The New Matilde

"Just follow me," she says with a wink, pulling my arm gently while walking down the corridor. I'm following as fast as I can until we pause in front of a door I haven't been through before.

"Look. Our A key will do the trick," Kate says, unlocking the door.

We enter a dark and narrow space. Kate pushes the light switch and a neon tube starts flashing.

"You know what... I've run completely out of cigarettes."

"You can borrow from me. Look here."

Kate reaches behind some dusty books on a metal shelf, producing a pack of Red Prince 100 cigarettes, a lighter and a beerbottle.

"You're always welcome to borrow some of these. You can buy some and stock up our storage when you get the chance."

"Thanks."

"We smokers must stand together. Right, Matilde?" Kate smiles and I follow her to the opposite end of the room where some galvanized metal rungs lead upward. I touch a rung and look up. The rungs end at a hatch in the ceiling. I put my foot on the first rung.

"You might want to get rid of your heels if you're going climbing. If you bring the bottle, I'll climb ahead."

Kate disappears swiftly and with surprising agility up the rungs, holding the cigarette pack and lighter in her hands. She opens the hatch and sunlight streams into the storage room. I loosen my sandals and place them neatly next to the rungs before picking up the beerbottle which is half filled with old cigarette butts and ash. The rungs feel cold to my naked feet. I stick out my head through the open hatch, overwhelmed by the view of Frederiksberg's rooftops.

"Wow!"

"Yeah, right?"

Kate, who has lit her cigarette, lends me a hand and I step onto the warm roofing, heated by the morning sun. There's a mild breeze up here.

Kate offers me a Prince and lights it for me. It's a strong cigarette. Just what I needed.

"Ahhh, this is good!" I say, exhaling the first smoke and sensing how calm is spreading inside me after a hectic morning.

"Yeah. It makes you feel alive, doesn't it?" Kate nods.

I smile:

"Is Eva aware of this place?"

Eva is our principal, known for sneaking around the neighbourhood during the lunch break, trying to find students who are secretly smoking.

"She never gets up here. Don't worry about her. Come a little more over here, though. Otherwise they might see you from the schoolyard."

I take one step in her direction.

"What a nice rose. I didn't se that on Friday."

"No. I just had it done this weekend."

"I can see it must still be sore. But it looks so nice with your high heels. And it's great how you've painted your nails. New boyfriend, new style??"

"You could say that."

"He seems so nice... Thomas. I think it would be a good idea to hold onto him."

I smile and drag on my Prince cigarette while curiously studying the rooftops and sensing the wind in my hair and the nicotine buzz.

I manage another trip to the roof with Kate during our lunch break and I squeeze in a third visit between my last lesson and my team meeting.

Kate isn't around. While smoking alone on the roof I hear a sound from the hatch as if somebody closes a door. But I must have been mistaken, as noone is ascending the rungs. I drop my cigarette butt into the bottle as it's time for my meeting and start my descend, bottle and lighter in my hands.

With my foot on the last rung I hear somebody clearing their throat. I turn my head and I'm shocked to see my boss, Eva, right behind med.

"What would you be doing on the roof, Matilde?" she inquires unsmilingly.

I put my bare feet on the dusty floor and turn around without any clue as to what to say.

"Or I guess I don't need to ask you that."

Eva looks at the bottle in my right and Kate's lighter in my left hand. She reaches for the bottle, holding it into the light with two fingers in disgust. Smoke comes out of it.

"Don't you know, Matilde, that smoking is prohibited anywhere at this school, indoor and outdoor?"

"I do."

"Then I don't understand why you can even imagine climbing onto the roof to smoke."

I'm silent.

"Well, we'd better have a conversation about this at my office if you'd care to follow me. You may carry this."

She hands me the bottle, turning toward the door.

"Actually... I have to be at a team meeting," I manage to say.

"It can wait. Are you coming?" says Eva, having already opened the door to the corridor.

"I just need to get my sandals," I say, looking, in vain, for a chair to sit on while getting back into my heels. I'm not going to ask Eva to help me keep my balance the way Kate helped me earlier today, so I end up sitting down on the dirty floor, fumbling with the straps. Eva stands in the door, rattling her keys impatiently. I pick up the bottle and the lighter and Eva is leading us down from the fifth to the first floor where her office is located. On the third floor she is one landing ahead of me, even though I keep trying to catch up in my heels.

