„Where‘s Frida?“
Agnetha looked around the studio, then back at Benny, and the expression on his face worried her.
„Is she alright?“
„Someone called the office earlier and claimed to be Frida‘s father.“
Agnetha‘s jaw dropped and she was only able to whisper.
„Her father?“
„Yes, but she doesn‘t think it‘s true. It‘s probably just a lunatic or someone who wants her money.”
Agnetha‘s mind spun. Was it possible? She tried to remember everything Frida had ever told her about her father. That she thought his ship had sunk and he must be dead. But was it certain? Or was there a possibility that...?
However, this story must have stirred Frida up tremendously by opening up old wounds so she had to check on her and see if she was okay.
„Where is she?“
„Outside. She wanted to be alone.“
Without hesitation, Agnetha went afer Frida. She found her smoking outside, large sunglasses covering half her face, even though it was a cloudy day. Her gaze was fixed straight ahead, and she remained in that posture as Agnetha approached her.
„Frida.“
„He‘s dead.“
She said it in a defiant tone, as if trying to convince herself. As if to protect herself from the alternative, from what that hope would do to her if it turned out to be unfounded.
Agnetha wanted to ask her a thousand questions, but she felt her vulnerability. Felt that she wasn‘t ready to allow these thoughts.
Frida stubbed out her cigarette with a determined gesture and started walking past her, but Agnetha grabbed her arm.
„Frida. I understand if you don‘t want to talk. But if you do, or whenever you need a hug, I‘ll be here for you.“
Frida‘s lips started to twitch. She sniffled finally giving in and allowing herself the comfort of her arms for a moment.
„I can‘t think about it right now. It‘s all too much.“
„I know. Take your time.“
For the next few days, Frida seemed absent-minded. She barely spoke, at least not about her father. Instead, she subconsciously reached out to Agnetha, holding her hand, resting her head on her shoulder, or pulling her into a tight hug when no one was looking. But she didn‘t speak.
Agnetha began to wonder if she would ever talk about it or if she would continue to suppress it. Which she obviously failed to do. Afer about a week, when her head rested on her shoulder again, hand searching for hers while her eyes were blank, she dared to bring it up again.
„You‘re still thinking about him.“
Frida was silent for a moment before speaking.
„I‘m considering calling him back. But I don‘t know... it would...“
She shook her head as if she couldn‘t put into words what all this was doing to her.
