Voyage 2002

"Gotcha!" he said, letting both hands squeeze her bottom. May 2002 / Agnetha

WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SEXUAL MATERIAL. IF IT'S NOT FOR YOU, DON'T READ IT / ME & I

She lay in bed and turned on her side. Her hair was still a little damp from the shower. She'd just texted her sister, who'd asked how she was doing. That was going to be quite a story, of course, and she was constantly in doubt as to whether she should tell her all about Björn or not. In the end she decided to postpone it. Not because Mona didn't want to know, or wasn't allowed to, but because it would naturally lead to a telephone conversation and she didn't feel like that at this hour. She took the magazine that Frida had given her -  when she'd finished it - from her bedside table and continued where she had left off.

"As he drove her crazy with his tongue, she felt his hand rubbing gently. For a moment she waited, she tilted her pelvis to encourage him and then felt him do what she longed for," she read.

She raised her eyebrows and swallowed. Hmm, there had been times when she couldn't even read this kind of thing, but now it created a warm, fuzzy feeling in her tummy. Bizarre really, that she was still recovering. When, about two and a half years earlier - after hundreds of reflections - she had decided to go on antidepressants after all, because she had suicidal thoughts all day long, she had expected her world to remain black forever. Shortly after that, the sharpest edges had been taken off. That, in combination with the conversations with Gunilla, had at least given her back some joy in life. As in: she did not want to die all day, but only once a day. Then once a week, twice a month and then sometimes. During that time, Tilda was born... Shortly afterwards, she had spoken to Björn. She had told him that she had meant to tell him earlier, but the truth was that she had kept quiet about it for as long as possible. On her fifty-first birthday - when he came over and they were together for a couple of hours - she had suddenly dropped the bomb. Earlier that day she had seen him cuddling with Tilda and rocking her to sleep, while he thought she didn't see him. But she did and suddenly she saw him in front of her again with their own children. And then, for the millionth time in her life, she had been struck by the deep regret that the memory of 1978 always brought her and the whole story about her post-partum depression had come out. Although she had been terrified of his reaction, it had just happened.

Six months later, she heard herself say 'yes' to a reunion with ABBA, albeit trembling with fear. Frida had promised her that it would be the most healing project of her life and so far she had been proved right. And Frida herself had won quite something as well! The way she was suddenly struck by her feelings for Benny... At first she had fled in panic, but her love proved to be stronger and in the end she had not been able to resist him. They should never have split up either! It had been such a tragic coincidence, for all four of them. Because of all the misery, working became almost impossible and ABBA took a break that lasted about twenty years. Two decades in which they had all gone their separate ways. All four of them had built a new world. Mostly without each other, but with countless invisible threads pulling them back to each other time and again. As friends, at first. But the truth was that they just weren't done with each other. Not as musical partners and not as romantic partners. And since that decision, her recovery had taken flight. She was still healing and now she seemed to have reached the point where she could read an erotic story without freaking out and puking.

"His fingers went in and out of her, effortlessly and gently. His tongue played on her, circling and licking. This wasn't going to last very long."

She was startled for a moment when Björn came out of the bathroom. He was wearing boxer shorts. That was all. He had just taken a shower and dried his neck with a towel, which he then hung over the chair to dry. He was well trained. He looked really good. She followed him with her gaze. After a while he looked up. "Hi, honey."

"Hi."

"What is it?"

She shook her head. "Nothing."