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“Issy? Where are you?” Even’s low rumble calls out rushing in.“In here” Isak replies standing next to the counter in the kitchen. Stethoscope still around his neck, his work bag and white coat sitting on a chair nearby, checking his phone.Even pokes his head through the door leaning on the door frame, and gestures to Isak “We’ve got to go!”
“Where?”“The school just called, Gwydion and Iliane were in a fight. The principal wants to talk to us.”“A fight?” Isak asks, his eyes going wide, his eyebrows rising into his hairline. He can’t believe it, “Both of them?” he asks.“Yep! Grab the keys, I’ll go start the car.”
They park the car in the visitors' space and run inside, heading for the principal’s office. An assistant, Even remembers her from when he went to the same school, greets them and points them to the principal’s office open door, “He’s expecting you, walk right in.” She smiles kindly to both of them.The Principal, a youngish man, in his late 30s, dressed casually with a button-down shirt and khaki pants. He stands and steps around his desk to greet Isak and Even with a strong firm hand shake.
“Ah Mr. Valtersen, Mr. Bech Næshiem, thank you for coming.” They return the greeting. Isak gets straight to the point, he wants to know details.“What happened? Where are Gwydion and Iliane? Was anyone hurt?” He asks in rapid fire succession, while Even rests a calming hand on Isak’s shoulder. The Principal looks at both of them, smiles understandingly, returning toward his seat, inviting Even and Isak to sit opposite him. Slowly lowering himself in his chair he begins.“From what we could piece together, there were words exchanged between Gwydion and a group of other students which escalated in a shoving match. Gwydion seems to have lost balance or actually was hit at some point during this exchange, we couldn’t confirm that, so we’re not sure, but he landed on the ground.” Isak and Even’s eyes meet, they look at each other not recognizing their son’s behavior in any of what they are being told.
“But, unfortunately, everyone saw Iliane, who was nearby, turn, step over Gwydion, and stand over him, while she punched one of the other students. The bell rang shortly after, students dispersed from the school yard back into the building, except for Gwydion and Iliane.” The principal looks truly disappointed, takes a breath and continues, “They remained outside and started screaming insults, and shoving at each other. It quickly devolved into a physical argument, and a wrestling match. When we finally separated them, they were brought here, but we’ve had to keep them in separate rooms with a teacher assistant to oversee each of them since the incident.” With a sigh of resignation, the principal continues, “Neither will speak to us about what was said to start the whole incident. Nor what is prompting them to be so angry, toward each other, although I can surmise some level of sibling rivalry. The parents of the student hit are not going to file a formal complaint, but they have asked that the entire group be put in
restorative justice.”Isak and Even are appalled, without words for a long while. Breaking out of the initial stunned surprise of the whole incident, Isak inquires
“Injuries?”“Luckily, none. Other than a few black eyes, some scratches, and ripped clothing.”Even, blinks and asks, “How can we help, what do you need us to do?”With a sigh, reluctant to meet out this information, the principal says, “Unfortunately, I’m going to have to suspend them both for one day. But, they’ll need to attend the restorative justice meetings every day during class time, until the matter is settled between the entire group. And, then stay after school to make up the classes they won’t be able to attend during normal hours. We’ve had to physically separate them all day today, and I don’t know If we can have them in the same room yet. I can only spare one assistant teacher to supervise, would one of you be able to lend a hand to supervise?”“Yes, of course. I’ll do that.” Even volunteers right away.They continue to discuss particulars of the day, and logistics for the coming days. Before they part, the Principal asks them to address the matter head on.“I would ask you, if you can, to reason and talk with both of them tonight and tomorrow. See if you can get them to some sort of truce, that would be most effective to the work that will be done in the restorative circle.”“Of course, we’ll do our best.”
The Principal adds, “A word of warning. They’re still very angry, and have sustained it for most of the day. We’ve had to separate them twice already.”“Thank you. We’ll deal with this at home.”Isak and Even exit the school’s main office, and
as directed head off down a corridor toward the classrooms that hold Gwydion and Iliane.Even asks, “Who do you want to deal with?”“I’ll go to Iliane, and take her to the car first.” Isak replies“Okay.”
Isak stops in front of the classroom door. He’s pissed. What he wants to do is let both of them have a
rough talking-to; but,it would be counterproductive to let his emotions rule the moment. He breathes to calm his anger. It’s probably best for the situation if he’s just stern and unflinching. He opens the door and steps into the classroom.Iliane paces like a caged lioness, her hair disheveled, one of her sleeves is ripped and dangling off her shoulder, she has scratches on her face and dried tear streaks. Her clothes are filthy. She swivels her head at the sound of her Dad entering. She stares at Isak angrily, her eyes shooting daggers. Her arms cross in front of her. Isak returns her stare in the most stern face he’s ever used with either of the children.“Get your stuff, we’re going home,” he commands her in an emotionless, low register voice. She retorts, “I’m not fucking going anywhere with that fucking asshole!”“You will do as I say.” He replies in the same tone, adding “Now!“ Making the second command in an even lower range and more threatening.They stare at each other unblinking. It’s a standoff at the Okay Corral, until he breaks the stare-down saying, “Fine, suit yourself.” He shrugs his shoulders taking a long step toward where she’s standing, momentarily throwing her off guard. Ducking down he grabs her back pack with one hand, takes a second step and hoists her over his shoulder, fire-fighter style.
“Put me down!”She growls.“Are you going to come with me to the car quietly?”“No! I’m fucking not!” She spits out irate.“It’s a choice.” Isak replies, walking toward the door. They walk down the hall, out the front entrance to the school, to the parked car. Isak sets Iliane down. As soon as her feet touch the ground she makes a move to run. But, Isak grabs her shirt from the collar, and opens the door to the car, pulls her back and traps her between his body, the opened door and the front passenger seat behind her.“Get in, and buckle up.” He orders her, his voice going even lower than before. His eyes unflinching. She sets her mouth, tightens her jaws, reluctantly does as she’s told.He locks the car and stands outside leaning against it, waiting for Even to arrive with Gwydion.
Even stops in front of the other classroom door. He’s disappointed. He needs to be strong though. He’ll be stern and unemotional. He can be stern. He opens the door and steps through.Gwydion, sitting at a desk, rests his head on his hands staring at the door. His hair looks like a bird’s nest, he’s got scratches on his face, a black eye swelling, his clothes are filthy caked in dry mud, his shirt collar ripped and dangling by a few threads. He eyes Even sullenly.“Let’s go home, Gwydion.” He gestures toward the door.“I’m not fucking going anywhere, if she’s fucking there!”“Get your stuff, and come with me. This is your only warning!” Even replies, keeping his voice even, and unemotional.“No!”“Fine, the hard way then!”He walks to the desk faster than Gwydion can move, grabs him by his upper arm with one hand, and hauls him upright, picks up the back pack with his other hand.
With a combination of drag and pushes they make their way out the door, down the hall and out the front door of the school, toward their waiting car and a leaning Isak waiting for them.“I’m not getting in that fucking car!”“Yes you are, or you and I are walking home.”Isak opens the back seat door keeping a keen eye on Gwydion’s every move, predicting he would try the same break that Iliane had tried earlier. They both grab at him and trap him between their bodies, the open door, and the back seat of the car.“Get in, and buckle up!” They say together.“And keep your hands to yourselves, both of you!” Isak adds eyeing both of them with slitted eyes, before he closes the door.
It’s not a long drive, but it seems interminable. The air in the car is tense. Isak trying to concentrate on the road and fending off arms and hands, while Even tries to keep the kids from hitting each other and disrupting Isak’s driving. The insults are hurled back and forth the entire trip.

Before they let the kids out of the car. They set the rules.Phones, tablets, and laptops confiscated until they earn them back.Gwydion in the guest roomIliane their shared bedroom.They can eat dinner with everyone or can come down one at the time.Lights out at 20:30
“You are both suspended from school for tomorrow. And thereafter, you are to attend restorative justice sessions until the matter is fully resolved between you two and all the students that were part of this incident.” Isak tells them.“Now, since you can’t be trusted to keep your hands to yourselves, we’ll both accompany you to your rooms, collect all devices, and leave you to think about this day until dinner time.” Even instructs, adding “We’ll decide tonight if you are to have any other grounding or rules.”Isak and Even get out of the car, and eye each other shaking their heads, their mouths thin-lipped and set in sideways scowls. This is their first taste of the teen years, and it’s a doozy.
Gwydion and Even get into the house first, followed shortly by Iliane and Isak. They each collect various devices, and leave the kids in their respective rooms, doors open.They are about to set foot on the last step of the stairs when, first one door, then the other slam shut upstairs.“Yeah..I’m going to take those doors off the hinges, if they keep slamming them though!” Isak says to Even at the bottom of the stairs.“I’ll help you! When?”“We give them just one chance to not slam, one trip to the bathroom each, then we take the doors off.”“They’re going to hate that!”“I’m counting on it!”
“Dinner’s ready” calls out Isak. Gwydion comes down, not before he hurls a few insults at Iliane through her closed door.Dinner, predictably, is a somber affair with no conversations except for grunts and single syllable replies from Gwydion to Isak’s or Even’s attempts at drawing out of him what really happened earlier in the day. On his way back to his room Gwydion starts hammering at her door with his fists and hurtling more insults at his sister, before walking to his room and slamming his door.“Well that’s one door that’s coming off.” Isak comments, sighing in resignation.Iliane never does come downstairs to eat. When Isak goes to ask if she’s hungry she replies“I’m on strike. I’m not eating ever again!”Okay, a bit dramatic he thinks, replying “It’s a choice, suit yourself.”While Even assembles a plate and leaves it in the fridge, Isak goes and retrieves a few tools from the garage. Making his way back into the house he crosses paths with Even, who shakes his head silently in response to his raised eyebrow.They stand listening for sounds, Even looking at his watch says, “It’s almost 20:30”.
Stomping footfalls from Iliane’s room, the bathroom door opens and closes, shortly after she stomps back to her room. Door slam.A resigned sigh escapes both of them, they shake their heads and start up the stairs. They work on Iliane’s door first.“What are you doing?” She asks with a shriek.“What does it look like we’re doing Iliane?” Isak asks calmly, all business, starting to remove the perns from the hinges of her door.“You can’t do that! I need privacy!”“Yes you do, and you can have it in the bathroom as much as you need. This door is coming off until you’re able to close it without slamming it.”“This is unfair!”“Yes, it is. But, actions have consequences.”They walk over to Gwydion’s door, and start working on removing that one too. He lies on the bed staring up at the ceiling, his arms crossed behind his head. He doesn’t protest or argue.
They store the doors in the garage.
“Lights out!” Even says from the hallway, turns and heads toward the stairs to go sit in the living room and discuss with Isak how they are going to address this situation between the twins. It’s completely unfamiliar territory for them.
He takes a few steps down the stairs, and that’s when the insults begin all over again.“Sack of entrails!”“Smug bastard!”“Mud-for brains”“Plague boil!”Even arrives in the living room, letting himself fall on the couch to slouch next to Isak. He sighs loudly, surrender to the circumstance written all over his face. He closes his eyes.
“It’s going to be a long night!”Isak eyes him with a questioning raised eyebrow, “What now?”“They’re sending insults to each other across the hallway.”
“Seriously?”“Yeah,” Even replies in resignation, pushing the palms of his hands against his eye sockets. “We need to find out what happened and get them to at least talk to each other, we need to reason with them.”“Agreed, but it’s not going to be easy. Iliane is especially peeved about it all, she’s itching for a fight, and she’s too good at pushing all my buttons. She pushes the right one and I might just give her the fight she’s looking for. Probably not the best solution to our problem.”“I’ll see if I can reason with her tomorrow.” Even suggests. “Why don’t you take Gwydion for a run, maybe physical activity will get him out of his head to open up a bit.”They turn the TV on but neither is really interested, it’s just background noise, while the insults become more colorful and inventive upstairs.
At 1:00 Even steps out of their bedroom, where he’s been tossing and turning, unable to sleep, into the hallway and bellows “That’s enough! I don’t want to hear a word out of either of you.”
At 7:00 Isak wakes up Gwydion, “Get up Gwydion, we’re going for a run.”“Dad? What? Now?” He replies half asleep not comprehending what he is being told.“Get dressed and meet me downstairs in 10 minutes.” Isak gives him no quarters.“What about me?” Iliane calls slightly plaintively from her room.“Since we can’t trust you two to keep your hands off each other, you get to stay home.” Isak replies without thinking twice, and unknowingly provoking Iliane into action. He goes downstairs to wait
for Gwydion,
wandering into the kitchen and pouring himself some coffee. He joins Even leaning against the counter drinking his tea.
They hear stomping, and both Even and Isak follow the sound to intercept it.
Iliane, her jacket on, her hair in a messy bun, and a bag over her shoulder, she yells
“Fuck this! I’ve had enough of it all. No one cares about me in this house! I’m leaving!”“Where are you going?” Even asks neutrally.“None of your business!” She replies on the verge of tears, opens the front door and leaves.At the top of the stairs, Gwydion says “Good riddance, finally!”Even grabs a jacket saying over his shoulder, “I’ll
take care of Iliane, I’ll text you,” and is out the door in hot pursuit of their daughter.Isak looks up at Gwydion, “That was uncalled for, and hurtful. I don’t know what’s got into both of you, but I intend to get to the bottom of it.”A long pause between them allows Isak to really look at Gwydion and see a boy that’s hurting emotionally and physically.
“Come, let me take care of your face, and get you some ice for your eye.” He joins Gwydion at the top of the stairs. They both walk to the bathroom. The doctor in Isak takes over while he takes care of some major and minor scratches. When done, they revert back to the kitchen for an ice pack. He hands Gwydion the cold pack for his face.
“What happened yesterday Gwydion?” Isak finally asks, as Gwydion slowly applies the pack to his face wincing, looking at Isak warily with his one good eye. With Iliane gone, he seems on the verge of wanting to give up his stoic, pissed, injured demeanor he’s sustained for nearly twenty four hours.Isak tries an encouraging smile, “Look it’s just you and me here. Let’s just talk about it. I won’t say a word, I’ll just listen.”Gwydion seems to debate in his head the pros and cons of talking to his Dad. He eyes him askance, biting his lower lip, so reminiscent of Even, finally nodding once.“Okay, now we’re getting somewhere. I’ll fix you some breakfast. Forget about running, we can do that later.”
The moment she steps outside the gate of their front yard, Iliane knows she’s in trouble. She takes off at a fast clip down the pavement, trying to put as much distance between her and her parents, and outrun her rising fear. As she walks she realizes how unprepared she is to leave the safety of the only home she's ever known.
For one she doesn’t have but a 500 NKRs in her pocket - all her meager savings.
She’ll need to get a job to survive.
Secondly, she doesn’t have her phone so she can’t call anyone if she’s in trouble.Maybe Chris or Eva, or her grandparents could get her a new one, and she’ll pay them back.And thirdly, she’s not eaten since breakfast the day before, and she’s hungry.Well, at least she’s not on hunger strike anymore.Fuck it! They’ll all regret this, she’ll make them regret treating her like they do!
Her anger at Gwydion, now liberally attributed to everyone in the house.
She isn’t aware that Even is following her.She’s so angry she could scream. Well why not. So she stops and lets out a blood curdling scream, throwing her bag on the ground for good measure. She picks it back up and keeps going aiming for the nearest tram station.
She returns to her jumbled emotions and thoughts of revenge, making the same points to herself she’s made all along. No one cares about her. She’s the odd woman out in a house of men. It was time for her to leave, and she’s not going back. Nope. Not going to happen.On the way to the station she catches a glimpse of a children’s park they used to go to, up until a few years ago with Dad and Pappa, she turns toward it, abandoning thoughts of riding the tram. She misses those days. She remembers days of playing with Gwydion, running and laughing for hours. The memory melts the last spurt of anger left in her, and makes her sadness and self pity rise and wash over her. A
lump rising in her throat. She is even more conscious of the drastic choice she has made. Telling herself she’s condemned to a life of loneliness. She’ll have to be strong, she resolves.She stops at the intersection leading to the entrance into the park and the playground, waiting for a green crosswalk light. Even walking behind her the entire way, decides to pull up beside her, smiles but doesn’t say a thing, his hands in the pockets of his jacket. They wait for the light to turn, and cross the intersection together, entering the park walking toward the playground. There are very few children around, so Iliane puts her bag on a bench and goes to sit on a swing, pushing herself with her feet in gentle back and forths.

