NOVEL
Hindsight Can Be Salt in the Wound
The Love We Had, Chapter 26
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26
I can’t help it, but I need to think back to how it happened. This is in retrospect, but I do not see that it is wrong. Thinking back is also reflection, what occurred can be analysed and it can be lessons. I think back, and sometimes a little hindsight can also be helpful in figuring things out. But I have to watch out. I must remember: hindsight is not a patch on the wound. Hindsight can many times rather be salt in the wound.
Sometimes I say to myself: It’s best not to think about it. But I have to. I met him, he met me, and I thought that was the big thing that happened to me. I thought I had finally met the man with a big M. I thought the meeting with him becoming my husband was a big event in my life and the most important thing that had happened to me so far in my life.
When I started to think it wasn’t, it was too late. — Or wasn’t it?
I see it more clearly now. Or, no, it’s hard to say what really caused our defeat, the failure of this relationship
At that time, more than fifteen years ago now, I was at the dance when I saw that he was there. I knew of him, but I had never really seen him before. But then he suddenly stood there in front of me. I looked at him, the whole appearance, this young man who smiled at me.
I could sense that he was caught by me, he wanted me. His gaze was in me like burning rayons of light. His smile was affective and full of something I couldn’t identify.
«Shall we dance?» he asked.
I blushed, the girls at my side me heard everything and giggled.
Later, on the dance floor, we stood in a slow song, and he said something to me. I could not hear it because his voice was so low, so weak. I thought I heard what he said, but I wanted to be sure, so I asked: «What?»
He whispered something into my ear, words that I couldn’t catch because the band started playing a new song and the sound from the amplifiers was suddenly much louder. It made him shout, and he shouted something with the word ‘Love’ into my ear. I nodded and looked towards the local band and said: «Yeah, they’re good! Love them!»
He shook his head, and I understood that the message he wanted to give me was something else.
That night there, in the Great Ballroom of the People’s House in our home town, said to be the world’s ugliest town, this young boy — Lars was his name — wanted something from me, as I learned a couple of hours later that night.
Between the songs at the dance, he stood near me and held on tight my hand, as if he wanted to stop me in walking away.
The band announced the last dance. He took my hand, turned to me. I let him guide me once more on the dance floor. Then the music stopped, and all of a sudden, the dance floor was no longer overcrowded.
When we came out, I saw his eye sparkle in the shine of street lights. He held me tight in hand, and I let him take me on a night walk in the streets. We went down to the quay, then across the square over in the street along the harbour. At the bend, he stopped and looked to both sides. I felt his hand on my belly and his mouth came on mine. I removed his hand from my belly and I said: «No! No, stop! Not — now!»
He stopped. He had an expression like he had lost in the lottery, and I felt a little sorry for him. We started walking hand in hand up the street towards the park, where, in a kind of silent mutual understanding, we stopped under the tall trees. I felt a warm breath on my cheek as he began to explore me. When his fingers came under my dress and tried to get under my panty, I pulled his hand and refused to let him kiss me on the mouth. For a second the time stood still and the night held the breath around us. I waited. Would he use his muscles or would he accept my rejection?
Three days later I saw him again in the agreed place, on the cinema stairs. I caught sight of him in the distance before he saw me.
«It’s not him, is it?» I thought.
«Not him who’s standing there, near the cinema posters?»
I should have taken it for what it was — a warning. He made no impression on me at all, he just seemed so — well, so ordinary — to me.
When I saw him, I felt nothing special inside me. I thought nothing particular when I walked beside him up the stairs and he delivered the tickets to the uniformed man at the top of the stairs. But I noticed that they were looking at him and me, the two girls in the parallel class who were standing at the candy counter. I didn’t like it when I saw that they stuck their heads together, sending a quick glance at me and him. I made myself steep in the back and carried my head boldly while I and he in slow motion climbed all the steps upwards to the back rows in the great cinema hall.
For some reason, I didn’t notice that glance. I didn’t even hear the whispering and the giggling girls. For some strange reason, I thought about that time many years ago, when I finally was old enough and the cinema had opened its doors for me, and for the first time, I had visited the back row together with Tor Aslak, this boy from the neighbouring village who was almost a head shorter than me, the first boy I kissed.
Was I in love, that time, with that short boy? — Was he in love with me?
And now, in the cinema together with Lars, the young man who later was going to be my husband, was I really in love, or was I just ripped off with something that wasn’t what I thought it was? Something inside me that I thought was like real love, something on his face that night at that told me that it was not wise to let this happen. I had confused what we had at the dance with what I believed was great and genuine love.
At that moment, in the cinema, the thrill from the night out a few days earlier was gone inside me. Something that I thought I had I seen glimpses of inside him, something that fooled me, that made me bring him behind the light, which made me pull him towards me, which made me catch him on the hook, play with him.
I know I did wrong when I kissed him in the cinema that evening, I acted unwisely when I and he a few weeks later in the borrowed cabin at the mountain lay naked close another, on top of one another, below one another.
I absolutely knew I had fooled myself when I seven weeks later began to feel so strange morning sick and unwell. I felt mysterious changes in the body.
After hesitating for a couple of weeks I took contact and told him about it. He had a reaction which was a bit strange because it wasn’t a reaction. He did not really react at all. But after a while he finally took himself together and said:
«Okay, yes. Well, yes let’s do it, then.»
It was not so strange, really, that I smiled at him. I felt relieved. I said yes, I said that I wanted him, I wanted to marry him, become married to him, the father of this baby. I wanted to give the unborn child a safe and good home, when that time came, and the birth and everything had gone well.
The story that the novel tells takes place in a small industrial town at the end of a fjord in western Norway. The story being told and the characters are fictional.
The photos included in the chapters are taken on location in Odda and in the Odda Smelter (Odda Smelteverk, 1906–2003), the carbide factory that is part of the story.
The Love We Had
Part 1 The Longest Night -chapters 1–3, told by Lars. Part 2 The Light Inside -chapters 4–17, told by Aslak. Part 3 Save Our Secret Love -chapters 18 — XX, told by Eira.
For quick access to all chapters, go here.
Previous chapter: 25 Days and Nights Gone By
Next: Chapter 27 The Darkest Day in My Life
Øivind H. Solheim writes fiction, essays and articles aiming to help others understanding life, other humans and themselves. He has published five novels, two non-fiction books and a poetry book.
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