It has been one year now since my long-lost niece Helga came to join Poul and me in Copenhagen. Helga has been very different than what I expected, though I'm not sure how I had any reasonable expectations considering I last saw her when she was but a young girl. But oh, what a girl she was! Bright and quick, loving and sweet-- I never wanted her to leave. I'm still of the mind that it would have done Helga much good to be raised here in Copenhagen with me instead of back in America where she would be treated as a second class of citizen simply because of the tint of her skin, the visual marking of her mother's bad decision. But her mother insisted on bringing her back to the States and subjecting poor Helga to the rule of the tyrant she met and married.
Now Helga seems changed, she is no longer the carefree girl I knew and loved. She seems to wrap herself in a shroud of discomfort masked as huffiness. She is afraid to show her vulnerabilities because they have been preyed upon one too many times. It seems that she is sometimes ashamed of her skin color, though here in Copenhagen we think it makes her exotic. When she first came to Copenhagen her trunks were full of queer clothing that were at once bright yet subdued. Her clothes were very precise and structured, though they were colors that subtly set off the many tones of her skin. I decided at once that she needed clothes that would accentuate her color and make her stand out. I suppose I may have secretly thought that my exotic-looking niece would bring us new, fresh favor in different social circles. She could be something to talk about and perhaps we could help bring her out of her shell and find her a nice man to marry. She doesn't seem much like a regular girl, in fact she seems almost defiantly uninterested in pursuing men. It seems like she waits for them to come to her. Not that it would be becoming to actively pursue them, but a bit of flirting never hurt anyone. She seems to have a deep instinct for self-preservation, and while she doesn't seem to mind her new clothing (though some outfits do take a bit of convincing...) she seems to have an unusual notion of how a woman should behave.
I have been trying very hard to match Helga with the artist Herr Olson. He is terribly interesting and finds Helga intriguing and yet just yesterday she refused his hand in marriage. I was speechless when I heard the news. It seems terribly ungrateful to me. Herr Olson would have provided her with a life full of parties and interesting people and would have given her a financial security that she may not be able to provide for herself. We will not always be able to provide for her so I do not know what she will do now that she has turned down what will likely be her best proposition for marriage. When we discussed marriage the other day (78) I named many men who might be willing and eligible prospects but in my heart I know that none of them would be able to handle her. I'm not sure how much longer Poul and I can afford to keep her in Copenhagen. She is beginning to wear on our nerves and finances.
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