Page 81 of AMS.TER.strum
‘Come on, I need to show you something.’
She follows my lead, her eyes glued on me as I haul my body to the living room, where my laptop is. I pat the space next to me, and she sits. I prop the screen open, then turn towards her and take her hands.
‘I can’t make what others blame you for vanish. What I want is to make sure I’ll be around as much as possible, show you how much I love and admire the strong woman you are, Corrie. Because you are one of the strongest, most wonderful people I know. That bitch at work knows it, too, just like Johan did. But because they don’t want you to know it, they do their best to dim your light.’
When I turn the screen towards her, she’s confused. ‘What’s this?’
‘My newly-purchased Amsterdam base. Vers van de pers! I mean, not really freshly pressed; it needs some renovation, and work is being done as we speak, but it’s a start.’
Her jaw drops and her eyes widen. ‘Is this one of those houses?’
‘It is.’
‘When? How?’
‘A week ago, although it was in the making for a couple of months now.’ I know she can do the math, that it was around the time she went on that date. ‘Impressive what a man with time in his hands and an internet connection can do, huh?’
Her surprised O turns into a huge smile. ‘Unbelievable! When you talked about a house there…’
‘…I meant it. So, instead of your squatter, I will be your neighbour. And in a very neighbourly way, I’ll make sure to prove to you how amazing you are.’ I kiss the tip of her nose. ‘Every.’ Kiss on her left cheek. ‘Single.’ Kiss on her right cheek. ‘Day.’
My lips land on hers, and soon we are lost in each other, breaths deepening, hands wandering, curious about what tiny parts they haven’t yet discovered.
Corrie pauses for a moment. ‘Is this to distract me and make me feel better?’
‘Not exactly the plan, but is it working?’
‘Maybe…’
‘How about we try some more?’
Chapter Forty
Corrie
‘He did what?’
A few heads turn at Bea’s overflowing enthusiasm in the almost empty lobby of seedy Hotel Bordeaux, as I know the hotel itself is. Since having one of our usual cock-tales hours has become frustratingly complicated lately due to our schedules, I decided to share the news with the available one fourth of our group.
‘If you speak a bit louder, you can get all the picnickers in Vondelpark to hear you.’
‘Nah, the ground is too wet for picnics. But, guuurlll, this is big!’
‘There are still logistics to take care of.’
‘There always are, friend, but this shows his intention to deal with whatever comes in the way. I love this guy!’
‘Stand in line, please, it’s only you and a few million other lady fans.’
‘Yes, but he only has eyes for one,’ she singsongs.
My happiness is like a hot air balloon, soaring in the skies. Is it delusional to start believing that things can work? Because some hateful and hated person came up with this saying that whenever people are making plans, God—or the Universe or whatever force influences the course of things—is laughing.
‘And he just bought a house to be close to her,’ she continues.
That’s where I was taken yesterday. Not far from my place, in that row of buildings overlooking the canal, a bit further from the windmill he loves passing by, Luuk found his new home in Amsterdam. I was in awe as he gave me the grand tour. The house sprawls over three levels: the ground floor with the open-plan living room-kitchen; the first floor, with three bedrooms and a bathroom; and the top floor, where Luuk wants to have his studio and a small office space. When we stepped on the balcony overlooking the water, he showed me the space where a boat can be moored, and shrugged off my laughing comment about none of us knowing how to steer a boat, saying that my father could teach him.
Bea’s face has probably maximised its smiling potential, so now she goes for hand-clapping and bouncing, like Ada, when bursting with enthusiasm. Why am I more cautious? Why am I holding my breath, waiting to exhale in relief, after being convinced that it’ll all be fine? What is the proof that I need?