Even takes a seat on the bench with Iliane’s bag, and observes his daughter swing morosely back and forth. He takes out his sketchbook, and starts to draw. She seems so small at this moment. Her face is both fierce and sad. Her auburn reddish hair cascading around her shoulders, makes her twelve years look older. It’s her eyes that give her away though. Like Isak, she thinks she can hide behind a facade she believes she is capable of raising at will. But he can see through her, as much as he’s always been able to see through Isak’s pretense. She looks lost, fear and uncertainty rising in her eyes, the sideways bent of her mouth. It’s almost like he can hear the wheels of her brain working toward some finite decision resigning to her fate. So melodramatic at times, he thinks.She gets up from the swing with a long and heavy sigh and goes to sit next to Even on the bench. He can see she’s all in her head. If he asked her anything at this moment, she’d retreat into her shell, and never open up to him. He continues to sketch, acting unfazed by Iliane’s seat next to him. A mother with a toddler in front of them play in the sandbox.Silently she leans against Even’s shoulder, resting her head. He dares to ask in a calm, soothing tone.“Iliane, Honey, what’s going on?”She shakes her head, sucking on the drawstring of her hoodie.“You’re not ready to say. I can appreciate that.” He answers her silent reply. “Are you warm enough? It’s kinda chilly out here.”“I’m fine.” She replies, her voice trembling.“We’ll just sit here and keep each other company while we think, alright Honey?” He offers her an out, knowing she’s probably at the end of her strength, emotionally and physically.
He’s in awe of her. This formidable young girl, who is transforming before Isak’s and his eyes into an independent, and resourceful young woman. And, she’s theirs. How lucky can they be, really?
The mother and toddler he’s sketching are tending to a scraped knee, ending with the mother picking up the toddler and twirling with him in her arms to the sound of his giggles and laughter.That’s when Iliane falls apart in her father’s arms. And just cries on his shoulders. He lets her.At first it’s just a stream of blubbering and wailing muffled in the folds of his jacket. Slowly with great hiccups shaking her frame, she sobbingly pours her heart out to him.She knows that a boy, Andrian Eksett, is trouble, and he’s been bothering Gwydion for weeks now. He punched her brother and…and she wasn’t going to stand for that. After she had risked suspension for him, Gwydion had called her a busybody, dritter, c-word, and that he didn't want her as a sister anymore.
Even could see she was devastated, mostly humiliated, and oh so very hurt. Gwydion had taken this entirely too far. Although, to be fair, he could see his perspective as well. He could understand how Gwydion may have felt equally humiliated at being straddled by his sister while she fought above him, in front of the whole school.“Pappa, I’m just not appreciated anymore.” She says, as if she was explaining something he had clearly missed.“Why do you say that, Honey?” He asks, wanting her to explain her feelings. But, unknowingly proving her point.
“Because, well, you are all guys and…and I’m all alone, and Dad doesn’t even want to run with me anymore.” she falls apart on him all over again.“Oh Honey, you’re not alone at all. You have Chris and Eva, and Nana Marienne, and Nana Sigrid…we all love you.”She lifts herself to look at him, her eyes red rimmed, her nose running, she asks “You think so?”“I know so.”“Do you think they’ll take me in, now that I left home?”“You’re sure you want to leave?” He asks.“Yes.” She answers gravely, nodding and wiping her face on her sleeves. “I’m just not appreciated anymore, I have to” she repeats with the resigned conviction of a twelve year old who believes that if she says or does something important, she has to keep to her word.“You don’t seem very happy about it.” He remarks looking at her, a kind smile on his lips, gently pushing her hair off her face.She folds over and puts her head on his lap silently crying. He smoothes her hair while he keeps listening to her.“Well, I don’t have any money, and I don’t have my phone anymore, and I don’t know where I’m going to sleep, but I have to do it. I said I was not coming back.”He just wants to smother her, and take her in his arms and tell her everything is going to be okay, she can come back. But he knows it’s not the right thing to do. Slowly she cries herself to sleep. It’s getting cold so he wraps her with his jacket and calls Isak.
Text from Isak: I’m at the park’s gate. I’ve called Sigrid, we can bring her there.Even slides his arms under Iliane's legs and shoulders, rocks her head against his chest. He carries her to the car. Isak opens the back seat and Even slides Iliane in, buckling her in. He feels like they’ve stepped back at least ten years, when they still needed to buckle the kids in their car seats.When they get to Jan’s and Sigrid’s he picks her up in his arms again and brings her to his old bedroom. Tucking her in, removing her shoes, not even bothering to undress her. He joins Isak and his parents in the kitchen.“Thanks mom!” He whispers close to her cheek, before kissing her.“Can you keep her through the week? I’ll come get her every morning to bring her to school.”“Of course. She needs a break. They both need a break from each other. We’ll keep her here for as long as she wants to stay.” She adds, “We’ll have a heart-to-heart. I’ll get to the bottom of all this. They’ll miss each other sooner than you think. Mark my words.” She smiles and winks at both Isak and Even.With a knowing smile Jan adds “Welcome to the teen years, beer everyone?”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Now
Gwydion is still playing his cello in his room. He keeps jumping from one piece of music to another. None of them the piece everyone in the house knows is the one he’s supposed to be practicing for his recital. When he stops, there's a whole lot of clanging noise, his bow scraping over the strings.Then—silence.Then, it starts all over again.The door to her room opens, and two small figures walk in, one trailing a blanket the other a worn out stuffy as big as himself.“Iliane, very loud.” Ewan and Ljøl say together with small plaintive voices.“Come on you two, jump in, “she invites them under her duvet.They scramble onto her bed, settling on either side of her. Their heads on her shoulders, their heads smelling of baby shampoo. She covers all of them together under the warmth of the duvet, and they wait it out until the noise level coming from Gwydion’s room is low enough for them to finally drift off to sleep.
The following morning what strikes her is how Pappa follows Gwydion’s every move, his eyes like a hawk’s trained on her brother, while hers are on Pappa. Dad is too busy feeding Ewan and Ljøl and pushing her and Gwydion out the door to school to notice Pappa’s silence and concentrated face. Something in Pappa’s eyes tells her he’s both angry and sad.She leans into him to say goodbye, he mumbles something as an afterthought patting her on her back.“Rude!” she chides him out loud. Calling him out, for not giving her his usual warm send off. That seems to bring him back into his body, in the present.“Sorry, Honey!” Even kisses her on the forehead and gives her a one-arm squeeze around her shoulders. But, his eyes are still on Gwydion, unrelenting in their focus.In the foyer, she picks up her bag, while passing behind Gwydion as he positions his cello case on his back, and his book bag hanging in front of his chest.
“See ya!” they say together, and they’re out the door walking to the tram. She’s heading toward Nissen Skole, Gwydion toward Edvard Munch Skole.
On night three, the clatter and a strangled
scream, followed by strings being grated jolt her out of her sleep and sitting up in her bed once again. She checks her phone.It's 03:00 in the morning“Oh for fuck Sake!” She says out loud in her darkened room. She lets herself fall back onto her pillows, pulling one over her head, and screaming into it.
Nope!
She’s had it!
This is the third night in a row. She gets up, stomps to her bedroom door, swings it open, Ewan and Ljøl fall against her legs. She whispers, “Follow me!” as she moves past her two younger brothers and walks, determined toward her fathers’ room.
When she steps into their bedrooms, Pappa is getting up, and Dad is sitting up, both wide awake.“Pappa, why is Gwydion still up?” She asks, rubbing her eyes.“I don’t know honey, I’m going to go talk to him.” Pappa replies, he gestures for her to come lie down on the big bed in his place.She pads over to the bed, slumps into the still warm mattress and curls up against her Dad; he smooths her hair pushing it off her face, as she closes her eyes feeling safe, feeling like they’ll handle this, and she can go back to sleep. Her two shadows follow her into the room holding their stuffies, and crawl up next to her and Dad.She’s so tired, all she hears is Pappa say in a tone she’s never heard him use before, rough and commanding “Get the number ready.” But she’s too tired to react.
Time flows by as she curls up closer to her Dad. She’s on the verge of deep sleep, she lets herself slowly fall into its depths, when she feels Dad slip out of the bed, repositioning a sleeping Ljøl, then talking on the phone in a hushed voice.
All she cares about is sleep right now.

