A Well-Lived Life - Book 3 - PiaChapter 8: Moving North free porn video
August 1979 — Helsingborg and Hovås, Sweden
My last night in Helsingborg was spent with Pia. We both wanted to make love, but she got her period the day before. If she had asked me to make love, I would have, but she didn’t ask. Instead, we lay in bed cuddling. We were both sad about parting, though I was excited about the next stage of my adventure.
“Once I get settled, I’ll call you,” I said. “Then we can make plans. School starts the first week in September, so hopefully I can visit one weekend before then. I’ll see if the Jonssons are OK with you visiting, too.”
“That’s good,” she said. “I want to keep seeing you. I’m sorry about tonight.”
“It’s fine. Let’s just cuddle and sleep in each other’s arms, OK?”
“You don’t need me to do anything for you?”
“No. Just be with me.”
“You are one strange guy! But I like it.”
I kissed her, and we soon fell asleep.
On Saturday morning, I was up early as usual, ran, and then had breakfast with Pia and the Anderbergs. Kathy and Putte came by to say goodbye, and soon it was time to head to the train station. At the station, Pia and I hugged and kissed and said goodbye. I shook hands with Rolf, and Sinikka gave me a hug.
“Steve, remember, you are always welcome to visit anytime,” Rolf said.
“Thanks,” I said. “I’ll let you know!”
“If you run into any trouble at all, please call. I’ll do my best to help.”
“Thanks again, I will.”
I boarded the train, found my seat and when we pulled out, I hung out the window to watch Pia until I could no longer see the platform. Once the platform was out of sight, I settled back into my seat and watched the countryside pass by as the train rolled steadily northward, eventually reaching Göteborg Centralstationen around noon.
Once again, I saw a tall blonde man holding a sign with my name on it, with an equally tall blonde woman standing next to him. Three kids were with them, all blonde, of course. The guys were what I would call ‘dirty’ blonde, but the girls were all flaxen. This would certainly be Anders and Eva Jonsson and their children Patrick, Suzana, and Pernilla. Everyone in the family was good looking, stereotypically Swedish; Suzana was pretty and Pernilla was cute as a button.
I grabbed my carry-on bag and got off the train, went to meet the Jonssons, and then we all walked back to the baggage car to claim my bags. When we got them, Anders and Patrick helped carry them to a silver Volvo 265 wagon that everyone piled into for the 20 minute drive to Hovås.
One of the first things I noticed about Göteborg was that there were trams that ran down the middle of the streets and mixed in with the normal traffic. The only place I remembered seeing anything like that was in San Francisco when I’d visited in 1972. We headed south along a road named after Dag Hammarskjöld until we came to Hovås and we exited the motorway and drove up a hill, turning onto a small wooded lane called Jagarevägen. We pulled into the driveway in front of #11, a split-level house with an English basement.
As soon as we walked in, I asked Anders if I could use the phone to call Rolf and Lars, and he pointed me to a phone in the kitchen. I let Rolf know everything was OK and told him I’d talk to him soon. He promised to forward any mail I received to the Jonssons’ address. I called the Anderssons and spoke with Karin, who answered the phone. She said she’d let her dad know I’d called, and said she was looking forward to seeing me in December.
My room was in the fully finished basement, along with the other kids’ rooms. Anders and Eva’s bedroom was upstairs, along with a guest room. The upper floor also had the kitchen, dining room and living room. A deck ran along the back of the house. The basement had a family room in addition to the bedrooms, plus the laundry room and, to my delight, a sauna. Through the sliding glass doors of the family room, I could see a patio, covered by the deck, and a small swimming pool.
My room had a door to the patio, which I thought was awesome. There was a small single bed, a wardrobe, and a desk with a lamp. Patrick’s room was down the hall past the laundry room and the girls’ rooms were across the family room from mine. They told me that Anders’ mother would be coming to stay with them during the Winter and she’d sleep in the guest room upstairs.
Eva said I should unpack my things, then join them for lunch and we’d all start to get to know each other. I put my clothes away, put my pictures of my friends and little sister on the desk, and put my bathroom kit on a shelf in the downstairs bathroom. When I finished, I went up the stairs to lunch.
