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✧ Signe Holmström ; — Ft. Søren Holmström ⚘ - Blog Posts
@evigh3t
I don’t know what I can do to save you.
Signe let out a small, mortified groan as she buried her face in her hands. "Pappa," she mumbled through her fingers, her voice half-scolding. "You can't just say things like that in public. People can hear you." She had never been ashamed of her father, even if he sometimes (often) said things that sent her cringing with embarrassments. She was so fond of him, and Signe could never really hide the way her father's affection disarmed her. There had been a time when her parents had been her entire world, and especially Søren Holmström -- who had given up his fast track to his dream career early on in his marriage so that her mother could finish her schooling. There had been many joyous and silly daddy/daughter days in her childhood, and that was a tradition Signe hoped to continue even if she'd now moved out. She stepped up to the barista at the counter and put in their orders, paying with a tap of her cell phone and moving to the side. "Why don't you grab us a seat? I'll be right over with our drinks and your snacks." Signe knew his leg had to be bothering him by this point with all of the walking they'd done. She reached out to rub his shoulder before pointing him at the seating area. "I promise to only steal one bite of your danish."
there had once been a time where søren thought a life with signe would have been impossible. laying in that hospital bed twenty - five years ago, pleading in the arms of his wife for her not to leave him. he had seen himself as broken, watched memories that hadn’t yet been made as they turned to ash. now, he was sitting in a café with their little grape all grown up. time had flown, but he was thankful for it. søren missed those first steps, those gooey kisses, those sleepless nights, but it was nothing compared to seeing how brilliantly their girl had turned out. “mm. sounds great,” despite being a doctor, knowing exactly what fat and sugar did to a person’s insides, søren was never one to turn down a sweet treat. his mouth parted to object, but it quickly turned into a smile. “in that case, i’ll have one of everything ! ” money had never been much of a problem for the holmströms. søren hoped that giving signe a soft pillow of wealth to fall back on had allowed her to pursue her creative dreams without worry, without the fear of failure. there would always be a warm home to come back to, and there would always be the bank of dad to pilfer in an emergency. “i’ll take a black coffee and an apple danish.” another sly smile. “even though the most delicious danish is standing right here.”
The sound of her father’s voice had Signe’s expression softening. She laughed softly and shook her head. “I should keep asking you, you still cut them better than I do,” she teased, hoping to ease some of the weight on his heart. Signe’s tone was still warm with affection as she leaned against him. “But no, I’m not four anymore. I’m twenty-four and apparently very brave for attempting something in the kitchen that doesn’t involve takeout menus.” As they stepped into the cafe, Signe clocked the lip and her brow furrowed for half a second before she smoothed it again. She knew he wouldn’t want her to fuss, but she’d slowed her pace to match his anyway. “A pastry? Something chocolate-y. And latte,” Signe said as she started fishing her wallet out of her bag. “But I’m buying, Pappa. Consider it pay back for all the times you stayed up ‘til morning helping me with a science project I left to the last minute.”
a phone call to bridge the miles. he supposed it would do. søren wasn’t about to lift his daughter under his arm and fireman carry her back home, despite that being exactly what he wanted to do. raising a child was all about sacrifice — sacrificing the first few years of his career to stay at home with her, sacrificing their life in sweden for a better one there in palmview and, now, letting signe go. “just a few minutes away,” he nodded, as if it didn’t kill him. “i have to keep reminding myself you’re not four years old and begging me for cut - up strawberries anymore.” any time spent with signe was precious. he agreed immediately to the terms, certain in the knowledge that he would try not to make dad jokes about the way their meal would inevitably turn out. “i look forward to it,” he replied, “whatever you cook will be perfect, i’m sure of it. it’s all about spending time with you, sötnos.” the café couldn’t have come at a better time. he pushed open the door and held it for signe to go first, making their way towards the counter with more of a pronounced limp than usual. the more he walked without rest, the worse it became. even years later. “what do you fancy ? ”
She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t fight the affectionate smile. “That’s really not the most encouraging thought, Pappa. You gotta at least try and make it hard for the identity,” Signe scolded, a kernel of truth and concern in her teasing words. “I miss you guys too,” she said, slowing their steps just a little to give herself time to find the right words. “But, you’re not losing me, right? I’m just a few minutes and a phone call away.” Signe let out a soft laugh. She loved both her parents with equal fervor, but she’d always been a daddy’s girl. Seeing her dad all torn up about her moving out was harder than she thought it would be. She squeezed his side and nodded. “Of course you two can come for diner. Only fair, considering all the years you guys fed me.” Her nose wrinkled playfully. “But you’re not allowed to criticize my cooking, even if it’s awful. I’m still learning. Deal?”
