Urban Volcano

Fiction by Börkur Sigurbjörnsson

Where do we go from here, Brian?

I don’t know, Julie. I just know I love her and want to spend the rest of my life with HER.

Oh Jesus, Brian.


What about the twins?

What about the twins? They know her. They already spend time with her and there is mutual fondness. Nothing’s going to change. They’ll just spend time with US now.

Jesus Christ. What’s wrong with you? Mutual fondness? Nothing’s going to change? Can’t you see it’s not the same? Can’t you see how it’ll mess up their heads?

Calm down, Julie. I’ll talk to them. I’ll teach them about grown-up love. They’re almost ten. They’ll understand.

Oh, don’t get me started with your notion of grown-up love. Twenty-two years, for crying out loud. There are twenty-two years between you.

And what’s wrong with that? Love isn’t a question of age. I love her. I really do. Don’t tell me you haven’t fancied any of the eighteen-year-olds attending your lectures at uni.

No Brian, I haven’t. I haven’t fancied any of them. And no, that wouldn’t even start to be remotely similar in any way.

Well, some of us aren’t as conservative as you. Some of us are more open minded—more liberal when it comes to love and relationships.

Jesus Brian. Can’t you see how messed up this is?


The whole situation. The absurdity of it all.

No, I can’t. From where I’m standing, the only visible absurdity is your hysteric reaction.

For Christ’s sake Brian, how did you expect me to react? She’s my mother.