After we got to the room, we both had a shower and then considered having a nap, but neither of us was going to be able to sleep (my grandpa has more energy than people one-quarter his age), so he let me play some video games on my TV for a while. They were all awesome, and mostly in English, though I found one about Vikings in Swedish that was pretty sick too, a sort of medieval thing with a guy kind of like Thor in it, who was able to do some pretty decent damage to his opponents both while fighting from his Viking ship and while wreaking havoc on enemy villages. He had a sword and a shield and a spear and a hammer and a little iron hat with horns coming out each side and, of course, blond hair streaming down from under his beanie, and he looked really brave and handsome—cool beyond belief. He actually looked like a nice guy most of the time, but like many Swedes, it seemed, he was wild underneath. This game had that thing where you have to achieve something and then you go to a higher and more difficult level and on and on upward. I love that idea—getting two or three dangerous missions that you have to accomplish and at the end you get a prize. Grandpa was in the other room, making phone calls in sort of a hushed voice while I played. Then he called me into his room and said we needed to talk.
“Adam, unfortunately I can’t be with you all the time we are here. Will that be all right?”
“Of course, Grandpa.”
What did he mean…he couldn’t be with me?
“You will be alone for a few hours at a time in this room each day, but I’ll let the front desk know, and I’ll get them to bring up food for you, and you can play all those games you like on the TV, and I’ve left a stack of books for you.”
He glanced toward the desk. The Little Prince was on top of the pile of books, but there were several Harry Potter novels too and this popular new thing called The Hunger Games, which I knew had a girl as the hero—I’d seen images of her on the Internet, wearing something that made her look kind of like a guy and with a bow pulled taut with an arrow in it. So there was the promise of at least a little action in that book. I tried to act like I was interested.
“So, are you okay alone with these books and food and the TV and video games?”
I tried to look a bit sad, but inside I was doing cartwheels.
“I’m thinking burgers and fries,” he said, “and maybe some interesting Swedish sodas one day, perhaps some ice cream, and then possibly mac and cheese the next day.”
More cartwheels.
“Don’t worry—I’ll be back in the early afternoon each day, and we’ll go out and see the city. There are some great museums here with lots of Swedish history in them and some incredible art.”
Cartwheels slowing drastically.
“I’ll take you out on the town one night, and I’ve arranged to get some tickets to a hockey game on our last evening.”
Back into cartwheel mode.
“Really? Like Swedish Elite League hockey?” I was hoping.
“That’s right.”
Good old Grandpa. He always knew how to treat his grandsons. There were lots of Swedish players in the National Hockey League back home, even a couple on my favorite team, the Buffalo Sabres. The NHL hadn’t even started the season yet, but here they began earlier. The hockey in this league might not be quite as good as the NHL, but it would be close and really amazing and different. I was sure I’d recognize some players, and I’d be able to brag about seeing something that none of my buddies might ever see. I could really tease my five Canadian cousins about this. Who got to watch Swedish Elite League hockey in person? I could hardly wait. I was pumped!
“That’s amazing, Grandpa!”
“I didn’t tell your mom or dad that you’d have to be alone at times when we were here.”
Really? I thought. You didn’t tell them? Sometimes he was kind of like a kid, only a large and wrinkled one.
“But,” he continued, “I thought you were up to it. You’re twelve years old and will soon be thirteen, which means you’ll be a teenager, and then it won’t be long until you’re thinking about what you’ll want to do with your life. When I was a kid, I had to grow up fast. We all did in those days. I believe life gives you lots of tests, and the more willing you are to face them and rise above them, even at a young age, the better off you will be.”
Ah, yes, I thought, it will be tough indeed—alone with hamburgers and fries and video games.
“I’ll try to rise to the occasion,” I told him with a straight face. But did he really not tell Mom and Dad about this? They are both pretty high-achieving people. My mom is a former Olympian and a very successful real estate agent, and Dad is, like, the best commercial airline pilot around, but they are pretty careful with me. Mom often says I’m sensitive as if it’s a bit of a worry to her.
“This will just be our little secret. I’m sure you will be fine. Don’t get me wrong. I hate the old-fashioned idea that you have to toughen up young men, and they have to be little manly men. That’s not what I’m talking about here…it’s just that it’s good to be a little independent, to learn to not worry about things so much.” He’d paused for a second and looked at me.
“I’m not a worrier,” I said.
He clapped me on the back. “I know you’re not. You’ll be fine.”
But he had me thinking a bit. Alone in a hotel with awesome food and the TV, fine, great, but alone in Sweden…land of secrets? In Stockholm, where they set the most gruesome murder mysteries on earth and assassinate their prime minister in cold blood? Stop worrying, I told myself. Sometimes I wonder if Mom is right. Maybe I really am sensitive.
Grandpa went out for a few hours that afternoon, though he waited until I was napping. I didn’t get up until I heard him come in the door. I hadn’t had a chance to play a single video game while he was out, which kind of ticked me off. After he got back we went down to this rather radical restaurant in the hotel, with glass tables and steel walls, and were seated almost out on the street, where we could watch the palace lit up in the distance and see people walking back and forth, everyone dressed in way more colorful clothes than people wear back home. He ordered Swedish meatballs on noodles with sauce for me and lingonberry soda. It was great. Then it was off to bed. We were both absolutely exhausted.
When I woke up the next morning, he was completely dressed for his day, and there was a pancake breakfast with maple syrup and whipped cream and orange juice on a tray in front of me on top of the covers.
“I’ll be back by one o’clock, Adam, and we’ll head out for the museums then. Hang in there.” The door opened and closed, and he was gone.