given Freja's frail frame, Elsa decided to protect her before it was too late.
“You don't even know her,” Mitch said.
“She does. We're friends from long ago. You just haven't noticed, Mitch,” Elsa said. She grabbed Freja's slight elbow and guided her away from her boss. Freja gave Elsa a faint smile of gratitude, and Elsa could feel her body shaking. The woman was so slight, like a strong gust of wind could blow her away; she had long, spindly fingers with uncut nails and smooth hands. Her shoulders folded over forward and she walked with her hips jutted out, as if her pelvis carried a bowl of marbles that must not be spilled.
“Thanks for helping me, ma'am. What was your name again?”
“No problem, doll. Like I said, my name really is Freja.” She took Elsa's hand in hers and began petting it. “You have lovely skin.” Elsa blushed. Not many other girls ever gave her compliments; Elsa didn't know if they were jealous or if they truly thought she was repulsive. As much as she loved men, sometimes a feminine compliment regarding her beauty was far more powerful a self-esteem boost than anything a man could say. Women knew the work required and value of looking good.
“You seem very upset doll. I could see something was wrong. What time do you get off?”
“Just in a couple hours,” Elsa said.
“That's great. Do you want to join me for some tea at my house tonight? There are some peach blooms just getting ripe on my window sill. I'm really proud of them. We could make a pie or some jam.”
“That sounds nice.”
“I'll hang out here and give ol' Mitch the evil eye from this here bar while you finish your chores. Go on now, doll.” She pushed Elsa from the base of her waist toward the center of the room. Elsa was surprised by the strength Freja had in her.
CHAPTER 18
Later that night, Elsa took off her apron and ignored Mitch as she left. She put her apron in her pocket, her breath fogging her vision due the cold. She shifted her gaze around her. “Where are you Freja?”
A hand pinched her butt. “I'm right here, girlie!” Freja laughed, grabbing her hand like a school-age girl who had just found a new best friend. She guided Elsa down the hilly exit of the tavern, the murmured voices receding in the distance.
“You and me,” she said, laying her head on Freja's shoulder, “we're soul mates. You know that?”
“I didn't know that,” Elsa said, enjoying the feeling of another person's touch since the night before. “But I do now. Where are you from Freja?”
“Doll, I cannot wait for you to see my place. I've put so much work in it since this afternoon, when I knew you were coming over. I've cut all my apples and peaches down. The whole place smells like something from a dream, girl.”
“I can't wait. How long have you lived at this place?”
“Oh not long. Not long at all. We—I've been here for a short, short time. I move around a lot you see. I don't want to be rooted in one place.”
“How come?”
“Variety is the spice of life, doll.”
They continued walking down the trail, past the main street, into the cobblestone street that disappeared into the forest area between the town and the rest of the vast wilderness that stretched for miles and miles into nothingness. The moonlight lit up the trail as Elsa followed Freja through the dark woods.
“Hold my hand doll. It's chilly and I'm scared. We're such vulnerable women. Anyone—or anything—could follow us.” Freja seemed genuinely scared for her safety, and Elsa could imagine the dangers such a small woman must face when unmarried. She wondered if Freja had any children, or at her late age, any grandchildren.
“I know what you're thinking. You wonder if I have any children. Well I don't, bitch!” Elsa's heart stopped, as she wasn't sure whether Freja was serious or joking. “Just kidding doll. I get the question a
“You don't even know her,” Mitch said.
“She does. We're friends from long ago. You just haven't noticed, Mitch,” Elsa said. She grabbed Freja's slight elbow and guided her away from her boss. Freja gave Elsa a faint smile of gratitude, and Elsa could feel her body shaking. The woman was so slight, like a strong gust of wind could blow her away; she had long, spindly fingers with uncut nails and smooth hands. Her shoulders folded over forward and she walked with her hips jutted out, as if her pelvis carried a bowl of marbles that must not be spilled.
“Thanks for helping me, ma'am. What was your name again?”
“No problem, doll. Like I said, my name really is Freja.” She took Elsa's hand in hers and began petting it. “You have lovely skin.” Elsa blushed. Not many other girls ever gave her compliments; Elsa didn't know if they were jealous or if they truly thought she was repulsive. As much as she loved men, sometimes a feminine compliment regarding her beauty was far more powerful a self-esteem boost than anything a man could say. Women knew the work required and value of looking good.
“You seem very upset doll. I could see something was wrong. What time do you get off?”
“Just in a couple hours,” Elsa said.
“That's great. Do you want to join me for some tea at my house tonight? There are some peach blooms just getting ripe on my window sill. I'm really proud of them. We could make a pie or some jam.”
“That sounds nice.”
“I'll hang out here and give ol' Mitch the evil eye from this here bar while you finish your chores. Go on now, doll.” She pushed Elsa from the base of her waist toward the center of the room. Elsa was surprised by the strength Freja had in her.
CHAPTER 18
Later that night, Elsa took off her apron and ignored Mitch as she left. She put her apron in her pocket, her breath fogging her vision due the cold. She shifted her gaze around her. “Where are you Freja?”
A hand pinched her butt. “I'm right here, girlie!” Freja laughed, grabbing her hand like a school-age girl who had just found a new best friend. She guided Elsa down the hilly exit of the tavern, the murmured voices receding in the distance.
“You and me,” she said, laying her head on Freja's shoulder, “we're soul mates. You know that?”
“I didn't know that,” Elsa said, enjoying the feeling of another person's touch since the night before. “But I do now. Where are you from Freja?”
“Doll, I cannot wait for you to see my place. I've put so much work in it since this afternoon, when I knew you were coming over. I've cut all my apples and peaches down. The whole place smells like something from a dream, girl.”
“I can't wait. How long have you lived at this place?”
“Oh not long. Not long at all. We—I've been here for a short, short time. I move around a lot you see. I don't want to be rooted in one place.”
“How come?”
“Variety is the spice of life, doll.”
They continued walking down the trail, past the main street, into the cobblestone street that disappeared into the forest area between the town and the rest of the vast wilderness that stretched for miles and miles into nothingness. The moonlight lit up the trail as Elsa followed Freja through the dark woods.
“Hold my hand doll. It's chilly and I'm scared. We're such vulnerable women. Anyone—or anything—could follow us.” Freja seemed genuinely scared for her safety, and Elsa could imagine the dangers such a small woman must face when unmarried. She wondered if Freja had any children, or at her late age, any grandchildren.
“I know what you're thinking. You wonder if I have any children. Well I don't, bitch!” Elsa's heart stopped, as she wasn't sure whether Freja was serious or joking. “Just kidding doll. I get the question a
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