I Came Home as Usual

The Love We Had, a novel

Chapter 2

I tried to think back, the last few days before she disappeared. As far as I could see everything had been as usual. The day yesterday, and the day before that again. I came home, took off the shoes. I climbed the stairs. I came up to the main floor. She usually sat on a chair in the kitchen. The same thing always happened: As I entered, she got up.

I saw her from the top of the stairs. She looked like usual. She was apparently busy with something away at the stove.

“Hi,” I said.

“Hi”.

The voice seemed a little different than usual, but I did not think much about that just then.

From the top of the stairs, I looked around.

The kids weren’t home yet, they were probably on their way up the streets somewhere between the blocks down there and up the steep hill to our house.

I thought it was probably a while before dinner, so I went into the living room and sat down to relax a bit. I found the newspaper and started flipping through it. I first flipped back to the obituaries, swiped over the two in today’s edition, and then I watched the cartoons. There were two stripes there, on the lower half of the page, PONDUS with a bit of primitive sex humor, and HÅREK about cohabitation. It was not often that the comic strips were particularly deep intellectually, or humorous, but they were at least what they were, simple entertainment, I thought.

I did not find anything more to giggle about in today’s issue of the local newspaper. There was not always anything to pick up there.

I sighed and fled ahead, to a full-page where a large overview photo of the city dominated, taken from the road up at the graveyard. It was the classic image of the city centre, with the one and two-story dwellings and blocks in the foreground, together with the town hall and the Brick Dwelling in the middle of the picture. Over the picture I read, with heavy letters:

The ugliest city in the world

The text stated that Lonely Planet had nominated our city as the world’s ugliest city.

In retrospect, I thought that she might have seemed a little different that day, maybe a little excited. A little abnormally happy. Wasn’t there something strange there, believe? Why hadn’t I noticed it? When I thought about it, I was uncertain. Maybe it was nothing.

How was she when she was tense? What was the need for me to notice that she was very tense? I didn’t know. I thought I actually knew her well, and yet I didn’t. Maybe most of the latter. Maybe she was a stranger to me, maybe she always was?

When I thought about it, we talked little to each other. It was mostly short words and messages. Once she had said that to me.

“Talk to me, Lars!”

“You got to talk, Lars!»

“This is not going well!”

Yes, it had happened several times over the past few years. She had almost begun to complain daily about me talking so little. That I was so silent, so little interested.

It had changed especially in the last few years, after the kids had started school. There had been something between us. Somewhat invisible, some kind of distance. It had changed, even in the way we were together in the evening or at night.

It had become rarer with most things. Everything had become more seldom. She said she wanted to sleep, that it didn’t fit now, and things like that.

I hadn’t thought so much about it. For me it could be the same. When only I got a little at times. I rather liked to go down in the basement, in the workshop and snicker, planning. I have become quite good at wood forming, woodworking, things like that.

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A note from the author:

The novel "The Love We Had" is made up of three parts, where the three main characters tell how they experienced what happened between them.

Part 1 The Longest Night, chapters 1-3, told by Lars

Part 2 The Light Inside, chapters 4-17, told by Aslak

Part 3 Save Our Secret Love, chapters 18-49, told by Eira

Previous chapter:

Chapter 1. I Love It When Things Are Normal

Next chapter:

Chapter 3. I Believe in What I See

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Øivind H. Solheim is a novel author and a nature photographer from Norway who loves writing fiction, poetry, essays, and articles helping others understand life, other humans, and themselves. He has published six novels, two non-fiction books, and a poetry book.