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Music was playing in the living room downstairs, and candles were lit through the entire hall; Benny wasn’t home, and that meant Frida could hold Agnetha as close as she wanted. So they danced over the landing, Agnetha’s fingertips applying gentle pressure on Frida’s spine; to keep her just that little bit closer. Frida held Agnetha’s other hand clutched in her’s and so they waltzed through the house to Benny’s old records with Tchaikovsky and Vivaldi and some other composers that were probably long-dead.
Relaxing into her embrace, Agnetha breathed in Frida’s scent, her shampoo, the lingering smell of the cigarettes she smoked, mixed with her floral perfume and something that was just so inexplicably ‘her’. She could just envision it; them together, dancing on Frida’s landing, bodies flush, hands tender and their hair tangling together...
Frida closed her eyes when she felt Agnetha lean her head gently on her shoulder. The music was almost ending. She knew it because she’d heard it a hundred times before the crescendo, fortepiano, and then finally, morendo. The couple exhaled and swayed along, hoping somehow to extend this moment a little longer.
Instead, the record ended abruptly, forcing the women apart in horror. They felt their dreams being shattered in some way. Blinking against the now well-lit hall, they tried to make out the invader.
Downstairs, Benny stood, and he just stared at them, his expression hard to read as ever. For a while, it felt like if you’d speak something terrible would happen, like moving any limb would make it freeze mid-air.
Then: “What’s this?” Their hands fell. “Why’s the music so loud?”
Agnetha didn’t even realize they were still holding each other; having lost all sensations, just breathing purely on instinct.
He just- caught them, quite literally caught them, right? Frida’s husband must’ve just seen them, waltzing oh-so-close... His wife, romantically, with a woman, with her, Agnetha.
Luckily, Frida recovered quicker, and skipped right over his questions, “Oh, I-, we didn’t hear you come in! You’re back so soon?” She still sounded somewhat nervous, voice unusually skipping over words, the only giveaway.
Benny shrugged, “They ran out of champagne, and after that, there wasn’t much point in staying anymore.” As if that clarified it enough. “Why did you have the music so loud? Aren’t you worried about keeping the neighbors up?”
They all knew Benny didn’t care about the music being loud. The neighbors were just an excuse. He wanted an explanation; wanted them to admit their affair, but they couldn’t do that, couldn’t face the risk of opening up and letting people in. Their world existing of just two people would explode, evaporate if anyone knew about it.
So Frida forced herself to smile as she started to descend the stairs, “We don’t have neighbors, Benny, we were dancing“ she emphasized that last word, thinking if she would dress it up as natural as possible her husband would just have to accept the fact. Girls danced together sometimes, didn’t they? Hell, they did it for a living; surely they could do it as... friends. Whatever, let him think it. She strode down the last steps steadily until she stood in front of her husband.
Agnetha, with her eyes still trained on Frida, winced as she witnessed her kiss the man on his cheek. It was a Judas kiss, and it hurt everyone involved, a stab straight through their hearts. What she didn’t expect was the sad look in his eyes, like he knew what was going on. He knew of their betrayal. She had to leave. Now. She shouldn’t have come here. She’d made a mistake, several mistakes.
“Sorry, uhm, I-, I should go.” She struggled to find her voice and she hurried down the stairs, legs heavy, when she’d just felt featherlight in Frida’s arms only moments ago.
As she walked past Frida to the door, the other woman tried to make eye contact, but Agnetha was determined not to let any cracks show in their facade. She left out the back door where she’d parked her car, biting her lip because the cold air hitting her face made her want to break down and cry, but Frida was inside, in a much worse predicament, so she had to be tough. She reminded herself that she was a free woman now, independent and strong, and she could handle anything without the interference of a man. The life she would choose for herself would finally be her own. And, if it was up to her, Frida would be in it.