Chapter 32
Anton is sitting at the round table in Carl’s kitchen, and they have more or less finished dinner. A meal he knows Carl has been planning for days—whitefish roe on toast to start, and beef fillet Provencale for the main course. Two panna cottas with cloudberries are waiting in the refrigerator.
Carl hasn’t said much during dinner, and Anton can’t help wondering if he has something on his mind. Maybe he noticed that Anton was uncomfortable at Boqueria yesterday, when Carl squeezed his hand in public.
“How about a trip to Vita Renen on Saturday?” he suggests, hoping to cheer Carl up. They both enjoy a visit to the cozy waffle house—they can ski there and back.
“I can’t on Saturday, I’ve promised to help my brother move some stuff. Sunday’s okay, though.”
Anton shuffles uncomfortably. It’s his sister Karro’s birthday on Sunday, and she has invited both Anton and his parents over for tea and cake. He had hoped to avoid mentioning it to Carl.
“I can’t do Sunday.”
“Why not?”
Carl’s expression is challenging, as if he senses that Anton is hiding something from him. Playing for time, Anton pops the last piece of beef in his mouth and chews away, hoping that Carl will drop the subject.
“This is delicious,” he says. “You’re a real master chef!”
Carl gives him a searching look. “What are you doing on Sunday that’s so important?”
Anton doesn’t want to lie to him, but he doesn’t know how to explain. He searches for the right words, hoping to avoid making the situation worse, but his mind is blank.
His tongue feels stiff as he decides to tell the truth.
“It’s my sister’s birthday, and she’s invited the family over to celebrate.”
As soon as he says the word family, he regrets it, but it’s too late. He doesn’t mention that Hanna will be there too, because she and Karro are good friends.
“And that doesn’t include me?” Carl says. “Or is there another reason why I’m not allowed to come? Are you ashamed of me?”
“Of course not—don’t be stupid! We’re together.”
“In that case I would really like to know why you haven’t told me that there’s a family gathering to which I am not invited.”
“We’re only talking about a couple of hours,” Anton mumbles. “And Karro’s kids will be racing around like lunatics as soon as they’ve had a sugar hit. It will be messy and noisy. And my parents are pretty boring.”
“Surely I’m going to have to meet your family at some point?” Carl says, folding his arms across his chest. “We’ve been together for nine months—that’s quite a long time.”
“Of course you’ll meet them . . .”
“We can’t go on pretending forever, can we?”
Carl is rarely sarcastic, but he asks the question in such an acidic tone that Anton is taken aback.
He fiddles with his knife and fork, puts them down on his plate without meeting Carl’s gaze.
He has tried to avoid this issue, he has never wanted to admit to Carl that he still hasn’t come out to anyone even though he is over thirty.
Even though Carl must have wondered why Anton never wants them to hang out with his family and friends, why he only wants them to spend time alone together, Anton has done his best to pull the wool over Carl’s eyes.
“I didn’t think you’d be interested.” He can hear how lame it sounds. His pathetic efforts to explain simply make the situation worse.
“You don’t think I can decide for myself whether I want to go or not? Or don’t you trust me to behave properly when I meet your parents for the first time?”
There is no warmth in Carl’s voice. His dark eyes have narrowed, and deep inside, Anton can read both sadness and disappointment.
Feelings that are a lot harder to deal with than pure anger.
“How long are you intending to keep our relationship a secret?” Carl goes on. “Or do you think I don’t realize what you’re doing?”
It hurts when Anton hears Carl’s bitter words. He is more than angry and upset. It sounds as if Carl is having doubts about their relationship.
Don’t do this, Anton wants to cry out. You’re the most important person in my life. I love you!
Of course he wants to introduce Carl to his parents, let him meet Karro and her wonderful, wild kids.
But Anton can imagine how shocked his mother would be—she is desperate for him to meet a girl and have children before it’s too late.
Not to mention how his father would react—the retired lieutenant colonel who is a real man’s man and likes to boast about his military achievements and macho behavior.
He knows how awkward and embarrassing it would be if he took Carl along on Sunday; he can picture the disaster playing out. It is more than likely that his father would say something unforgivable that would make Carl walk out in a fury.
Then his mother would start crying, and Karro would think Anton had ruined her birthday.
“It’s not about that,” he says.
“Okay, so what is it about? Go on.”
Carl starts tearing the paper napkin into tiny, tiny pieces as he waits for Anton’s explanation. He is fully committed, and has even hinted that maybe they should move in together. He really wants to introduce Anton to his family and friends, and to be a proper couple.
Anton is the one who resists and keeps coming up with excuses and objections.
Carl’s beautiful eyes are shining with unshed tears; his expression is stiff and distant. There is nothing Anton would like to do more than erase the last fifteen minutes, explain how important Carl is to him, see that loving smile again.
But he can’t bring himself to say the right words. Instead he sits there in silence.
Eventually Carl tosses the remains of the napkin in the direction of his plate. The movement is so violent that he misses the table, and the fragments float down and spread over the floorboards like sad confetti.
“I can’t do this anymore,” he says, getting to his feet.
The gap between them is as deep as an abyss. Anton is too ashamed even to look up.
“I’m going to bed.”
Seconds later the bedroom door slams behind Carl’s implacable back.
And Anton remains seated at the table, among the pathetic leftovers of what was supposed to be a romantic meal to celebrate their nine months together.