Meet Erling

In my last post, I introduced you to the protagonist of my novel, my great-grandmother Alexandra. Today I’d like you to meet one of her sons, my great-uncle Erling Peterson, now deceased, who was never a favorite among his siblings or extended family. “Arrogant” was used often to describe him, and I remember my grandmother Katinka rolling her eyes and tsking whenever her brother’s name came up.

Erling was especially vilified when he remarried so quickly after his first wife, whom every seemed to love, died. They were also upset that he’d traveled to Norway to see his father before Mathias died (in 1957). They felt it was a betrayal to their mother, who was still alive. He’d also met Mathias’ and his lover’s daughter, who later had a son she named after Erling. That went over real well in the family, too… Not.

(Note: I didn’t crop Erling’s commentary of his passport photo to demonstrate a bit of the arrogance his family accused him of. Could have been he meant it tongue-in-cheek, though. Self-deprecating. But having read his book, I’m in Camp Arrogance.)

Erling was always nice to me the few times I saw him, but I didn’t grow up with him, so I can’t fault my family for their feelings. It’s why I changed the Erling character in my novel so drastically from the one my family disregarded in real life.

The excerpt below is based on an actual event that Erling shared in his memoir. All the rest—his interiority and actions—are pure speculation. For reference, this excerpt is set prior to the one I shared earlier in which Alexandra heard her husband and his lover in the hotel room. In real life, it was fourteen-year-old Erling who first found his father and the baker’s wife in a sexual embrace, and in his memoir, he wrote about his father’s affair quite candidly. Makes me scratch my head a little that, in middle age, Erling became a preacher.

Kabelvag Norway, May 1922

Erling is sitting across from his mother at the kitchen table reading Ragged Dick for the fourth time when there’s a knock on the side entry.

Alexandra goes to the door and finds Mr. Otterstad, the telephone office manager, clutching his chest. The Pettersons live on the second floor above Mathias’s butcher shop, and the steep stairs have proven a challenge for the elderly man.

“No one died,” he gasps and hands Alexandra a note. She helps him into a chair and pours him a glass of water.

“What happened?” Erling asks, but Otterstad struggles to speak.

Alexandra skims the note. “It’s Uncle Ingvald. His fishing boat overturned. Aunt Anna called to say he’s at the hospital in Svolvaer.”

She hands the paper to Erling. “Go find your father. He’s probably in his office.”

Erling feels the blood drain from his face.

Alexandra shoos him out of his chair. “He needs to know about his brother.”

“But…”

Alexandra takes the dogeared book from his hand. “Now!”

Erling plods down the stairs. He knows his father isn’t in his office because earlier that day, he overheard him tell the baker’s wife that he’d see her after supper. Where, Erling doesn’t know.

He looks across the street at the bakery. A sliver of light is visible through a doorframe in the back. It’s the most logical place to start looking, but all Erling can think about is the first time he saw the baker’s wife and the embarrassing effect it had on him. 

It was a few weeks ago, when he’d been watching the shop while his father picked up a fish order at the docks. A woman sashayed through the door wearing a low-cut dress that drew Erling’s eyes down the bodice.

“Aren’t you handsome,” she’d said. “What’s your name?”

Erling swallowed hard and quickly brought his gaze to her face.

“Erling?” he answered, as if he’d forgotten who he was.

“Well, Erling, I’m Mrs. Kling. My husband owns the bakery. I bet you’re Mathias’s boy. You look just like him.”

“Yes, ma’am. A little, I guess.”

Erling is lanky like his father, and has his bright blonde hair, but that’s where their similarities end. Mathias is confident and strong. Larger than life. Unafraid. Erling is an introvert. Or at least that’s what his teacher in Minnesota had called him. She’d shown him the description in a psychology textbook. Being an introvert had made adapting to life in Norway difficult. In Minnesota, he’d had a few good friends. In Kabelvag, his friends are books. 

Mrs. Kling looked around the corner of the display case into the back room, leaning over enough to reveal more cleavage. “Would you tell your father I’m here?”

“Um, he’s not—”

“I see. Well, tell him I was looking for him,” she cooed, and when she blew him a kiss, he’d become shamefully aroused.

Erling considers walking to the docks and back and telling his mother he’d looked everywhere, but he knows his mother’s gift for spotting a lie.

“Your eyes always give you away,” she says if she catches her children in one.

Clenching his fists, Erling crosses the street and rounds the bakery building. He steps up to the back door and looks through a thin curtain. Mrs. Kling is kneading dough in a large wooden trough, and his father, standing behind her, is cupping her breasts under her apron.

Erling’s legs go weak, and he nearly stumbles down the stairs. Again he thinks of going home and lying to his mother, then remembers the note in his hand.

“I’ve done nothing wrong,” he repeats to himself, and knocks on the window pane. “I’m looking for Mathias Petterson!”

He hears low voices talking and feet shuffling. A moment later, the door opens.

“What are you doing here?” his father demands.  

“I…it’s Aunt Anna. Sh…she called the telephone office looking for you. There’s been an accident.” Erling looks around Mathias into the kitchen. Mrs. Kling has a hand on her hip, and strands of her red hair are loose from the bun at the nape of her neck. She wears a hint of a smile that Erling feels in his groin.

“Erling!” Mathias snaps.

“What? Oh…” Erling hands him the note, then bounds down the stairs. He runs home and heads straight to his bedroom.

“Did you find your father?” his mother calls after him.

“Yes!” Erling says and slams the door.