All Things End

i look for you everywhere

"So, you really are leaving," Heléne says as she touches the boxes scattered all over Frida's living room.

"Yes. I fly on Saturday," Frida replied, getting up from the crouched position she was in to write on some of the boxes, "I'm just making sure all this stuff I'm leaving behind has a place to go. That box is yours," Frida pointed to the one with Heléne's name with a smile.

"It has some of the clothes you've been asking for since the 70s. I made sure not to miss anything from the closet raid you and Lotta did a couple weeks ago." Hands on her hips, Frida was waiting for Heléne's squeals of joy at the contents of her box, but instead, she heard Heléne's voice laced with sadness.

"I'm going to miss you."

"Oh, darling, don't get choked up now. We'll see each other again. It's not like I'm moving to the other side of the world. It's only London, you know." Frida said, keeping her distance from the girl but trying to lighten the mood even when she could feel the tears starting to sting her eyes.

"I know that, Frida. But, still. You won't be here, and it's hard enough that I don't get to see you as often—"

"I know, älskling," Frida said quickly, turning away from Heléne. Silence befell them as they looked around at Frida's now-boxed-up apartment.

While this apartment might not hold as many memories as their house in Lidingö, Frida did her best to make it feel like home, especially when all four of their kids visited. For all the love she bore that villa, Frida couldn't bring herself to stay there. There was just too much of him in that house, and quite honestly, in Sweden too, so now Frida is moving to London. She wanted a change — a chance at something new, and deep inside, she knew that what she needed to move forward could not be found in Sweden anymore. Plus, she wanted to live somewhere she wasn't reminded of her husband at every turn.

Ex-husband.

Right.

"Does he know?" Heléne said suddenly, pulling Frida out of her reverie, "Hmm?"

"Pappa. Does he know that you're leaving in three days?" Heléne asked gently.

Frida blinked repeatedly, the tears threatening to escape her eyes, "Not exactly. But he knows it's soon."

"He's going to miss you," Heléne said, her voice barely above a whisper. Frida inhaled sharply at her words, intending to respond to that notion sharply. But when she saw Heléne's look of guilt and shock, her hand firmly placed on her mouth, Frida's cold response died in her throat. "I-I'm sorry, Frida. I didn't—" Frida silenced Heléne with a gesture and hugged her.

With Heléne in her arms, Frida was almost transported to 1969, when she had met the little girl and her shy brother for the first time. She loved those kids and saw them as her own ever since. With Heléne, she had taken her to ballet shows and girl's dates when time permitted.

As if the emotional turmoil Heléne's tears were already giving her weren't enough, her mind unwillingly traveled to the day they told the children about their impending divorce.

Understandably shocked, Hans left the house, practically running, while Peter and Lotta quietly withdrew to their rooms. Heléne, however, looked at both of them with storms in her eyes. After a few minutes of pregnant silence, she closed in on Frida and asked, "So, does this mean we're not family anymore?"

That was it. That's all it took for Frida to break down in tears. Almost violently, she pulled Heléne to her, telling her over and over that they would always be family. Heléne reciprocated her embrace with ferocity, and they cried together.

Meanwhile, Benny...what did he do? She couldn't even remember.

She knew that she would never be able to change the way she saw Benny's kids. To her, they will always be part hers. Nothing will ever change that. More importantly, she needed them to believe that.

Heléne's restrained sobs pulled Frida back to the present. "Shh, darling, it will be okay."

"I will miss you very much," Heléne said, her voice sick with sadness.

Frida pulled away slightly to take the girl's face with both hands and kissed her forehead.

"So will I. But you know you can always visit me, right? Just call, and I'll get you a ticket. I can even get you one for next summer." Frida tried, hoping to calm Heléne down.

Heléne looked down for a moment. After a while, she looked up at Frida with a smile, "Peter, too?"

Frida breathed a sigh of relief. Heléne's okay now.

Frida chuckled, "Of course. Just tell your mother and father you want to, and I'll take care of everything else. You, me, Hans, Peter, and Lotta can have our summer getaway there."

Heléne giggled, "In cold London," she said with a hint of sarcasm.

Frida laughed at this and put a finger on her nose, "Now, now, dear. Everywhere is warmer than Sweden."

Heléne's face broke out into a cheeky grin this time. She looked so much like Benny that Frida had to take a moment to prevent another bout of tears from coming.

"Oh, yeah, that's right. Okay then, Frid. London. Next summer." Heléne said.

"Okay," Frida smiled, walking away from Heléne.

"Frid?"

"Yes?"

"You promise to call me when you get there?" Heléne asked, somewhat unsure.

"I promise." Frida nodded, responding sweetly,

"Okay," Heléne said, trying to sound convincing. "Oh, and thanks for letting me raid your closet."

Heléne smiled, picking up the box with her name on it. "Goodbye, Frida. You know I love you." Frida smiled brightly at Heléne.

With a last hug and a kiss on Frida's cheek, Heléne left.

Upon seeing the door closed, Frida picked up a marker from the floor and continued labeling what was left of the boxes.

She had written Lotta's name in another box full of clothes, Peter's in some gadgets she had collected over the years. Oh, Peter...she was going to miss her boy too. Frida channeled her thoughts somewhere else before they could make her cry again. She stumbled upon the box of vinyl records she labeled for Hans and rummaged through the collection in search of good music. She promptly saw a copy of Queen's Greatest Hits compilation album and put it on.

The day's not over yet, and anything can happen.

"Might as well let fate take its course with good music," she thought.

As the first notes of Bohemian Rhapsody started to play, Frida too was wondering whether the decision to pick up everything and move somewhere new was real life or fantasy.

to be continued...