ETERNALLY OWNED IS BUT WHAT IS LOST“First when …

ETERNALLY OWNED IS BUT WHAT IS LOST

“First when there’s nothing
But a slow glowing dream
That your fear seems to hide
Deep inside your mind”
Irene Cara/Giogio Moroder/Keith Forsey

Sanna’s wall-to-wall carpet was a pale pastel pink. At home in Anna’s room it was just as soft, but linden-blossom green. Sanna’s white Adidas shorts had pink stripes. Anna’s had mint green ones. They went into the city and caught both seven o’clock and the nine o’clock show at one of the cinemas on Mondays, since then the tickets were half price. A dancing steelworker was as close as they ever came to feminism. What a feeling.
The summer of 1984 was warm, the problems still small, The Lost diamond, Monchichi and Sindy Ballerina no longer hot. Sanna and Anna subscribed to Veckorevyn but secretly read Ingela’s, the older girl next door, Mitt Livs Novell, giggling with flushed cheeks.
Anna’s glasses were way too big and George Michael still straight when he woke them up before they go-go’ed on a, by Sanna, Brighton-bought maxi single.
EF language trip was da shit. But only for those who could afford it. Anna could not, though it troubled her more before Sanna’s and Pernilla’s departure than after. There were other things and other people to keep her busy. The independence. Self-evident.

Anna took tap and ballet classes in her spare time and fought with words instead of fists at school, spoken and written. She was verbal and in some strange way she managed to be accepted in all camps. Even among the tough girls, completely without style but carefully armored in their violently local fashion – white tube socks in which black, washed-out drainpipe jeans were carefully tucked and then matched with black canvas shoes with thin rubber soles, so called “China shoes” – in the smoking corner where she never set her own Stan Smith-clad foot. Admittedly, during a sewing class in Home Ec, the tough chicks had threatened to beat her up after she, a few days earlier, at the ninth-grade parent meeting frankly declared that the class trip to Bornholm was nothing more than an excuse for cheap Danish ferry liquor.

But it passed, like most things, without a black eye and she herself was better and more stylishly dressed, stuck to those in the somewhat less “cool” but more loyal crowd and listened just as happily to Noice as to Roxy Music. When Anna dipped her finger in the pocket-warmed lip gloss in the small rectangular brass tin from Village Liplickers in the flavor Spearmint or Green Apple and moistened her lips – she was very possibly dressed in a white t-shirt with a, very long-awaited, Fruit of the Loom logo.
She switched her Date eau de cologne scent from Paloma to Jane, and the sewing teacher raised her failing grade to a C in the final grade’s report card, so as not to “embarrass the other very high grades” but made sure she knew that was certainly not worth it. She was her grandad’s princess and always found her safety warmly buried in Mildred.

Eventually, the shoulder pads would grow, the glasses disappear but her yellow Crescent racer with the ultra-thin tires never, ever it would come to rust.
So, her early teenage years were over. Just like that.

©SlowClapStories

Evigt ägs blott det du mist

Kapitel XVI: Anna, Stan Smith-tjejen

”First when there’s nothing
But a slow glowing dream
That your fear seems to hide
Deep inside your mind”
Irene Cara/Giogio Moroder/Keith Forsey

Sannas heltäckningsmatta var ljust pastellrosa. Hemma i Annas rum var den lika mjuk, men lindblomsgrön. Sannas vita Adidas-shorts hade rosa revärer. Annas hade mintgröna. De åkte in till stan och gick på både sjuan och nian på någon av biograferna på måndagar eftersom priset då var halvt. En dansande stålarbetare var så nära feminism de kom. What a feeling.
Sommaren 1984 var varm, problemen fortfarande små, den försvunna diamanten, Monchichi och Sindy Ballerina inte längre het. Sanna och Anna prenumererade på Veckorevyn men smygläste den äldre granntjejen Ingelas Mitt Livs Novell, fnittrandes med röda kinder.
Annas glasögon var alldeles för stora och George Michael fortfarande straight när han woke them up before they go-go’ed på en, av Sanna, Brighton-inköpt maxisingel.
EF språkresa was da shit. Men bara för de som hade råd. Det hade inte Anna men det bekymrade henne mer före Sannas och Pernillas avresa än efter. Det fanns annat och andra att roa sig med. Självständigheten. Självklar.

Anna dansade stepp och balett på fritiden och slogs med ord i stället för knytnävar i skolan, muntligt och skriftligt. Hon var verbal och gick på något märkligt sätt hem i alla läger. Till och med bland de tuffa tjejerna, helt utan stil men noga brynjade i sitt våldsamt lokala mode – vita tubsockar i vilka svarta, urtvättade stuprörsjeans noga stoppades in för att sedan matchas med svarta tygskor med tunn gummisula, kallade ”Kinaskor” – i rökrutan där hon aldrig satte sin egen Stan Smith-klädda fot. Visserligen hotade brudarna under en syslöjdstimme med att nita henne efter att hon, några dagar tidigare, på nians föräldramöte frankt förklarat att klassresan till Bornholm endast handlade om billig dansk färjesprit.

Men det gick, som det mesta, över utan blåtira och själv var hon bättre och snyggare klädd, höll sig till den något mindre ”coola” men mer lojala skaran och lyssnade lika gärna på Noice som på Roxy Music. Anna doppade fingret, i det i byxfickan uppvärmda, läppglanset i den lilla rektangelformade mässingburken från Village Liplickers i smaken Spearmint eller Green Apple och fuktade läpparna – mycket möjligt klädd i en vit t-shirt med en så efterlängtad Fruit of the Loom-logga.
Hon bytte Date-doft från Paloma till Jane och syslöjdsfröken höjde hennes etta till en trea i slutbetyget för att inte ”genera de övriga mycket höga betygen” men betonade noga att Anna inte var värd den. Hon var farfars prinsessa och fann alltid sin trygghet varmt begravd i Mildred.

Så småningom kom axelvaddarna att växa, glasögonen att försvinna men hennes gula Crescent racer med de ultratunna däcken aldrig, aldrig den kom att rosta.
Så, var hennes tidiga tonår över. Bara så.