Now:

Iliane POV
She was tired. Three nights of not sleeping made her almost
fall asleep in English class, the teacher even kept her after class to talk to her about it. She meets up with her best friend Alexa and they make their way toward the tram stop to return home.The tram is full, but the crowd is slowly thinning as it winds its way toward the end of the line, shedding a few passengers at every stop. A few seats together finally become available, and Iliane and Alexa slump into them trying not to mind the obnoxious passenger behind them.
Gwydion has been on her mind all night and all day. And, today he stayed home. She had entered his room to find him in Pappa’s arms on his bed, holding onto Pappa, as if he was afraid Pappa would float away. The scene struck her, raising a sense of fear she has never felt before, and she doesn’t like it when she can’t identify what she’s feeling. They both looked so wrecked, she felt her heart wrench in her chest, emotions flooded her chest none of which she could identify.
Pappa had put up a brave face for her. But she recognized it for what it was. Pretense. She wasn’t buying any of it.What was going on?She had her suspicions, after all Pappa’s condition had never been hidden from them.
Could Gwydion have the same thing?
How could they know for sure?
What did it mean for her?What will happen to Gwydion? To his music?She has no answers, but she’s resolved to talk to Dad tonight and get some. Dad would know, he would tell her? Right?
She tries to calm her run away thoughts by looking outside the tram’s window to the streets of Oslo passing by, when the loud voice behind them says, “I can’t be around mentally ill people, they should be rounded up and locked away.”Instantly Iliane’s hackles rise on the back of her neck. The words hit her heart like a harpoon. The pain and the realization that her family, her closest loved ones, could be put away without compassion wound her deeply. And, in her heightened state of emotional uncertainty, those stranger’s words turn her pain into fury. The offending speaker, still spewing nonsense, can't seem to know how to shut-the-hell-up! Like, they need the whole world to acknowledge how ignorant they are. Iliane can’t stay quiet. She stands up while Alexa tries to hold her back, “Iliane don’t!-----Don’t!” She says, in short hushed warnings to no avail, too familiar with Iliane's propensity for directness and bursts of anger; she’s trying to protect her friend. But, Iliane isn’t hearing any of it, her anger overtaking her reason.
She stands up.
She grabs a pole to hold herself steady, swings her book bag over her shoulder, looks at the offending adult and icily stares at them with daggers in her eyes.“You don’t know what you’re talking about! If anyone should be rounded or locked up, it is ignorant people like you.” Iliane spits out, loud enough for passengers in the immediate vicinity to hear her. She hears a few sharp intakes of breath around her, while Alexa slowly slides down in her seat, hiding in her hoodie.With a phshshsh sound, the doors open behind Iliane, she turns and gets off the tram. As soon as the doors close behind her, she growls, “Fuck!” angry at herself for her behavior. And, in her haste to leave the tram, she’s put herself three stops from her house! Now, she’s going to have to walk the rest of the way.
“Fuck!” she growls again, she even left her friend on the bus. She stops on the pavement to pull her hair in a bun, then
resumes her walk toward home. She takes out her phone and sends a quick apology to Alexa.
“Fuuuuuck!” she yells out loud in anger and frustration for a third time. She’s so angry at everything and everyone wight now. She doesn’t even realize the fast pace at which she’s walking. The next thing she knows she is close enough to home to see their car pull into the driveway, and Dad and Pappa enter the house. She steps through the front door right behind them, still fuming and angry, she slams the door, toes off her shoes kicking them off, disappearing stomping toward her room. Her door may be taken off again, but she doesn’t care, she slams it anyway.
She needs to hit something, she needs to dissipate this sense of being out of control, of frustration, of not knowing, of powerlessness, of ...of... . She dips into her bag for her laptop and phone, she puts them safely on her desk. She returns to her bag, grabs it by the shoulder straps and begins to slam it on the floor. Each throw a little harder muttering at first, then eventually yelling, “Fucking asshole!! AAAAARRGHH!”“Well, okay then!” She’s startled by Pappa’s deep voice, his tall body leaning onto the door frame, with a tinge of amusement in his voice, dark-rimmed, tired eyes locked onto her, watching her, a slight smile on his lips.She pushes her hair out of her face with her forearm, exhaling hard.“You want to talk about it?” Pappa asks.She shakes her head, turns on her socked heels, and kicks the bookbag a few more times for good measure.“You know there’s the punching bag in the garage for just this reason, so you can get anger out of your system.” Pappa reminds her, with a wry look on his face.She doesn’t answer. Her initial anger is beginning to recede, letting confusion and sadness seep into her thoughts and overtaking her emotions.“It’s about Gwydion.” Pappa confirms, he just states it, because he knows, he always knows.She turns to him once more. Bites her lower lip - just like he does - nods twice. She can feel the lump rising in her throat, the tears brimming in her eyes. She bites down on her lip harder. She feels her face crumpling and her Pappa’s strong arms and solid chest holding her. She feels so lost and confused right now. She just wants to know that her brother is going to be ok? But is he...?“Sh, sh, You’re all right. I’m right here.”

Then:

She remembers the time they painted Jabari….the first time she was ever conscious something extra was going on with Pappa.

Gwydion and she were almost six.

“Pappa what are you doing?” She asks her tall father; her wide, inquisitive eyes watching him dart around the house, having trouble keeping up with his long fast strides.“I’m looking for my paintbrushes and some paint.”“Are we drawing today?” Gwydion asks from behind her, sounding excited at the prospect to make art.“Yes!” Pappa says with a big wide smile laughing and handing them bundles of paint brushes that they can carry in their small arms.Trailing behind Pappa all over the house and then to the living room he tells her and Gwydion to help him move the couch. He's so radiant when Pappa is happy.“Okay you two on that end of the couch, and Bear - a large stuffy -
and I on this end. Ready?” Pappa asks them first serious, then laughing.“Ready!” They both reply together excitedly.“1,2,3, Push!” They repeat counting and pushing a few times, until the heavy couch is far away from the wall for all of them to walk back and forth along the wall without touching it.
“Stay here,” Even tells them, turning and running through the house upstairs. In no time he’s back holding 2 old grown up t-shirts
and snapbacks. His excitement is infectious and they wait expectantly for him to return.“Here you go, let me help you put these on,“ He kneels to be closer to their height, and guides their little arms through the sleeves, tying a knot above their knees so they don’t trip on the extra big, faded shirts. He places hats backwards on their heads “Just like Dad wears,” he says, “ Now let’s put this down, so we don’t make a mess on the floor, and this one over the couch” Even says pulling out two large plastic tarps.They try so hard to help Pappa with their little arms, they want to make him happy. And, he’s so happy right now, they love when Pappa is happy they get to do so many fun things.“Good job helpers! I think that was hard work. I think we need a snack before we start painting!”

She remembers how Pappa made them cheese toasties for a snack, they also had a scoop of ice cream and made a pact to not tell Dad about it. All the while Pappa told them how they were going to paint the wall, he spoke so fast about all the details. She remembers how they play-marched into the living room to take their assigned spots in front of the blank wall.

They marched up to the blank wall to the tune of Pappa saying “Right, left right, left.”
When they’re all standing in a line facing the blank wall, Pappa turns to them, winks and says very seriously, “It’s time! Let’s paint Jabari the Elephant!” She and Gwydion clap their little hands in excitement.“Right! You two are going to color the grass that Jabari eats in the Savanna.”

She remembers how with charcoal, Pappa sketched the outlines of flowers, blades of tall grass, spiders, ladybugs, butterflies and worms allowing Gwydion and her to color everything as they pleased with long paint brushes and small containers of vivid primary colors . She remembers the squeals of excitement. While they painted low to the ground and as high as they could reach, Pappa had outlined a great big african elephant with large tusks, ears wide, and a raised trunk, he looked imposing and majestic, as if he was going to burst through the wall of time and space into their living room. Jabari the Elephant would grace their living room wall
for years thereafter. She remembers that they painted, danced and twirled, and sang all day. They painted the wall and each other, until Dad came through the door, and took in the scene.

She remembers Dad walking in, stethoscope around his neck, bag in one hand. His eyes going wide and disapproving then, seeing her watching him, he softened his eyes and smiled back reassuringly at her.

It’s late, the Sun has set, the room is lit by a few lights, Dad has just come in from work taking in the scene around him he slowly turns down the music blaring from the speaker, and comments.“Well, looks like you’ve all had a great day!”“Dad! Look! “ She and Gwydion run to him, paint dripping from their paint brushes, and fresh spatters on their smocks.
“What have you been painting?” he asks, crouching low, closer to their heights, listening attentively to their excited words, overlapping and interrupting each other.They both grab his hands pulling him toward the wall, showing him all the details of the afternoon.
“Very nice! Everyone has done a wonderful job! I love it! Welcome Jabari!” Dad compliments everyone.

She remembers how Dad kept looking at Pappa, it felt like they were having a conversation, but she couldn’t hear the words. When Dad went to kiss Pappa, she saw Pappa close his eyes, like he was so relieved to have Dad next to him, he suddenly looked so very tired. He didn’t smile anymore. She remembers watching Pappa lean his entire body against Dad’s shoulder, like his legs couldn’t hold him up anymore, and how that felt so strange.

She remembers running into Pappa’s room the next day, excited to paint Jabari again, but…

They try to get Pappa up from his bed to paint Jabari again. But, he’s not answering them when they call him
“Pappa, wake up.” Gwydion says first“Pappa, please, can we paint?” Iliane asks, pushing on Pappa’s figure under the duvet.When Dad enters the room they ask him what is wrong with Pappa.“Dad, why is Pappa sleeping?”“He doesn’t want to paint with us anymore?” Gwydion mumbles as two large tears track down his cheeks.“No, no, not all,” Dad reassures them, kneeling down to their level a hand behind each of their backs, bringing them in for a reassuring hug.“But he did get awfully tired yesterday. Why don’t we let him sleep?” he asks, adding with a smile,
“Let’s go to the park and play, Nana Sigrid will come over and check on Pappa while we’re gone.”

She remembers how they stayed away all day playing outside.

Then:

She remembers playing with legos and building something with Gwydion on the carpet in their living room. She remembers the furniture pushed away from the wall and still covered in plastic tarps, Jabari still unfinished from when Pappa had started to draw a week before, his trunk in the air. At
the base the trunk was detailed, every fold crisp and vivid, but the tip was only outlined, only the contours of it discernable.

She remembers Pappa and Dad came to sit with them, helping them with whatever they were play-building. And, she can still hear their voices, the soft tones they used to talk with her and Gwydion, low, calm, and willing to answer every question their little minds asked that afternoon.

She remembers that was the day they stopped saying Pappa was ‘special’, and they were told what had happened to Pappa in the previous week, calling it by its real name - bipolar. They explained Pappa’s condition more clinically, more precisely, but still using language they would understand. It would become something they spoke from then on very openly, always precisely, always with language appropriate for their ages. They were barely six years old.

Dad and Pappa explained how Nana Sigrid and Bestefar Jan sometimes would come and stay with them to
help Dad care for Pappa.

She remembers how Gwydion, snot dripping from his nose, broke down at the thought that they were going to get rid of Jabari, and that somehow what they had done was something they shouldn’t have done because it made Pappa sad.

She remembers how Dad pulled Gwydion into his arms, and Pappa promised they would finish the painting and that it would stay there until they all were tired of it, and reassured them that no one had done anything wrong. All they did was paint a wall with a beautiful picture.

She remembers how Pappa smiled
but his eyes were sad. When she looked at Dad’s face, his, instead, were gentle, understanding, and loving.

She remembers how Dad said, “There is nothing to be afraid of, we just have to look out and help each other because we’re a family.”

Now:

Even POV
“I think I’ve neglected Iliane enough for the past few days, I’ll go talk with her and find out what’s got her upset.” Even says moving past Isak to follow Iliane toward her room.He knocks at her door gently, no reply, but growl and thudding sounds emanate through the door. He decides to open the door anyway and check.Iliane’s anger needs an outlet and the book bag is it. He darts his eyes around the room and breathes out relieved when he sees the laptop and phone on her table.
He startles her, making her jump and turn to face him when he says, “You want to talk about it?” Leaning against the door frame he observes his daughter, knowing she’ll silently reject the offer, before she even does it.She shakes her head, turns on her socked heels, and kicks the bookbag a few more times.“You know there’s the punching bag in the garage for just this reason, so you can get anger out of your system.” Even reminds her.She doesn’t answer. Even watches silently how her anger slowly dissipates, replaced by a steadily rising wave of confusion and sadness. He can see it in her green eyes. He doesn’t want to say it, he knows it’s going to hurt her, but he knows he needs to if he wants to help her. And, right now she needs his help to understand herself, the present situation they all find themselves in, and how to process it all.“It’s about Gwydion.” Even states.She turns around to him once more, biting her lower lip, and nods twice. Even can see the sadness, the anger, the confusion all mapped onto her young face. Then her chin wobbles and he pushes himself off his shoulder and takes two steps to reach her and hold her.She falls apart in his arms, as he whispers, “Sh, sh, You’re all right. I’m right here.”For the second time in as many days, he folds his legs landing on his knees, then sitting on the floor holding a teenager in his arms. He lets her cry until she sobbingly pours her heart out to him, telling him how she doesn’t understand what’s happening to her brother. How this stranger on the tram said these mean things, and how she just wanted to yell at them. She tells him what she said to the stranger, and how her friend tried to stop her, but she lost her cool anyway.She wipes her wet cheeks on his shirt, as he rubs gentle circles on her back.So he asks her what he’s been asked all the time by Markus for most of his life.“How did you feel hearing those words?”“Fucking pissed!”“Okay, can you tell me more?”“After I yelled at that drittsekk I got off the tram and walked home.” After a pause she continues telling him how hurt she feels by those words, and the more hurt she felt the angrier she got because she couldn’t do anything about it.“Hmmm, powerless.” Even offers.“Yes. Like, they basically said all these ignorant things but they weren't going to be held accountable for the hurt they inflicted on the rest of us that heard it and are affected by those words.”“So what are you going to do about it? Can you do anything?” Even asks her. He's pushing her to reason it out and find a solution to her problem.“I don’t know yet,” she replies truthfully and crestfallen, “I know that was a stranger, and I can’t change their mind, but I called them out publicly, and that felt a bit gratifying. But now their words live rent free in my head, and I hate that.”They talk a bit more and he tells her how sometimes we need to accept that we can’t change everyone, so that their words or actions stop affecting our minds and we can live our lives.She repositions herself between his legs letting him straighten and stretch his on the floor, sliding and leaning her shoulders against his abdomen, while he pinions his arms behind his back to hold them both up.
Iliane’s anger has dissipated. Iliane can be very introspective, sometimes even more than Gwydion can be.
So, they sit in silence, content to just be there. Iliane need to feel safe right now, he understand that.
Even’s hand gently stroking Iliane shoulder, and pushing her auburn hair off her face, smiling softly at her when she raises her eyes to meet his. In a quiet voice she asks about her brother, while her hands are busy with the string from her hoodie.“Pappa?—”“Hmm?—”“Gwydion—he’s bipolar, isn’t he?”He doesn’t want to answer that question, but his parental instinct is too ingrained not to heed it. He answers it directly, no mincing of words, he would never do that to any of their children.
“Yes,” he replys. After a pregnant pause, Even finally adds “He’ll need a formal diagnosis, and we’ll need to find the right combination of medications for him.” Facts, Iliane is all about knowing facts. He knows his daughter too well.“He’ll be okay?” She asks in such a small voice his heart clenches in his chest. He closes his eyes against the heartache before he replies.“Yes, in time he will. We’ll get him all the help we can, so he can lead his own life and become the musician or anything else he wants to do in his life. But it will be a process and there may be hard times ahead. I hope I can show him a better way than the one I took at his age.”“Do you think I am too?” Iliane asks.“I don’t know, honey. We’d have to have you formally evaluated I suppose. Do you want to know?”“Nah, not right now, maybe in the future. Unless I start staying up nights in a row like Gwydion that is…” she leaves her answer unfinished, hanging between them.They sit silently a little longer, until Iliane asks, “Do you remember Jabari?”
“Yes, I do,” he replies, adding “Dad still reminds me when he wants to tease. Why do you ask?”“What I remember of that time was how much fun we had painting the wall, how excited you were. Mostly, I remember how you and Dad explained your condition and Dad said we just have to look out for each other because we’re a family .”She turns, sits up and looks at him in complete seriousness and tells him “I’ll look out for Gwydion, you’ll tell Dad that he doesn’t have to worry about it. I will take care of him and protect him.” The sincerity, gravity and wholeheartedness of the statement are the essence of his daughter, this formidable young woman transforming before his very eyes every day. Even smiles, his entire face lighting up, reaching his eyes and crinkling the edges. “Thank you Iliane, I know you will support him. But, he will also need to learn how to stand on his own as well, and he can’t do that if we take away his autonomy. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?” He tries to be earnest in his explanation, she deserves nothing less.She thinks about it for a while then nods once, leaning back against his shoulder, twirling a loose string on her jeans, as Even brings his arms around her shoulders.“I’m worried about Dad, Ewan and Ljøl.” She mutters, not looking up at him.“But not me?”“I’m not worried about you Pappa, you can handle anything.”The words going straight to his heart, melting it in the best of ways. Iliane has always been a strong-willed little girl, but she’s turning out to be an amazing young woman with an innate, deep sense of duty and care, and he’s so very proud of her.
Once again he asks himself the one question he’s never been able to answer to his satisfaction.How did Isak and he get so lucky?

