite content to just sit at home and watch tv or play on the X box."