Work Text:
It was a drowsy, lazy afternoon on a little secluded island swimming in a sea of other little islands, dotted with the colorful roofs of countless summer cottages. Sun-warmed grass sprinkled with little white flowers tickled toes and stained wet skin green that would soon be washed away as legs were dipped once more into the deep blue water.
Laughter could be heard on the island of Viggsö as the shutter of the disposable camera clicked once, twice, until Agnetha yelled "Stop it!" and ran into the water, chased by a Frida whose skin glowed in the light of the orange colored sky.
Even at this time of year the water was too cold for Agnetha to willingly let it reach her stomach, which didn't faze Frida, who knew that dipping her cold hands into the water and wrapping them around the blonde's stomach would make her jump into her arms immediately.
So they yelled and screamed and chased around the shore until, too excitedly running through the wild grass, Agnetha stepped on a wasp and stumbled into the embrace of a helpless Frida, who proceeded to pull the stinger out of her toe with the utmost care.
They lied on the shore then, wrapped in each other's arms, exhausted from the running and the single tear that Agnetha swore she hadn't shed, and she wished this day would never end. Three days they had been promised, of joy and freedom and quiet, while the guys were crammed into their tiny studio in Stockholm 'needing some time to think'.
Two days had passed of spring salads, shared showers and sleepless nights, and the last day should be just as blissful, Agnetha decided, for there should be not a single thought of any obligations that would await them back home.
The sunlight reflected off of the red glow on Frida's shoulders. The older woman looked at Agnetha so lovingly, the freckles on her nose seemed to dance just for her. Agnetha reached out her fingers gingerly to touch the red-tinted skin, spreading all the way to Frida's back.
"Is it too late to apply sunscreen now?", she asked, a suggestive smile playing around the corners of her mouth.
"Oh, I don't mind it one bit", Frida replied, returning her smile.
"Let me look red like a crab, let the boys know we had fun together."
"Oh they'll know", Agnetha said, her fingers drawing circles on Frida's back, "I haven't laughed like this in forever."
They shared childhood stories and wishes of unreachable dreams until the stars hung high above the red roof of their summer cottage and the chirps of crickets could be heard far off in the sense of arriving night. They moved their bodies sluggishly following the lanterns illuminating the little path towards the garden gate, walking hand-in-hand, needing nothing in the world but their own company.
***
The living room was still and in the flurry of their ever changing lives, seemed immovable and frozen in time. Only the faint hum of the sea outside and the occasional sound of Frida's feet shuffling on the woolen carpet, or Agnetha stretching, or the wooden roof of the old house moaning and creaking in the wind would break the silence every now and again.
Yet, there was nothing that could disrupt the peace that had settled into Agnetha's mind. Not even the familiar sting of worry that would tug at her heart ever so lightly could dim the warmth and comfort of a simple, reassuring squeeze from Frida's hand. Not a worry about Linda, who was safe at home, about touring schedules and meetings - sometimes she would open her eyes just to remind herself that Frida was still lying next to her, and she would find her breathing calmly, her nose twitching from time to time, and it made her feel warm with content.
Empty tea cups lied on the coffee table in front of them, next to magazines with fashion cutouts sprawled out (that Frida wanted to save for later), burnt out cigarette buds (and they both had sworn to quit, for the third time this week) and a plate of Lussekatter, mostly untouched, forgotten about as there were much sweeter things to do instead. Having shifted from the sofa down to the floor, they lied with their legs tucked underneath the table and their heads propped up against the cushions.
They woke up after a while, first it was Frida shifting about, uncomfortable on the floor, then it was Agnetha hurrying to the telephone that had been ringing for a while, anxious it could be one of the guys announcing that they're coming over spontaneously - but it was merely Linda, calling to say good night. This made Frida get up, too, to wish sweet dreams and make kissy sounds into the receiver, which thrilled Agnetha who was standing behind her with her chin resting on Frida's shoulder, listening to their conversation.
"I love her", Frida turned around with a hand over her heart when Linda had too quickly hung up the phone, right after Agnetha had whispered 'hand her over', simply too excited to listen to her nanny's good night story.
"I love you both", Agnetha pressed a kiss to Frida's cheek.
"Lotta never calls me anymore. Cherish it while it lasts", she said, giving her a sad smile.
"Oh I know she loves you. She told me!", she slung her arms around Frida's waist.
"Of course she would only tell you about that stuff. Who could ever lie to you, angel face", Frida teased and squished Agnetha's cheeks with her hands, who let out a giggle in response and fled into the music room, twirling on her feet.
They rarely entered this room when they were on their own, mostly because they had learned to keep out when Benny and Björn were working on their songs, only ordering them there to sing a few lines or begging them to bring them a cup of coffee, at any hour of day (or night).
But strangely, Agnetha felt that way today, running her hand over the smooth wood of the piano, studying the records and sheet music stacked on top of each other in shelves absentmindedly, the pictures on the walls above the lit fireplace of summers spent together, with Linda small enough to fit into one of the flower pots outside - how much they had laughed that day.
And her favorite, that one Agnetha had put up herself, of her and Frida linked arm in arm lying in the grass, wearing each other's clothes - no one had noticed.
She didn't hear Frida standing in the doorway when she had sat down and played a few notes, just to try out how it would sound, she had told herself, in order to check when it would have to be tuned next time. Her fingers were hovering over the piano lid, ready to join Frida back in the living room, when she heard her clearing her throat and whirled around in surprise.
"Play me something", Frida hummed, leaning against the doorframe.
She made her way over to the piano, slowly, and Agnetha swallowed hard, worry creeping into her chest. But before it could flood her mind entirely, she looked at the woman now sitting next to her, looking calm, their legs pressed against each other on the small chair, and she took a deep breath.
