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THE LONG HOT SUMMER
Sweaty, hot, sticking, that’s what Saga Noren was feeling also after her early morning and late evening showers.
The abnormal heat wave that through France and Germany reached Scandinavia was terrible that summer, the scientists proclaimed it was the hottest summer in Europe since the statistical recording of data.
Every evening, Saga watched the tv specials dedicated to the heat wave while Henrik cleaned up the table and the house; he noticed Saga was , taking notes about what the experts said about food, places and things to avoid.
Soon Henrik received a list of fresh and light food to buy and was forbidden to cook anything; they had to rely on a different diet, with lots of vegetables and fruits and so Henrik bought a ice cream maker for his girls.
Astrid kept closed the blinds of her bedroom to avoid light and heat filtering through, Henrik travelled to Malmo to buy two electric fans; the article was sold out in Copenhagen.
“I never had to use such a thing in my life.” He protested while discarding them.
“In south Spain, during my travel, they were on in April.” Saga replied, reading the instruction manual.
“I want to be transferred to Groenland with immediate effect.”
“Unpractical, in winter time my hands and feet would get too cold and you’d refuse to warm me. Besides, Groenland is becoming a federate state with its own police.”
He sighed, somehow the idea to massage Saga’s body ends every day in a remote wooden cottage covered with ice crystals was appealing, all the more with her declaration she’d obviously follow him up there. A new life for them, new opportunities. New thoughts. Everything was useful to forget the sweat.
Henrik returned to reality and controlled the electricity counter of the house to verify its power if more appliances were to be connected at the same time; the fridge was producing ice 24/24 to be dropped in orange juices, strawberry juices, cold tea, lemonades, all made with fresh ingredients and love by the expert hands of Henrik.
Saga’s hair were hot, too, she did a ponytail at first, then one morning after waking up six times in a row with her head wet she grabbed the scissors from the kitchen counter and was ready to start when Henrik stopped her with the offer to go to the hairdresser, praying Saga not to make a mess on the bathroom tiles.
Saga’s attempt to protest was cut off by Astrid’s promise she’d feel better in the air conditioned shop; the young woman had decided for a radical cut of her hair, too, and was proud of her boy-like new look, so easy to wear at the swimming pool or at the sea.
So Saga had her new hairstyle and looked at herself in the mirror later, the face appeared different, the colour appeared different, lighter - the hairdresser used a chamomile shampoo that gave nourishment and also revitalized the natural blonde - the cheekbones less sharp, the sensation of lightness both on her skin and also on her features, was her identity as defined by her long hair vanishing?
Not to mention, at work the situation was dramatic: the small desks surrounded by transparent walls created balls of heated air, those closer to the windows had a minimal relief but no air flow from the openings reached the inner cubicles.
Saga compared the statistic of murders with those of the weather, asked John to extend the search to other European countries; she was sure there was a strict correlation, few killers dared to act during heat waves, so the week was quieter than usual.
The robber in a warehouse of a international brand of frost food gave way to endless jokes between the detectives; everyone wanted to be assigned to the case just to enter the cold rooms. Saga took a deep breath and passed the folder to the younger members of the team.
Henrik was often at home, the police academy teachers were busy only with the final exams of the recruits so he had time to repaint the wooden table and chairs of the back garden and set up a large umbrella to shed the area.
The Swedish big boss issued a service order for investigative teams to use the free days, Saga had more vacation arrears than all the other team chiefs and accepted the idea: better to stay at home and be spoiled by her man than drive every day across the bridge; in the middle of the 70 air conditioning wasn’t the reason people bought Porsches, she was sure.
Speaking about cars, she formulated a shocking proposal during dinner.
“We should buy a modern car. Astrid will get her driving licence next year.”
Henri’s fork remained mid air.
“Are you really speaking about another car?”
“Yes, a compact one, I’ll give Astrid driving lessons on it. She can’t learn on the Porsche. And new cars have a perfect air conditioning system. Tomorrow we’ll go to see it.”
Henrik never dared to reply that he, the father, should be the one to teach his daughter: driving was simply Saga’s.
Also sex was hard to achieve, their skin was burning for a different reason and they were forced to abandon the post orgasm cuddles saga was learning to appreciate and Henrik longed for years.
Lying partially over Henrik’s chest, her back to his front, reading a book from her tablet - while Henrik’s hand lightly caressed her arm, thigh, everywhere he could reach - was comforting; he wasn’t crushing her, simply letting her feel him and his tenderness.
After being partners for more than three years, intimacy was still developing little by little.
Now they barely could keep their hands intertwined for a minute or so, until one first, then the other went for a shower to clean off sweat and bodily fluids.
The worst part were Saga’s trousers and shoes, the leather was glued to her skin and she got the urge to scratch around her navel.