"Are you coming? After all you're the one who's in a hurry. Don't forget your team meeting," she remarks sharply from the landing below me.

"Yes, I'm coming," I say, leaning to the railing with my left and holding the bottle and the lighter in my right hand.

"Maybe you haven't exactly chosen the most practical shoes to wear for work. But that's none of my business of course," she states before continuing her swift steps down the stairs.

At her office she sits behind her well-organized desk. I take the guest chair, sitting with the bottle and the lighter on my lap.

"Actually I didn't expect to meet you in that storage room, Matilde. One of the janitors has been observing a lot of traffic in and out of that door. But frankly I didn't suspect you. Did you ever meet any of your colleagues up there?"

"I... no... I don't think so."

"Would you please give me that bottle?"

I lean forward, handing her the bottle. She takes it with her right thumb and index finger at looks at it against the light.

"You don't think you've met others on the roof? Does that mean that you smoked all of these?"

"I don't know."

"Okay. You don't know. Then let me ask you another question: Do you smoke cigarettes with and without a filter?"

"No... I... smoke cigarettes with a filter."

"So the butts in the bottle without a filter... You didn't smoke those?"

"No."

"Where did you get the bottle, Matilde?"

"It was on the shelf in the storage room."

"Was it empty when you first used it as an ashtray?"

"No."

"So others used it as an ashtray before you?"

"Yes. I think so."

"And you found it in the storage room on the fifth floor?"

"Yes."

"And you want me to believe that you've never met other colleagues who, like you, break the rules of the school by smoking up there? Do you really think that's credible, Matilde?"

"I don't know."

Eva sighs deeply.

"You don't know? I don't think this makes any sense. I want you to know that I see this as a breech of my trust in you as a teacher at this school. We have a very clear smoking policy. It implies that smoking is prohibited anywhere at the school. For the students and, not least, the teachers and other employees who should act as role models. Do you, by the way, agree with our smoking policy, Matilde? If not you have a chance to say so now."

"I... agree with it."

"Well. Nice to hear. I would kindly ask you to respect it from now on. Are you going to do that?"

"Yes I am."

"Good to know. I'd like to add that it's completely up to you what you do on your own time - including when you choose to ruin your health. But I'd like to give you this..."

Eva takes a pice of paper from one of her drawers.

"...which is a leaflet on courses on how to stop smoking. They're weekend courses and they come highly recommended."

"Thanks," I say, accepting the leaflet. "But I don't think it will be necessary."

"Of course. It's totally up to you how you want to damage yourself during your own time. But I don't want you to smoke during working hours. Have I made myself understood?"

"Totally."

"And if you really are addicted to the extend where you need a constant influx of poisonous nicotine into your body, you might want to go to a pharmacy to buy nicotine chewing gum or nicotine patches."

"Yes. I'm aware of that."

"Well. You shouldn't let your colleagues wait any longer. Get to your team meeting."

I get up, asking:

"Do you want me to take the bottle?"

"No. You won't need that any more. It stays here."

"Okay."

Eva stops me at the door:

"And Matilde?"

"Yes?"

"You smell of tobacco smoke. Don't! When you're at work!"

I close the door and hurry to the teachers' room, finding my team and joining my colleagues.

"Sorry I'm late."

After a couple of minutes at the table it occurs to me that I'm still holding Kate's lighter from the storage room between my fingers.

There is no break between the team meeting and the parents' meeting at five. The 90 minutes of the meeting seem like an eternity. Afterwards the usual suspects would like another word with the teacher. I seriously need a cigarette by now and keep my answers short. At ten to seven I hurry to the teachers' room, putting my laptop into the locker and tripping out of the school on my heels. A group of parents are still discussing in front of the school. I don't give a shit. I sit down on the stairs to take off my stilettos. On my bare feet I run towards Frederiksberg metro station to catch a train.

"On my way," I text to Thomas at two minutes past seven and add a red heart emoji.

"Take it easy," he replies after 30 seconds and returns the red heart.

I apply lipstick and get into my heels before getting off at Trianglen.

Leaving the train, I spot the elevators at the end of the platform and realize that they will provide a much faster and easier way to get to ground level than using escalators and stairs. I squeeze myself in with a young father with a pram, a girl with a bike and an elderly couple.

Getting out, I immediately see Thomas waiting at the top of the main stairs. I leave the cobblestones and walk toward him on the flat and even pavement, carefully putting one foot in front of the other.

