Much Ado About Clogs Part 4
Shortly after that experience I returned home, wanting to put as much distance between Berwald and me as I could handle. I promised myself that I would talk to Berwald when he came home. It pained me to think about the glares I would receive from him, but I had to bear through it. I couldn’t take Sweden being angry with me. But of course, when he came home after work, he was not alone; he had invited Gilbert over for dinner. Mr. Beillschmidt looked around the room and spotted me. He gave me a toothy grin, but before he could say anything, everyone filed in to the room to see the guest. Berwald stood beside his employer silently, seeming not to notice my presence in the room. Everyone took turns shaking Gilbert’s hand as Berwald called off each of their names. I watched Berwald’s face as he named off each person. He wore the same expression as always, but now it seemed to show a hint more of boredom, as if his own family was no longer exciting or fulfilling to him. I felt like slapping him. Instead, I waited patiently for my introduction to come. When Gilbert saw me, his eyes lit up with faux affection and he grabbed my hand and gave a slight bow before saying, “Ah… Mrs. Oxenstierna. So nice to see you again.”
At this statement, Sweden turned his head toward the scene. His eyes were slightly widened and his brow was a bit more furrowed than usual. His eyes showed some sign of… almost disgust. I hated the look he gave me, so I pulled my hand away from Gilbert and an awkward silence fell around us. Denmark thankfully chimed in and suggested we moved towards the kitchen for dinner.
Once dinner had been served, eaten, and cleared away, we all sat around the small dining table and chatted. Most of the conversation was led by Peter, who had many question for Gilbert, who surprisingly didn’t seem to mind. He answered them thoughtfully and respectfully and mostly his answers would provoke another question from someone else. Berwald remained silent for most of the time, as did I, and we never talked to each other, thankfully Gilbert was sitting between us. At one point, Gilbert paused and said, “I almost forgot, I have something for you.” He pulled out his briefcase, which I did not notice that he brought in, and pulled out several magazines.
“Here are some magazine Berwald has been featured in,” he said with his thick accent. He passed the books around so everyone could see. Denmark commented enthusiastically about them, while Norway and Iceland mostly flipped through the photos and kept their thoughts to themselves. I decided to see the pictures as well, and again I noticed that impossible pattern in every photo; Berwald was wearing those wooden clogs!
What was the significance of those darn shoes?! I decided that I would ask Gilbert why the shoes were in every picture, just to ease my curiosity and suspicions a bit. I would ask in a more private setting… or perhaps just without Berwald around. Luckily, Berwald excused himself to use the restroom and I seized m opportunity. With Denmark, Iceland, and Norway all talking animatedly about sea creatures and Sealand silently looking through magazine after magazine, I turned towards Gilbert. He faced me at my gesture, his red eyes showing curiosity and a hint of smugness, along with an overload of self-confidence.
“Yes?” he purred, looking pleased with himself.
“Well I wanted to ask about this,” I said, pushing a magazine towards him. It was flipped open to a page with a shot of Berwald in his normal clogs. I pointed towards the footwear and looked at Gilbert questioningly. His pleased expression was erased as he studied the photograph, trying to find his reasoning behind the constant use of the clogs. He then looked at me knowingly and serious and said, “He refuses to take them off. He won’t do a single shoot without them on… I actually meant to ask you if they had some sort of value.”
He must have thought he said something offensive because of my shocked expression. For the first time since I had met him, he looked somewhat apologetic. “Well, I just mean… because I’ve never seen him without them,” he blurted. I explained to him that they were a birthday present I had bought for him and I told him about how he’s been different since he’s had them. Gilbert told me that he thought the shoes were some priceless gift from a relative that had passed, or something, and that he thought Berwald was naturally “snobby”, as he put it, which he thought was strange.
“He just didn’t seem like that kind of person to me,” Gilbert trailed off.
“He wasn’t. I don’t know what has gotten into him,” I confessed.
“Yeah, I thought that an awesome photo director, like me, could eventually persuade him to lose the shoes, but Berwald refuses to take them off,” he continued, “and I don’t know what to do because I might not have enough fresh, new outfits to keep up with his style. The shoes were a good one time piece, but magazines need more.”
I listened intently, trying to find some kind of clue that would explain Berwald’s strange behavior, but I still found none.
After Gilbert had left, I resorted to my room, unaccompanied by Berwald. He used to sleep in my bed with me, no, nothing like that, of course, but just as comfort, I suppose, but now he slept on the couch in the living room. I used to hate when he slept with me, it made me nervous and embarrassed, but now I missed the company. I had to stop beating around the bush; it was time to talk to Berwald head on, no backing out, no stalling or chickening out. I would talk to him.
