Wings & Hearts

I awoke to an angry fist pounding on my bedroom door - Paavo wanted in, and he wanted in bad.

“What’s your problem, I’m still in my pajamas.” Haughty, I drew a thick pillow over my head and rolled over on my stomach - a vain attempt at going back to sleep.

“Sini, wake the hell up!” Yep, it was Paavo alright, I didn’t have to worry that Jussi had somehow figured out where I lived and had arrived to collect us for a day’s festivities at his house.

“Why?” The question was a scream - like a stubborn child - but I was up and out of my bed, straightening my opaque black negligee before I opened the door. “What?”

“It’s Christmas!”

“Honey, you are sorely mistaken. It’s Christmas Eve.” With a sigh, I plopped back on my bed and lit the first cigarette of the day in hopes that the smoke might make my brother just a little bit more intelligent. “I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until tomorrow for your present. Can’t fool me into that twice.” A few years ago, when we still lived at home, Paavo had pulled the “it’s Christmas!” trick, and fooled me into giving him his present - three days early! Just because I didn’t wake well didn’t mean he had to take advantage.

With a pout, Paavo stalked to the couch and threw himself atop of it as I watched from my bed.

“You’re a brat!” He cried childishly. And I thought I was bad.

“Did you get Jussi’s mom a hostess gift?” I asked, as I began to painstakingly lay out my outfit for the day. One must be careful when selecting an outfit for Christmas, as too much red or green is overly cliché; and since green was one of the dominant colors of my wardrobe, I had gone shopping for my Christmas outfit weeks ago, and figured I had found the perfect color for the holiday. Brown.

Scratch that last. The little shift dress I had selected was more gold than anything, actually - gold and slightly taupe-ish as to not be completely tacky, I mused as I picked out the perfect undergarments for the thing. It was a three-quarter sleeve dress, and quite short so I had deemed a pair of nearly-opaque tights necessary.

“No, I didn’t get Jussi’s mother a gift, what do you think I am - gay?” I glanced at Paavo, flopped on the couch in a pair of basketball shorts.

“Sometimes I wonder.” I murmured, and closed the door.

An hour later I felt as put together as I’d ever be - the tights, the shoes, the caplet (very difficult to find in a shade that nearly matched the dress, and I probably would only wear it inside because it didn’t fit underneath Jyrki’s leather jacket), the black cardigan to match the tights, the hair band to match the dress… God, I was good at this fashion thing, I thought with a bright grin.

“Paavo! Let’s go!” He lay strewn on the couch again - this time in a different outfit of black suit pants, a crisp white shirt (rumpled by his position on the couch), his blazer lay over the back of the chair with his coat. “Get up, you great lummox!” I wasn’t quite certain what Lummox meant, but I had heard Hanna call Ville that once and figured it suited the situation. Paavo got to his feet with a grunt as I began wrapping my scarf carefully around my neck.

“We have to go! Let’s go! God, get up you slob!” I fastened a black cardigan around my waist with a thin gold belt (bought just for the dress) and piled on another, thicker layer before I slipped into Jyrki’s leather jacket - leather was a highly effective windbreaker. With Paavo in tow and a large bag of gifts under my arm, I set out to meet Jyrki and Ville at their bus stop, and then Hanna and Lauri at theirs before we all proceeded to Jussi’s parent’s home on the outskirts of Helsinki.

I had been to the house before, but had only seen the garage/basement of the pale building. The little house had a tiny Victorian façade, and was just as small inside, but was cozy. Jussi’s mother was some sort of decorating genius, I guessed; the couches Jussi placed us on were plush and warm - almost too warm for the many layers I had on.

“Vino, yes?” Someone had actually entrusted Jussi with a tray of beautiful, long-stemmed purple wine glasses and a bottle of red; I was on my feet in an instant to take the tray, but the boy practically glided with the tray. Must have been a hidden talent - or perhaps it was his destiny to be a waiter.

“Ah, please!” Ville snatched the bottle and poured for us; all but Lauri grabbed a glass (Hanna had slapped his wrist as he reached for one as she took a deep draught).

“Mom will be right out, she’s sorry she couldn’t see you at the door.” The scent of omenalimppu drifted from the kitchen and I drifted toward the delicious apple bread as I ditched my jacket(s) on the coat hanger.

“May I help, Mrs. Vuori?”

Over the course of an hour I added too many rutabaga to the lanttulaatiko, nearly sliced my finger off while skinning the Herring, and nearly overstuffed the taytetty jouluhanhi; Mrs. Vuori was too kind to kick me out of the kitchen and insisted on assisting me with all of my attempts at baking after I nearly set off the smoke alarm. But I made the coffee for desert without incident, and gained a kind smile from the woman. Proudly, I carried the pitcher of coffee to the table as Jussi’s mother presented the omenalimppu to us for desert. And she did love the purple candles I had bought as a hostess gift; said they matched her glassware perfectly.

I was surprised that I had managed to cause more turmoil than Jussi had. He was surprisingly well-behaved around his family - I figured his ADHD must kick in when he had too much to drink.

With copious amounts of leftovers and many more thanks, the lot of us left the house overstuffed and elected to walk most of the way home in order to work off the meal.

Paavo was reciting ‘The Night Before Christmas’ as we boarded separate busses - I was bound to Jyrki’s house, to create my own version of the story.

It was the night before Christmas and all through the apartment not a creature was stirring - which meant that Hanna and Ville had locked themselves inside Ville’s room as soon as we got home and weren’t making any noise (that Jyrki and I could hear). We stood together in Jyrki’s bedroom - the taller man had captured me in his lanky arms and murmured something about never letting me go, a frightening thought. What if I had to go to the bathroom, would he let me go then? I didn’t think he’d ever want to accompany me to a ‘women’s doctor,’ either.

