It had been easy for him to settle into the rhythm of a small town, and he knew it surprised people. Until he and Maks were twelve, their little family had lived in Piteå, which was admittedly a small town, but not nearly as small as Grisslehamn. But then they'd moved to Stockholm, and Maks had absorbed everything about the city quickly, enchanted by the faster pace it offered. After just a year he had dropped his northern dialect completely, slipping into the southern Stockholm nasal drawl that to Bertil sounded a lot like braying.
Bertil, on his part, had missed the nearness of living in a small town. He was used to knowing where everything was and the names and families of everyone living close to him, and the anonymity of the big city seemed to at once crowd him and make him feel as if he was alone on a desert island. He's never minded loneliness before, but then again loneliness had to him represented tranquility and time for thought, and that was hard to achieve when there was constant noise and chatter and commotion all around.
With time, he'd learned how to cultivate silence on the inside, a soothing place free of distraction, and had retreated there whenever he started feeling overwhelmed - which was often. It had surprised everyone when he'd brought home Irina, a fellow student of economics at the time. Maks had been blunt about it, of course, exclaiming something about thinking he was a 'hopeless case' and immediately signing over all credit for it on her, and at least in the latter he had a point. Their mother had just been a bit relieved, but not offensively so, and had welcomed her into the family with open arms.
After that, it had been easier. Irina had been supportive when he decided that economics were not for him, had smiled when he'd managed to finally spit out that he was going to try to become a carpenter, teasing him gently about being her 'handy man', and had never once seemed disappointed that he wasn't and could never be the partner he thought he ought to be. For a while she'd had to support them both while he learned his craft, and even afterwards it was tough for a while, because in the land of Ikea and convenience, one man and his carpeting tools were not exactly sought after.
But he'd slowly managed to gain more work, mostly building patios and saunas and the like, but soon being sought after for furniture and decorations as well. By the time Peter was born, he'd been featured in local magazines waxing poetic about his 'rustic' and 'genuine' style, and the future was beginning to look bright. Two years later Arvid was born, they had moved into a house in Åkersberga instead of the ratty flat in Hässelby, and everything had been perfect.
And then... then two years of bliss followed by four years of struggle, of hospital visits and chemo, of being so damn tired of the entrance hall of Danderyd hospital and waiting for cabs there at all hours of the day. Of realizing he actually needed a driver's licence since Irina could no longer drive the kids and having to worry about that on top of everything else.
At the end of all that, he'd thought he was going to be fine with staying where he was simply because he was too tired to move, but then five years' worth of frustration came spilling out all at once when he'd put the kids to bed, and he'd ended up stabbing a chisel through the kitchen table. He'd cleaned it away before the boys woke up, and they hadn't even asked any questions when they had to eat breakfast in front of the TV.
After that, their Falu-red house with its garden and the forest surrounding it, the brief bike-ride that would take them to the sea, and the slow pace of Grisslehamn through most of the year... it came as a blessing, a refuge. He had adapted easily to a life that consisted mostly of driving the kids where they needed to be, trying to turn the garden into less of a jungle, and working quietly and contently at creating his furniture. More than a few old customers had remained faithful, and there were several small shops in Norrtälje that loved featuring a 'local carpenter' among their wares. Surprisingly, Irina's parents had also contacted him, saying that they had put away money to leave her, and now they wanted it to go to her dear husband and their grandchildren. Bertil hadn't protested. It clearly meant a lot for them to, as they said, 'do the right thing', and at the time he'd needed the help.
He didn't have many friends, but he didn't feel as if he needed them much. He was at least acquainted with the people he sold his furniture to, knew the store owners in Grisslehamn by name, had been to dinner with the parents of Arvid and Peter's closest friends a couple of times. He had never been a night life sort of person, and that was good, because the closest thing Grisslehamn had to that was a really decent pizza place where they would serve alcohol in the evenings, and close at ten during weekends. It was run by a couple of brothers that amusingly enough actually were of Italian ancestry, although Bertil couldn't say if that factored into the quality of the pizza. The eldest brother claimed so; the youngest would just smile pleasantly and shrug.
Maks would occasionally visit during the summers, but not for very long at a time since the silence and the peace apparently made him restless. Their cousins, Lukas and Emil, occasionally visited as well, and Bertil enjoyed going on fishing trips with either or both, bringing the boys along and packing a lunch so they could stay out for hours. He'd bought a small motor boat during their first year there, had upgraded it to a larger model after a year and a half, and now made a point of taking the boys camping on one of the many small islands as often as he could in the summers.
