Muffins - Loki & Ylva alternate universe stories

Love with a bite II

Author's note: In my head, Ylva looks a lot like Nanihoo's Sigyn (the image above). 

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Bopping her head to the beats of Michael Jackson's 'Billy Jean' Ylva Frederikson mops the floors of the coffee shop, routinely moving the mop around the table legs. Her colleague and best friend Thomas cleans the coffee machine, singing along to the song. While cleaning the floors, Ylva is thinking about what clothes are in her closet and which are in the laundry basket, mentally putting together an outfit to wear to the book signing that will start in about an hour. She will have to hurry to get there on time and Ylva doesn't want to go out in her work clothes. Her worn out copy of 'The backstreets of London' by I.M. Georges is lying ready on her nightstand; getting an autograph isn't something she usually cares about, but this is her all time favourite author. His books take up almost a whole shelf in her book cabinet, he is the only author that has more than two titles on her shelves.

Ylva is up for a disappointment when she knocks the door that connects the apartment of her and her cousin Lisa to that of her aunt and uncle next door. "Come in!" sounds aunt Yvonne's voice from inside.

"Hello, dear," she says when Ylva enters the apartment. Yvonne is doing the dishes, bright pink gloves covering her hands.

Ylva presses a kiss to her aunt's cheek, immediately grabbing a dish towel and a dripping plate from the rack. "Is uncle Lars ready yet?"

"Oh, honey, haven't you read his text? He is in bed with a terrible migraine. Poor man couldn't even see straight anymore." Yvonne puts another plate in the dish rack, looking at Ylva from the side.

The young woman puts the plate in the cabinet and pulls her phone from her shoulder bag. The home screen doesn't show any new messages, though when she logs in there is a red dot with the number one visible on her message app. "Shit, I missed it." Ylva picks up another plate and starts drying it. "I'll have to go by myself then. Too bad uncle Lars is sick."

"Will you be okay by yourself, dear?" Yvonne asks a little worried. The Jamaican woman is always looking out for her niece like she's her own daughter.

Ylva puts the last plate away and hangs the dish towel over the wide handle of one of the drawers. "I'll be fine, Yvonne," she says with a chuckle. "It's a book signing, not a rave!"

After a check of her watch she says goodbye to her aunt. "I hope Lars will feel better soon. It's a shame he can't come tonight."

"You can tell him all about it tomorrow. Have fun, dear!" Yvonne waves her niece off with the pink gloves.

The book signing is in a large bookstore on the other side of Manhattan, just across Central Park, so Ylva takes the train. Ever since she came to New York to work in her aunt's coffee shop she loves riding the subway. Yeah, it's often crowded or smelly, but to her there is nothing that says 'big city' more. That, and Central Park of course. Though a walk through the park on a cold january night is maybe not the smartest idea for a girl alone.

By the time Ylva arrives at the bookstore the event is almost starting. She immediately recognises her favourite author, his graying hair disheveled and his clothes a bit outdated. He is a bit of a shut-in and rarely comes to events like this; that is why Ylva was so happy when she saw the announcement online. This may be her only chance to ever hear her favourite author speak in real life.
Mr. Georges is talking to a woman in a pantsuit, both standing on a small stage in the front of the store. Facing the stage are at least fifteen rows of folding chairs and by the looks of it they are all taken. "I should have grabbed a train earlier," Ylva sighs under her breath. "Or two..."

She walks along the rows, searching for an empty spot. There are a bunch of people standing on the sides, yet after a whole day of serving people in the coffee shop the idea of sitting down is quite inviting. Ylva has nearly given up on the alluring idea of the slight discomforts of a foldable chair, when she spots an empty chair in the last row. It's the second to last chair and even though there are plenty of people who are standing in the back, nobody has taken that chair. The closer Ylva gets to the vacant seat, the more she notices that people seem to be avoiding the spot. She pauses at the end of the row, looking down the filled seats. Next to the vacant seat is a middle aged woman sitting, her back turned to the empty chair even though she isn't talking to the woman sitting on her other side. The woman isn't the only one who seems to be ignoring the far corner of the rows of chairs. Now Ylva is watching a bit longer she sees how everyone looks at anything but the empty chair. Or more precise: anything but the man in the black suit who is sitting in the chair at the end of the row.