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Bukhara, Uzbekistan
What! The actual! Fuck!Iliane feels frozen in place, like a bucket of icy water has just been thrown at her, her brain cleaving in half.
Suddenly, nothing makes sense, and even the room they have just entered starts spinning. Her legs give out, and she lands to sit on the bed with a thud.This isn’t happening.Then something hard takes hold of her insides. Her spine becomes cold, tense, made of steel. She can feel her anger rising inside of her, like a rolling wave becoming bigger, angrier, and more dangerous at each churn. She wants to scream at Ari, she wants to curse her out, she wants to hit her, but she holds it all inside. Her eyes are smoldering, her mouth sets in a thin line, her jaws clench shut. Her Scandinavian upbringing, her Norwegian ingrained social mores, hold her back.

Fuck her! She isn’t going to sit here and take any of this!
No fucking way!
Not again, not this time!Four months ago Ari had promised it would never happen again. She had even gotten on her knees, begging Iliane to take her back. She had felt ridiculous witnessing such a display. But, the promise of Ari’s lips and fingers kissing and touching her, setting her skin and her whole being on fire, wiped out any sense of self-preservation or common sense from her brain. She had fallen for it for the second time. Bought every single word that poured out of Ari’s mouth that night.
How could she have been so unbelievably stupid?She’s not falling for it again tonight.No more!
She’s not doing this again.Sitting at the edge of the bed, Iliane stands up, grabbing her large colorful modesty scarf to cover her long auburn hair, her dark sunglasses, her phone, and her small hand bag, and walks to the door of the hotel room.“Iliane?” Ari calls after her, her voice breaking, plaintive, fearful. “Please don’t…I can….” she tries, leaving so much left unsaid.Ari’s call out to her stops Iliane at the door, her hand on the handle trembling. Closing her eyes, she makes herself breathe and turn around. She throws her Scandinavian upbringing out the window, lacerating into Ari with viciousness, her voice strangled and menacing, her eyes irate.“Don’t, what?? You can, what??” she asks accusingly, tearing into Ari with her next words, every question punctuated by a menacing step toward Ari. “Make more promises you don’t intend on keeping? Change?” She barks out a bitter laugh. “Lie to me, take advantage of me, sleep with yet more people, and come back to me, lying there won't be others? Don’t stomp on your heart, as you’ve just done to mine?”She stares at Ari, steel green eyes boring into Ari’s grays. She sees her cower under her unflinching stare, anger pouring out of her with every word, her inexorable advance threatening. For an instant she feels powerful, righteous even. But only for an instant. Then shame overwhelms her, and she doesn’t know why, but it makes her back down from her verbal attack.
Softly, almost inaudibly, Ari dares to ask, “Where…where will you go?”That’s when Iliane's heart breaks, realizing she no longer has a lover that truly cares for her wellbeing, and she probably never did. She lets her ire shield her.“Fuck you, Ari! You no longer have the right to ask me what I’m going to do or where I go.”She backtracks to the door, opens it, and without turning around, she says, “I’ll come and get my stuff tomorrow at ten. Don’t be here, I’m done talking with you. I don’t want to see you ever again.”She steps over the threshold and feels the heavy hotel door swing, click, and close behind her. She straightens her shoulders and puts her modesty headscarf on, tucking the ends of her hair inside her winter jacket. She dons her dark sunglasses and takes her first tentative steps away from the toxic relationship that has consumed her for the past three years.
She walks out of the Bibi-Khanym Hotel in Bukhara, into the cold afternoon, and brings up AirBnB on her phone, looking for temporary lodging she can afford. She’s lucky—all she has with her is a carry-on suitcase for traveling, since most of her stuff is stored away with the dig’s equipment and gear.A colleague from the dig lodged in town offers his friend’s place at no cost. The apartment belongs to a Canadian paleontologist who won’t be back for a few weeks, her colleague says.She takes it.It’s only for a few days, before she departs to meet Isak in Wien.After meeting her colleague and friend at a local snack and coffee place to exchange keys, she follows him to the apartment, making herself put one foot in front of the other, holding up a pleasant demeanor. He shows her around the apartment quickly, and lets her know he lives around the corner, to just text him if she needs anything. He finally leaves her.
She takes out a few Addalocks from her bag and positions them on the door. She’s a single woman in a country where single women are rare. She may be independent, and well-traveled, but she’s learned to be cautious too.Morosely, her emotions raw, she tries to distract herself. She looks around the premises and finds the space decorated with a curious mixture of Uzbeki and Western influences. Leaning against a wall, on the floor, she finds an ornate, aged map of the area where the dig is located in the desert. It looks like it was meant to be hung, but the job was left unfinished.Paleontologists! Finding their idiosyncrasies coming through their apartment decor lifts her spirits a little—she has a few maps of this sort herself, she’s not so different after all.No picture of the person to whom this apartment belongs to.
Strange.She spies a couch and lies down, finally letting her heartache break her apart, her stoic defenses melt away. Her steely resolve flows into the cushions, her mind calling out in her child voice, “Dad, Pappa.”She touches her phone screen and dials home.

Oslo
“Even, will you answer my phone please? My hands are….” Isak raises his arms as flour and egg drips from them.Even goes to pick up the phone. “It’s Iliane!”“Put her on speaker!”“Ilianel, how are you?”Silence, then sniffling. ”Da…Dad?” Iliane’s sad and broken voice comes through the speaker.Isak and Even look at each other, suddenly on alert, their parents' senses tingling.“Iliane? Are you okay?”
Silence. Sniffling.“Iliane? Iliane? Are you okay? Where are you?”“I…it’s over. I left Ari.” Iliane’s words are broken by sobs and a lament.Even and Isak look at each other, silently blowing air out from the sides of their mouths in relief.“I just needed to hear you,” Iliane whimpers in a trembling voice
Together they reply, “I’m sorry, Honey.”“I miss you all. I miss home. Tell me about Oslo.”Isak gestures to Even to come and take over where he’s hands-deep in pasta dough. He scrapes all remnants from his forearms and hands, and asks, whispering to Even, “Do you mind if I talk to her? I’ll take it in the studio.” Even shakes his head. Isak mouths a silent thank you.“Can you take over?” Isak whispers. Even leans in nodding, saying a silent yes with a kiss and a smile.
Isak answers Iliane’s earlier request, leaning toward the phone. “Oslo is the same. Cold right now, just as much as you are, I assume. Let me wash my hands, Honey, then we can talk. Okay?”
“Yeah,” Iliane replies, sniffling.**********Her tears well in her eyes, silently streaming down her cheeks, while she tries to stifle her sniffling. She hears movement: water being turned on and off. Ewan and Ljøl, her younger twin brothers, coming into the kitchen asking for food—that makes her smile through the tears—Pappa telling them she’s on the phone. She can picture the room, her fathers, her brothers, and she misses them all terribly. They exchange pleasantries. The boys even manage to make her laugh a bit more. The sounds make her homesick, making her feel so uncharacteristically alone, adrift, unmoored.
**********Isak picks up his phone, takes it off speaker, and inserts his ear buds. He walks outside through the back door. With a few quick steps he crosses the snow-covered garden to Even’s editing studio, closing the door behind him against the cold. He finds a chair, sitting in the darkened room.“Honey, let me switch to video, okay?”“Yeah, okay.”She comes into view and he bites his tongue, forcing himself to smile at her. Her face is red with splotches, her nose and eyes puffy, her lips mangled.“You want to tell me what happened?” he asks, being gentle.“No, not right now Dad. I just missed your voices, I needed to hear them.”“Are you safe? Do you have a place to stay?”“Yes. It’s just temporary, but it’ll do for a few days. You’re still coming to Wien on Thursday?”“Yes, the medical conference has me booked for three presentations, but the rest of the time it’s just you and me llianel, okay? And I’ll have a suite so you get a room for yourself.”“Thanks Dad.”“How are you, Honey?” Isak asks with genuine concern in his voice. He can see her eyes become misty all over again. Her face is longing for something, probably the same longing he has to put his arms around her. He watches as she wipes away at her face with her stretched sleeve.“Devastated, angry, furious, in pieces. I just want to curl up and die, Dad. Can I just do that?”Isak listens, a bitter smile on his lips he tries in vain to disguise. Heartache of any sort is hard. He’s had his share. But seeing it happen to his children, it’s a double whammy. He never expected this part of parenting to be so hard. Her question makes him smile fondly as he replies. “Yeah, you can curl up and let it all out, Honey. I'm right here for you.”
He could hear her heart breaking from five thousand kilometers away.He lets her cry, whispering sweet words to her, until she eventually stops. She sniffs, blows her nose.“Dad, I’m such an idiot! Why did I let myself be sucked into this toxic relationship for the second time?” she asks, her voice angry and sad at the same time.He has an answer, but he isn’t about to say it. Maybe there will be time for that in a few days, when he could hold her in his arms again. Maybe he will keep it to himself; it’s not for him to voice this opinion. He knows he’s biased anyway.They stay in silence on the phone, as they often do even when they are in the same room. It’s their thing. They understand each other in silence. Time passes.“I’ll hang up, now, Dad.” She eventually lets him know when she’s ready. “Thanks Dad.” He could hear the first notes of lightness reaching her voice.“Anytime, Honey. Call me if you need to, it doesn’t matter what time. Okay?”“Thanks Dad. Okay,” she says, her voice barely above a murmur, somber, tired. “See you in Wien,” she adds before hanging up. “Hug Pappa and the boys for me, I miss them.”The line goes dead. Isak stares at the blank screen, trying to call her back by sheer will.With a loud sigh he turns the screen face down on his leg and stares into the void, never hearing Even enter the studio.“That bad, huh?”“Oh, what? Yes, no…I don’t know, actually. She wasn’t up to giving me particulars. She’s pretty devastated.”Even takes a few steps closer as Isak slowly, tiredly stands up. He meets Even’s kiss, his hand curling gently behind Isak's neck, his thumb lightly rubbing his cheek.“She’s all grown up now Isak, we can’t protect her. She has to live her life.” Even tells him softly.“Yeah I know, I know. But, damn it! I knew Ari was bad news the moment she brought her home to meet us. I tried, Even. I really tried to give Ari the benefit of the doubt and support Iliane in her choices. But, each time she wounded Iliane deeper and more viciously than the time before. I’m glad she’s put her behind her.”“Let’s hope it’s for good, then.” Even agrees, a fleeting smile on his lips.“I can’t wait to see her on Thursday. These arms need to hold her.”“I envy you.” Even admits. Trying to lighten the mood he adds, “But someone’s gotta get these boys to shower and to school.” He does one of those strange winks of his, as his eyes crinkle at the edges.Isak rubs his nose lightly against Even’s in reply.“Let’s get this pasta night going! I’m hungry and so are the boys.”