Peter had taken to the sea as if he was born half fish, and he would jump between the skerries and islets with a nonchalance that made his father anxious and amused at the same time, nagging for every opportunity he could get to steer the boat, and competing in a goodnatured manner with Lukas about who could pull up more fish. Arvid had stayed more apprehensive, enjoying the trips greatly, but clearly feeling more at home on solid ground. He would disappear into the woods from time to time and come back with sticks and pine needles stuck in his hair, and once Bertil had gotten out of him that he was 'building stuff', he took some of his excess material and built a platform between three sturdy trees for the boy to turn into a tree-house.
Occasionally Bertil would stop what he was doing and listen to the voice that sounded a little like Maks in his head, always asking the same question. Is this really enough? Is this all you want out of life? And he thought, maybe not. Maybe there were still some things that he was missing. But it was plenty, still, and honestly he couldn't see himself trying for more. Someone else to love, to share his life... where would he even find such a person? Someone who would be fine with his way of life, who wouldn't demand that he give up more than he truly felt comfortable with? And when he thought about putting effort into something like that again, and maybe it wouldn't work out, maybe he would once more feel as if he'd lost someone... the thought was exhausting, and like so many times before, he ended up mutely shaking his head. No, he was content.
He realized he was still holding the door to the refrigerator as the cool air sent a shiver through him, and quickly closed it. He didn't really have time to stand about brooding anyway. He had to drive the boys to school, and then he had to get himself to Norrtälje. There was a new shop opening, one of those little shops for diverse decorations and furnishings that dotted the small town, although this one would also function as a café. He'd called the owner, who had answered in the soft, lilting tones of someone either from Finland or of Finno-Swedish decent, and who had seemed enthusiastic once he explained who he was and what he did. He had suggested they meet and discuss business over a cup of coffee, and his easy manner had encouraged Bertil to say yes even though he was usually uncomfortable with meeting strangers in such a manner.
He would wonder, later, at the coincidence that had him pondering his sometimes lonely life the very day he met Teemu. His grandfather had belonged to an old Samian family, and his mother always claimed they had inherited 'something' from him, some small ability to know what was to come, but Bertil had always been too practically minded to believe in such things. As far as he could tell, only Lukas ever took that seriously at all - and Lukas had always been a bit weird. But it was hard not to wonder, when no more than two hours later, he would already be forced to re-evaluate his decision to be content with what he had.
All because of a cheerful store owner who was everything that Bertil was not.
***
A/N: Some more background and setting the scene, sorry about that xD Oh, and Lukas = Norway, Egill = Iceland and Teemu/Nikotiemus = Finland. And uh, yeah, guess who the owners of the pizza place are OTL
I adore how deeply the story touches the culture while not showing it into the reader's face so to say. The calm, slightly nostalgic narrative is pleasant to read and makes me eager for more. Beautiful work, authornon.
Thank you so much anon! I was trying to... uh, write about Sweden without shoving your face into leverpastej and lingonsylt, so I'm really glad that I'm managing to balance it. <3<3<3
Seriously I'm just going to second everything the others said because it's so true. Though I looked Samian up and I got someone from Samos... I have no idea what that would refer to in the context of your story.
I am really happy you think so <3 And ahahaha that was probably a messup in translation with the site I use to check up how some words translate from Swedish to English xD I meant the Sami people (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sami_people) of course, not. people from Samos orz Serves me right for not looking it up first.
Loving this, as it's brilliantly written, with a realistic setting, thanks so much for a Nordic fic that actually feels scandinavian!
Also, thank you so much for naming Finland Teemu! (During one summer in Finland, I got to meet in Turku a young man who was incredibly like Hetalia!Finland, funny and easy going and kinda sweet... and who was named Teemu, so you can't imagine how happy I was to see this name used here!)
Well, it does help that I'm Swedish and I've picked places to write about that I am somewhat used to ^^ And to my surprise it's actually a lot of fun to write about places that feel like home, I hadn't expected that xD
And that's kind of amazing. I snagged the name from a friend of a friend who lives in Finland because he also seems rather alike Hetalia!Finland (and not like the Swedish prejudices about people from Finland let me tell you).
OOhoooh, maybe he's the same Teemu!! Has he launched his own company of package delivery by bike? (I didn't tell 'my' Teemu about Hetalia, though, just marvelled inwardly to be able to meet a RL Hetalia!Finland <3 That really was a dream come true.) About the stereotypes... Sadly, the Finns also have some about the Swedes, so I guess it's only fair that Swedes have some about the Finns. But what is nice about stereotypes is that they're often wrong in RL. ^^
Eagerly awaiting more despite having to work on a paper and oh god what am I doing with my life--wait. This is worth it.
As a German-speaking person who is therefore predisposed to find that the name Berwald sounds AWEFUL--only rivaled in ridiculousness by the name Gilbert, or Roderich, for that matter--I can't thank you enough for this change (really, when hearing 'Berwald' the first thing that comes to my mind is a fat guy with the beeriest of beerguts in an old viking costume with an SS badge thrown in somewhere for good measure). The name Teemu is cool as well, sounds more Finnish.
