Scandinavian Heartstrings, in Drop D.

Chapter 5.3 Rømmegrøt

Skwisgaar woke with the disorientation one gets from falling asleep in the light and waking up in the dark. He only realised how incredibly uncomfortable he was when he tried to move and found almost everything was numb. One of his sore points was coming from his shoulder where Toki still lay nestled in his side. His limbs were still heavy from the Valium and he almost decided not to bother getting up until his bladder decided that for him. He returned and checked his Dethphone for the time, it was 10:37pm, they had slept for almost a solid eight hours in that position, no wonder he was numb.

Toki had rolled over onto his other side and the glassy glint of his eyes was visible in the light from the bathroom.

"Good morning, well, evening." Skwisgaar said as he sat on the edge of the bed and pushed an errant strand of hair out of Toki's face. "You feeling any better?".

Toki nodded his head slightly and hummed a sound of affirmation.

"You haven't eaten anything in a really long time. Your blood must be completely fucked by now." He got a can of cola from his mini fridge. "Here drink this." He said opening the can and waving it in Toki's face. Toki carefully pushed himself up and took the drink, looking increasingly better with each sip. Skwisgaar sat on the edge of the bed again and lit a crumpled cigarette from the small, squashed packet in his pocket.

After drinking three quarters of the can, Toki finally found a weak form of speech.

"Takk." He croaked.

"That's okay, but we should really find you some real food. I'll get Jean-Pierre to make you whatever you want."

"I'm not hungry." He said half-heartedly and finished the last of his cola.

"Well too bad. I'm looking after you now and I say you need to eat something."

Toki leaned forward and rested his forehead on Skwisgaar's upper arm as he exhaled loudly.

"Rømmegrøt." Toki said.

"Seriously? You want rømmegrøt?"

"Yep." Toki rolled his head gently from side to side. "I used to have it all the time when I was younger."

"Yeah, me too." Skwisgaar smiled in reminiscence. "Well, come on then." He had to disturb Toki to put out his cigarette and noticed the reluctance on his face. "We'll eat in the dining room, not the kitchen, okay?" He said, trying to alleviate the man's fears of seeing the other band members tonight. Toki nodded and peeled himself out of the bed.

Jean-Pierre made an excellent rømmegrøt and a large pot of the sour cream porridge was placed on the dinner table with lashings of butter, sugar, cinnamon, honey and dried fruits on the side. As the first spoonful entered Skwisgaar's mouth he was transported back to his grandmother's house on a cold spring morning, sitting cross legged on the lounge room floor with his nose an inch from the TV. He'd shovel the sour sweet porridge into his face with an over-sized spoon while his Mormor called around town to find out where his mother had spent the night this time. Secretly, he hoped she didn't find her, then he wouldn't have to go back home.

Skwisgaar let the taste sit on his tongue for a moment. "I forgot how much I love this stuff." He said as he stirred through another knob of butter. "Why didn't we have this the whole time we were in Norway?"

Toki played with the warm slop with his spoon. "I suppose we weren't there very long, were we?" He said and forced himself to eat half a spoonful.

"No. No, I suppose not." Skwisgaar said, embarrassed. There was no way he was going to bring up Toki's father right now and so he shifted the conversation to something else. "There was some interesting stuff in that record shop, though." He lied.