Wings & Hearts

After what seemed to be an endless trek, the enormous group of people, Jyrki, and I arrived at a pulsing nightclub that could have only been Tavastia. I recalled someone saying something about difficulty getting into Tavastia, but there was no cue of people in sight, just Ville and Jyrki waiting for me to finish packing my second pack of smokes of the day. Normally, I didn’t smoke quite so much, but the vodka they had force-fed me had caused a general disregard for my usual habits to set in; we had been forced to stop at an Alko on the way to the club and buy another pack of cigarettes. I hadn’t felt so bad when Ville had also bought a new pack, but currently I found myself withering beneath their expectant glares.

“What? Want one?” I offered, foolishly; Jyrki didn’t smoke that I know of, and Ville already had a Marlboro in his right hand from his back pocket stash. I had thought that I’d be able to wait outside for a minute and smoke away my current headache before the music inside would synthesize another one, but this was not to be so.

“No, but we would like to escort you in,” Ville was quite outspoken, I had noticed - he had something to say in every situation. Jyrki was often silent, and nodded in agreement with Ville’s statement.

“You know, I can walk in by myself…” I suggested, as Ville threw his gangly, tattooed right arm over my shoulder and Jyrki snaked his muscular bicep around my slight waist. Both men were tall enough to exchange a glance over my head, and they exploited their advantage over me.

“Nope, not without us. Bad idea.” I nodded at Ville as I breathed in more smoke, blinking rapidly to allow my eyes to adjust.

Fuck, and I thought it was dark outside! Twenty-two hundred hours, and not a moon or star in sight on the streets was nothing compared to the pitch interior of Tavastia - I swear, the walls must have been painted a color designed to eliminate light rather than reflect it. My blindness was obviously the reason Jyrki and Ville had to lead me in to the club; absently, I wondered what happened to those who had memorized the layout of the place by necessity when someone moved the tables? The thought made me giggle.

“What’s so funny?” Jyrki’s deep bass asked from my right, and I felt Ville sneak away without a word, obviously off to find Hanna. I could feel a band playing somewhere in the club, but it must have been in the back room or something.

“Just wondering about how fucking dark it is in here!” I gasped in pain as my hip smashed into something solid - the edge of a table or something. “What the fuck!” Jyrki’s other arm encircled me as I expressed my disgust; I nearly lost my smoke.

“Are you ok, darling?”

“We may have to amputate. Get me to a table, stat.” Eyes watering, Jyrki led me to a table, ordered a Tequila Sunrise for himself, and courteously asked for a White Russian on my behalf. I rubbed my hip as I realized I was sitting between Barbie doll and Jyrki in a circular booth.

“Oh, hei Eicca,” For the second time that night, I was being stared down, so I leaned on Jyrki’s shoulder and smoked a new fag in silence until my eyes adjusted to the rest of the table. None of the other girls were present - Hanna had Ville by the hair somewhere, I was certain, and Kirsi was… odd. Lauri was absent, but Jussi was throwing back shots of tequila like a professional, with a mountain of salt on the webbing between his thumb and forefinger and a lime waiting on a nearby napkin. Perhaps, I mused, Lauri was vomiting in the bathrooms if he had been trying to keep up with the spiky-haired, overly tan boy. A drink was placed in front of me as I reveled.

“Kiitos.” The woman who served us was gone before I could thank her, so instead I thanked Jyrki and finished my cigarette before I began on my drink. He was deep into his Sunrise before I began the small talk.

“Where are you from?” I asked Jyrki, as I sparked a cancer stick into life. His enormous hand reached out and took the thing from me, laying it in the ashtray on the bar as he answered.

“Born and raised here. I know my way around.” He smiled before he lifted his glass to his lips, taking from it a long draught that emptied it entirely. I quirked an eyebrow; so far in my travels in this city I hadn’t met a true native. I said so, which caused Jyrki to chuckle.

“Well, Valo’s one. Blond Mikko is too. Technically Lauri is,” He let his sentence drag as he peered over his shoulder intently. I followed his gaze to Linde (blond Mikko), dancing with a woman who I had not been introduced to at Jyrki’s apartment.

“Who’s that?” I drained my own glass and set it beside Jyrki’s before I ashed my cigarette into the nearest butt-filed ashtray.

“That’s Manna, the love of his life.” Jyrki’s tone changed to imitate Linde’s lighter voice, and I laughed as Hanna jogged up to snatch the fag from my lips.

“Thanks!” She breathed deeply as if smoke would help her catch her breath better than air would.

“I would have given you a new one,” I called over the loud music.

“No, it’s ok, I only need half!”

“Convenient.” I grumbled under my breath, retrieving another cigarette to light.

“Come dance with me, honey!” Hanna was tugging on my cardigan’s shoulder, her arm somehow contorted to go behind Jyrki’s head to reach it.

