Vodka Espresso

14. amsterdam

July, 2017

Ingrid hadn't been this scared in a long time. The mere thought that she had pictured, however briefly, a future with Edgar – that he had joined in with domestic fantasies of his own as if he'd been reading her mind – frightened her terribly.

She was scared she might come to wish for something of the sort and suffer since it would be impossible to obtain. It was a ridiculous fear to have and a future way out of her grasp but still, she couldn't shake the ominous feeling.

The bed was empty when she woke up with a start, her heart thudding. The curtains had been drawn a little, to let some light in. Edgar sat at the round coffee table on the other end of the room, sunken in one of the oversized armchairs. Ingrid could only see him because the chair faced the bed. He smiled at her over his coffee cup.

She gulped and struggled to get herself together.

"What's wrong?" he asked with a frown, noticing her agitation, and stood up.

She stretched over the edge of the bed to grab her bathrobe and wrapped herself up in it before he had a chance to touch her. His hand hung in the air as she got up.

"Nothing," she hurried to say.

"Right," he muttered.

She couldn't bear to see the hurt look in his eyes and marched towards the bathroom, but stopped by the door. Then she changed her mind and walked inside. Shower first, everything else later.

Edgar wasn't there when she walked out. For a moment, she was possessed by an inexplicable panic that he'd abandoned her. All of his stuff was still in the room, though, so she heaved a sigh and had her breakfast. Edgar returned right after she'd finished dressing, reeking of tobacco.

"I've settled our bill," he announced. "Here's your deposit."

He handed her the cash as if it was some business transaction. She didn't say a word. He never did, either, and they continued not to communicate with each other until they had driven out of the car park and started on the road to the Netherlands. The radio continued to play on low volume, like Ingrid had set it last night.

"I'm neither blind nor stupid," Edgar ripped through the silence when they stopped at a red light, "and I thought I wouldn't have to be playing this game with you, of all people."

Ingrid pointedly avoided his gaze. It made it hard for her to be blunt.

"There is no actual future for us, you know that, right?" She turned to look at him, but the light became green. He was looking away now. "This is just a getaway. A dream from which we're about to wake up."

"I like to believe you always find a way when you really want something."

"So what do you want? Because if I can't give it to you, there's no point in wasting your time."

He stared straight ahead, focused on the street signs. Quite some time elapsed before he came up with an answer.

"I said some things when I was tired and upset. I meant every single word at the time, I still do, but I know what it's like to live in the real world."

He paused and concentrated on driving, never once taking his eyes off the road to at least glance in her direction. As soon as he found a clear spot, he pulled over and stopped the car. This conversation needed his undivided attention.

"I know I don't mean that much to you," he said. "I know it's ridiculous to talk about love in our situation and I know this... this honeymoon-phase feeling I've got will most likely vanish once we get back to London."