Wien Day 1
Isak walks through the suite’s door at the Hotel Urania, dragging his small carry-on bag, fishing for his vibrating phone in his trousers' pocket. Iliane’s name flashes in his notifications.He lets the door to the suite close behind him as he opens up the chat and replies to Iliane with one hand.
Take a taxi to the hotel. We’ll be in Room 535. Can’t wait to see you.
She replies: I’m at the hotel Isak pockets his phone, pats his pockets to check he’s got the room’s keycard, and makes his way back out of the room at a fast walk, toward the floor’s elevator bank. He stands in front of three elevators. Luck…well, maybe coincidence, would have it that he stands in front of the central elevator just as it opens its doors.There, in a corner, hunched over herself, is his daughter. His heart skips at what he sees. The fearless, strong, independent woman he and Even have brought up, reduced to a shadow of herself. She seems to need the corner of the elevator to hold her up. Her beautiful auburn hair hangs listless, unkempt, over her face. When she lifts her face to look up, her green eyes are puffy, lined by angry dark circles under them. She sees him and she flings herself into his open arms. She lets go of her bag, as it lands across the path of the elevator doors.He closes his arms around her in a fierce embrace, kisses the top of her head, murmuring, “I’m so glad you’re here.”Over her head, he watches as the elevator doors attempt to close and open a few times, hitting the carry-on each time.“Let’s go to our room, okay?” He nods to her bag behind her. “Before we set off alarms.” He gives her a faint but encouraging smile and kind eyes, taking in once again the dark smudges under her eyes, her pinched lips, and tired face.They walk together the short distance down the carpeted hallway, one of his arms protectively around her shoulders, hers around his waist tucking herself into his body. Isak unlocks the door and invites her to enter first, following her inside wheeling her carry-on bag.“Our place for the next few days,” he announces, smiling. “Do you want to freshen up?”She nods and steps closer to him. He brings his arms around her once more, this time holding her close against his chest. She feels fragile. He hears her sniffles, feels her arms tighten around his waist, dipping into whatever inner strength she has left no doubt.
Not for long.She leans more of her weight into him. Her sobs wrack her frame, hitching her shoulders up and down under his arms.He hates seeing his grown children cry.
God he just hates it.It’s harder now, than when they were younger. When they were little he had the power to fix so many wrongs—he could provide a solution, and a kiss always made things better. He can’t fix many of the things that may drive their two grown children to fall apart—Gwydion and Iliane are adults now. He and Even still have two teens at home—even for them emotional care is no longer as easy as it used to be. The best he or Even can do is hold them, be with them, be their sounding boards. He never thought being at this end of the parenting journey would be so hard.
Nobody warned him.This is where he has to choose his words carefully, or whether to even speak at all. These self-imposed checks are frustrating him to no end. Right now, he’s got no choice. Even is not here to run to his rescue, smoothing his rough edges or providing redirection. He’s going to have to buck the fuck up, and deal with this on his own, frustrations be damned.After a while he feels Iliane’s shoulders subside. She pulls back, wiping her face with the back of her hand. It's a childish gesture, the way she pushes her hair out of her face. He succumbs to his own memories before he shakes himself out of them, forcing himself to see the woman in front of him.He smiles at her looking into her green eyes, seeing those blackened smudges under them, the physical manifestations of all her pain. The rims around her eyes are now verging on purple instead of red.He offers again, with a soft, gentle voice, “Want to freshen up?”She nods. “I’ll go take a shower.“ She sniffs. “Can we eat here?” she asks tentatively. “I don’t feel like going out, not tonight at least.”“Of course! Anything you want in particular? I can order dinner while you’re in the shower,” Isak offers.She shakes her head, casting her eyes down, then turns toward her bedroom.
**********“How is she?”“In pieces, devastated.”“Can I talk with her?”“She’s taking a shower right now. We’ll video call you after we eat? Say, about an hour?”“Yes, that would be fine. Ewan and Ljøl will be doing their homework, and Gwydion is in the editing studio finalizing and recording his piece for the short film.”“How’s he doing?”“He’s fine, balanced, no great mood swings. The new meds’ doses seem to be stabilizing him better.”“You, love? How are you?” Isak asks, self-conscious that he’s not asked Even how he’s doing.“Oh you know me, I’m totally fine.”
“That’s a shit answer, and you know it.” Isak gently replies. He’s not about to let Even get away with such garbage.“Yeah, I know. Sorry.”“So, how are you, really?”“Fucking pissed that someone’s hurt our baby girl…not so baby, nor so girl any longer…I know, I know! But still, angry.” When Even lets himself display his protectiveness, it always puts a tender smile on Isak’s lips. He’s always loved this part of Even.Silence lapses between them, as they eye each other through their respective cameras, then Even adds, “I’m glad one of us is there for her.”A knock at the door makes Isak cut their conversation short. “Even, room service is here, we’ll call you later, okay?”“Go. Yes, later. Miss you.”“Miss you more.”The line goes dead and Isak stares at the blank screen. A second knock jostles Isak out of his reverie. He walks toward the door to open it, so their dinner can be brought in and set up.**********Isak and Iliane sit across from each other at the small round table set up with their dishes and drinks.Both are dressed in comfortable, relaxing sweatpants and hoodies.
Iliane is taciturn for most of the meal, pushing her food around her plate despondently, taking small bites sporadically. Isak tries to eat, seemingly unfazed, when, in reality, he is very much on alert.The silence between them is both familiar and unnerving for him. He decides to break it.“I’ve ordered us a treat.”
Iliane looks up from pushing her food around, hitting him with sad eyes and a wan smile.“I’ve ordered chocolate milkshakes. They’ll bring them up when I call them.”“Thanks Dad. Can we sit on the bed and talk after they bring them?”“Of course! Wouldn’t have it any other way,” he replies, slightly relieved.“You can call them, I’m done eating. Maybe I’ll finish this later.”They stand up from the table and Iliane makes her way to Isak’s bed, sitting up and leaning against the headboard with her knees folded against her chest. She leans her face on her knees, while holding her legs tightly and rocking herself. Isak can feel her eyes following him as he calls Room Service to bring them their dessert treats, then joins her on the bed, leaning his back on the headboard. He reaches toward her hunched back, gently rubbing his hand across her shoulders.
He waits patiently.Iliane has always had a timing all of her own, and he and Even have always tried to respect it, particularly at times of conflict or emotional upheaval. He has no idea how Iliane wants to tackle the conversation, so he feels totally unprepared for Iliane’s question when it comes. It’s not what he was expecting. She turns her head to look at him.“Dad?”“Hmm.”“What’s wrong with me?”“What makes you think there is something wrong with you, Iliane?” he replies protectively with a question of his own. ”Nothing is wrong with you Iliane. You’re perfectly fine as you are.” He holds her gaze as emphasis. She doesn’t believe him. He can read it in her skeptical look, the way she quickly evades his gaze, the twisting of her mouth, her unconvinced sideways smirk telling him her truth does not match his conviction. Well, her truth as she sees it right now. He can hear her voice in his head, even as she is silent, the way she would say, “Yeah, sure, Dad.”He tries another tack.“You’re human, Honey. You seek companionship and understanding, like we all do. There’s nothing wrong with that.” After a pause he adds, “You innately try to find the good in everyone, you’ve always done that. We should all aspire to have such a gift, Iliane. That is not something that makes you defective. What if you looked at this a different way?” he proposes.“How?”“What if the question was really: why do the people that hurt or wrong us think it’s okay to do so? Why is the responsibility always shouldered by the receiver, and not by the person inflicting the harm?”
She listens, turning her head to look out the window, as the waning light of day gives way to a moonless night of early winter.
He watches as she hugs her legs a little tighter.A knock at the door interrupts them. Isak gets up to go meet Room Service. He reappears with two tall ice cream cups filled to the brim with chocolate milkshake, topped by a crown of whipped cream. He hands her a cup, a long spoon, and a straw, and he sits on the bed next to her to enjoy his own. A faint smile appears on her lips. They sip through the straws, enjoying the cold sweet drink sitting silently side-by-side.
Isak suggests calling Pappa. She nods silently. He pulls up a video call on his iPad.“Halla,” Even answers.“Halla,” they both reply.“How are you feeling, Honey? I’m glad you have Dad there with you.”“Thanks Pappa. How are the boys?” she deflects, enquiring about her brothers.“Oh you know them.” He winks mischievously at his daughter. “As long as they’re fed they can handle anything.”“Is Gwydion still composing for your film?”“He’s almost done recording the last few scenes.”“Will it be ready for the Kortfilmfestivalen, do you think?”“Yes, we’re submitting it in a few weeks. But, enough about the others. I want to hear about your adventures.” Even tries to steer away from the main issue, Ilianes’ earlier deflection a silent request that he heeds.
“It’s fine. We’re closed for the winter, the ground is too hard to dig, but we’re studying the topography via satellite. You know…still looking for that elusive Sue of my own.”“You’ll find it. I’m sure.”Isak listens to them talk of nothing and everything as they catch up, while skirting any mention of the break up or her state of mind. He offers non-committal yeses and nos, but mostly just listens and watches his daughter try to fool her father. The thought makes him smile. After all these years together he’s had to come clean with Even and admit he’s a terrible liar. He watches Even watching Iliane, and he knows his daughter is just as bad as he is at disguising herself, especially to Even. He certainly can see through it. But, to his credit, he also knows when to call out his daughter, and this is clearly not the time.With the promise to talk again in the following days, they end the call.
After taking the empty milkshake cups to the table where the remnants of their dinner lie, Iliane comes back to settle in, tucked against her father’s side. Her head rests on his shoulder, his arm protectively around her. Isak turns on the TV asking, “Want to watch something?”She hitches her shoulders in indifference. He finds a suitably light-hearted movie to watch, putting the sound on mute. But neither of them is absorbed by what is showing on the screen. Iliane, her voice trembling again speaks in the silence, admitting her pain.“Dad, I feel so humiliated, so used, such an idiot for having believed every lie she ever told me.”She wipes at her face with the back of her hand, still looking away from Isak. “Everything was a lie. I wasted three years of my life like an idiot chasing…I don’t know what I was chasing, Dad. I’m such an idiot. All I know is that I don’t want to hurt anymore. But it hurts so much, Dad.”He says nothing, just rubs his hand gently along her upper back.
Iliane needs him to listen.He remembers that once, a long time ago, Eskild (Uncle Eskild now, for decades) told him his heartache would pass too. He didn't believe him then, nor the next time it happened. Now, older and wiser, he can admit that time did make him see the situations a bit more objectively, and it let him process the events with more clarity. But he can still physically sense how those heartaches affected him.
They fucking hurt. His heart had felt it had shattered in a million shards.“I’ve been crying for three days, and I can’t seem to stop.” she says, sniffling and impatient with herself. Isak hugs his arm a little tighter around her.“How could I have been so stupid?” she asks again, starting to sob in his arms all over again. He wants to answer that question too, but holds back. She doesn’t need platitudes. She’s not a little girl anymore, he tells himself.
Eventually, Iliane drifts off into a restless sleep, tucked up against him. He watches over her. After turning off the lights and the TV screen, Isak settles comfortably to text one last message to Even. Sorry, you didn’t get to speak with her more heart-to-heart. She’s opening up a little at the time. I’ll ask her to call you tomorrow. Love you. He adds a picture of Iliane sleeping, receiving one back of the boys sprawled out on the couch on top of each other, equally asleep. Love you more. Even replies. Isak smiles fondly at the domesticity of the pictures exchanged, and he slowly slides down next to Iliane, falling asleep holding her.

Wien Day 2
Iliane wakes up next to Isak. The daylight shines wanly through the heavy cloud cover. Slowly she extricates herself from Isak’s protective arm and pads back to her bedroom. She checks her phone.Habit.She takes advantage of the few hours of lucidity, before something mundane brings up a memory, dissolving her into a puddle all over again, for the rest of the day. She takes out her laptop and checks bank accounts, their apartment in Oslo, accounts they’ve established in common. She draws up a list of accounts, paperwork that she wants disentangled as soon as possible.
She sets herself daily reminders to check monetary accounts on a daily basis. The last thing she needs is to be wiped out financially. She sends her old friend from UiO, now a lawyer, an email asking for advice and for him to take over certain aspects of this separation.
She feels like she’s starting to be back in charge of her life again, and it feels good. She is somewhat slowly getting back to being herself, self-assured, independent, in control of her life.
Alone.
And that thought all by itself devastates her.
She retreats to her bed, pulls the covers over her head, and holds a pillow against her face as she sheds new tears, this time with the understanding that she’s crying about her own losses, her own sense of abandonment, her perception of being unworthy of love, affection, respect. That one word—respect—morphs her tears from sadness to tears of anger. She had deserved to be respected, and she got none. Not from Ari, but even worse, not from herself either. Eventually the emotional upheaval wears her out, and she slowly lets herself fall asleep.Hours pass. Iliane wakes hearing the door close in the other room. She calls out, but there’s no answer. She wraps herself in the duvet and pads to the main suite. She finds Isak’s garment bag open on his bed, and papers on the desk. He probably worked this morning before leaving, and dressed in a different suit. She finds the breakfast tray and her father’s note.

Come to the ballroom on the 2nd floor around noon.

I should be done. We can go for lunch and walk along the river.

