Chapter 18: Skating and Stockholm

November/December, 1979, Hovås/Göteborg, Sweden

On Monday when I showed up at the ice rink, I saw the regular hockey skaters, Åke, Per, and Johan, and greeted them as I usually did. Talking with them, I had discovered they all played for the same junior hockey team in Västra Frölunda and all hoped to play in the Elite Series. They skated each morning for about an hour before their regular practice started, which is when I had to leave the ice.

Katrina and Mikael, the ice dancers, weren’t there that day. It was the first time in the entire month they hadn’t been there. I figured they were competing somewhere. I had talked to them, but not at length because their coach worked them hard.

On Tuesday I saw only the young girl and not her partner on the ice. He was sitting on a bench with a cast on his ankle. That explained the absence yesterday, he’d been hurt. When I finished my skating, I stopped by the bench and asked him what happened. He told me he’d landed a jump wrong on Friday and badly sprained his ankle.

He’d be off the ice for a couple of months while it healed. He wasn’t too upset because both he and his partner were only thirteen and weren’t yet competing seriously. They planned to do that next Summer, and he would be ready long before that.

Tuesday evening at Torbjörn’s, Elizabeth picked another silly fight about proper word pronunciation in English. Of course, she insisted that British English pronunciation was correct, and that mine was horribly wrong and that American usage of words was wrong compared to British. This time, instead of in Swedish, the back and forth was in English.

“Schedule!” I said, pronouncing it ‘skedule’.

“No, it’s schedule,” she said, pronouncing it ‘shedule’.

“Oh, please. And I suppose you want me to call a wrench a spanner and the hood of my car a bonnet.”

“Yes, of course! Spanner, bonnet, lift, boot!”

“Wrench, hood, elevator, trunk! A bonnet is what a baby wears on its head!” I said.

“Crisps!” retorted Elizabeth.

“Chips!” I said.

“Biscuits!” she said, sticking her tongue out at me.

“Cookies! And don’t do that unless you plan to use it!”

Torbjörn and Cecilia were both laughing at us because once again Elizabeth and I were acting like toddlers.

“Not this again, you two toddlers,” Torbjörn laughed. “Look, you’re flirting like crazy, and now you’re asking her for oral sex, Steve! You two idiots don’t fool anyone!”

“Ewwww!” we both said at the same time and joined the other two in laughing.

I realized that he did have a point. We had been flirting the whole time, but doing it in such an innocent, indirect way that I hadn’t even consciously realized it.

I walked her home as usual, but this time before I hugged her, we talked.

“Elizabeth, have you been flirting with me?”

“I guess so. And have you been flirting with me?”

“I suppose so,” I answered. “I didn’t even realize it.”

“Neither did I,” she replied.

Her last words just hung in the air. I wasn’t sure what to say and I guessed she wasn’t either. We hugged as we usually did and she went in the door of the apartment building and I walked to the bus station, wondering about what had happened. She was nice enough and certainly she was cute and fun to be with. But I didn’t want to mess up the friendship that the four of us had by getting into something that could go horribly wrong. I decided just to keep having fun the way we were and not push things forward. I sighed, the thought of having sex with her was very tempting, but I wasn’t sure it was worth risking our friendship over.

The rest of the week was quiet and normal. I spent time with Sofia and avoided Anders, who seemed to be always drinking at home. I was truly concerned about the trip to Germany and asked Suzana about it. She told me that she’d never, ever seen her dad drink before driving, and even though he drank a lot, he was careful about that. I hoped for my sake she was right.

On Friday, Christina Eriksson said that my time was up and that they would no longer speak any English to me. I replied that she was about two weeks too late and that I almost never used English except when she used it with me. She laughed and gave me a hug and quickly tested me with a dozen quickly spoken phrases. I got them all, and she pronounced me fluent.

The usual foursome went ice skating on Saturday, and on Sunday I hung out with Patrick and his friends playing games, listening to music and otherwise just goofing off.

Monday morning when I arrived at the rink, Mikael waved me over before I went on the ice.

“Steve, do you think you could skate with Kat? She needs a partner.”

“I can barely manage skating laps, let alone ice dancing!”

He laughed. Kat and their coach, Johanna, came over to where we were.

“I’m sorry, Kat,” I said. “But there’s no way I can do that. I just can’t skate like that. Not even close.”

“But you look pretty smooth when you skate and you do nice transitions from forwards to backwards and forwards again.”

“That’s my one trick. I can’t do anything else. You’d be better off with Per, Åke, or Johan than me.”

“I can’t do much with Mikael right now, so perhaps I can help you improve enough to play pick-up ice hockey,” Johanna offered.

“That would be great!”

“When Kat is doing her exercises, I’ll show you how to make good turns, do hockey stops, skate backwards at speed, and handle a stick. I teach four-to-eight-year-olds how to skate, so I think I can manage with you!” she laughed.

“I’m game. What about the fees?”

“Don’t worry, I’m here anyway and we’ll call it an American discount! But you need to get some hockey gloves and a stick for tomorrow.”

