He knew one of his coworkers, Maja, was half Swedish. He wrestled with himself for a while but eventually he chatted with her and asked if she would teach him to say something in Swedish. She called him, instead of replying to his chat.
“So, what do you want to say to her?” she asked.
“Her?” he squirmed.
“Well, what else would encourage you to talk in tongues beside love?” she asked, amused, and he realized he was really transparent.
“Well, let me think,” he said.
“At least you should make the effort to learn to say her name right,” Maja said. “I guess even that will take you anywhere. So what is her name?”
“Johanna,” he said, and then they went back and forth for what seemed like an eternity, until Maja was pleased with his pronunciation.
“Good, yes, now just remembered that,” she said. “Now, what else? ‘I love you’?”
“Well it’s a bit much, I think,” he said. “We just met after all. But… well…”
“But you’d want to be with her? Date her?”
“Well, yes. Yes I would. So maybe that.”
” ‘Vill du dejta mig?’ ”
“Um, come again?”
It took them another few minutes to get him to remember the words and say them correctly. He thanked Maja and ended the call. He felt a little lightheaded, and nervous, but he also knew he needed to pursue this now.
He texted Johanna to ask if she still wanted lunch, and if she would eat Chinese takeaway. She answered yes on both accounts. He walked to the shopping center and fetched the food, and on his way back, he passed a florist and stepped in. He looked at various Valentine’s Day bouquets, each one more pompous than the last, and agonized. He didn’t want to be too imposing, and eventually he settled for a single red rose.
He arrived at her door and took a deep breath before ringing the doorbell. He felt like his cheeks were as red as the flower, but there was no helping it. He was shy, and he was nervous, and this was important. He prayed he’d remember his sentence, and the proper pronunciation of her name.
She was surprised by the rose, and seemed a little flustered, but she took it in her hand.
“Johanna?” he said, and her eyes shot up at him. She definitely noticed how he pronounced her name. “Vill du dejta mig?”
She stared at him. “Vad sade du?” she said feebly.
“Sorry, that’s the limit of my Swedish,” he said apologetically.
He was standing one step lower than he was, so their eyes were almost level. She got tears in her eyes, and then she hugged him, tightly.
“Yes, yes I’ll date you.”
He held the takeaway with one hand and her with the other, and was happier than he ever remembered being.
“Good,” he said quietly. “I was beginning to worry I’d been misled, and I just said something incredibly rude to you.”
She giggled. Their hug was interrupted by Musse, running past their feet, seizing the opportunity now that the door was left open for a moment too long. He gave her the bag of food and spent the next ten minutes chasing the cat around the yard. He did catch it eventually, and when he carried it back towards her door it just settled into his arms and looked up at him with its yellow eyes, looking innocent and inconspicuous.
“You little bugger,” he whispered to it.