While we were eating, Anders explained the plans for the next week. On Monday, we’d go into Göteborg to visit Schillerska Gymnasiet and register me for school. YFU had also had me registered for the Swedish for Immigrants class held close to the High School so that I could quickly walk there and back for classes.
On Tuesday, he’d get me registered for the golf club and arrange for lessons if I needed them, which I said I did. On Wednesday, Patrick would take me into Göteborg and show me around, and on Thursday, we’d go sailing in the archipelago on their seven-meter sailboat. On Friday, Patrick was having a party for a bunch of kids from his school, which was in Hovås.
Patrick, who was fifteen, would be in eighth grade in the Fall, and Suzana, who was thirteen, would be in sixth grade. The grade levels didn’t line up with the US, because I would have been in 11th grade back home but was in the tenth year here, which was the first year of High School in Sweden. I realized that meant that my classmates in Sweden would graduate a year after I did back in the US.
It was going to be a busy week! I was glad to have Sunday to explore a little bit. I got up early and went jogging. The terrain was hilly here, not flat like it had been in Helsingborg and Falkenberg, so my running distance would probably be shorter. I jogged around the small wooded neighborhood a few times until I was winded. The terrain reminded me very much of Overlook and Klondyke, the streets back home. I didn’t see anyone else out, but I wasn’t too surprised. Most people would be on vacation because it was August, and many Swedes either traveled or stayed in cottages like the one I had been to with the Anderbergs and Pia.
I went back to the house, showered, dressed, and then joined Anders and Eva for breakfast. I asked about a skating rink and they said the closest one was in Västra Frölunda, about twenty minutes by bus. I could take a tram from Västra Frölunda directly to the school I would be going to. It was also possible that Anders could drop me there in the morning on his way to work, because he went in very early. He promised to check on morning skating times for me.
The rest of Sunday was just a lazy day around the house. I sat on the deck and read, jumped in the pool a few times and otherwise just relaxed. Late in the afternoon I called home and spoke with Dad and let him know everything was good, and that I was with the Jonssons. I let him know that it seemed pretty clear that Mom hadn’t done any permanent damage. I called Jennifer to let her know I was at my new address and confirmed it and the phone number. I then called Becky to let her know the same thing.
I wrote some letters and asked about the Post Office. Anders told me it was in Hovås proper and I could easily walk or bike there. I asked him for directions and after I grabbed my fedora, I walked down the hill, under the motorway, and then north to the post office. I dropped my letters in the box, then walked back home. The round trip had taken less than forty minutes.
On the way back, I met a cute, dark-haired girl who was about my age walking up the road towards Jägarevägen.
“«Hej! Du är ju ny här, eller hur?»” (Hi! You’re new here, aren’t you?)
“«Förlåt, jag pratar bara lite svenska.»” (Sorry, I only speak a little Swedish.)
“Oh, sorry! If you don’t speak much Swedish, you must be the exchange student that is staying with the Jonssons. I asked you if you were new here. I’m Frederika Röckert, but call me Freda.”
“I’m Steve Adams, and yes, I’m the exchange student. I’m still learning Swedish.”
“Your pronunciation was fine, so that’s a good start! And that’s a cool hat!”
“Thanks. Do you live around here?”
“Yes, over on Jaktlykan. Maybe we can get together sometime? I’d like to have a friend from the US.”
“Sure. I can give you my phone number.”
“I know Peter really well, so I have it. Are you free sometime this week?”
“I have something going on almost every day. Maybe Saturday?”
“OK. I’ll call you later this week and arrange something.”
“Cool! Nice to meet you, Freda.”
“You too, Steve!”
I turned on to Jägarevägen and she continued straight. I went back to the house and read until dinner. After dinner, I watched TV with Patrick and Suzana, then decided to take a walk around the neighborhood before bed. I wanted some time to think about everything before I wrote in my journal. I let Patrick and Suzana know that I wanted take a walk for a short while before turning in, then let myself out the door of my room. I walked around to the front of the house, then down the street.
My mind went from Jennifer to Stephanie to Becky to Pia and bounced around quite a bit. There was so much going on back in Ohio, but that was half a world away. I probably wouldn’t have been so focused on it if it hadn’t been for Becky and the baby. I missed my friends, but the baby was so important that I was thinking about Becky almost all the time.
