Four O'clock on a Friday in early November and it is already dark.
I drove up Karl-Johanssonsgatan and was met by a dazzle of car headlights coming down the opposite side of the street. Red brake lights glowed in front of me casting their glare onto the wet cobblestone surface. Amber-colored streetlights above cast a yellowish glow over the dull concrete sidewalks.
It was a spontaneous idea, perhaps more of an excuse. Stop by the trendy little coffee and tea boutique in Majorna and pick up some of that Irish Cream-flavored tea I liked so much, then see if Ulrika was home.
I pulled my car up alongside the curb about 20 meters down from the shop, which was situated on the corner where Karl-Johanssgatan intersected Kustgatan, a double-laned stretch that cut south then merged on to the motorway where you could join the parade of traffic heading towards Tingstadstunnel. After you emerged from the half-kilometer long pipe, you met the shining metal and glass office buildings of the city center where the big business took place.
For now, I was only interested in buying a small bag of tea, and the prospect of seeing Ulrika. I pulled out my phone and texted her. Told her I was doing some shopping in the neighborhood and would love to see her if she had the time.
I loved the smell of the shop. A warm mix of all the varieties of the coffee and tea delicacies lined up along the walls. Trays of chocolates and other colorful candies were on display in the glass cases by the front counter. I was the only one in the store.
The proprietor, a pleasant middle-aged Persian woman, greeted me from behind the counter. After I told her I wanted some of the Irish Cream tea, she reached for one of the large gold tins in the shelving unit behind her. She pulled off the top and offered me a whiff. I sniffed at the rich chocolate smell and nodded my head in satisfaction.
My phone dinged.
While the woman filled a small paper bag with the tea, I looked at the message from Ulrika:
"Hi, sure just got home...I'd love to see you for a little bit."
Hmm, only for a little bit. She must have plans tonight. But at least I was going to get to see her.
I paid for the tea, thanked the shopkeeper then left.
Ulrika's flat was only a few blocks behind the main thoroughfare in a maze of streets full of multi-storied apartment buildings. The neighborhood was a mix of arty types, recent university grads, and immigrant families with small children. I found a parking spot behind a moving van where a group of friends were laughing and joking as they unloaded furniture and cardboard boxes. I assumed from the joviality that someone was moving into their first apartment.
She was still in her work clothes, black slacks and loose white blouse with a wide collar. I had never seen Ulrika dressed up like this before. It ran contrary to the image I had of her as a young, free-spirited anti-establishment type.
"So, how are you?" she asked while walking around the apartment clicking on lights and straightening up. Apparently she hadn't been home very long.
"Good," I replied emphatically. "Just get home?"
"Yeah, I got your text just as I was getting off the tram."
"Oh, sorry for the intrusion."
"No, not at all."
She came up to me and threw her arms around me. I held her around her waist. I studied her face. A group of red acne spots were clustered near the corner of her mouth; a few were dotted on her forehead. I would assume when she left the house this morning, they were covered up with make-up. Her pale blue eyes were as beautiful as ever.
We kissed. Her mouth had the sourness of someone who was tired and hungry. But there was still the faint scent of shampoo in her ash-blonde hair. We dug our tongues into each other's mouths.
"So, do you want something to drink?" she said, suddenly pulling back from the kiss.
"Sure, what do you have?"
"Beer?"
"I'm driving, unfortunately."
"I have alcohol free."
"Great, I'll take one."
She went to the fridge and pulled out two bottles of alcohol free beer and opened them.
"Here you go," she said handing me one. I took a drink. Alcohol free beers always tasted a bit strange to me, not entirely convincing. All they did was make me piss without the buzz. But better then water I guess.
"Cheers," I said raising my bottle to hers. She clinked her bottle to mine then we both took a drink.
We kissed again, but this time the cold beer had washed away the sourness in her mouth leaving behind a pleasant sweetness.
"So, how was work?" I asked.
"Not bad, just trying to understand all this stuff."
"What stuff is that?"
"Just all the techie stuff." She took a long drink from her beer then continued, "Who would have ever thought that a liberal arts major would be working for a cutting edge tech firm."
"Stranger things have happened," I replied.
"I suppose so," she shrugged. "But not so strange, I guess. I'm working in public relations and I don't see any of our engineers having those skills."