søren laughed aloud. “anyone that knows me could guess my pin ! ”. and he was right — it was signe’s date of birth, and he hadn’t forgotten it once since he changed it. whether she was home or not, whether they were together or apart, signe was always at the forefront of his mind. she had been for the last twenty - five years, and he couldn’t see that changing any time soon. maybe he was living in the past. maybe he was stuck in a time where things were rose - tinted, where she tugged him by his pant leg and asked him to play. half of søren ached to have those moments back, but the other half adored what signe had become so ferociously that he wouldn’t trade it for the world. in a sense, him and sigrid had built their very own best friend from building blocks. every second spent together was precious. which was why being in separate homes stung quite so badly. “it is weird,” søren agreed as they walked, twisting his lips to one side as if his mouth had been strung up in ribbons. “and we miss you. but seeing you fly the nest and create your own life is all we ever wanted. just don’t forget about us oldies when you’re big and famous, okay ? ” he knew that signe saw what she wanted and reached out with both hands to grab it. she got that from her mother. “you know, if it’s not cramping your style too much, we’d love to come over for dinner.”
Signe rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth still curled up into an affectionate smile. Her entire life her father had been goofy and silly and such a dad. There was just no title that suited him better – except maybe doctor and husband. She knew not every girl grew up with a father so attentive and supportive so she did her best to be grateful for the affection, even if sometimes it could be overwhelming. “Du är knäpp,” she muttered, fondly calling her crazy. “I don’t think I’m at the point where I need to resort to stealing the wallets of old men.” She grinned up at him, proud of herself for the playful jab she tossed at him. “Although, don’t tempt me… I know your PIN.” There was a slight pause as she pondered his question. It had been a little over a month now since she moved out of her parents’ place. “It’s…weird,” she admitted, softly. “I like having my own space, and being in charge of it all. But sometimes I miss seeing Mamma grading papers at the dining room table, or you hovering over my shoulder when I’m cooking and complaining about the lack of meat.” She stared at the sidewalk ahead, then to their feet, and finally glanced at him. “I miss you guys too, but I think you’ve be proud by how I’ve got my place all set-up now. It feels like me.”
twenty four years ago, he was huddled on the bathroom floor with his wife. they both clutched a positive test in their hands and, through glistening eyes, søren vowed to never leave them. in that moment he allowed their family to take over every corner of his life, and not once had he ever regretted the decision. whenever he looked at signe’s face, heard of her accomplishments and commiserated her strokes of bad luck, he remembered the moment he held his girlfriend’s face in his hands and asked her to be his wife. he would have done it again a million times over. even more so, if søren had known just how lucky he was to raise signe, to watch her grow up, and to have her as a close friend in her adulthood. “famously, i’m not all that good at walking,” he poked his elbow into her side, keeping close as they walked, “but i’m sure i can make it a few blocks. unless you want to kick me in the knee and run off with my wallet.” part of søren wanted to turn back to that painting. he couldn’t seem to rid that niggling in his stomach that he had done wrong, and made mental note of the image to describe — clumsily — to sigrid once he was home. they walked steadily ; only those that knew him would ever notice the slight hesitation in his gait, how steps with his right leg were a half - second behind those with his left. “so, how is it, living out on your own ? we miss you, you know — it’s quiet without you home.”
