Shaking hands, trembling floor, heavy head. Benny was unable to put the key in the lock, the poor light in the hallway was not of much help either. He cursed under his breath. His body swayed so unsteadily that he had to lean on the door to find some balance. The price of being drunk.
After leaving Frida in that powder room in the Parliament, Benny walked aimlessly but with a single purpose; forget his misfortune. It didn't take him long to find his car in the VIP spot in the parking lot, once inside he drove without a specific destination during an hour, his cell phone ringing insistently in the passenger seat until he turned it off and tossed it into the back seat. He needed to be alone to experience his frustration, one that no one could understand. Why would anyone be unhappy in his place? Why shouldn't he be happy to have everything on a silver platter? Why believe that his life was ruined when he could have power, money and people's respect? How absurd, people would think. Nobody could understand him. Although there was someone who could... that same someone he left with a hurt look and shaking with worry. Frida.
Benny closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against the door, mourning as he finally thought of her. She didn't deserve her mediocre attitude, yet he couldn't keep his tongue from releasing venom. It was his defense mechanism, it was his armor. But she, so willing to help him, so willing to go with him... "Damn you, Andersson. Y-you are sooo screwed." He said, his tongue was slow and uncooperative.
He was all screwed up. His father had taken it upon himself to play with his life as if he were a marionette. And instead of facing him, instead of standing up to him once and for all, he turned to alcohol. In a bar on the outskirts of town he drank and drank until the weight of his shoulders lifted and instead a feeling of sultry stillness came over him. He left the place when the clock struck two in the morning and his eyes began seeing double. The last time he had drunk this much was at his farewell party in Paris, under totally different circumstances and feelings.
Finally, after several more attempts, Benny opened the door to his apartment. With clumsy steps he entered and locked himself in. Home, sweet home, he thought bitterly. This wasn't his home, he didn't have a home, it was all a farce. His home ceased to exist along with his mother. Benny fell onto the couch, dizzy from the alcohol in his veins but also dizzy from the cyclical thoughts that twisted him. Him as Speaker of Parliament, how pathetic! He wasn't made for that, he was made for the countryside, a peaceful life. He liked luxuries, yes, and sports cars, and expensive clothes, but he also liked horses and watching the sunrises from his window with a wine in his hand. He was a man with a taste for simple things, and perhaps his life would be less graceful if it were simpler, but right now being simple was what he most desired. So bad that his father couldn't understand it.
Benny rubbed his eyes. He felt heavy and slow, as well as confused and even lonely. Suddenly, out of nowhere, the image of her eyes appeared came to invade his senses... that hurt. Remembering her hurt and worried, that hurt. Frida, Frida... he was crazy about her. Where was she? Why wasn't she with him? After the wonderful nights that they spent together, she would have to be with him. Clumsily, Benny looked for his cell phone in his pants pocket, sliding until he sat on the carpet. He sought her contact and considered calling her, though it was late...
Frida's eyes snapped open at the insisting buzzing sound from the nightstand. The cellphone screen was on and showing an upcoming call. She rubbed her eyes as she reached for the cellphone through the heavy duvet. The sudden light in her eyes made her frown, more when Benny's name appeared on the screen. Frida held the phone on her hand without picking the call. What the hell? She gasped, her head was buzzing due to the lack of sleep... 2:02 a.m.
They arrived early to the house, she with a down mood and Henry with a terrible long face. He wasn't happy with the news, it messed with his plans, and of course Frida had to bear with his ugly mood all the way. It gave her a headache, as if her little fight with Benny weren't enough to make her feel miserable. Was it a fight? Not really. However, she couldn't stop overthinking as soon as she locked herself in the safety of her bedroom. The clock didn't stop for a second and midnight caught her curled up in bed feeling guilty, stressed and desperate. He rejected her, he walked away, he didn't let her in... the indifferece he showed was eating away her brain, and his silence was squeezing her heart. Frida tried to call him but Benny had turned off his cellphone. All together plunged her into a sea of insecurities. After endless hours with frequent cyclical and disordered thought, she felt asleep. Not even half an hour had passed when the cellphone rang. It was him, the reason of her sleepless night. With a pounding heart, Frida accepted the call before it died.