I skated my usual morning skate and headed to school. Instead of staying after to use the computers, I took the tram to Västra Frölunda to visit the pro shop and buy a stick and hockey gloves.

On Tuesday, I skated over to Johanna, who told me to skate a bit to warm up while she gave Kat her instructions. I skated six laps around the rink, then skated back to my new instructor. She showed me how to properly hold the stick, then worked with me on skating backwards at speed. It was like with Petra and Tomas all over again. I fell on my butt a couple of dozen times, but got back up each time and tried to do what Johanna was telling me. I noticed that both Kat and Mikael were laughing, but it was all in good fun.

Just before the end of the lesson, Kat skated several quick circles around me as I skated backwards.

“Kat, how do you say ‘show off’ in Swedish?” I asked.

“Probably «briljera» is what you mean for what I’m doing!” she giggled.

We finished our lesson and instead of leaving right away, I had a cup of hot chocolate with Mikael, Kat, and Johanna.

“Not bad today, Steve, but less falling and more skating would be good,” Johanna said.

“He’s cute when he falls,” Kat giggled.

“Kat, you’re such a flirt!” Mikael whined. “Why do you never flirt with me?”

“You’re my partner. I have to spend all my time with you! Don’t you think I might get tired of you?” she teased.

“See how it is?” Mikael complained. “I’m with the cutest girl I know all the time, I get to put my hands on her waist, and is she interested in me?” He smiled, “No, she’s interested in the big lug of an American who can’t even skate!”

“Leave me out of this lovers’ quarrel, you two!” I chuckled.

“He only wishes we were lovers!” Kat giggled.

“I do,” Mikael said. “But I know better; it might wreck our chances to compete if things went badly. Not to mention Johanna would never allow it. She does let me have a girlfriend, though, and fortunately my girlfriend’s not jealous that I get to put my hands all over my cute partner!”

Johanna just rolled her eyes. I could sympathize. This sounded like me and Melanie or me and Stephanie, or more recently, me and Elizabeth. He was right about Kat, she was really cute. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and a skater’s body, which meant long, powerful legs and a very small chest. She had almost creamy white skin that was accentuated by the black leotard and leggings she practiced in.

Tuesday evening at Torbjörn’s was a bit calmer, with no real teasing from Elizabeth. We played Uno with the deck I’d given Torbjörn and had avoided any silly discussions about cartoon characters, jewelry, or the English language. I still had a good time, and I walked Elizabeth home as I usually did.

On Wednesday, I let Johanna know I’d be in Stockholm for a few days and would miss Friday through Wednesday. At the end of practice, Kat skated circles around me again, giggling and sticking her tongue out at me. I so wanted to use my line, but she was too young to tease that way. Maybe I would start teasing her back in the Spring when she turned fourteen, but for now, I didn’t want to encourage her flirting.

Thursday morning, when I finished skating, I asked Johanna if I could leave my gear in a locker and she arranged for me to rent one. That way, I didn’t have to lug my gear and skates with me to school and home again. As soon as school let out, I made a beeline for the train station, boarding the train to Stockholm with only ten minutes to spare. The trip to Stockholm was about seven hours, and I’d arrive around 11:00pm. I looked forward to the Anderssons being there to meet me.

December, 1979, Stockholm, Sweden

The train ride to Stockholm was long, but uneventful. I sat next to a couple of YFU exchange students who were in the Göteborg area but with whom I’d never hung out. I really didn’t want to spend my time in Sweden with Americans. I was happy to note that my Swedish was considerably better than theirs. They both said they struggled a bit in classes but that their teachers used a lot of English to accommodate them. I was really happy that Schillerska had not done that. Being fluent in Swedish in five months was a major accomplishment, something I was proud of!

Around 7:00pm, we went to the dining car and ate a light meal. At two of the stops, more exchange students boarded the train and our group was now six. I was looking forward to seeing Trevor and Pam in Stockholm, though I hoped Pam would understand if we couldn’t get together. If she wanted to fool around in Abisko, I’d probably be game, but I wanted to spend any free time I had in Stockholm with Lars, Annika, and Karin.

I had looked over the schedule. On Friday, we would be going to the palace for a tour and to meet the king, then a tour of City Hall. That evening, there would be a YFU party. We would have a bus tour of Stockholm during the day on Saturday, and a group dinner that evening. Sunday was a free day to spend with the temporary host families most people were assigned to. On Monday we’d visit the Riksdagshuset — the Swedish Parliament House building, then on Monday evening we’d go to the Nobel Prize festivities. Tuesday, there was a half-day mid-year review and orientation outing at the YFU offices. Tuesday afternoon was a boat tour of Stockholm’s harbor and archipelago. Tuesday evening was free and then Wednesday we’d all travel back to our homes.

I liked the schedule because it meant I could spend all day Sunday as well as Tuesday afternoon and evening with the Anderssons. I was a bit sad that our return trip to the US was through Copenhagen instead of Stockholm, and that this would probably be my last visit to Stockholm. On Sunday, I planned to visit Birgit and spend some time with her. It sounded strange to me to say it that way because she wasn’t just in that grave, but was ever present, always and forever, in my heart. But it was a place to go, to mourn, and to visit. I would have no such place to go for my other loss.

