A love song

I guess I'll always be a soldier of fortune...

It was Sunday afternoon and still the holiday for many so the offices were a great place to work. Peaceful and quiet.

I was now a regular at Monkberry. A production company producing shows, pieces and segments mostly for NRK.

I turned in my graduate degree when I got back from Oslo and a month ago they hired me full time. I was ecstatic. It was a huge achievement. I have been working for this institution for almost a decade, but always part-time, assistant, year-to-year contracts etc. But now I am here. A regular. All the hard work and patience paid off in the end.

I loved this job and I loved living in Nyc, for now, and being seen and respected by your peers was a great vote of confidence. I was starting to believe I really was a good journalist.

I was in my office in Midtown working on a piece that was due Tuesday when my private phone, next to my work-phone, pinged. It read Sana. YeaY. :) I haven't talked to her all week I thought. As I clicked on the imsg it was just a link and a text following "Call me later."

I furrowed my brows, smiled a little and said loudly to myself:"Okay" as I clicked on the link.

"Oh" I let out a gasp. Wow.

Of all the things I could expect to be sent this was not even a possibility.

It was a piece in the financial magazine "The Banker" about how one of the most talented young men in the financial world had resigned from his position in one of Europes most profitable media companies. These were news that had sent shivers through the financial world, not only in the UK but across the globe. He was seen as the big shot, he understood the financial world like few people his age did and he had experience and knowledge of a lifetime they praised him. Mr. William Magnusson. 

None the less his decision was easy he said. The last year had been turbulent and confusing for him and he had done a lot of soul-searching. It didn't take him long to find out he wasn't happy where he was at the time. He needed to shift his life in another direction and the first thing that went was the job. He didn't want to be a part of the greedy, needy financial world anymore but, rather do something meaningful. Like, take to use that law degree of his.

But first, he is taking a year out and going to lecture and coach young entrepreneurs, how to break it into the financial world without having to attend a fancy private school and how to be successful at your job and stay successful. He broke out of that world because it didn't fit him anymore, but he can still understand the appeal it has for many and he wants to help them, especially young people with potential. Pluss he will get the opportunity to travel the world.

This is before he is settling down permanently on the US continent and at Harvard Law where he will teach. That has always been a secret dream and when he got the call there was no doubt in his mind. He has strong ties from Harvard both through college and later works. Also since his law degree is from there he can't really make use of it anywhere else. 

He also talked about that he sold everything he owned, only keeping the house in Oslo that his late mother left him, that he grew up in. The hardest part though was selling his beloved apartment that holds so many dear memories. But, through life, you learn that you sometimes have to let go even the things you love. You have to cut the cord at some point.

I just sat there. In silence. Stunned.

What? He resigned from his job? Did he break the engagement? Or did he? What about the prenup? He is a gypsy this year? And then teach? He is moving to Boston? And he sold the apartment? But the way he talks about it. Hardest thing. Why? Because of me? And now he has cut the cord with me? For good?

An hour another text from Sana:" You ok?". Shit, I forgot to call her.

I called her and we talked.

She was just as shocked as I was by his breaking free from it all and Araw, who himself is in the financial world in London, said that no one saw it coming. He was so successful, he had it all. At his age. She also read from the piece that they broke the engagement. She didn't know what to make out of the answer about the apartment and cutting the cord. But it was a bit strange talking about it to a magazine reporter. Like why even mention that?

I barely slept that night. I can't wrap my head around this. What happened? How did it happen? Did he tell her about us? Did she find out on her own? Or does it even have anything to do with me? Maybe he met someone else. No, don't go there Noora. 

He just resigned from his job? He is gonna travel and teach. Now he is really doing it. It's such a balsy move in «our» age. Not that we are old, but he was so established. He had it all. People envied him. What happened?

And then he is coming to Boston. A four-hour drive from here. That's close. Closer than both Oslo and London. Wow. My Gosh. He really broke free. I wanted to see him. Talk to him. Hug him.

I was contemplating with the thought to text him, but what do I write? «I read your piece. Great job." is what first comes to mind. I can't send that. Just like that. Out of the blue. Not after how we left things.

I left Oslo two and a half months ago and we havent spoken since.

I start writing another one. «I read your article. I really liked it. You have done it, what you dreamed of. « But erased it. That's just stupid. After all those texts and missed calls from him in May, I cant just hit him with that.

Maybe he never wants to see me again. Never wants to talk to me again. Never wants to hear from me again. You have to cut the cord at some point, he said to the reporter.

Maybe he is right.