The next day, while I was waiting for Berwald to come home, Sealand came up to me with a sad look in his eyes.
“Mama?” he peeped.
Usually I scolded the title Berwald had given to me for the young nation, but this time I didn’t have the heart to deny hi9m.
“Yes, love?”
“Are you and papa in a fight? I… I didn’t want to ask before because I was afraid you two would be mad with me, but… I’m scared!” He began to cry. I leaned over and hugged the boy close. I patted his soft hair and whispered comfortingly to him, “No, no! Papa and I are just a little… uh… stressed right now… about some stuff. We just need some space, but don’t worry, everything’s going to be alright…” I felt my eyes start to water as I held Peter close. I closed my eyes and let warm tears roll down my cheeks. “Everything will be alright…” I repeated. I hope… I thought and I let the tears fall silently; I didn’t want to worry Peter. I wiped my tears swiftly when the boy pulled away and rubbed his eyes. His face was red and shiny. When he removed his hands and looked into my face, I gave him a sad smile. He returned the gesture with a sadder smile, his eyes filling with tears again. The sight broke my heart. I wiped his face with my hands and patted his head. He gave me a swift hug before turning down the hall and heading towards his room.
I watched his door close with sad eyes, hoping everything would be all right, as I promised…
Just then, Berwald walked through the door. He looked a bit surprised that I was there, since I usually had stopped greeting him after work, but he pushed it away and proceeded to hang up his coat.
“Can I… uh… talk to you, for a second?” I started nervously. His eyes studied me for a moment, frozen in the act of putting up his coat in the closet, and then unfroze as he replied, “sure.”
I swallowed nervously at his tone. I didn’t think I could do this, I still had time to back out, I could run for it. No. I had to talk to him. I started with casual conversation.
“Uhm… how was your day?”
“Fine.” No eye contact.
“Well… is there something wrong?”
“…No.”
“Are… are you sure? You don’t look well…”
“Tired.”
“Oh…”
We were silent before I realized my real reason for our bland conversation in the first place.
“Berwald…?” I looked down at my feet as he looked at my face, “Are you… are you… mad at me?”
He looked me over, a stern expression on his face. He hesitated for what seemed like forever when he replied with a simple, “No.” With that, he began heading towards our bedroom. Well… my bedroom. I called after him.
“Wait… there’s something else…!”
He ignored me and went into the bedroom. I followed him and walked in as he began changing into more comfortable clothes.
“What’s wrong with you?” I mumbled, trying my best not to cry in front of him. “You’ve been… so different lately… you’ve been harsh and you’ve been ignoring me… and… and… and…” I burst into tears. I couldn’t help it anymore. I felt all those weeks of stress come crushing down on me. These weeks of worrying and loneliness… I fell to the floor and closed my eyes as the warm tears leaked from my eyes, ran over my cheeks and fell onto the rug, which was rather expensive, as a side note. But I didn’t care. I couldn’t stop the tears, all I could think about was how helpless and afraid and abandoned I felt…
“I’m… I’m sorry… I just,” I spurted between sobs, “I don’t… understand… I don’t know… what I did… to make… you so… upset…! Why… can’t you… just tell me… why did you leave me… all alone…?” I looked up at him through teary eyes. I couldn’t imagine how I looked in that moment, probably crazed and over-dramatic; that made me feel worse. He probably thought I was pathetic. I let my head hang as all those thoughts flooded my mind, pushing me lower and lower.
Just then I felt two strong, warm arms wrap around my shoulders. I opened my eyes and saw that Berwald had knelt down on the floor in front of me to give me a warm hug. I wrapped my arms around him and we just sat there like that for a long time. I cried and cried and through my sobs I swear I could have heard him whispering, “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” over and over, but I couldn’t be sure.
When the constant flow of tears had stopped and my sobs were replaced with broken gasps for air he pulled me away to look into my face. I looked back at him blankly. He cupped my face with his hands and suddenly put his lips to mine. My eyes shot open with surprise, but I gave into the kiss. It was passionate and comforting. I had no idea Berwald was such an amazing kisser. We wrapped our arms around each other to pull ourselves closer. I could taste the salty tears on Berwald’s tongue, as our kisses grew deeper. From this moment, I knew I needed him.
Later in the week, I noticed Berwald seemed to be acting normal again. He had called Mr. Beillschmidt to tell him that he was quitting, he went back to his normal (scary) calm and quiet self, and he went back to talking to me and sleeping in my bed. I could tell he was happy, he was even singing in the shower again. And as for those clogs, they were sent far away where no one would have to deal with them again.