She checks the time, deciding she has plenty left, to make use of the hotel’s gym facilities and expel her frustrations by doing some physical activity.**********Bundled up in heavy coats, scarves, beanies, and gloves, Isak and Iliane walk silently along the Hundertwasser Promenade on the riverbank of the Danube, just outside their hotel. As they lean on the short stone wall overlooking the river, Iliane quietly utters, “I thought it was love, the kind that lasts, the kind that you and Pappa have. And I wanted it so much. I was such a fucking fool.”“Hmmm,” Isak replies pensively, looking at her. He respects the fact that she hasn’t really asked him for advice, nor for his opinion, with silence.“She wooed me. She courted me. She flirted unashamedly in front of everyone. She pursued me and would not take my cautionary push backs for an answer. In the end, I loved her for it, and despite it. In a way I think I still do,” she tells Isak as if she was telling a story, looking off in the distance with a veiled look. “The attention made me feel special. But it was all a lie. She never did see me for who I really am. I was just a trophy for her. Her partner, the paleontologist in excotic and far away places.”He looks at Iliane as she looks away into the distance, asking, “Do you think you lost yourself with her?”She turns her head to fix her eyes on her father, considering his question, then turns to keep walking along the river. They continue to walk side-by-side. Eventually, Iliane speaks haltingly as she formulates her answer.“The short answer I think is yes. I hung on her every gesture, every word, every caress. I wanted more of all of them, there were never enough, and she was willing to give me what I craved. Slowly though, I lost sight of who I was, and everything I did was so I could be with her.”She pauses. Turning her gaze toward her father, she says, “I thought that was love. I thought she was the love of my life.” There is regret and pain in her voice, and she turns to look far away once more. “When she cheated on me the first time, I thought that was what great love was: taking and forgiving each other even under the harshest of circumstances.”She looks back at Isak, and asks “Did you ever have to forgive Pappa? I mean before you were married.”He looks at her, weighing what or how much he wants to say.
There were many times he and Even had hurt each other, but thinking back, some of their early mistakes were pure inexperience and immaturity, not knowing how to communicate truthfully about who they were. They had been so used to hiding themselves, for self-preservation, that they kept themselves hidden from each other. That proved to be disastrous and painful. As they matured together they came to know each other better. That had not meant they did not experience pain or inflicted pain. They’ve had their share of painful experiences, including almost breaking up in one instance. Like an amputee, he can still feel the phantom pains, the heartache of each and every instance, and he’s sure Even does too. They’ve talked about it many times.
He pulls his mind away from reminiscing of his and Even’s past to look at his daughter, waiting with hope in her eyes, needing to know she’s not the only one that has suffered, that she’s not alone in this.“Honey, you can’t compare our relationship with yours, you understand that, don’t you?” he asks her. He’s satisfied with a curt, silent nod from her.“Having said that, yes, we’ve had to forgive each other a number of times,” he begins to answer her question, with a faraway look.“I think that if you really want to know why forgiveness was not enough between you two, in the future, you may want to ask Ari, when you’re ready. But why did forgiveness work for Pappa and I? I think it's probably because Pappa and I never thought of each other as expendable. We were, and still are, both trying to protect the other in some ways, sometimes with the best intentions, but the worst results. We’ve learned from our mistakes, and we’ve learned to communicate better as time went on. Looking back I can say that those mistakes never destroyed our trust in each other, and without it I don’t think we would have lasted together this long.” Isak turns his face toward the sky, squinting his eyes in the graying, clouded light, then back to his daughter. “Do you think you ever trusted Ari?”“I thought so. I know I did at the beginning, I no longer did by the end. I feel she did everything in her power to eradicate whatever shred of trust I still harbored. I just stubbornly held on to the idea of trust still being between us despite every broken promise. Perhaps my stubbornness made me ignore all her signals, maybe she was trying to tell me something, and I just didn't want to see nor hear it. In reality, our trust slowly eroded into non-existence.” Somehow saying those words out loud relieved her and, at the same time, made her feel even more insecure than she had been since she walked out of that hotel room a week ago.**********Isak watches Iliane attentively, all her emotions traveling across her face until her insecurity settles like a mantle, her head tilting downward, her eyes becoming hooded, her whole face making her look like an insecure teen she had never been, a lost adult. It hurts him to see her this way. He reaches out to hold her hands warmly, firmly in his, letting her know he’s there. A wan smile appears on her lips, as she wipes away yet more tears with the back of her hand. He can’t stand it, so he steps closer and engulfs her in his arms as she sobs, muffled in her scarf and against his coat.**********Later that evening, after Iliane has turned in, Isak exits the room to find a quiet area in the lobby to call Even.
“How’s it going? How is she holding up?”“Slow and painful.” Isak tries to describe Iliane to Even. “She’s working her way through understanding both the causes of this breakup, and what roles they both had. She’s not innocent in all of this, Even, she had a role too. That’s a painful realization though.”“And she still loves Ari in some way,” Even offers. Isak looks at him, pulling up one side of his mouth in a resigned frown, nodding once.“How are you doing?” Even asks.“It’s hard to watch her inner strength and self-confidence be barely there, hanging by a thin thread, yet not be able to do much but the bare minimum to bolster her.”“I can talk with her, if you’d like?”“Sure, anytime. Mostly she’s being very quiet, then she hits me with these questions that make me relive just about every mistake you and I have ever made, and re-evaluate how we managed to come out the other side. Today was about trust.”“Hmm. I can understand that.”“I miss you.”“Me too.”They stare at each other through the video screen, softening their eyes for each other, losing themselves into just appreciating the other, even if at a distance.“How are the boys?”“Okay, I think Ljøl has a crush on someone, and Ewan is teasing him to no end. Had to take him aside, and give him a talking to. Didn’t like doing that, much—you’re better at that sort of thing. Gwydion is hard at work in the studio still, comes into the house for food.”“Hmmm. Sleeping?”“Yeah he’s sleeping, for now. I had the same thoughts as you. Maybe it’s the start of a hypo. I’m keeping an eye on it.” They talk in a shortened form between them about Gwydion’s BPD, and check-in about other small domestic things, reluctantly hanging up shortly thereafter.

Wien Day 3
After Isak’s morning conference session, Iliane goes to meet him. The last of the audience members are making their way out of the tiered lecture hall-style room, as she enters it. She sits down in the semi-darkness, by the doors, looking down at the stage where her Dad is in deep conversation with a few people by the dais.She observes him. His blond hair is streaked with grays now. His laugh lines, by his eyes, are more pronounced. The dimples that form at the corner of his mouth as double parentheses are more prominent. His eyes, though. His eyes are vivid, intense green emeralds, which, even at a distance, show her that the conversation he’s holding is about something that he cares deeply and is very knowledgeable about. He holds himself in a relaxed manner, his weight evenly distributed on both legs, his hands deep in his trousers’ pockets, his back straight as an arrow.She’s always admired him for his stalwart demeanor, the ability to retreat in himself and lend strength to others just by his mere presence. Pappa lives and breathes just for that side of Isak. She has never been as conscious of this quality in her dad as she is now that she has a career and a life away from her fathers. Her memory conjures the feeling of security and strength she always could rely on, looking up at him from the protection of his long legs that she would hide behind when she was young. The memory soothes her. Her fathers–she could, and can always, count on them to be there for her. She frowns self-deprecatingly, realizing she barely can count on herself right now, to be self-reliant. Her thoughts move on to the kind trust and reliance she expected from Ari. But, the harsh reality was that Ari had demonstrated so many times she was not up to that caliber of reliance, certainly not to the standards she had come to expect. Were her standards too high? And, why did she have standards for something as basic as trust and reliance? Did she only do that with Ari? Why did she stubbornly hold on to the illusion that they existed between Ari and her? Why?She shakes herself out of her inner thoughts as she sees Isak dart his eyes around in the semi-darkness, toward the doors looking for her, no doubt. She decides to stand up and walk slowly down the aisle, toward the dais, not actually reaching it. She’s not in the mood for small talk. He sees her, and she hears her dad excuse himself, taking leave from his small audience, picking up his packed bag and walking up the aisle toward her.“Sleep better last night and this morning?” Isak asks her, putting his arm around her.“Sort of,” she replies noncommittally.“Have you had lunch?”“No, but I’m not that hungry. You?” she asks.“Yeah, I had some sort of sandwich, but I couldn’t tell you what it was if my life depended on it,” he laughingly replies, giving her a warm squeeze with his arm around her shoulders.“How about afternoon coffee or tea? I know a place Eva had found the last time she was in Wien.”“Sounds relaxing.”“Let’s go drop off this bag upstairs, and grab our coats.”**********Once more all bundled up, they set off on foot, following the map on their phones. It’s a nice walk
from their hotel to the Café Schwarzenberg, that takes them past the buildings of the University of Applied Arts, and through the gardens and paths of Standtpark and the Johan Strauss monument.They walk purposely through the streets of Wein, stopping from time to time at storefronts with colorful displays. Walking along the pavement in front of them, a young couple hold each other closely and continuously touch and kiss in a never-ending succession of PDA. It culminates with an impassioned embrace and backing up against a great wooden entry door to a building, which buzzes and unlocks just as she and Isak pass by them. The couple disappears within, in a fit of giggles and sloppy kisses.Turning his head to follow the young couple’s antics, Isak catches sight of Iliane as she walks beside him. She still wears her sadness like a protective mantle, her heart too frayed and hurt. The unadulterated passion displayed before them deepens her sadness, and she’s unwilling or too tired to mask herself for the world any longer.
They arrive at the coffee/tea house, and are quickly offered seats near one of the large alcove windows giving them the view of Schwarzenbergstrasse. They shed their coats, beanies, scarves, and gloves at the entryway’s coat check. They are shown their table, lowering themselves into the plush stuffed chairs facing each other, ready to order their food and drinks.Iliane is pensively looking out the great alcove window, her chin resting in the palm of her hand. She sighs heavily, asking Isak a question he is sure will unhinge him once again, just like her question did yesterday.“Dad?”“Yes?”“Dad, have you ever loved someone so much that you lost touch with who you were?” Iliane asks.“Yes,” he replies with certainty. “Why do you ask?”“Yesterday you asked me If I thought I lost myself. I couldn’t answer that question completely then. But I think I can today.” She takes a pause before diving into her insecurities to bring up her present fears around the subject of losing oneself.“I need to know that it is possible, that it just didn’t happen to me. Because, somewhere along the way I think I lost myself in this affair. I don’t know how it happened, I’m afraid of knowing how, but I lost sight and hold of who I was. Slowly I let myself be warped by this relationship. I’m not even sure whether I did it knowingly, or if I let myself be lulled into something that was just an illusion.”Tea is brought to the table with a plethora of small pastries, miniature desserts, and finger sandwiches. The set-up interrupts their conversation. Once the waiter leaves, Isak resumes the conversation where Iliane had left it.“Losing oneself is not necessarily a bad thing, Iliane. The important lesson to draw from it is: does the relationship make you mature, grow, evolve into a better version of yourself. A new version of yourself that you are comfortable inhabiting?” He looks up from his cup of tea to look at her. “Or, does it stunt you, make you regress, hide and morph you into something you are not comfortable staring at in a mirror?” He ends there, hoping Iliane decides to elaborate out loud rather than silently to herself. But she’s not ready—she asks for more explanation.“Will you tell me your experiences, Dad?” she asks in a needy, hushed tone. She turns her green eyes on him, looking for his guidance, to show her the path out of the despair she still feels. He was never able to resist her requests, he acknowledges to himself.“Pappa was the first. I lost my closeted, hurt, and resentful self when he entered my life. He showed me how to accept myself first. Later, I was able to find my inner strength and tap into it to support him. He made me a better person. I used to say that after meeting him I could finally live a real life,” he says with a side smile and a far-away look in his eye, remembering when he first said that to Eva at a Christmas party.“But you said there were other times,” Iliane insists gently.“I thought I had my life summed up once I came out of medical school. And for a while it was just as I had thought our lives together would be, between Pappa and I. Then you and Gwydion entered our lives and you changed me, as did Ewan and Ljøl when they arrived.” He sips his tea pensively. “Each change made me a better person than the closeted, loner, troubled teenager I was at 17.”

