Voyage 2002

"Aggeeeee," she heard herself cry. May 2002 / Frida

COPYRIGHT OF THE PICTURE OF HELÉNE: I / ME & I

Without looking up, she walked past the security guard. She closed the door. A little too loudly. Past the large table, where there was a pile of small, coloured bodysuits, to her suite. When she opened the door of her room, she relaxed. For a second. Then she had a sensation she had never had before. It was as if someone was punching her in the stomach and at the same time hitting her on the head with a bat. Tears poured from her eyes and she gasped. Six thousand paving stones on her chest. Something strangled her, but what the hell was it? She ran to the kitchen, picked up a glass, filled it with water and took a sip. Her hands trembled and her heart was pounding in her chest. She was dizzy. What was this all about? The feeling that she was a deer, on an open plain, with six tigers around her. Fear of death. She set the glass on the counter and put her hands next to it. They were so sweaty that they slipped away briefly as she leaned on them. Her nails tapped against the wooden surface. With everything she had in her, she tried to think of something nice. Benny and she had just picked up their families from the airport! All the kids were here!

Jonathan. Countless hugs from her grandson, who had grown again. "Hi Mormor, how are you? I really missed you!" He was wonderful! A golden heart. She loved him intensely.

Ludvig had hugged her tightly. "Hi, how are you, Frida?" Benny's little one, also a sweet boy.

Hans, her big bear. "Hi Mammi-Frid!" Large arms that she disappeared in. He was big and strong.

Peter beamed as he lifted her up and hugged her.

Fantastic, those four guys! She felt happy and excited.

Until she saw Heléne. That was completely unexpected! Clogged up immediately. Also when they greeted each other. She was not supposed to come, but she quickly put that thought away. It was time to go and do something fun! First of all they went to the hotel to have lunch. But she couldn't eat. A sip of tea instead. With difficulty she ate a pear. She was sweating and became increasingly nauseous. What the hell was she suffering from? Peter asked about the show they were preparing. He was cheerful and enthusiastic, but she had to do her best not to vomit and everything revolved around her. When she almost collapsed with a stomach ache, she excused herself. "I'm going to my room for a little while, I don't feel very well."

She quickly walked over to Benny, who was sitting at the other side of the table. At that moment she could hardly speak. "Are you going to do something fun with the kids? I have a headache. I'll take some meds and then I'll be back. OK?" she blurted out. He looked at her and frowned. She saw that he wanted to take her hand, but she slapped it away. Not because she didn't want his hand, but she was afraid that the children would see it, and besides, all her movements were rigid. As if she were some kind of puppet, controlled from outside. Suddenly she was in such a hurry that she had taken the stairs. Running like a cheetah. Without looking up, she walked past the security guard. She closed the door. A little too loudly. Past the large table, where there was a pile of small, coloured bodysuits, to her suite.

Why did she choke? And why did her head burst, when she had no headache at all! She could hardly stand up straight. Her body only listened half as she ran to the sofa to get her handbag. She took out her phone. Her fingers didn't want what she wanted. They trembled so violently that she could hardly look anything up.

Benny. She called him. Voicemail.

"Shit!"

Benny. Voicemail. Benny, Benny, Benny. Voicemail!

"Goddamnit."

She sat down on the sofa, immediately got up again. Tears ran down her cheeks. She wiped them away. There were predators everywhere. She sat down on the armrest. Her leg wobbled. She wanted to scream. To scream, shout and screech. HELP ME! She took her phone again. Ten wrong clicks. She called Amelia Adamo and immediately ended the call. She didn't really need a chit chat with a journalist right now. Shitty shaking hands!