I'm begging you to

Chapter 14 - A tiny cut

Chapter 14

Agnetha sat now quietly at a make-up table in the backstage area, her hands moving almost mechanically to wipe away the layers of foundation and mascara. The chatter around her faded and almost became a dull, monotonous background noise. She had done it. The interview was done and she felt satisfied with the result. From now on, everything would get better. And she would get stronger. But then her ear caught a whispered snippet of conversation that got her attention. In a corner behind her were two members of the backstage team. Agnetha didn't know them and hadn't worked with them today. They were speaking very quietly but loud enough for her to understand parts of their dialogue.

"Have you heard the latest? ... in a newspaper... she's got herself a new man already," one voice says, tinged with disbelief and a hint of clear enthusiasm for this gossip talk.

"Really? Who's the lucky guy this time?" the other replied, curiosity piqued.

Agnetha didn't know why her ear had picked up this conversation in the first place. Nor did she know the two of them, neither, presumably, the woman they were talking about. So she couldn't care less about it. And yet she stroked her cheek for the fifth time now, even though the make-up had already been fully removed there, and tried to continue listening unobtrusively.

"They say he's just a regular Joe, works at a supermarket checkout or something. But I mean..."

The person's voice dropped, so Agnetha couldn't understand the rest. But then she caught some more pieces.

"Not even famous.. if that's what she likes... You know, in London..."

Agnetha's heart was pounding, her hand pausing mid-stroke. Surely they couldn't...? No, that would be too much of a coincidence. After all, London had millions of inhabitants. But something in her gut told her that maybe she wasn't so wrong with her guess after all. But the pieces click into place even before her name was mentioned.

"After all we're talking about Frida Lyngstad, you know."

The name hung heavy in the air. Whether she wanted it or not, Agnetha felt a sudden twist in her stomach as the whispers merged into a narrative she would have preferred to dismiss. Perhaps there was a curse put on her after all. Perhaps she would be haunted by this woman, her image and her name for the rest of her life, wherever she went. But even if that was her fate from now on, she would not let it ruin her life. Now that she was so close. So close to erasing this woman and everything she had done to her from her life, her mind and her heart forever. She didn't deserve to still own such a big part of her inside.

Before the two workers behind her ended the conversation, two more sentences followed that were now clearly understandable.

"Really? That's like, what, the umpteenth time? She sure moves on quick."

"I know, right? But hey, good for her if she's happy."

Agnetha had been looking intently at her reflection the whole time to seem as if she was busy with her make-up and not here to eavesdrop on the two of them. Which was true. But as the voices and footsteps of the two who were now leaving the room became quieter and more distant, Agnetha tried to look everywhere but at her reflection. She didn't want to see it. Instead, she hurriedly packed up her things, accidentally scraping a piece of paper with her finger that was taped to the right of the mirror. It was the set list. Which now caused a pain and a small cut in her finger.

"Oh, fuck."

Came out of her mouth in annoyance, but no one else had heard it. She took a piece of tissue and wrapped it around her finger. Why did these little mini cuts hurt so damn much?

While she waited briefly for the throbbing pain in her finger to subside, the whispers about Frida echoed in her mind. She started thinking about the distance, the silence that had grown between them over the past years. While she knew the Frida that everyone saw, the Frida in the rumors felt like a stranger to her. She struggled to make sense of these two different versions of that woman she thought she knew so well.

Without all the colour on her face now, she had felt completely naked for a moment, but slowly she also started to feel a little liberated. Just like after her haircut. As if she had not only wiped certain things off her face but also completely off of her whole being. The weight of the hair was gone and now the weight on her face and heart was gone too. The pain had stopped. She was done with her.