I like your setting the scene. I like knowing about Scandinavian places and lifestyles. You are cool, anon. Keep going :D
I happily provide procrastination material I mean. uhm. THANK YOU <3
And ahahaha I can't even imagine. I just try to think of a single Swedish person with that as a first name and I come up blank. Franz Berwald seems like an awesome dude, but a.) Berwald was a his family name and b.) his family was originally from Germany, so. yeah xD (Bertil on the other hand is a bit of an "old fashioned" name nowadays, but I find that it works with him ^^)
I am having a lot of fun writing this, so it's nice to know lovely anons have fun reading it <3
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Ensam pappa söker 2a/?
(Anonymous) 2013-05-24 01:13 pm (UTC)(link)Bertil, on his part, had missed the nearness of living in a small town. He was used to knowing where everything was and the names and families of everyone living close to him, and the anonymity of the big city seemed to at once crowd him and make him feel as if he was alone on a desert island. He's never minded loneliness before, but then again loneliness had to him represented tranquility and time for thought, and that was hard to achieve when there was constant noise and chatter and commotion all around.
With time, he'd learned how to cultivate silence on the inside, a soothing place free of distraction, and had retreated there whenever he started feeling overwhelmed - which was often. It had surprised everyone when he'd brought home Irina, a fellow student of economics at the time. Maks had been blunt about it, of course, exclaiming something about thinking he was a 'hopeless case' and immediately signing over all credit for it on her, and at least in the latter he had a point. Their mother had just been a bit relieved, but not offensively so, and had welcomed her into the family with open arms.
After that, it had been easier. Irina had been supportive when he decided that economics were not for him, had smiled when he'd managed to finally spit out that he was going to try to become a carpenter, teasing him gently about being her 'handy man', and had never once seemed disappointed that he wasn't and could never be the partner he thought he ought to be. For a while she'd had to support them both while he learned his craft, and even afterwards it was tough for a while, because in the land of Ikea and convenience, one man and his carpeting tools were not exactly sought after.
But he'd slowly managed to gain more work, mostly building patios and saunas and the like, but soon being sought after for furniture and decorations as well. By the time Peter was born, he'd been featured in local magazines waxing poetic about his 'rustic' and 'genuine' style, and the future was beginning to look bright. Two years later Arvid was born, they had moved into a house in Åkersberga instead of the ratty flat in Hässelby, and everything had been perfect.
And then... then two years of bliss followed by four years of struggle, of hospital visits and chemo, of being so damn tired of the entrance hall of Danderyd hospital and waiting for cabs there at all hours of the day. Of realizing he actually needed a driver's licence since Irina could no longer drive the kids and having to worry about that on top of everything else.
At the end of all that, he'd thought he was going to be fine with staying where he was simply because he was too tired to move, but then five years' worth of frustration came spilling out all at once when he'd put the kids to bed, and he'd ended up stabbing a chisel through the kitchen table. He'd cleaned it away before the boys woke up, and they hadn't even asked any questions when they had to eat breakfast in front of the TV.
Ensam pappa söker 2b/?
(Anonymous) 2013-05-24 01:13 pm (UTC)(link)He didn't have many friends, but he didn't feel as if he needed them much. He was at least acquainted with the people he sold his furniture to, knew the store owners in Grisslehamn by name, had been to dinner with the parents of Arvid and Peter's closest friends a couple of times. He had never been a night life sort of person, and that was good, because the closest thing Grisslehamn had to that was a really decent pizza place where they would serve alcohol in the evenings, and close at ten during weekends. It was run by a couple of brothers that amusingly enough actually were of Italian ancestry, although Bertil couldn't say if that factored into the quality of the pizza. The eldest brother claimed so; the youngest would just smile pleasantly and shrug.
Maks would occasionally visit during the summers, but not for very long at a time since the silence and the peace apparently made him restless. Their cousins, Lukas and Emil, occasionally visited as well, and Bertil enjoyed going on fishing trips with either or both, bringing the boys along and packing a lunch so they could stay out for hours. He'd bought a small motor boat during their first year there, had upgraded it to a larger model after a year and a half, and now made a point of taking the boys camping on one of the many small islands as often as he could in the summers.
Peter had taken to the sea as if he was born half fish, and he would jump between the skerries and islets with a nonchalance that made his father anxious and amused at the same time, nagging for every opportunity he could get to steer the boat, and competing in a goodnatured manner with Lukas about who could pull up more fish. Arvid had stayed more apprehensive, enjoying the trips greatly, but clearly feeling more at home on solid ground. He would disappear into the woods from time to time and come back with sticks and pine needles stuck in his hair, and once Bertil had gotten out of him that he was 'building stuff', he took some of his excess material and built a platform between three sturdy trees for the boy to turn into a tree-house.