I did care for Becky, and I would be the best partner I possibly could for her, but that would always have our child as the focus. I hoped she could deal with being a single mother, which I knew was tough. Sadly, I knew that would make it harder for her to date or have a boyfriend, which meant that moving on would be tougher for her. I realized that while I had many options, hers were severely limited by being sixteen and pregnant, and then being a single mom in High School.
I was sure that plenty of people would say that she made her own bed and now had to lie in it, but I couldn’t see it that way. Yes, she had acted in a conniving, underhanded manner, but in the end, she was a scared girl who was pregnant with my baby, and I couldn’t see her any other way. I knew that she had done it on purpose, but in the end, she was going to be the mother of my child.
Then there was my mom. I dreaded telling her, but eventually she’d have to be told, and I was afraid of what she would do. I hoped Mr. and Mrs. van Hoek would protect Becky from her. I’d have to suffer, but the last thing I was going to allow was my mom to have anything at all to do with my baby or to interfere with Becky, who already had enough trouble without my mom’s craziness.
I walked back to the house and went back into my room, sat down and wrote in my journal, and then went to sleep.
I dreamt of Becky and our baby.
On Monday morning, Anders and I drove into Göteborg to visit Schillerska Gymnasiet. We met with the Head Teacher and agreed on the «Naturvetenskap» line of studies. He said I would be assigned to class N1a with Govert Helstrand as the class advisor and that the first day of school would be September 3rd. I got a tour of the school, a fairly old but beautiful building, and then Anders and I walked a couple of blocks to a government building and confirmed the arrangements for the Swedish for Immigrants class, which would start a week after school did. I would be excused from regular classes for a few hours each morning to attend the class.
Anders and I took the #2 tram from a stop on Vasagatan near the school, to the Linnéplatsen stop where the Säröbus that I would catch in Hovås would terminate. I grabbed both a bus and tram schedule and a route map, and I bought a student bus and tram pass. We then took the tram back to Vasagatan so I would know the route and where to get off for school. We ate lunch at a café near the school, then drove back to Hovås.
On Tuesday morning, Anders and Eva loaded their golf clubs into the car and we drove to the Hovås Golf Club. They signed me up as a special member — the club very nicely waived all the fees. I got an ID card and a list of rules, which thankfully were in English on one side, Swedish on the other. They introduced me to the golf pro, a very genial man in his late 30s or early 40s. They had already arranged for a lesson for today, and I’d have one lesson a week until the end of the golf season.
We went to the driving range, and I proceeded to demonstrate just how poorly I played golf! The pro was patient, correcting my stance, my grip, my swing, and just about everything else I did. By the end of the hour-long lesson, I was at least keeping the ball relatively straight and hitting it a reasonable distance down the range. He suggested that I come every morning and hit a bucket of balls for practice. I decided I could jog down in the morning, hit the balls, practice putting and pitching, which he’d work with me on during the next lesson, and then jog back. I’d be renting clubs, so I didn’t have to worry about hauling them back and forth.
When the lesson was finished, I found Anders and Eva on the eleventh tee, and walked with them while they finished their round. We had coffee in the Clubhouse and then drove back up to the house. I spent the rest of the day reading, walking, talking with Anders and Eva, and hanging out a bit with Patrick, listening to music.
On Wednesday morning, I was up early and I jogged to the golf course. I realized the jog back was going to be tough, coming up the hill to the house, but I could always walk it. I hit my bucket of balls, chipped, and putted — badly because I hadn’t had those lessons yet — and then jogged back to the base of the hill. I walked up the hill to the house rather than jogging it. After breakfast, Patrick and I walked down to the Hovås Nedre bus stop to catch the Säröbus into the city.
We took the #2 tram from Linnéplatsen, past Schillerska to Centralstationen. We walked around and he pointed out the McDonald’s saying it was one of three in the country; the other two were in Stockholm. I had no intention of eating at McDonald’s! We walked around and checked out the shops, then walked along the Göta Älv, the river that ran through the city. We ate lunch at a café along the river, then walked down to the harbor to check out some of the ships — everything from a Swedish Navy frigate to giant container ships. Late in the afternoon, we took the tram and bus back home.
Nadene
- 02.03.2020
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