“Are you excited for your Christmas present?” I questioned as I craned my neck backwards to gaze into the pair of icy blues somewhere above my head; it was quite difficult to see him in the dim light of his room (one of the light bulbs in the ceiling fan had gone out weeks ago and Jyrki had neglected to replace it, leaving one solider to light the room).

“But we’re not supposed to get our presents until tomorrow!” Jyrki mocked me and crushed the air from my lungs briefly before he allowed himself to be guided to the bed.

“Sit. Close your eyes. If you open them I will kill you!” I wriggled a finger under his nose to be certain he kept them closed, and quickly darted to the closet where I had managed to stash my “supplies” earlier that week.

I nearly burnt my finger lighting the vanilla-scented candle, and almost lit my scarf on fire as I let it slide to the ground on the way to hit the light switch. But I hadn’t counted on how dark Jyrki’s windowless room would be when lit by a single candle, and nearly killed myself trying to get to the tape player to turn on my selection of music.

“Can I open my eyes yet?”

“No!” I snapped, pressing every button on the player until it actually started to play. “There.”

Out of nowhere, a pair of strong arms wrapped themselves around my waist; I could feel Jyrki’s breath on my hair as he hooked his fingers into my belt as if to just hang them there for a while.

“What’s all this?” He asked into my ear, so quietly that I could barely hear him over the music.

“I decided that since all of your attempts have been thwarted, I’m going to make my own ‘perfect setting.’” I grinned and reached up to grab a handful of his thick black hair. “Hope you’re not offended,”

To prove he wasn’t, Jyrki’s lips focused on the patch of skin between my ear and the edge of my face, and traced down my jawbone to just beside my lips. I pushed backwards against him with my body, propelling us toward the bed before I managed to trip over one of the many jackets on the floor. With a grunt, I landed atop Jyrki on the floor, apologizing profusely until he placed a finger over my lips.

“Shush, you’re not that heavy.” He pulled himself from beneath my body, his fingers clutched a handful of the cloth at the waist of my dress and forced me to follow him to the bed; where I stood awkwardly.

“You know, you’re going to have to help me out here.” I sighed, wishing I had a cigarette; I hadn’t smoked enough, which made me irritable and sarcastic.

“Be patient.” His lips compressed mine beneath them, his tongue fought with mine (because my tongue had suddenly turned into a dragon trying to guard the chastity of my mouth as if it were its baby). “Like you said, what’s a few more years,” Jyrki teased, his hand traveled down the short length of my dress and disappeared under its hem before reappearing at my hipbone. How he could remain calm enough to joke around was beyond me - I had nearly hyperventilated as his hand tried to scratch its way through the thin layer of lingerie (why, oh why had I chosen the body-hugging Spanx for our “special” night?) which barred him from my bare skin.

“What is this thing?!” I helped Jyrki rip the dress off over my head (and by help I mean deterred him from tearing the cute little thing to shreds.

“It’s called a body briefer and, uh…” I began to babble as Jyrki toyed with the strapless thing, a sheet of black fabric between him and his prize.

“Darling, you’ve got to calm down.” For a moment, Jyrki’s blue eyes twinkled mischievously in the light of the candle “How do I get it off?”

It was my turn to grin as I pushed Jyrki back onto his dark bed with the heel of my palm. “You already have me down to my skivvies and you’re fully dressed. It’s your turn.” His enormous paws yanked me down to the bed beside him and his soft lips covered mine again as he rolled over atop of me. If his kisses hadn’t already forced the breath from my lungs, his weight would have - his torso lay heavily on my chest.

“Sinikka?” Damn him, I had just managed to get the shirt over his head. I acknowledged him with a grunt into his chest. “I love you,” He had a fistful of my hair, which directed my face to his.

“Mina rakastan sinua, Jyrki.”

When his hand finally reached for the buckle of his belt, I tensed; in a last-ditch effort to relax, I ran my fingers through his hair and nearly got them tangled in it (use a fucking brush, man). His hands found the small zipper on the side of the “body briefer” as his pants hit the floor, and he unzipped it more slowly than was necessary.

“Should I use a condom?” He asked gently, as I made an attempt to dive under the covers and pretend that this awkward moment wasn’t happening and that we had already gotten to the sex part of this whole thing. Jyrki hadn’t waited for my answer, simply pulled a rubber from the carton in his bedside table (where had that come from?) and cupped it in his hand as he pulled me up by the back to kiss me like a scene straight out of some famous Romance novel - tracing trail from my breastbone all the way to my lips.

“Jyrki?” My voice was no more than a pained whisper as that little sarcastic girl who lived in my head and came up with all of the witty lines to say hid in the back corner somewhere, leaving me to fend for myself; at the sound of his name Jyrki’s hands stopped where they were - one on my back and one supporting my head as one would a baby’s.

“Honey?”

“I’m frightened,”

“Don’t be afraid, little darling. I would never hurt you.”

As his body sunk down into mine and he found his rhythm, I realized he had unintentionally lied - he should have said would never purposefully hurt me. But after a while, I relinquished control and allowed the black-haired man to “manhandle” me; and realized that the sex was much better for it. In Jyrki’s defense - he really had tried to be tender, and Hanna had warned me that the first time was uncomfortable at best.

I fell asleep clutched in my lover’s arms, my head held tight to his chest as I silently wept for what I had lost and what I had gained; at least, I rationalized before I slept, my first time had meaning. It was more than most women could ever say.