Meltwater (Fire and Ice)

needs to work on his chat-up lines.’
    ‘I’ll give him some lessons,’ Magnus said.
    ‘No offence, but I think he’s going to need more than that.’
    At least she smiled. Vigdís was quite attractive when she smiled. She had big brown eyes and a long, sculpted face with angular cheekbones. Her habitual expression was cool and detached,
but when she smiled or laughed, her teeth flashed and her eyes danced.
    Plus she had a great body.
    ‘Magnús, you’re leering.’
    ‘Am I?’ said Magnus, trying very hard not to blush again. He groped for a smart rejoinder, but failed, and drank his beer instead.
    Vigdís flashed him another good-humoured smile, knowing she had caught him, but it didn’t last long. The silence started off a little awkward, but then became gloomy.
    ‘Hey, I’m sorry about Paris,’ Magnus said.
    Vigdís shrugged.
    ‘Have you spoken to Daníel?’
    ‘Davíd. Yeah. I spoke to him. He’s pissed off. Very pissed off.’
    ‘That’s stupid,’ Magnus said. ‘It’s not your fault.’
    ‘Now he’s stuck in Europe. He has some big meeting in Chicago he can’t afford to miss on Monday. I think he’s planning to go to Madrid or somewhere and try to get a
flight to the States from there. So even if I can get to Paris he won’t be there.’
    ‘It’s still not your fault.’
    ‘Maybe not this time. But the other three times were. And Davíd did point out that if I’d left here on Wednesday as planned, I would be in Paris right now.’
    ‘Ah.’ There wasn’t much Magnus could say to that.
    Vigdís looked Magnus in the eye. ‘The thing is I really like him. I mean really like him.’
    ‘Well, then, take some vacation and fly over to New York in a couple of weeks.’
    ‘He won’t let me. He said this was the last time.’
    ‘Then don’t tell him. Just show up.’
    ‘I could,’ Vigdís said, averting her eyes from Magnus. ‘I’ve thought of that. But I don’t know what I would find. What he would say when I got
there.’
    Magnus thought of Ingileif and Hamburg and what might happen if he were to fly over there to visit her unannounced. ‘I see what you mean.’
    ‘How’s Ingileif?’ Vigdís asked, as if reading his mind. ‘Aren’t you seeing her tonight?’
    ‘Er, no,’ said Magnus.
    ‘That doesn’t sound good.’
    Magnus told Vigdís about his conversation with Ingileif the night before. It was good to talk to his colleague. Ingileif was right; he didn’t really have any close friends in
Iceland, now she had gone.
    ‘I think she’s jerking you around,’ said Vigdís, when he had finished.
    ‘She says that I am just an uptight American.’
    ‘You may be an uptight American, but that’s who you are. She should accept that. She shouldn’t just get to do things her way.’
    What Vigdís said sounded right. ‘So what do you think I should do?’
    ‘Tell her how you feel about her. Tell her you want to see her in Hamburg. Tell her to dump this Turkish guy.’
    ‘But what if she doesn’t?’
    ‘Then you’re better off without her.’
    ‘I guess I am,’ said Magnus, but he knew his voice lacked conviction.
    ‘There are plenty of other women in Iceland, you know,’ said Vigdís.
    Magnus looked at her. ‘I guess there are.’
    Vigdís drained her drink. ‘OK, I’ve got to go. Thanks for the drink, Magnús.’ She gave him a peck on the cheek and she was gone.
    Magnus had another beer in 46. It tasted good. When he had first arrived in Iceland the year before, he had obliterated long hours in the Grand Rokk, and he really felt like doing it again. He
knew it was dangerous: he had had problems in the past in the States, especially right after his father had been murdered. His mother had died an alcoholic. And there was something about
Reykjavík which welcomed heavy drinkers.
    A crowd of a dozen kids entered the bar at the beginning of their Friday night out, laughing and shouting, already well oiled. The bar was filling up rapidly. His mood contrasted sharply with
the increasingly upbeat crowd, so he left. He grabbed a large hot dog on the walk home.
    There was a note waiting for him on the kitchen table. Hey Magnus. Gone to Faktory to see Katrín sing. Meet us there. Ollie
    Magnus certainly wasn’t in the mood for that. Although Katrín had a certain dramatic presence on stage, her voice was mediocre, and Magnus found it embarrassing to watch her. And
even if she were Björk, Magnus wouldn’t want to go out to see her that evening, especially