“I’m afraid I’m not drunk enough…” I trailed off, as the serving woman brought another White Russian. Hanna raised an eyebrow, and tipped the glass to my lips to help me chug it. I would be feeling tonight tomorrow, I thought as the Greygoose, Kahlua and Bailey’s slid down into my stomach, it was a damned good thing I didn’t have class.

“Ok,” I gasped, shooing Jyrki out of the way with my cig. “Let’s do this!” I found myself out on the floor with Hanna, Kirsi and the girl Manna with another drink - straight vodka, this time - and a cigarette in hand, having the time of my life. Manna and Kirsi nursed beers of differing brands, but Hanna and I were drinking straight vodka, and thus were having the time of our lives. It was quite a while before either of us thought of returning to the table, but the incessant need to pee broke my dancing concentration after the nameless band had played out their set.

Hanna and I hit the bathrooms before we went back to the table, falling all over each other and everyone around us.

“Oops, I’m sorry babe,” I apologized to an angry-looking man in grey trouser pants who I had knocked into, and clutched Hanna’s less sober arm tight. “You need to be more careful,” I slurred.

“That soooo wasn’t my fault, honey bunch,”

“Was too!” I countered, and the giggle fit ensued. The sober part of my brain was taking mental snapshots of just how dumb I get when I’m drunk, as the inebriated part attempted to guide me toward the table where Ville and Jyrki sat alone, laughing to one another over their never-ending drink glasses. Ruefully, I wished that I could have one of those bottomless glasses; I was damned thirsty. As Hanna sat beside Ville, I lit a smoke and squeezed my way in beside Jyrki - taking what little of the seat his massiveness didn’t take up.

“Scooch over!” I took his Tequila and drained the remaining liquid in one fell swoop, noting that Jyrki looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

“First you want me to move, then you want to drink everything on the table, darling?” He ordered another Sunrise and a Russian for me, as if he could see how thirsty I was; Ville was shielding his Jack and Coke from Hanna and me as if it was a child we might molest.

“You know, I think we might want to find the rest of the group and get going, it‘s nearly four.” How Ville always managed to know the time without a watch I’d never figure out, but he was right, and if Hanna and I were to get any more inebriated we would have to be carried all the way back to Jyrki’s apartment. Yes, it was much better to go back and drink ourselves into a stupor at Jyrki and Ville’s flat.

“Can we stop at an Alko?” Hanna asked, I nodded my agreement (or thought I nodded, I might have actually just sat there or my forehead might have smacked down on the table, I won’t ever know).

“Let’s?”

“Whatever would you need at an Alko?” Jyrki asked, as Ville shimmied his way out of the booth past Hanna, leaving the black-haired man to entertain the drunken duo Hanna and I had become in the few hours we had been out. The server slipped a short glass of vodka in front of Hanna, a Tequila Sunrise in front of Jyrki and placed my White Russian in my outstretched hand - a drink which I slammed and set delicately back on the tray (I thought it was delicately placed, Jyrki later informed me I nearly knocked the poor waif of a waitress over with my drunken force).

“Booze,” I finally answered, of maybe it was Hanna who answered?

“Yeah, let’s take them home.” Ville suggested, waving for the tab.

“Good idea.”

“Aw, but why schnuggums, I never make you leave a bar before it closes!” Hanna complained, hanging on Ville as the boys half-led half-carried us from the most legendary Tavastia. Jyrki did let us stop at a liquor shop, but only Hanna was allowed to buy booze because I was simply too drunk to carry a glass bottle. Which was ok because I was able to get cigs and hand Hanna the remains of my marks to buy a large bottle of Jack Daniel‘s. Hell, I didn’t drink very often at all, why not live it up while I could? That and I was destined for a hangover the next morning, what was a little more?

A new cigarette and Jyrki’s firm grip were all that kept me moving toward Jyrki and Ville’s flat - oh, and the thought of more alcohol, probably. What was said between Alko and the flat became a blur of cutesy lover’s talk between Hanna and Ville, and awkward school-based conversation between Jyrki and I.

Finally, we burst into the apartment’s front door.

“Home, sweet home,” Ville threw himself on the couch and lit a new cigarette from the dying butt of another as I followed Hanna (and her bottle of Jack) into the kitchen where she retrieved two brightly-colored plastic cups from a cabinet.

“One for you, one for me. One for Jyrki and one for Ville,” Hanna handed me my generously-filled glass and the one she had designated for Jyrki and sent me on my way - I walked the short distance between the kitchen and the armchair Jyrki sat in very slowly and carefully as to not drop a spill… ahem, spill a drop. I did almost manage to spill the entire thing over Jyrki’s lap as I handed it to him - he took one delicate sniff of the liquid.

“Straight Jack? Are you trying to kill me?” I must have nodded happily for the look he gave me.

… and there the memories cut out.