Thomas sees me as I wave and starts walking in my direction, meeting me with a long, wet kiss, halfway between elevators and stairs.

Then he pulls away and looks me deeply into the eyes:

"You are so lovely," he says.

"You too."

"New earrings?"

"They're old."

"They suit you well."

"Nice to hear. According to my mother they're slutty."

"If that's slutty, then I like slutty. But I'd say you're elegant, walking in those heels."

"Thank you. I'm still kind of practicing."

Thomas moves his glance down toward my feet.

"Wow," he says, noticing my left foot.

Thomas squats down, gently touching my rose tattoo with his index finger.

"Ouch! It's still sore," I moan.

Thomas looks up with a smile.

"I know. I'll be careful."

He gets up and we kiss again for a long time. Then Thomas takes a step backwards.

"You taste so nice. And that fragrance... Have you by any chance... been smoking today?"

His question makes me smile:

"Yeah. To tell the truth I think... that I've... become a smoker."

Thomas kisses me again, letting his tongue play with mine.

"Can I take a picture of you?" he asks, pulling back a bit. "This light is amazing."

Behind us the sun is setting over the park.

"Yes. Absolutely. But I really need a cigarette now. I haven't smoked since four o'clock."

Thomas smiles, obviously impressed with my development.

"Feel free to light up!"

"Yeah. I'd love to. But the trouble is that I've run completely out of cigarettes."

Thomas sends me a big smile.

"We can handle that," he says enthusiastically.

Hand in hand we walk toward the 7-Eleven store at the other side of the square.

"Did you like the kind I bought for you on Friday?"

"Yeah. But I'd like something stronger now. I tried a Marlboro Red on Saturday so I think I'll go with them."

Thomas smiles at me, squeezing my hand.

"There's lipstick around your mouth," I whisper, entering the store.

"I like it," he laughs, licking his lips.

"A pack of Marlboro Reds, please," I say as it's our turn, about to pay for my first pack of cigarettes.

The guy behind the counter takes a pack from the shelf while I'm looking for my purse. Thomas already has his credit card, interrupting:

"We'll take a carton."

I look at Thomas in surprise.

"A carton?" the guy asks, showing the size of a carton with his hands

"Yes please," Thomas replies and the guy gets us a carton. Thomas pays with his card, opens the carton to take out one pack which he hands me.

"Thank you," I smile at him.

Thomas stuffs the Marlboro carton into my bag and with it sticking out of my bag we step onto the pavement outside the store. Thomas takes a picture of me with his iPhone while I'm lighting my cigarette.

"Come," he suggests. "Let's take more pictures before this fantastic light goes away." Holding hands we go back toward the park entrance where Thomas photographs me with the amazing orange sunset in the background.

Being done with the photography we slowly walk along Nordre Frihavnsgade.

"You really didn't have to buy a whole carton," I say.

"Don't you want to smoke them?"

"Absolutely. But I can buy my own cigarettes."

"I guess I'm the one who got you hooked. So the least I can do is to pay for it."

"Hooked? I'm not hooked. I just feel like smoking."

"Let's just say that. Anyway, I'll be willing to pay for all the Marlboro Reds you'd like to smoke. Just tell me when you run out of them."

"You're crazy," I say, shaking my head while taking a last inhale before crushing out the butt in a green, municipal waste bin. Thomas kisses me before I've finished exhaling, making the last bit of smoke come out of my nose in the middle of a French kiss.

"That's nice," says Thomas. "I hope you feel like eating too."

Thomas takes me to an intimate French bistro at a square further down the street. The outdoor tables are screened off from the square by some large flower pots and covered by a canopy hanging on the wall.

"I'd like to sit outside," I say, steering toward a free table for two.

"So you don't think it'll be to cold for you?" Thomas smiles and pulls out a chair for me.

I wave my cigarette pack and lighter, placing them on the table in front of med before sitting down. Thomas smiles knowingly.

"Fuck! I totally forgot your jacket. It's at the cleaner's, but I had absolutely no time to pick it up. I've spent eleven hours at the school today. I'm so sorry I puked on it!"

I fish another cigarette from my pack.

"Don't you worry. I forgot your Nike shoes at home."

"Doesn't matter. I'm not going to wear shoes for the next couple of days anyway," I laugh with an unlit Marlboro dangling from my lips, sticking out my left foot.

"So you're not returning the sandals after all?"

