Page 23 of Baking Battles

She shrieks when she sees him, standing by the gate inside the warm vestibule of the day-care centre, the smell of little damp boots and winter clothing and mud thick in the air, matched by the quiet noise of the children, milling around in the large open-plan space that Emi calls home during daylight hours. She loves it there, a well-run council day-care centre, with organic on-site cooked meals, and daily play sessions in the nearby woodland park whatever the weather. She is having an inner-city upbringing, but with everything the city of Oslo can provide right on her doorstep.

“Dadddadadadada,” she rambles as he lifts her up and buries his nose in her hair. She smells like she always does. Of memories and home and fun and laughter. Of everything he needs to breathe.

“Hi, baby Emi” He coos into her neck. Takes another deep breath to top up his supply of love-hormones and happiness that Emi spreads freely in her tumultuous wake.

“Daddy home, and Emi eat Nuggets? Happy Nuggets?” she asks, loud enough to get Mattias stared at disapprovingly by one of the day-care workers. All their well-meaning organic nutrition destroyed in one foul trip to McDonalds. Well, they don’t have McDonalds every day. Just sometimes.

“No, baby, we are having nice homemade vegetable stew today.” Mattias lies and shoots off a little nod towards Emi’s keyworker, who ticks Emi’s name off the attendance list on the wall. They are having McDonalds. Mattias actually really fancies a Big Mac after the day he has just had.

He dresses her in her waterproof thermal overalls, fastening her snow boots firmly around her ankles. The thick padded hat snagging the curls under her chin, and he wipes the snot gathering under her nose away with his sleeve.

“You and I are going to have so much fun.” He coos, tapping her nose with his finger.

“Bike?” She questions, her eyes wide with excitement.

“No, baby, too much snow for the bike. But we are going to go and look at the Christmas trees down at the Kiellands market. And we are buying some decorations for when it’s the first of Advent, and then, we need to sort out an Advent calendar for you. A nice one with pretty little parcels that you can open every day in December.”

“Presents?” Emi claps her hands and tries to squirm out of his half embrace. “Nuno, Nuno! Emi presents!!!”

The little boy next to them looks green with jealousy as his mother laughs. “Good luck with that.” She nods approvingly at Mattias giving him another supportive smile. “Nuno, now let Mummy zip up your snowsuit, otherwise you will get cold. Come on, chop chop. Your brother is in the pram outside waiting for us and they said it’s going to snow again tonight, so we need to get home. “

She smiles sweetly at Mattias, and Mattias nods back. It’s not like he makes a habit of talking to the other parents at the day-care centre, but he needs to take a few new baby steps. One little bit of kindness at a time. No more trying to make friends today, however much Emi is trying to hug the other little boy, while his Mum is trying to strap him into her massive all-terrain pram with another child, who Mattias thinks must be the said brother, and who shrieks like a possessed banshee.

“Please Emi, let’s get you in the pram.” Mattias begs, holding the flaps of the fleece-lined cosy toes open so she can climb in.

“Walk!!” Emi shrieks, and runs off in the opposite direction.

“Emi!!” Mattias shouts.

“Kids eh?” The mother sighs, looking exhausted as she stares at her own brood, both who are now making annoying, loud, inhumane sounds, and apparently finding it funny. Mattias catches Emi and pretty much shoves her into the cosy-toes cover with one smooth well-practiced manoeuvre.

“Have a good evening.” He says, trying to contain his laughter at the mother who is still just staring at her children with a resigned look on her face.

“You too.” she says quietly. “I’ll need a big glass of wine after bedtime tonight.”

“I know the feeling.” Mattias laughs.

He doesn’t realise how exhausted he is before he falls back down on the sofa, having carefully placed a sleeping Emi in the middle of his bed. They have had the best evening, chatting away, drowning their sorrows in some highly un-nutritious fast food, then playing in the snow on the way home, not even bothering with the wetness of Mattias’s trouser legs, or that his completely unsuitable knitted gloves are now wet, hanging up on the shower rail in the bathroom, the drips still echoing through the otherwise-empty apartment.

They have also picked up the box of Christmas decorations he had ordered online, baubles and tinsel, and strings of multi-coloured lights that made Emi shriek with excitement. He’s pleased he’s ordered too much. Thrilled with the look on her face when he had pulled out the knitted rustic-looking Santa thing that was probably made in China by underpaid factory workers, but it looks great. And Emi loves it, so he bloody adores it.

It’s almost like he has come back to life, having her back home. Like things don’t matter as much and his chest is lighter, and the fact that he has muted the messages from Sara, reminding him of a million things that he would rather forget. Because since Danijel is being a twat and not getting him voted off the show, he will just have to wing it tomorrow and bring Emi to work. She will love it. Caroline will love it. Alima will throw her around in the air, and Pablo will probably call him his little Daddy-bi-boy and make Emi all confused, but whatever. They are filming Episode 3, and the theme is bread. Simple. He can bake a loaf of bread in his sleep. Or three.

Mattias has made a little plan in his head. Well, it’s a stupid plan, but he kind of needs to do this, because even though Christopher is not really his responsibility, he still feels guilty over the state of the man today, because Christopher has looked plain miserable, and it is probably completely and fully Mattias’s fault. He still doesn’t understand it all, but he knows that he’s somehow hurt that man and in the new bucket list that sits leisurely in Mattias’s head, he seems to remember that he is trying to be a good person. Make friends that matter. Surround himself with people who love him for who he is, not because of who he is with, or what he is supposed to be. It’s a plan. Something to focus on, since that damn teenage bucket list has wormed its way back into his brain.

MATTIAS: Danijel. Have you got Christopher’s number?

He deletes it before sending. Of course, Danijel has Christopher’s number.

MATTIAS: Will you please let me have Christopher’s number?

DANIJEL: I thought you would never ask.

MATTIAS: Thank you.

The number pops up in the feed, a small contact card burning a virtual hole in his screen.

DANIJEL: Don’t start something you can’t finish, because you may rank above me at work, but I will bring you down if you hurt him. I’m not joking.

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