A thoughtful silence falls between them, Isak letting Iliane ruminate on his words. It’s an easy, comfortable silence, like the ones they often fall into at home. It’s very familiar, a sign to Isak that Iliane is slowly working herself back to her grounded, centered self.A small quartet sets up in a corner of the cafe, and begins to play Mendehelson and Schubert. Iliane turns her head to look at them and fixes her stare on the cello, a fleeting smile appearing on her lips. Observing her, Isak too smiles at the familiar sound of the instrument, a sound they both know so well.
Gwydion.“I don’t think I became a better person, nor that knowing Ari has made me grow into a better version of myself.” She says, sounding lost, turning to stare at herself in a large mirror behind Isak. “It’s made me needy, and at the same time hardened me. But I don’t like who I see when I look at myself. I lost myself so completely, I don’t know how to come back from it,” she admits out loud, staring at her father. Tears fill her eyes, balancing precariously on her lashes, ready to spill over.“I think you know this Iliane, but I want to tell you anyway. Negative lessons as much as positive ones, during or after a relationship, are still going to help you grow into who you want to be, the Iliane you want to see reflected in that mirror behind me. Sometimes we see the wrong, but we’re just not able to accept it as such, and make the change. Sometimes, we just need more time.”
She quickly turns her head, toward the large window, bringing her napkin to dab at her eyes.
She can admit this now to herself: how much she craved the sexual touch between them. She longed for it, thirsted for it even, so much that it made her lose all sense of right and wrong. Ari made her body come alive and on fire with each slow caress and lingering kiss. Somewhere between the sexual abandon and the betrayals and lies, she had constructed a house of cards reliant mostly on the sex and the physical intimacy, and on making them last as long or be as frequent as possible. Hoping she would, in that way, keep Ari’s betrayals and lies at bay.She had been so, so, so monumentally wrong.
She had not grown. She had not become a better version of herself. She had receded into some unrecognizable version of herself instead. She became harder with herself and everyone around her, letting go only when in the throes of sexual surrender, returning to it like an addiction. She saw that now.**********Isak’s gaze intent on Iliane’s face sees the moment she realizes how and when she lost herself, turning herself into someone so far removed from her core. Now, though, she’s ready to shed that skin. Her eyes become full of light, her pupils dilate, her mouth relaxes, and the Cupid’s bow of her lip becomes the arched feature of her face that makes her unquestionably, beyond any doubt, his daughter. Then, her eyes turn and smolder, her anger rising. He sees that mercurial change too. In a swift reach across the table, he seizes her hand, holding it fast between his, to stop what is happening beneath the surface. He understands the self-loathing he sees rising in her eyes, he knows it all too well.
“Iliane.” He calls her name softly to bring her attention to him. “Honey, don’t do it. Don't give in to your self-loathing, your anger. It will only isolate you. Honey, you did nothing wrong. You were hurt repeatedly and you did the best you could to protect yourself. But it’s over. You don’t need to be hard on yourself.” He smiles at her as he repeats. “It wasn’t only you. There were two of you in the relationship, Iliane. Don’t blame yourself for everything.“**********She tries hard not to fall apart as they wait for their bill, pay and get up from their table. They stand alone in the coat check side room. Isak helps her put on her coat, as she turns around he hands her the beanie. But she can’t hold herself in check any longer, she falls into his arms, as he closes them protectively around her shoulders, his words on repeat in her head.There were two of you in the relationshipThere were two of you in the relationshipThere were two of you in the relationship

Wien Day 4
The phone in the other room rings insistently. Iliane opens her eyes and sees the sun shining at the edges of the window shades, the sky an intense iridescent blue. These are the first rays of sunshine in the few days she’s been here.She smiles.The phone is picked up. She hears Isak’s muffled voice from beyond her door.She is still staring at the sliver of sky between the edge of the window and the drawn shades, from her position under her covers when Isak knocks on her door.“Honey, are you awake?”“Yeah.”“Sorry for the early wake-up call.”“Something wrong?”“Actually this day is turning out to be better than expected.”“Oh?”“My co-presenter for today fell ill, so they’re canceling the session,” he says, leaning one shoulder against the door jamb, with a grin. “The weather is wonderful; I feel like going for a run and then having a nice long massage at the spa. What do you say? It’s been ages since you and I went running together.”“Can I borrow some of your clothes for running?” Iliane asks.Isak winks at her. “When have you not? A light breakfast?”She nods.They quickly get ready in multiple layers, running shoes, beanies, and gloves, and make their way down to the breakfast buffet for some coffee, yogurt, and bananas. They make a quick meal of the few items they choose, then they leave the hotel to get to the river walk path. They stretch. A friendly challenge is exchanged between them, and they’re off. Isak sets the pace, with Iliane easily keeping up with him.Running with Isak and Gwydion was always something the three of them enjoyed from when she and Gwydion were of a young age. Smiling to herself she recalls the few times when, as a teen, Isak had not asked her to go, and how that always made her feel slighted and excluded. Now with maturity and distance from the turbulent teen years, she can appreciate what Dad and Pappa were trying to do in those moments of needed parental discipline. Still, running with Isak was always a special bonding ritual between them. They reach the Cycling Park, and decide it’s a good place to turn around and head back toward the hotel. Their massage at the spa is not for a while, so half-way through their return jog they slow down the pace to a walk, enjoying the bright sun, the cerulean sky, the crisp winter air.**********Isak stops to lean against a bench, turns his face up toward the sun, closes his eyes. Enjoying the heat on his face, he encourages Iliane, almost as if he could sense her need to pose a question. “Baby girl, what’s on your mind?”The term of endearment makes her smile. Her fathers rarely use it anymore. Where once not so long ago she would have scoffed at it, she doesn’t mind the use of it now.“Have you ever experienced heartache? Was it with Pappa?”“Yes, but he wasn’t the first one.”She turns toward him, surprise in her eyes. He opens one eye to observe her, satisfied he managed to catch her off guard, then turns his face back toward the sun, his eye closing.
“The first was Nana Marianne,” Isak says. “It’s taken me years of therapy to say that. Pappa would be proud.” He grins, then more seriously adds, ”I lost part of my childhood when Nana’s schizophrenia came on uncontrolled and affected all of our lives, not just mine. I also lost the mother I had known up until then.”She leans over to hug him, whispering, “I’m sorry Dad.”Covering her arms with his hands as they hug him, he says, “Thank you, Honey. We’re at a better place now with Nana. We’ve found our way back toward one another.” He lets himself smile contentedly.“Then Pappa broke your heart,” she fills in, wanting to know more.“Yes, but before I can tell you more I need to check with Pappa. The story is his as much as it’s mine, and we rarely share it. As a matter of fact we’ve only shared it once before. Anyway, let me ask him first.” He types a quick message to Even, whose reply is immediate: Yes, of course. They get back on their stroll.
“So, as I said, the easy answer is, yes, it was with Pappa. We were both very young, and I was so inexperienced in matters of love and relationships, and to some extent so was your father, even though he was a tad older.” As Isak tells Iliane the sequence of events that led to his first heartbreak with Even, and then the second time, he realizes, maybe for the first time, why that first experience and the subsequent one were so pivotal in Even’s and his lives. He tries to explain it to Iliane.“The heartache was devastating both times—there was so much confusion in my head as to why the events happened, and my thoughts were always that his actions were conscious and purposeful, when in reality they were not, certainly not entirely—his BPD had a major part in both instances. Part of my thinking was that I had done something, or didn’t do enough of something, that somehow I had a fault in all of it, that I was damaged for not being able to prevent it, and he was better off without me. If you ask him he’ll say the same thing, I think. But, a big part of the devastation of those instances, which I just realized, was the notion that I would lose him, that we would never have the opportunity to right the wrongs, and that I needed him more than anything in those moments. The separations were physically painful for me.”
“I don’t think it is like that for me at all,” Iliane realizes. “Well maybe, the self-blaming is there. But not because I feel I’ve done something wrong toward Ari.” She pauses, searching for the right way to explain her thoughts. “But because I kept making the same mistake over and over. I feel like an idiot. How could I have been so blind and accepting of a person that used me? I know I have a better sense of who I am. That’s the part I don’t understand, Dad. How could I let myself become so duped?”“I don’t think you can answer that question this quickly, Honey. I realized an aspect of those experiences just now, in talking about them with you, decades later. At some point in your life you’ll understand the how.” Isak answers her question with all the wisdom of his later years.“I think my pain is more about me, than about her.”“That’s my girl!” he says, hugging her close with one arm.
“I think the physical pain you spoke about is the loss of myself, the fact that I let myself be bamboozled, multiple times.” Isak can hear the anger in her voice.“You loved her, probably still do. You made a mistake Iliane. Acknowledging it is just one part of the process, though. The hard part is finding yourself again without changing yourself into someone so hard and unforgiving, that you won’t forgive yourself.”
They walk a little more in silence, arriving back at the hotel, Iliane deep in thought.“Spa appointment is not for another hour, do you want anything?” Isak asks her as they re-enter their suite.“A shower, a call to Gwydion, a nice nicoise salad and some fries,” Iliane replies, with a smile that reaches her eyes for the first time in days.**********She lies down on her bed, pushing ‘call’ on FaceTime, dialing Gwydion. The number rings a few times. Gwydion appears, the neck of his cello visible, resting on his shoulder.
“Hey there, pain in the ass.” he greets her in their usual way, with a grin.“Asshole!” she replies, grinning back at him.“Hold on…” he says, depositing his phone somewhere, the camera pointed up at the ceiling in Even’s studio. She recognizes the color, making her homesick. Through the microphone she can make out the sound of Gwydion moving about with the instrument, then coming back.
Gwydion picks up the phone again.“I’m back. How’re you holding up, Mouse?” he asks, using their old nicknames for each other, his voice soft and genuinely concerned for her.“You knew, didn’t you?” she replies.“When it happened. Yeah, I knew,” he confirms, recalling how he was playing and a pang behind his sternum made him catch his breath. He knew something had happened to her. It was not an unfamiliar experience for either of them. Then Dad and Pappa talking about how they were concerned about Iliane after her call affirmed it. He pauses briefly, before he asks about Isak.“How’s Dad?”“A rock,” she replies. ”I needed him. You know?”“Yeah, I know what you mean.”“How’s Pappa?” she asks.“Concerned. He wants to know how you’re holding up, what happened. He misses you.”“I’ll call him. Promise.”A silence falls between them, as they scrutinize each other through the phone screens.“What happened, Mouse? Can you tell me?” Gwydion asks.“The short version or the long one, Owl?”“Whichever you want.”“She cheated again. I wasn’t going to take it anymore. I’m asking Willem to help me dissolve anything we have in common, and we’ll sell the apartment in Oslo. I’ll need to find a new one.” She describes in a few short phrases the practical side of the break up. Gwydion listens patiently, but that’s not what he asked. She knows that; he knows she knows that too. When she’s done talking he looks at her with a look that says ‘Okay, now tell me everything else.’“I got lost Gwydion,” she comes clean. “I’m beginning to understand how I maintained the lie to myself—sex was a big part of that illusion.”Gwydion listens, saying nothing, his eyes tender and understanding.“I’ve got to pick myself back up. But it’s really fucking hard, Owl. All I hear is my own voice saying ‘How could I have been so stupid! I'm such an idiot!’ All I want to do is hide under the covers and stay in hiding.”“You loved her.” Gwydion offers.“Yes,” she admits with sorrow, “Part of me still does. At the same time I’m so ashamed of having let myself be taken advantage of.”“What can I do for you, Sis?” he asks.“Nothing,” she replies with a feeble smile. “Just pick up your phone if I call, that’s enough,” she adds, her smile transformed by shyness in making the ask. She doesn’t ask much of him anymore, and neither does he, of her.They stay for a longer while just staring at each other on the screen, their eyes and their silences communicating so much more than words will ever do for them, their twin connection always strong, even with thousands of kilometers between them.“I promise I’ll call Pappa,” she reassures him.“Okay.”“Miss you, Owl.”“Miss you, Mouse.”“I’ll hang up now.”“You go right ahead.”They continue to stare at each other a while longer. Eventually, Iliane smiles and Gwydion returns it with one of his own. They’re both ready to let go.“Bye now.” Gwydion’s screen goes blank.**********Walking out of the spa feeling relaxed, Isak and Iliane make plans for the evening to have dinner at the hotel’s restaurant, then take a walk in the clear, brisk evening across the Danube to the Prater, and maybe even take a spin or two on the ferris wheel.

The early evening is brisk but the strings of lights illuminating the paths of the Prater lend a magical atmosphere to the park. They make their way toward the illuminated ferris wheel, delighted that it is still open to the public until a later hour.All bundled against the cold, Iliane and Isak stand in line with a few other couples and groups of friends of various ages by the ferris wheel. Their turn quickly comes up. Holding a warm newspaper cone full of roasted chestnuts, they seat themselves comfortably inside the small gondola. They’re alone; the attendant closes the door behind them.As the large wheel, loaded with passengers, starts to make its slow revolutions around its fulcrum, Iliane stands up to lean her folded arms on the small safety bars that partially protect the lower sections of the windows. Resting her chin on her arms, her eyes take in the sight of Wien at night, with street, traffic and car lights making it seem like a great river delta made of lights. She can see the streets of the city below her, the large boulevards, the palace, churches, and museums in the distance. Looking wistfully at the panorama before her, as Isak leans his shoulders against the window next to her, facing the interior of the gondola, she says, “You know Dad, looking at the streets below me, makes me wish I had a clearer path in front of me for my life?”“Truth be told, very few things are as mapped out as we’d like them to be. That goes for anyone, Iliane. Yes, planning makes some of us” he turns toward her with a wink and a conspiratorial smile—their similarities in disposition and life outlook having always been apparent—“more comfortable, less battered by the whims of fate. But plans are made to be then chucked away, too. So much for planning. A lesson I had to relearn more than once,” he admits, while staring at his shoes, a bitter yet amused smile on his face.“Yeah,” she replies in understanding, waiting for his pearl of wisdom to drop.“But, the reality of life is that we need to live out our days as much in the moment as we can. Because otherwise we lose sight of what may be happening right in front of us, and it could even be meeting the love of your life.”They look at each other, smiling and quietly stating, “Life is Now.”Iliane turns her head to look outside again, to the city lights below them.“I think I want a break from relationships for now.”Isak chuckles in the folds of his scarf, his eyes luminous and mirthful as he takes in Iliane’s serious face.She stands up, leaning her head on his shoulder, as the wheel stops and their gondola is held at the pinnacle of the revolution. Her voice stronger and more self assured than it has been in days, she confides in Isak.“I think I’ve come to grips with this ending. I think I wanted something out of someone who was not capable of giving me what I really needed. I probably did the same to her. I thought I was giving her what she wanted, clearly I was not. I mistook sexual satisfaction for everything else, and deluded myself. The care, trust, connection, and love I wanted was only there because I maintained the lie to myself.” After a pause she adds, “Trust just wasn't there to begin with. I wanted it to be there so badly though, I compromised so much, I lost myself.”“So, what are you going to do about it, Iliane?” Isak asks.“I’m going to dissolve any semblance of domestic partnership we may have had. Willem will help me, I’ll sell the apartment in Oslo, probably need to come back and stay at the house as a pied-a-terre for a while, is that okay?”“Of course, you don’t need to ask,” Isak replies, kissing the top of her head at his shoulder, pride in his voice. He can feel her sense of who she is, her inner strength returning. He stands, quiet, listening to her as the ferris wheel slowly lowers them to the ground.“I’m going to go back to Bukhara and dive into my work until I come back to Oslo in April to recruit new students for the Summer digging season.”“That’s just your professional side, which I know is capable. What about your emotional side, Iliane?”She doesn't have a reply. They turn, taking the few steps to the other side of the cabin, toward the sliding doors. They exit and walk away, past the queue waiting for their turn, through the lit paths of the park, toward the bridge over the Danube and their Hotel. As they walk Iliane thinks she has an answer to Isak’s question. Or at least a first answer.“I think I’m going to give myself some grace for once. I’m going to learn how to not berate myself, as much as I have, and actually give myself permission to be more open to whatever may happen. I’m going to make sure that the next person I let into my life wants me for who I am, and I will try and do the same and meet them where they are.”“That’s the Iliane I know!” Isak says encouragingly. “Strong as steel, but kind-hearted and forbearing. Be warm-hearted and compassionate to yourself, Iliane. I think Pappa would be very proud of you. By the way, you should call him, I think he would appreciate it.”