I used the time on the train to write a few letters and think. The others probably felt I was being anti-social, but I wasn’t particularly interested in conversation. I was heading back to Stockholm and was going to see Birgit again, possibly for the last time. I had discussed with Pia the unlikelihood of being able to come back. Sure, it might be possible someday, but I couldn’t count on it. Equally importantly, this would also most likely be the last time I would see the Anderssons.

As the train sped steadily towards Stockholm, I realized too, that my trip was nearly half over. It was the first week in December and I’d be going home in July. So much had happened, but time seemed to be flying by. I hoped that somehow I could maintain the friendships that I established here and stay in touch with them. Maintaining those relationships by letter and occasional phone call would be difficult, but I knew I had to try.

Lost in my thoughts, I felt the train slow and realized we were moving through Stockholm and approaching the station. I put my things away and picked up my bag and walked to the door of the carriage. I wanted to be first off and find the Anderssons.

We slowly pulled into the station and on the platform I saw the same tall blond man and beautiful woman I had seen at the airport. With them was the stunningly beautiful blonde teenage girl, who was looking more like Birgit every day. They saw me through the window and waved and smiled. I waved back and didn’t even wait for the train to completely stop before I stepped off onto the platform right in front of them.

I gave Lars a hearty handshake, hugged Annika, who kissed my cheek, and then I turned to Karin. Just as when I had left in July, our eyes locked together, and she came to me and we exchanged a hug. She gave me a quick peck on the lips and said softly, “I’m glad you’re back, Steve.” She released me from the hug and once again I had the oddest feeling, as if Birgit had kissed me again from the grave. For that brief moment, everything just felt right in the world.

We walked the short distance to the car, Karin holding my arm with both hands as we walked, and Lars carrying my bag. We got into the silver Volvo 244DL for the drive to their apartment. This time I sat in the back with Karin, rather than in front with Lars. Karin never let go of me except for that brief instant when we got into the car through separate doors. Once again, I felt Birgit with me in the car as we moved swiftly through the relatively empty streets of Stockholm.

We pulled up to park behind the eight-story apartment building I remembered from July. Lars carried my bag and Karin walked with me into the building, then into the elevator for the ride up to the sixth floor and apartment 6B. It appeared nothing had changed at first glance. I disengaged myself from Karin, took my bag from Lars, and went to my, that is, Birgit’s, room. I flipped on the light switch and immediately noticed something different.

On the desk with the pictures of Birgit and me, Birgit and Melanie, Larry, Birgit, and me and Karin and Birgit was a new picture — Karin and me standing next to Birgit’s headstone. I felt tears well up in my eyes when I saw the pictures, the emotions from July coursing through me, though not nearly as strong as they had been then. I knew that Sunday would be emotional, but I was more or less prepared for that.

I went back out to the living room and Annika asked if I needed anything. I told her no, thank you, that I wanted to get some sleep because I’d need to leave to catch the subway no later than 7:15am to get to the rendezvous point with YFU for the palace tour. I asked Karin if she’d go with me to see Birgit on Sunday and she quickly agreed that she would. I made sure Lars and Annika had the schedule. Lars said YFU had provided one, and they had planned a dinner on Sunday, but otherwise, I was free to come and go as I pleased. He gave me a key to the building and one to the apartment.

I thanked him, used the bathroom, brushed my teeth and went back to Birgit’s room. I shut the door, stripped, turned off the light, and climbed into bed. Like the first time, I snuggled under her comforter, feeling that same ethereal presence calming me as I fell asleep. I didn’t wonder about that at all; I knew Birgit was with me.

I woke up early as I usually did and lay in bed thinking. It was too cold to jog, and I didn’t have my skates with me. A few days without exercise wouldn’t kill me, and I’d be doing quite a bit of walking over the next few days, anyway. I daydreamed of making love with Birgit in her bed, of how her body would have felt moving with mine as we made love before sleep and again upon waking.

I shook off the daydream and went to shower and dress for the day. I ate breakfast with Lars and Karin and we all left the apartment. Lars left for work and Karin headed to school, pausing to give me a quick kiss on the cheek. I went to the subway and boarded a train. I arrived at the meeting point at Gamla Stan about half-an-hour early and walked around, checking out the old buildings and the waterfront. I arrived back at the meeting point about five minutes before the scheduled time. I saw Trevor and walked over and shook his hand. A few seconds later I heard a squeal and 120 pounds of bubbly, cute teenager jumped into my arms and kissed me.

“Hi, Pam!” I chuckled.

“Steve! How have you been?”

“Pretty good! How about you?”

“Great! I’ve been having a lot of fun!”

She let go of me and took my hand. Pam was nice enough and hanging out with her would be OK, though I wasn’t going to take time away from the Anderssons.

“What are you doing on our free days?” she asked.

“I have plans with the Anderssons, you know, Birgit’s family.”