When her fingers grazed the keys of the old piano, she expected to feel nervous - a habit she hadn't been able to shake off for a long time, ever since Dieter had told her, years ago, that she should rather stick to singing. He had arranged for his friend to play the accompaniment to her song then, and she tried to smile kindly and thanked him for offering his help. She had rarely played the piano in front of anyone since then, not for Björn, not for her family - much to her mother's disdain who would moan, every Christmas, 'but you used to play so well!'.
But now, she felt only Frida's eyes on her, who looked at her with admiration, not expecting anything at all, it seemed so easy for her to say 'Play something'. And with just as much ease, Agnetha struck the first chord of a song she hadn't played for years, and when she saw Frida smile from the corner of her eyes, she couldn't help but smile as well.
"It's out of key", she chuckled, but Frida didn't say anything.
Leaning against the piano with her elbow propped up, her fingers grazing the pages of an old Swedish song book they had put there years ago, still smiling. It didn't matter one bit, Agnetha realized, too.
So, she played the next chord, and then the melody started, and she missed a note here and there, and she couldn‘t quite remember what chord came after that one - but she played through it, laughing, with Frida singing the song, messing up the words, laughing, too.
Her heart was filled with joy. She felt as though she could play all night, with Frida at her side, mess up as much as she wanted, sing as loudly and out of key as the piano, because it would be only Frida that could hear her, only her kind eyes that would see her. And the moment seemed so fragile, their love so vulnerable, but that was what made it so sincere.
"You used to listen to that record all the time", Frida said, remnants of laughter still sparkling in her eyes "What happened?"
Agnetha thought, there's better music out there, and just as she opened her mouth, ready to joke about maturing taste, an image flickered before her eyes, of that spinning Connie Francis record, the hours she had spent looking at the sleeve, trying to get her hair to curl just like Connie's, wearing lipstick as red as hers. Standing in record stores to find disks she hadn't listened to yet, imitating her vibrato when no one was in the house, saying to Björn, "I want us to dance to Strangers In The Night at the wedding" and Björn saying it's too cheesy.
Hours she had watched that record spin, until life came around, and soon she wasn't imitating Connie on stage anymore, but tried to keep up with Frida instead, falling into bed at night too exhausted to listen to music.
"I guess", she finally said, "I forgot how much I liked it."
"Liked?", Frida smiled, "you were absolutely obsessed with her."
Agnetha knew what Frida was referring to and she laughed, "No I wasn't!'
And it was nothing she had ever thought about, but maybe she didn't really want to look like her, for her blonde hair to be as dark and curly as Connie's on that record sleeve. And when she finally accepted that the look wasn't for her, she stopped staring at random girls in the street longing for their perfectly made-up hair. Maybe she shouldn't have. Maybe things would have been easier, if she had realized sooner.
"Do you ever imagine what it could have been like", Agnetha asked hesitantly, "if this hadn't happened?"
"What, you mean us?", Frida's brows furrowed, her smile fading from her lips in an instant.
"No, no!", Agnetha gasped and reached for the older woman's hand, interlocking their fingers.
"No, I mean all of this, ABBA. Björn. Benny... if none of that would have happened. Imagine", she scooted closer to Frida, whispering almost, "imagine we'd met some other way."
Frida relaxed and she started grinning again, pretending theatrically as if she was thinking hard, making Agnetha giggle.
"Like... I'm still a jazz singer, unhappily married, singing in some smoky bar and this blonde walks in and rocks my world?"
"No", Agnetha laughed brightly, "you forget, I'm just a singer, too. Maybe we go up against each other in a singing contest, in that smokey bar, hate each other at first but eventually we fall in love."
She pretended to swoon over the thought and Frida teased her, "You've been reading too much Allers. But more importantly, älskling", she brushed her thumb over the blonde's knuckles, "who won the contest?"
Agnetha took a moment to think, getting distracted by Frida's touch, catching herself getting distracted, then finally decided, "You, of course. You're the jazz singer, you're the sophisticated one. And you've already won a contest. You're far more experienced."
"Who said it was a contest of sophistication? We could be talking about any kind of contest here, in a dark smokey bar."
Their giggles lit up the room. Still sitting at the piano, close as if they were sharing secrets, with Agnetha's hand in Frida's lap. They grew quiet.
Agnetha sensed that Frida needed time to think, as her gaze grew distant. She gave her that time, listening to the ticking of the clock instead, the old grandfather clock Benny had bought for the summer cottage, which he quickly regretted, when he realized that the loud ticking distracted his piano playing. They only put the weights back in if it was only the two of them at the house. A cruel reminder of time passing, Agnetha thought to herself.
Frida squeezing Agnetha's hand brought her back to reality.
"You know, even if all that would have happened. I would have still been married. With two children! We were both struggling, working for something we weren't sure we could ever achieve. It's like... whatever's up there made sure it would be hard for the both of us, right from the beginning."
Frida gently caressed her hand with both of hers, leaned down, kissed her fingertips, then sat back up and watched her with a look in her eyes that was so genuine, it made Agnetha‘s heart melt.
"What I'm saying is, screw all of that. Smokey bars and what not. It would have been just as hard then, as it is now. But the difference is", she leans closer, "I know for a fact that I am happy right now. That's the only guarantee that I have. Somehow it all worked out."
Agnetha knew that she was right. She felt it in the deepest places within her. And for the first time, she could care less about what would happen tomorrow, what other struggles they may face in the future. She was happy.
They kissed - a reassurance, a promise. The fire crackled, lighting the room in a soft, orange hue. It would continue glowing for a long time, they both knew.