December 21, 1991

The fighting. The fighting seemed to stick out to little Frída and ring in her ears. Her parents seemed to be at each others throats again. Though, the two of them never wed one another before or after welcoming their two children into the world on the same day, it didn't change the fact that they continued to bicker like a couple that had been married for fifty years. Her little, innocent ears weren't able to make out any words that were being thrown back and forth, but all she really knew was that it was bad. Her twin brother, Óskar, was sound asleep in the bed next to her. How he could sleep through the noise was beyond her, but she managed to slip out from beneath her covers and creep down the staircase until she was sitting on one of the steps. She would always remember how red her fathers face was and the sadness that had taken over her mothers entire body. "Páll, please calm down before you wake the children. Think of them and think about how this will affect them, don't you care?" Her mother was close to tears and it was evident that she didn't want this older man she had grown to love see her breaking down right before his eyes. The cold and sad fact was that he didn't care. He had completely detached himself from becoming a father the day his two beautiful children were born. He didn't want them - in his eyes they were a mistake that should have been corrected early on in the pregnancy. "I simply can't do this anymore, Brynja. I haven't been happy for two years and it made me realize that I'm not meant to be a father. I'm completely detached to the children and it may be a wholeheartedly selfish decision on my part, but it's one that I'm not going to change my mind on. I tried, but I can't lie about how I really feel any longer. I'm sorry." It was then that Frída noticed her fathers bags were already packed. After his fake apology the room went silent and the last thing Frída heard was the sound of the front door slamming and her mother completely breaking down. August 20, 2010 Almost twenty years. Almost twenty years since she had last seen and spoken to her father. He never bothered to reach out and contact her before and she never bothered to try and find him or see how he was doing. She came to the sad fact that he didn't care what happened to her, but here she sat - almost twenty years later - staring at the e-mail that was open on her laptop from her father. She wanted to delete it. She didn't want to read the words that he wrote because she wasn't sure how it would affect her and to be quite frank, she wasn't sure if she could emotionally handle it. But there she sat, frozen and unable to do anything but stare at the words in front of her. However, against her better judgement - she began to read the words her father had written to her. Hi sweet Frída bear, I know it's been quite a long time since we've spoken and seen one another before I walked out on your mother, brother, and yourself. I'm not writing you to ask for forgiveness, but I suppose that's kind of what this e-mail is for. I just wanted to let you know how proud I am of you. I heard you on the radio the other day and your music is very delightful to the ears. I knew you would be a talent when you were just a little girl and I'm so glad that you proved me to be right. How's your mother holding up? I hope she's doing okay, I can just imagine how proud she is of you too. I'm sure you're reading this and wondering what I want from you after all these years, but the answer is nothing. I would just love to re-establish a relationship with my beautiful, talented daughter. I heard that you moved to New York recently... do you like it there? I'm sure it's a lot different than Iceland. I should probably start wrapping this up, but I would love to get in contact with you outside of just words on a page. We have a lot to catch up on, I feel. Maybe dinner someday? Let me know when and where, I promise to not stand you up. I love you, daughter. I hope you'll take me up on this offer. Love, Papa The words seemed to numb her. Unsure of what to do or how to respond, she did the only thing she could do - she kept the message and closed her laptop, figuring someday she would get back to him.