"No. They're just so cool... Even though I've got to admit that my feet are aching a bit after a whole day in heels. I think I'll just take them off as we sit here.

I put the cigarette on the table, loosening the straps, discretely massaging my toes.

A young waitress brings the menus. I notice the price level which is clearly beyond the weekday budget of a schoolteacher. Thomas is reading my mind:

"Don't forget: This is on me."

I smile at him, lighting the cigarette with my right hand while leafing through the menu with my left and considering the entrées.

"Excuse me," says a voice behind me.

I turn around. It's a couple in their sixties. The man, who is sitting right behind me, has turned around and does the talking.

"I need you to put that out, young lady!"

"What?" I say, disoriented.

"That cigarette. We're eating."

"Okay."

I reach across the table to find an ashtray without finding one.

"For crying out loud!" Thomas says angrily. "We're in open air."

"Listen! I'm paying 200 kroner for this amazing hors d'oeuvre and I don't want some random woman to blow smoke into my face while I'm eating it," the man replies in a similar tone.

"Then go inside. My... girlfriend worked all day without a chance to smoke and now she needs a cigarette," Thomas practically shouts.

I feel a sting of happiness at the word "girlfriend".

"As if that were my problem," the man answers.

I put my hand on Thomas' arm, trying to break into the argument:

"It's okay, Thomas. I don't have to smoke now."

I take a last inhale before putting out my Marlboro against the pavement.

"No. It's fucking not okay. We're sitting outside, and you're absolutely going to smoke all you want here."

A waiter in his fifties comes to our table.

"I'm sorry. But actually it's house policy that our guests should be able to enjoy their dinner without being bothered by tobacco smoke here. So if you'd please refrain from smoking at the table!" he points out.

"Yes. Of course. Sorry," I say, feeling embarassed for having caused the conflict.

"Don't be sorry, Matilde!" shouts Thomas, abruptly getting to his feet and stretching out his hand toward me.

"We're leaving."

Impatiently he waves his hand and I place my now unlit cigarette between my lips, my bag over my shoulder, pick my sandals up from the pavement and reach for his hand.

The waiter turns to the couple, apologizing:

"Your hors d'oeuvres will be on the house, naturally. We're so very sorry," I hear him say as I'm pulled away by Thomas who moves away from the bistro very fast. Barefoot I practically run, holding Thomas' hand, until he finally stops at the middle of the square, granting me a chance to re-light the burnt, black tip of my cigarette.

"Idiots!" Thomas says, taking obvious care to speak loud enough for the couple and the waiter to hear him.

"Burgers are also fine," I say, pointing my burning cigarette at the burger restaurant at the opposite side of the square where I've conveniently spotted ashtrays on the outdoor tables.

"Are you sure, Matilde?"

"Absolutely."

We sit at a small round table with our backs against the facade of the building, ordering beer and burgers. I'm having a small burger, no fries, whereas Thomas wants a full menu of big burger, fries and onion rings. I crush out my cigarette as the waitress is bringing our beer. Thomas shows me the pictures he just took with his phone.

"They're good," I comment.

"Yes. You're very photogenic. Particularly when you smoke. And the light was ideal."

I wrap my arms around me, feeling cold, and attentive Thomas gets up to get me a blanket.

I browse through the pictures on his phone before putting it down and grabbing my Marlboros in the bag, waving them at Thomas.

"Do you think there is time for one more before the burgers are ready?"

"Oh yes."

He leans forward to light the cigarette with my lighter and I sense the warmth from the smoke spread inside me as I give an account of the day's events, the secret smoking spot on the roof, getting caught and reprimanded by Eva, my trip to Frederikssund and the Sunday morning visit by my mother and Svend.

"You really told your mother the awful truth."

"Yeah. It was a bit like a bottle of ketchup. All of a sudden it all came at once..."

"I think it's a good strategy with inconvenient truths, get it all out at once."

"Yeah. Maybe. At least I don't have to worry about telling my mum that I've become a smoker."

"Or your boss."

"Or that I wear heels."

"And paint your nails."

"And use a red lipstick."

"And slutty earrings."

"Not to mention my... tattoo."

"Your sexy tattoo."

"Yes. My sexy tattoo,"I laugh while wriggling my left foot, inhaling. Thomas leans toward me, kissing me on my lips while I'm keeping the smoke in my lungs. I pull back a bit to exhale before tongue kissing for a long time while my Marlboro smokes itself in my right hand.