Well, that is all it takes. Jens is welling up. Tears prickling in his eyes, as his chest is tightening and his sobs threatening to escape from his lungs.
“Mamma, I will bring Axel and the kids up on Sunday. Would that work? Would that make you and Pappa feel better?”
He can hear his mother’s squeal, shouting to his father, “They are all coming Sunday, Bjørn! All of them!” He can make out his father’s grunts in return. He can picture him clearly at the kitchen table, with his laptop and coffee in front of him. His mother pacing the kitchen with the phone tightly pressed between her chin and her shoulder while she dries the dishes.
“Darling, come for lunch. I will make fishcakes, and bake apple cake for dessert, with that vanilla cream you like. Oh, I am all excited! Does Axel eat fishcakes? He is not one of those funny eaters, is he? Like those vegetarians?” Jens can’t help but laugh at his mother almost whispering out the word, like it is another unacceptable human trait.
“Mum, he is not a vegetarian. Just chill. Axel is adorable and he will be really nervous to meet you, so please go easy on him. No awkward questions. Just give him a hug and feed him, okay?”
His mother just laughs. And Jens shakes his head as he hangs up the phone. What the hell has he just agreed to?
JENS: Axel baby, I have just made plans to go for lunch at my parents on Sunday. All of us. Together. I am so sorry. Just warning you now, my parents are nosy, interfering, no question is too embarrassing to ask kind of people. They have read your blog. They will be outing us to the Lillestrom folk dancing society tomorrow night. Our lives will never be the same.
AXEL: Your parents are lovely. I’m sure it will be fine.
AXEL: I am shitting myself a little bit though.
JENS: They will love you. They always did. Mum will be too busy fussing over the children and if you just discuss ice hockey with my dad, you will be fine.
AXEL: I don’t know shit about ice hockey.
JENS: Fuck. We are doomed.
AXEL: I can discuss current fertility research and I am reading a really good article on birthing pools. Do you think that would do?
JENS: Perfect. My dad will be googling totally inappropriate sites and sending you links in no time.
JENS: I love you. I miss you.
AXEL: Are you in bed? Thinking about me?
JENS: I am in bed with Marthe. So, no funny business. No dirty ideas.
AXEL: (heart emoji)
JENS: Oh yes, Sondre at work said there is some Facebook group you need to join. Something about tasty mummies.
AXEL: Axel Kleve’s yummy mummies? Fuck Jens, please stay away from Facebook. I am not even going to look at it.
JENS: My mother will be on it in no time. I bet she is making my Dad google you as we speak.
AXEL: Ugh. I just delivered another baby and the mother asked me take a selfie with her while I was delivering the placenta. Her husband was mortified. That’s 4 selfies this evening and it’s not even midnight.
JENS: 4 selfies?
AXEL: The 3 others were with the deranged idiots who unfortunately work with me. If you look up Dr Magnus Holm on Facebook, his profile picture is me giving him the finger.
JENS: Hilarious. Does this mean I should join Facebook?
AXEL: NOOOOOO
JENS: I love you my little celebrity midwife.
AXEL : Lucky for you, I love you too.
Sommerfeldt apartment, Skøyen, Oslo
Friday
It’s funny how Axel wakes up with a smile on his face in the afternoons. Letting himself roll over on the big bed that now has far too many pillows since Axel brought his bedding over from his apartment. The bed that has been pushed over so it now sits below the windows letting the sun stream down painting stripes of light over the sheets. He smiles at the pile of medical journals resting on the bedside table, fighting for space with a coffee cup, a book about Totte baking cakes, and a plastic toy from a fast food children’s meal that Axel can’t even begin to describe. It still makes him smile because Mikki made Axel bring the plastic monster thing with three heads that shoots an arrow out of his eye, to work, for good luck. So, he would remember to think of Mikki when he was at the hospital pulling babies out of mums’ bottoms. Mikki’s words. Not his.
They have figured out a good little routine this week, where Axel comes home and has breakfast with his little family, with all the shouting and rushing and mess that entails.
Where Axel makes Malena a cup of coffee first thing, while she is still half-awake, and makes her sit down for five minutes so he can actually talk to her before the madness begins.
Where Marthe crawls up on his lap and cuddles while she comes round from sleep. Where Mikki hugs him goodbye and kisses his cheek before leaving. And Axel tumbles onto the empty bed, delirious from lack of sleep and exhaustion.
He picks the children up from nursery on his own in the afternoons, which gives Jens an extra hour to work. Somehow that has made a difference to Jens, who comes home much less stressed to find Axel pottering around in the kitchen making dinner, while Morten sits at the kitchen table with his headphones on and Marthe is on the potty feeding herself cheese-doodles. Muttering, “Good girl, Marthe, big wee wee,” between mouthfuls as Axel chops lettuce and grates cheese. He is making tacos. He will provide tacos. Malena asked for tacos and Axel will give her tacos even if it kills him. He should be able to make tacos. Even though half of the taco shells are broken since he sat on the bag of shopping on the tram home, and almost dropped Marthe on her head trying to balance the pram with all the shopping bags on the handles. Because Axel went food shopping with two tired children in tow and almost had an aneurism when Mikki had a meltdown in the pick and mix aisle and Marthe refused to be strapped into the pram.
He still made it home, grinning all the way after the cashier complimented him on his beautiful children, who smiled back with angelic smiles, while Mikki held on to the bag of pick and mix and Marthe almost broke her neck falling out of the pram. Again. He still loves the pram. Thank God for the pram. Their pram. Nobody else’s. Axel doublechecks. Every single time he picks it up. He has even scribed 'Sommerfeldt' on the back of the seat with black blunt letters, just to make sure.
It is all worth it as Jens wraps his arms around Axel’s back and presses his lips against his neck. He just stands there for the longest time, breathing in the scent of Axel, with his eyes closed and his mind at rest. Because this is all Jens needs, he says. Being home, with Axel. The sounds of his children moving around the apartment and the tv blaring in the living room. The dull thuds of the music from Morten's headphones and the soft fizzing from the frying pan where the mince is browning ready for the spice mix that Axel is trying to rip the top off with his teeth.
“Thank you.” Jens whispers into his skin. “I love coming home knowing you will be here.”
Axel just kisses him. Soft little kisses against Jen’s lips while his eyes lose focus and his body relaxes into Jens’ chest.
“Axel?” Malena stands in the doorway, looking tentatively at the two of them jumping at the sound of her voice.
“Yes?” Axel smiles. Plants another kiss on Jens’ lips.
“I was going to ask you some advice.”
“Do you want me to leave? Did you want to ask Axel alone?” Jens takes a step towards the doorway as Malena shakes her head.