Signe smiled gently, the gesture growing even softer as she registered the one of the many pet names her father had for her. Her gaze lingered on the painting for a second before turning towards her father and shaking her head. “It’s fine. The moment’s passed,” she shrugged, her eyes warm even as her heart felt heavy with a feeling she couldn’t quite name. “Fika fixes most things, anyway.” She never forgot how lucky she was. As a teenager, she’d been absolutely terrified of deviating from the path she was so certain was expected of her. But her parents had never scoffed or rolled their eyes at her passion, never sat her down to steer her back toward something ‘more practical.’ Signe knew that was not the case for everyone. That not everyone had parents who would let them want different things–to let them just try. The chestnut-haired girl wrapped an arm around her father’s waist, already leading him away from the painting and back out towards the street. “There’s a cute little coffee shop a few blocks over that I was wanting to check out, if you’re up for a bit of walking.” Signe glanced up at him, a measured easy smile on her lips. But behind her eyes lay a quiet resolve. She would make every sacrifice her parents had ever made for her matter. She had to. For herself—and for them.
pappa. it never got old, hearing her refer to him in the same way that she had since she was able to talk. he remembered those first syllables so vividly — after signe had mastered ‘mamma’ he sat, stared, and watched her for hours on end, tuned into her young babbling like radio static. just when he had almost lost hope, she had mustered the first p, and then the rest of the syllables. in that moment, søren had vowed never to underestimate his only child again. and he never had. it would have been easy for the two parents to turn their nose up at signe’s desire to pursue something creative. a doctor and a professor, with enough credits after their names to make up an entire new alphabet … it didn’t matter, so long as signe was happy. the holmströms had money — søren had worked in order to be a provider for their family — and there had never been any doubt that helping their daughter chase her dreams was where that wealth belonged. he didn’t always understand it, but that didn’t mean he didn’t support it. “oh, sötnos, i didn’t mean to ruin your focus.” søren straightened his back and followed signe’s gaze the the painting she had been admiring. he still couldn’t quite believe that their daughter had ended up with his pale gaze. “can i help you get it back? there’s nothing fika can’t fix.” one arm draped around her shoulders and squeezed lightly. “is there anywhere you had in mind ? ”
Her wide eyes softened with recognition and she gave him a look, that Pappa look, the one that carried equal parts exasperation and affection. It was corny, but Signe might have been the tiniest bit homesick. Or, as homesick as one could get just living across town. Still, she’d gladly jumped at the idea of spending a few hours with her dad and explore her new neighborhood in the meantime. She nudged him back with her elbow. “Pappa,” she sighed, dramatically. “You can’t sneak up on people like that. You’re too tall, it’s unethical.” The painting in front of her still tugged at something within her – something about the use of color that made her wonder if she could dye fabrics to catch the light in that way. Sometimes she envied the way artists could make anything they envisioned into a reality, while she had to work around the restrictions of fabric, stitching and technique. Still, it was those constraints that made Signe’s eyes light up with a challenge. God, she shouldn’t have left her sketchbook at home. She shook the thought off and offered her father an exaggerated huff. “I was thinking… maybe even being inspired! And now, you’ve chased my muse away!” Her father dwarfed her, being almost an entire foot taller than her 5’6 and she leaned into the familiar safety of his presence. “For your crimes, you’re going to have to pay for fika.”
it felt strange that life was meant to just continue after signe had left. it felt as though a hole had been blown in the side of their emerald point home, and søren had tried to brick up the cavern only to watch it fall again, and again, and again. he wondered if sigrid felt the same, that they were missing some sort of vital organ now that he couldn't hear the distant closing of doors down the hallway and no longer noticed snacks being smuggled from the kitchen cupboards. it was one of his days off, and once they had worked through a flurry of dad jokes him and signe had decided to meet up for a few hours. a cup of coffee, some light window - shopping, and maybe a few treats from his own back pocket. søren parked a good distance away and walked to the art district, soaking up the sunshine that was still a novelty after ten years. sweden had been beautiful, but he couldn't honestly say they had much of a summer back home. 6'4" and with hair the colour of wood ash, he wasn't the easiest person to ignore. søren approached his daughter without the intention of sneaking up on her, but once he was a few steps away and still unnoticed he decided to reach into the fatherhood handbook. the doctor hovered beside signe until she saw him, nudged her with the point of his elbow and chuckled, “i don't know, are you ? ”