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Hey, I’m going to give you my number. Service is spotty here.
A message comes across with his number, and I’m back to feeling like I’m floating.
I’m heading out to a club. Chat with you later.
I click on the number, saving it to my phone. I know he said he was going out, so maybe I should wait to text him. I glance at the clock on the wall. It’s nearly four here, which means it’s eleven there. I’ll text him after dinner, which should be long enough to not seem too clingy. I hope.
Dropping my phone, I fall back on my pillow with a smile on my face. Hans and I have known each other since we were babies. We went to the same private schools and our families ran around in the same circles. To me, it seems logical that we’ll end up together. And now that I’m twenty-one, it’s only a matter of time before Grandmama looks for a worthy man to marry me off to. Oh, some people might call it archaic, but it’s how things have always been in our family. Grandmama has picked each of my aunts’ husbands. And she was the one who made the arrangement between my father and mother. But now it’s my turn, or should be, but Grandmama’s announcement complicates things. The thought has me frowning. Again, why does she want Mother to remarry after all this time?
I stew on this until the grandfather clock in the foyer chimes six o’clock. We’re required to wear formal attire for dinner, so I change into a light pink gown and run a brush through my strawberry blonde hair. The platinum white strip that runs along my right temple stands out, but I barely notice it anymore. When I was little, I tried cutting the odd strand of hair only for it to slowly grow back. A nanny told me it was there because I was touched by an angel when I was a baby, and that made it somewhat bearable. Now it's just another reminder of how different I am from the rest of my family. God knows it’s been pointed out many times over the years as well as my other shortcomings.
I make my way to the dining room, taking my seat next to my mother. She gives me a tight smile before turning her attention to Aunt Maja, who is always seated next to her because of their closeness in age. That’s how it always goes. I’m ignored by everyone, and they purposely sit my cousin, Freja, as far away from me as possible so I have no one to talk to while I dine. At least back home, my seat is further away from my mother. Here, I’m close enough that she often turns her anger on me for no reason.
Grandmama arrives, and the room goes silent as we all stand until she takes her seat. Once she does, we sit too, and the servers enter with our first course. Our meals are always silent until Grandmama speaks. Sometimes she chooses not to, which makes the tedious meal seem even longer.
She finally puts down her spoon and says, “I’ve enjoyed my time inAngrboða, but I’ve decided it’s time for us to return to New York and show the world that we aren’t hiding.” She pauses. “I spoke with Selma earlier, but I want to tell you all about the decision I’ve made. Selma is to remarry. The contract will be signed when we return home.”
Aunt Maddi, the youngest aunt, gasps, gaining a glare from several people around the table. Grandmama can’t stand emotional outbursts, and some of my family members feel the same. I reach for my glass, taking a sip of wine. That’s why she slapped me earlier. Because I showed too much emotion. Sometimes I wonder what it’d be like to be in a normal family, where one can express themselves without being punished. But that’s like wondering what it would be like to live on another planet. Sure, it’s nice to dream about, but deep down you know it’ll never happen.
Helen—my least favorite cousin—asks, “When do we leave?”
Grandmama’s answer is quick and final. “Tomorrow.”
My chest is tight. There are so many things that I want to say, but don’t. I’ll just have to wait until after dinner and try to speak to my mother alone. Try being the keyword. Mother does everything she can to avoid me. If it weren’t for Grandmama, I don’t know what would have happened to me. I glance at her. I don’t trust my mother. I never have. Not since I was four. Even thinking about it now makes apprehension course through me.
The rest of the meal goes by torturously slow. When we’re finally dismissed, I touch my mother’s arm.
“Mother? Can I speak to you, please?”
She shakes her head. “I need to pack.”
“But—”
“I said not tonight, Anna.”
Sighing, I head to my room. I should probably pack, but I’m not in the mood. Not when I feel so… unsettled.
Grabbing my phone, I find Hans’ name and send him a text.
Hans
Hey, it’s Anna. How’s the club?
Anna?
Ouch.
Anna Aakre.
The club is fine, I suppose. Not as good as the ones in New York, but I’ll live.
That’s good. I guess we’re coming home tomorrow. My mother’s marriage contract is going to be signed when we return.
Oh? How do you feel about that?
I’m not sure…
You can trust me.
