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60 Amit Bobrov
“I would like to marry your daughter,” I said, raising my voice
more than I intended to in my excitement. He gazed deeply into

my eyes, and I forced myself to meet his gaze, as a man.
‘He’ll never accept me if I’m not a man,’ I thought to myself.
“Absolutely not!” He replied sternly, holding back a rage I had
never before seen in his eyes.
“Why not? I will provide for her, and for you when you grow
old, I will be faithful ...” I began.
“I said no, Adam!” He repeated.
“What’s all the fuss about?” Ingrid said as she approached,
overhearing our raised tones.

“Adam, I’d like you to leave my home now and never return,”
Ivar declared in restrained tones, holding back his anger.
“Ingrid, I ...” I began, as my face flushed red and my eyes
burned.
“Now!” Ivar roared.
“Goodbye, then,” I blurted out, discarding the tools and
walked away.

“I asked one simple thing of you …” Ivar said to my back, “…
and you betrayed me!”
“Father!” Ingrid called.
“She is a high-born girl, not fit for the likes of you!” He
proclaimed. I turned around, outside his shop now. My fists
clenched, I looked him in the eyes, full of spite and rage.
“I would have treated her as a goddess, she’d have had no
want in life as my wife,” I avowed.
“Begone!” Ivar yelled.

“Adam!” Ingrid called.
“Farewell, Ivar, farewell Ingrid,” I said, turning around and
walking away feeling the tears welling up in my eyes. Ingrid
tried to rush to me, but Ivar grabbed her wrist and restrained