She saw redness spreading between her legs and butt cheeks, applied a moisturizing cream once a day before going to bed - to avoid staining the trousers - but when the itch got worse and it extended to her feet, burning in her boots, she admitted defeat.
She called Henrik in their bedroom to show him her dermatologic problem; lying on the bed, legs spread out, it was the first time his observation had to be medical–like, forgetting the temptation her female parts had on him every time and hiding the blush on his face.
Henrik was happy to discuss Saga’s clothing limits for the first time; since they got together she never let him buy something to wear, except the brown Barbour parka when her old coat’s sleeve got trapped and badly tore in a rusty iron bar near Oxford Street in London.
“It’s too hot for leather, try something lighter and softer. You need to ask a pharmacist advices for the redness. Let’s go there now.”
“I don’t know what to wear.”
“There’s the organic cotton brand Astrid found at her favourite store. A French chain If I remember well. We could buy clothes for you there.”
Saga lowered her gaze.
“I don’t have other trousers. I bought three identical each time.”
Henrik felt stupid, he was so happy to have a family again he sometimes missed details; he wasn’t so good at noticing like before, happiness was a little cloud in front of hid eyes.
He whispered something that passed for an excuse and left the bedroom before saga could reply.
He was back soon with a bag, he put it on the bed and kept his hand on the handle; Saga was curious about the content, she moved her head to get a glimpse.
“There’s something here you could use just for an hour, before you get new trousers.”
“From Alice? You put all her things in the basement last summer when you gave Astri her jewels.”
“I bought it for her birthday and she never wore it.”
Saga lowered her head, Alice disappeared just two week before the date
Henrik took the garment from the bag, a sleeveless silk pink v neck dress, with a waist cut, perfect for a thin frame like Alice, suspiciously revealing the body for a fuller woman like herself.
Saga looked at it, looked at Henrik, lifted the hem of the dress with the caution in picking up a proof for the evidence plastic bag and slide the garment along her body. Henrik let out the breath he was holding, rose wasn’t her colour but the effect was better then he imagined.
Saga observed her bare arms, then her bare feet and calves and knees: the dress was short, too short and Alice was taller.
It revealed also her cleavage, mote than her t shirt ever did; after a few minutes it wasn’t so um practical to wear: the fabric was soft on her hips and breasts, the sensation of being exposed gave way to a lightness she seldom experienced before.
She felt the air flowing between her legs, the freedom of movements, the subtle pleasure of the silk enveloping her. With Henrik, she experimented lots of new things, without being forced to, simply having him at her side – and also Astrid and being her official caretaker and her unofficial mother was not a burden but a source of pride - so another new goal was easy to reach.
Sometimes she wondered how Martin would react in meeting the new Saga Noren.
She went to the mirror and Henrik stood behind her, adjusting the waistline and pulling the bra strap under the sleeve.
“We can leave, tell Astrid I’m ready.”
After the pharmacy, they stopped at a department store, where Astrid insisted and Saga accepted to ass to her hew trousers and t shirt an essential cotton summer dress in shades of blue; never to use at work, perfect to wear at home during the following days to let her damaged skin heal.
It was soft, fresh, the look in Henrik’s eyes was of appreciation and adoration.
Astrid was invited to join the cousins for a week at the sea and during the return from the coast Saga noticed the sky was getting darker south; at first she remained silent, doubtful the clouds could bring rain.
Henrik was listening to a cd, a little sad because he had left his baby girl with Alice’s relatives, aware a teenager had her own desires and needs and a father couldn’t take part in all of them.
He glanced at Saga, so glad to have her at his side and saw she was pointing at the sky.
“This is the right time.”
“Are you sure?”
“Look at the clouds and how fast they’re moving, there’s some radio crackling in my earphones.”
“They’re coming to us.”
“It will be rain, not thunders or storm.”
Henrik nodded, trusting his woman not for the first time.
Half and hour and fifty kilometres after, the rain arrived, blessed and long awaited.
The drops cleaned the car, the street, took away the dust and the dry, pressed the grass on the fields and the branch of the trees.
“Stop!”
Saga put a hand on the wheel, Henrik complied, although it wasn’t dangerous to drive, it was simply rain, he questioned in his mind the reason of Saga’s order.
The brand new Alfa MiTo pulled over in the middle of the countryside and Saga opened her door to get out; she was immediately soaked by the rain and her dress clang to her body.
She didn’t care, the rain on her face was beauty, life, not like the night Martin was taken away, when the drops covered and concealed her tears. She wanted to feel the rain, drown into it, be alive.
Looking up at the dark sky, letting the water clean her face and her hair, while the temperature was getting fresher, it felt like a purification from the difficulties of life, not only from the heat.
Henrik left the car, turning around it to get close to Saga.
She was smiling and the smile was contagious and he didn’t care to wet the front seats, because they had the rain and they had it together.