Easter

It had been a while since the last time she went back to her childhood home. It was already easter, and Janne hadn't been back to visit her mother since sometime last year. The house - the whole region - held so many bad memories, and the ten-hour bus ride definitely didn't help her wanderlust. But she had to come home. At least to help her mom clear out the attic and prepare them both for the big move mom would have to make in a few year's time. Old people's homes, assisted living, or whatever they call it these days.

As always, they ended up in the kitchen. Mom had shut the roller blinds, and for the first time, Janne noticed that they were quite worn at the bottom. Light poured through the little holes, making the dust in the air look like fog. She really should help her clean. Or, at least, pop another allergy pill just to survive.

“Mom?” She wasn’t entirely sure she dared to ask, but she glanced down at her small mother, sitting there with her cigarette and coffee at the long kitchen table.

“Yes?” her mother said.

“The coffee tastes a bit strange. Is it alright if I clean the coffee maker?” Her mother smiled at her, chuckling a little.

“Sure, by all means. Do you think I’m a bit... filthy?” And there it was, that look, the one she had inherited herself—the slightly mischievous one.

“Hehe, just a little, Mom. But I’ll do it.” She fetched the baking soda from where it had always been and flitted back and forth in the impractical kitchen, cleaning and tidying as they chatted.

It was surprisingly nice to come home this time. She would never say anything, but Janne was pretty sure her mom felt relieved. That it was just the two of them this time. That she didn’t really like Reidar all that much. Yesterday, when they were drinking Bare Øl (Just Beer) and playing Yahtzee, her mom had more or less said so:

“It’s quite nice, just us girls, isn’t it?”

Janne had asked, “Don’t you think Reidar’s alright?” and her mother had averted her eyes a bit.

“Oh, sure, but you and me, you know... there’s something special about that.”

Janne didn’t want to think about how the dynamic between them would change if she and Reidar had kids. What if it ruined everything? And how would she manage with work? She was already doing most of the heavy lifting in their home as it was. They’d nearly started arguing about how to change nappies the other day.

Reidar had said, “Up and go!” and she’d responded, “Yeah, if you want to wash both the baby’s legs in the process, then sure, use up & go.” But he didn’t get what she meant. He’d barely worked a week in a nursery when he was a teenager. He had no clue. But he was good with kids.

“I’ll teach you how to change nappies if that’s what worries you,” she said.

“No, it’s my job. It’s only going to last another two years,” he replied.

“So, we better start now then! It takes nine months, and then I only get seven months of maternity leave with that new rubbish reform. That takes us up to a year and a half, and then you can take leave when your job ends. You’d even get a delay in job hunting. It’s perfect, Reidar!” she’d said enthusiastically.

“Nah, I’m not so sure,” he’d answered, scratching the back of his head and shuffling back to his computer. He didn’t get anything. She was so fed up.

“Mom?” Janne said as she sat down, with fresh, filtered, coarse-ground yellow Coop coffee for the both of them.

“Yes, darling?” Her mother was busy with all her different medications.

“I’m thinking about leaving Reidar,” she said, neither quietly nor loudly, just in a normal, practical tone. Her mom looked at her, took off her glasses, and laid them on the table.

“But you just said things were going well?” She automatically began rolling another cigarette. Janne took one from the pack and lit it up. Blew the blue smoke into the air and took another sip of coffee.

“Yeah, well, when I’m with him, everything’s fine. He’s kind of magical to be around, like I forget everything and everyone, and we’re good. But then I get a few hours away from him, a long shift at work, or, like now, several days, and I notice I get irritated when he calls. He’s so... clingy, boring. And he doesn’t want any of the things I want. Like kids...” Janne studied her fingers, her cracked nails on top of swollen, working hands. Unfeminine. Not like her mother’s long and slender fingers with strong, long nails and stylish silver rings on practically every digit.

When had she stopped wearing rings? The only one left was her wedding ring on her left hand. Not on the right, like the Norwegian tradition is. It was too small for her right hand. She’d fooled herself when they got engaged, thinking she’d manage to slim away all the excess water weight. Silly.

“I can’t tell you what to do,” her mother said. “I just want you to be happy, and it doesn’t matter what I think. You’ve made a choice, and you’re an adult.” Her mom looked at her with those grey-blue eyes.

“Forget it. Shall we play more Yahtzee?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” her mother answered cheerfully, with that mischievous glint in her eyes again. It wasn't wrong to keep things simple, to not overthink but just go with the flow. Janne never really understood that artform. She stubbed out her cigarette in the brown '70s ashtray and gathered up the dice.

“Free or forced?” she asked.

“Free, of course, that’s more fun,” her mother replied, the hippie.

“Let’s try forced this time - just to see if the results are the same. For fun.”

Janne hoped it would make the game end quicker, honestly. Her mother exhaled through her nose, looking slightly irritated.

“Alright, fine.” And then Janne rolled six ones at once.

“Maxi-Yahtzee! Oh crap.” And they laughed a little, continuing the game.