The airplane
Iliane sits herself down in the gate waiting area, wearily eyeing the weather through the large windows overlooking the tarmac. It’s starting to snow.Fuck!
She sends a quick message to her colleagues and warns them of possible delays.Meanwhile, she puts her earbuds in her ears, selects a downloaded podcast, and makes herself comfortable waiting for the gate to open boarding. She settles on people watching as strangers of all kinds pass by her on the way to other destinations. She makes it a game of guessing where people are coming from, while she’s half listening to the podcast.A tall man, at least as tall as Pappa, with overgrown, soft, dark brown curls, a manicured beard, and reflective aviator sunglasses, approaches the gate. He has a blue puffer jacket and looks like he just came off of a mountaineering expedition or something. He finds an open seat and pushes his sunglasses into his hair, uncovering luminous, hazel-shaped, aquamarine eyes, which are framed by impossibly thick and long lashes. He bends to rummage through his backpack and fishes out a charger.
He’s handsome, Iliane admits to herself—the eyes alone have her swimming in their blue-green clarity. But beards are not her type. She scolds and forces herself to stop staring at this passenger, looking to follow the others scurrying by, resuming her silent game.
Another hour and half to go before boarding.She doesn’t notice Blue Puffer getting up and leaving the gate area, nor returning after a while.
She catches sight briefly only of the back of a puffer jacket, along with others seated in the gate area with similar clothing. She doesn’t notice Blue Puffer furtively eyeing her.
The gate is opened and eventually passengers are called to begin boarding. She’s one of only three women boarding the plane unveiled and unescorted, and the only one in first class (thank you Dad for your flight miles!). She’s used to this stark change from traveling to Western countries, but she can’t help but remark that she’s returning to a country with different societal norms, and that she’s the anomaly.Her ear pods still on, concealed under her long auburn hair, she finds and settles comfortably in her seat. Lifting her head she takes a perfunctory look around the cabin, and sees a tall man, clean-shaven, trimmed hair, sunglasses on his head, looking like a model,
ducking his head and (powerful yet not overly muscular) shoulders under the bulkhead, stepping onto the plane with a smile for the flight crew. Turning her head, Iliane sees his eyes scanning for his seat, moving forward, aiming for the seat right next to hers.She glances once more at the approaching man, not recognizing Blue Puffer in him at first, until he lifts his backpack and the balled up puffer jacket up to the overhead storage bin. Then her brain does a summersault.Their eyes meet, and his aquamarine pools transfix her to her core. A frisson of excitement ascends her spine, her insides melting.Fucking hell!Shaven, the face reveals a chiseled jawline, accented by some softly rounded cheeks above it, and pillowy lips, beckoning. Iliane swallows hard.
They smile politely at each other, Iliane quickly turning herself to look away, before she blushes in front of him like an ingenue.Fucking hot!It’s been years since she’s had a heterosexual relationship, not since Uni her freshman year. What the hell is going on with her? She can’t be thinking of this! She’s on the proverbial rebound for God’s sake! Her mind starts to gallop away and she unsuccessfully tries to rein it in.
How is she going to sit on this airplane for the next four hours and not gush like a little school girl? The pull from this stranger feels like a long string of honey, stretching yet holding her. She’s totally into Blue Puffer, with his aquamarine eyes and his puffy lips, she admits reluctantly to herself.Still looking out through the small airplane window, she’s trying to get herself under control when she’s tapped on her shoulder. She turns to see Blue Puffer seated next to her, smiling and pointing to the flight attendant standing in the aisle asking her if she wants anything to drink. She replies with a shake of her head and a polite smile for both the flight attendant and Blue Puffer.
She turns toward the window once more, as she feels her face flaming and turning red.Fuck! She’s crushing on a complete stranger.
As the plane levels after take off and the seat belt signs are turned off, Blue Puffer decides to come alive by standing up and fishing his laptop out of his backpack from the overhead bins. As he rummages above Iliane’s head, a ring with at least 40 high-quality, expensive carabiners drop out and onto his seat, startling her. Puzzled, she reaches over and lifts the massive, heavy ring and offers it back to Blue Puffer. He smiles apologetically, a tender, almost boyish smile, with his lips widening and his eyes crinkling at the edges.Fucking hell! She’s a goner, she admits to herself.Back in his seat and buckled, he turns toward Iliane, putting his right hand out, and introducing himself.“I’m going to take a wild stab here, and ask if you speak English.” His voice is low, warm, drawing her in. She nods, smiling back. She doesn't think she can say anything without squealing ridiculously.“Lars,” he says, not pronouncing the ‘s’ as ‘skj’ as she would have done, still offering his right hand.
Interesting. A Nordic name, an American accent? Not quite….“Iliane,” she replies, extending her hand to his and shaking it with her usual firm grip.His eyes go wide, but then he composes himself very quickly. But, she didn’t miss that momentary startlement followed by appreciation.“Sorry for nearly dropping my carabiners on you.”“No damage done,” Iliane replies.“May I ask you a personal question?”“I may not answer it,” she warns him.“Fair enough.”“Shoot.”“Very few unaccompanied European women voluntarily travel beyond Istanbul. Will you be traveling beyond?”Damn! That’s forward!Iliane narrows her eyes trying to gauge whether she wants to even answer the question. In the end she’s too curious to see his reaction to her answer.
“My final destination is Uzbekistan,” she replies, still wondering if it isn’t a mistake on her part to volunteer the information.
“Even more rare to see women on their own traveling there. May I ask what brings you there?” Lars comments, his eyebrows raising into his hairline, asking for more information.She considers him, and the question. She’s a savvy enough traveler in what are considered exotic parts of the world, to know better than to give away personal information to complete strangers. And Lars-with-an-‘s’ is exactly that.
Yet, so fucking hot. Charming in a non-aggressive sort of way. Unassuming almost, exuding a sort of warmth that puts her at ease. She realizes right away that she needs to fight against it. One never knows. Confidence men know how to prey on women, especially women alone.She decides to be vague.
“I’m a researcher,” she replies, hoping to appease the curiosity. Lars looks on the verge of wanting to ask more, then thinks better of it. Almost as if he understands why she’s being deliberately vague, and has decided not to push the subject.“Turnabout is fair play,” Iliane hears herself saying, adding, “And, are you traveling to the same region?” He nods sharply once, a smile on his lips. ”What brings you there? I can’t say there are many European men there either.”“Canadian. Not European,” he corrects with an inviting smile. “Coincidentally, I’m a researcher too.”Ha yes, of course, not a US accent. A Canadian? Why does that ring a bell? Yet, she can’t quite place it.“I’m a paleontologist.”
Bingo! Now she knows who he is.Fuck!“Tell me, have you discovered anything I would have heard of?” she enquires, her eyes keen on his response.What the actual fuck, Iliane, don’t start firting with him!
She redoubles her self-chastisement to no avail. She feels split in two, her head telling her categorically to not engage, and her mouth and her body with agendas of their own over which she apparently has no control.“No, not yet. We’re not all Indiana Jones you know,” he answers, laughing.“Indy was not a paleontologist,” she points out. “He was an archeologist.”“Ah, so you know the difference,” he replies, with a mischievous look in his eyes and a lopsided grin.Iliane flashes back a roguish smile of her own, and the game is afoot. A clever teasing game of cat and mouse between them begins, lasting the entire flight. Verbal foreplay. Shamelessly flirtatious conversations about a variety of subjects that lasts for hours. Through their first leg of the flight, their three-hour layover in Istanbul, a lunch and onto the eight-hour flight to Bukhara. The foreplay stokes Iliane’s fires and turns her on, burning within her with barely a modicum of control by the time they land in Bukhara.
As the plane slowly begins its descent and the captain announces their approach to Bukhara airport, Lars asks her where she’s staying, if she would consent to meeting him again.She dips into her purse and takes out the keys to his apartment.At first he’s confused, because he recognizes the keys and the holder as his own, the spare keys he had left with a friend.Then he looks at her, with squinting eyes, “Are you—you—Dr. Valtersen Bech Næsheim?”“It’s a mouthful isn’t it?” she replies with an impish smile and a nod of her head.

Bukhara, Uzbekistan
They land.Lars seeks out her hand as they deplane. She watches as he reaches for her, unable to stop herself from meeting the gesture and settling there, like she always belonged, her palm against his, their fingers laced.It’s a strange sensation, her hand in his, but the slow rolling boil that her insides have been doing is becoming unbearable. The cat and mouse game they’ve been playing ratcheted up her desires to know this man, with every word and every smile he turned toward her throughout the long hours of flight.Luggage in hand, they flag down a taxi outside the airport terminal. Iliane is covered by her modesty scarf hiding her hair, and a woolen scarf hiding most of her face against the cold.They are silent the entire long ride from the airport to Lars’ apartment.Their hands are laced, resting on the seat between them.They barely make it inside his apartment, before his hands rip the scarves off her, his mouth crashing onto hers. Hot, demanding, wanting. Tongues licking, teasing, dueling. They come apart reluctantly, panting, taking in big gulps of air. Then they dive back toward each other.They roll along a wall, first Iliane against it, then Lars, their lips never severing contact for long, needy moans and whimpers half-swallowed.

She pushes her hands under his sweater, feeling his well-defined abs, and asks breathlessly, “What do you need?”He hesitates, seemingly
at a loss.She sears his lips with hers and reassures him. “It's okay, I want to.”“Blow me,” he whispers, needing relief, excited by the prospect, unbelievably turned on by her self-assurance.
She drops to her knees, nuzzling his hard-on. She molds her lips around the shape of his hard shaft visible through his jeans. She blows warm air as she glides up and down the shape of it, making him shiver from head to toe.She looks up, capturing his gaze, asking permission with her eyes as her hands reach his jeans button and zipper.“Please,” he says, almost like a prayer, the unmistakable sound of need intoned in his voice.She opens his jeans and pulls them down along with his briefs. She feels herself slowly, steadily dampening her own undergarments at the sight of his erection. It’s filled, the head glistening precum, straining for relief.
He rushes to say, “I’m clean, I was just tested before leaving Canada. I’ve not been with anyone else.”“I’ve only been with a woman, but she was sleeping around. I’ve not been tested recently, I have a condom I can use? If not, I can still do wonders with my hands,” she volunteers, offering him an out. This time he nods. She fishes blindly into her bag discarded on the floor nearby. Finds the condom, rips the wrapper with her teeth, pinching the tip and slowly rolling the condom down his dick. She proceeds to mold her lips around his head and tease his frenulum, as she slowly begins to bob up and down. She feels her vulva becoming stimulated and needy, her undergarments quickly becoming soaked and feeling damp.
She holds his hips, feeling him tightening his muscles and holding his hips in check. His hands find their way to her head and his fingers plunge into her hair. She pushes her needs away, relishing in the dual feel of her own wetness and Lars’ dick in her mouth.“Fuck!” he moans.She adds one hand to stroke him in counterpoint to her mouth sliding up and down the shaft, enjoying the feel of his dick against her tongue.He moans loudly, calling out her name, his voice wrecked, his lips puffy. She can’t take her eyes off of his face as he looks down at her in bliss.“Iliane.”His hips roll but her hands stop them before she chokes.He calls out again.“Iliane, I’m coming.” he whispers urgently.She pulls up slowly enough to feel the first string of cum fill the tip of the condom on her lips, then pulls off, stroking him through his high, letting him come into her hand. She stands up and kisses him up his neck to his ear, teasing his earlobe.He pulls back just enough to give her a smile that lights up his face.“What can I do for you?” he asks in a soft whisper. “Anything you want,” he confirms with tenderness.“Edge me please,” she replies, melting onto his chest.He steps out of his pants and briefs pooled at his feet. He slides his hands around the curve of her ass, massaging the roundness of it. He slides them a little lower as he crashes his lips against hers, then picks her up, guiding her legs around his hips, and carries her toward his bedroom