Ensam pappa söker 2c/? grrr character limit
(Anonymous) 2013-05-24 01:19 pm (UTC)(link)He realized he was still holding the door to the refrigerator as the cool air sent a shiver through him, and quickly closed it. He didn't really have time to stand about brooding anyway. He had to drive the boys to school, and then he had to get himself to Norrtälje. There was a new shop opening, one of those little shops for diverse decorations and furnishings that dotted the small town, although this one would also function as a café. He'd called the owner, who had answered in the soft, lilting tones of someone either from Finland or of Finno-Swedish decent, and who had seemed enthusiastic once he explained who he was and what he did. He had suggested they meet and discuss business over a cup of coffee, and his easy manner had encouraged Bertil to say yes even though he was usually uncomfortable with meeting strangers in such a manner.
He would wonder, later, at the coincidence that had him pondering his sometimes lonely life the very day he met Teemu. His grandfather had belonged to an old Samian family, and his mother always claimed they had inherited 'something' from him, some small ability to know what was to come, but Bertil had always been too practically minded to believe in such things. As far as he could tell, only Lukas ever took that seriously at all - and Lukas had always been a bit weird. But it was hard not to wonder, when no more than two hours later, he would already be forced to re-evaluate his decision to be content with what he had.
All because of a cheerful store owner who was everything that Bertil was not.
***
A/N: Some more background and setting the scene, sorry about that xD Oh, and Lukas = Norway, Egill = Iceland and Teemu/Nikotiemus = Finland. And uh, yeah, guess who the owners of the pizza place are OTL
Re: Ensam pappa söker 2c/? grrr character limit
(Anonymous) 2013-05-24 01:52 pm (UTC)(link)no subject
(Anonymous) 2013-05-26 01:58 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Ensam pappa söker 2c/? grrr character limit
(Anonymous) 2013-05-24 03:06 pm (UTC)(link)no subject
(Anonymous) 2013-05-26 01:59 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Ensam pappa söker 2c/? grrr character limit
(Anonymous) 2013-05-25 05:56 am (UTC)(link)Seriously I'm just going to second everything the others said because it's so true. Though I looked Samian up and I got someone from Samos... I have no idea what that would refer to in the context of your story.
no subject
(Anonymous) 2013-05-26 01:56 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Ensam pappa söker 2c/? grrr character limit
(Anonymous) 2013-05-25 04:49 pm (UTC)(link)Also, thank you so much for naming Finland Teemu! (During one summer in Finland, I got to meet in Turku a young man who was incredibly like Hetalia!Finland, funny and easy going and kinda sweet... and who was named Teemu, so you can't imagine how happy I was to see this name used here!)
no subject
(Anonymous) 2013-05-26 02:16 pm (UTC)(link)And that's kind of amazing. I snagged the name from a friend of a friend who lives in Finland because he also seems rather alike Hetalia!Finland (and not like the Swedish prejudices about people from Finland let me tell you).
no subject
(Anonymous) 2013-05-26 07:08 pm (UTC)(link)OOhoooh, maybe he's the same Teemu!! Has he launched his own company of package delivery by bike? (I didn't tell 'my' Teemu about Hetalia, though, just marvelled inwardly to be able to meet a RL Hetalia!Finland <3 That really was a dream come true.) About the stereotypes... Sadly, the Finns also have some about the Swedes, so I guess it's only fair that Swedes have some about the Finns. But what is nice about stereotypes is that they're often wrong in RL. ^^
Re: Ensam pappa söker 2c/? grrr character limit
(Anonymous) 2013-05-26 12:25 pm (UTC)(link)As a German-speaking person who is therefore predisposed to find that the name Berwald sounds AWEFUL--only rivaled in ridiculousness by the name Gilbert, or Roderich, for that matter--I can't thank you enough for this change (really, when hearing 'Berwald' the first thing that comes to my mind is a fat guy with the beeriest of beerguts in an old viking costume with an SS badge thrown in somewhere for good measure). The name Teemu is cool as well, sounds more Finnish.
I like your setting the scene. I like knowing about Scandinavian places and lifestyles. You are cool, anon. Keep going :D
no subject
(Anonymous) 2013-05-26 02:44 pm (UTC)(link)I happily provide procrastination materialI mean. uhm. THANK YOU <3And ahahaha I can't even imagine. I just try to think of a single Swedish person with that as a first name and I come up blank. Franz Berwald seems like an awesome dude, but a.) Berwald was a his family name and b.) his family was originally from Germany, so. yeah xD (Bertil on the other hand is a bit of an "old fashioned" name nowadays, but I find that it works with him ^^)
I am having a lot of fun writing this, so it's nice to know lovely anons have fun reading it <3