Wings & Hearts

“Where are we, Jyrki?” I asked as we got off the Metro, a smoke before we even reached the surface, the streets of Helsinki. He had called the flat early Friday morning and woken me at the ungodly hour of nine - not nine thirty, not nine hundred almost ten hundred hours, but nine. Hundred. Hours. Good lord, just because I kissed him didn’t mean he could wake me up at such an unhealthy hour on a day I didn’t have class. I wore a pair of cargo shorts - khaki, of course - and a light blue polo; a stark contrast to Jyrki’s leather pants and black t-shirt. I trailed behind the tall dark man, his hand was grasped in mine, which was the only way I could get him to walk slowly enough for my short legs to keep up with his broad strides.

“Where are we going?” I inquired again, this time angrily because he wouldn’t slow enough for me to put my fag to my lips. “Good god, slow down Jyrki! You’re practically running!” As if on cue, he took a sharp turn to the right and halted.

“Well I didn’t mean stop completely,” I breathed, looking up and down at the tall, stucco-coated façade of the building. “What is this place? Where are we? Wh -”

“You ask too many questions, sweetling.” Jyrki smashed the button on the call box by the door and kissed my forehead while we waited for the answering buzz. The voice was male, demanding to know who was at the door at such an unreasonable hour - I was more than happy to see that I wasn’t the only person who thought Jyrki was a tyrant who went about waking people too early in the morning. The long-haired man answered with his name and a grin, he held the door open for me and then passed me in order to show me the way up the stairs.

“Archie! Open the fucking door!” Jyrki’s fist pounded as I leaned against the wall, glaring at him ruefully. “You know, it’s not that early.”

“Fucking Christ Man, it’s not even noon!” Another black-haired man answered the door - if his hair hadn’t been curly and his chin cleft, I would have thought I was seeing double. “Oh, hello there sweet thing,” The man’s attention snapped to me like I was a morsel to eat. Jyrki laughed as I made a subtle grab for his hand, holding it in both of mine.

“Uh, hei,” I breathed through the cigarette clamped between my teeth.

“Oh, right - Sinikka, this is Archie. Archie, this is my girl.” I beamed up at him for a moment like an infatuated kitten before I had to free his hand in order to replace the smoke in my lungs with oxygen. “We have practice at noon - since I knew you wouldn’t be up I decided to visit. Don’t worry, we brought a movie.” Jyrki smiled so brightly it seemed Archie couldn’t help but laugh; Jyrks had that effect on people.

“Come in, come in.”

“Would it be rude if I asked if you guys have the fixings for coffee?” I stopped Archie by the arm as Jyrki laughed hysterically from the television. “You see, that man over there, he’s cruel and unusual. He woke me up and hasn’t let me had any coffee yet. I’m desperate.” Archie smiled at me, and set out the things for brewing before he left the tiny kitchen to wake his roommates. Archie’s flat was much larger than Jyrki’s or my own - but in order to have four bedrooms (the fourth person was the woman of the house and was off visiting their grandmother on holiday, I learned), the flat had to sacrifice its location and beauty, it was far away from the city center. But apparently, it cost less than the flat Paavo and I lived in - not that the price of the building mattered to us as it was a family owned apartment.

I made coffee as Jyrki settled in to watch my favorite movie - The Big Chill.

“I can’t believe you’re watching that without me,” I called through the apartment, as I fiddled with their coffee pot; I prided myself on my coffee-making skills, any pot, perfect coffee, every time. I sat with a cancers stick in my mouth, watching the pot as if it would speed up the process and wondering if I should start going through their cabinet with hope of locating mugs. After a few cabinets, I gave up and wandered to where Jyrki had thrown himself on their couch, singing along with the classics in his deep baritone.

“I know you wanna leave me, but I refuse to let you go,” Jyrki held his long arms out to me as he sang, I allowed him to enfold me in them. “Ain’t too proud to beg, sweet darling, please don‘t leave me girl,” I laughed at him, reaching up to tweak his nose none-too-gently.

“What a ham you are, honey.” I could hear the pot screeching from the kitchen (a watched pot never boils, but will do so as soon as one walks away), so with a kiss I left him on the couch. “So what exactly is going on today?” I called to him from the kitchen as I searched for mugs again.

“Archie? Why is there a girl in the kitchen making coffee?” I spun on a dime, nearly slopping the coffee in my mug all over myself - a man with shaggy black hair (did everyone in this house have black hair?) hovered in the doorway in his boxers. I quirked an eyebrow and presented him a mug of brew with a smile and a breath of smoke. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Just be glad I’m here, making coffee, yeah?” I persuaded, and took a draught of my own mug as if to prove to him that I wasn’t trying to poison him.

“Why the fuck are you here?” He was still wary of me and my cigarette… and my coffee… and probably my brightly-colored clothes and blonde hair as well. Definitely robber/serial killer material in his mind.

“I’m - ah - Hi.” I set my coffee down and removed the cigarette from my mouth. “Sinikka Lotjonen. I’m, uh, Jyrki’s girl.” To be so blunt… the shaggy man looked as if he were about to commit murder, and I understood the notion; if I had found a stranger in my kitchen upon waking at an ungodly hour, I would have been upset too. At my introduction the man seemed to relax, and actually took a long gulp of the coffee I had given him.

“That’s all well and good then. I’m Timo.”

An hour later I found myself walking through Helsinki - a bright spot in a group of five darkly-dressed young men. Jyrki hadn’t seen fit to fill me in as to the agenda for the day, so the man Pasi (Archie and Timo’s roommate) did; we were on our way to Jussi’s parent’s house, where there was a garage for practice. It explained the guitars strapped to the men’s backs as we traipsed down the street. I was eager to hear what they sounded like - but I dreaded it at the same time; what if they really, really sucked? How was I supposed to explain to Jyrki that he definitely shouldn’t quit his day job - I was of the belief that he shouldn’t quit school anyway, the black-haired man was a brilliant mind in the field of chemistry.

The boys directed me to sit on an amplifier in the corner of the little garage, I watched in wonder as they transformed the space into a place to “rock out” - if only while Jussi’s parents were at work. Really, they needed a better practice room if they planned on being a proper band. Jyrki seemed totally in his element as they set up, more so than when he was in the classroom or the labs. The tall man never ceased to amaze me.

I sat Indian-style with a pack of Reds and a pair of black sunglasses in my lap, flipping my lighter between my fingers as I waited for the boys to get their act together. They were just goofing off as far as I could tell - Pasi and Timo were having some sort of guitar face-off, Jussi was “tuning” his drum kit (as if that was possible), Archie had some funky bass line going on in the background, and Jyrki was crooning some old Elvis song at me through the microphone, intent on making me blush.

“So, uh, when does the music start?” I called over the din, ashing my cigarette into the fine china ash tray Jussi had brought out with him. Silence fell over the room, all eyes were on Jussi as he beat out some semblance of a tempo on his drum kit; to my untrained ear, it was difficult to figure out just what they were playing. The beat got my feet tapping, the guitar line sent me searching for another cigarette to light to hide my laughter. Jyrki’s singing wasn’t any better - it was something between Elvis and a man being strangled.

Couldn’t he just sing like he spoke? I sighed a breath of smoke, and clapped when the song was done more for the fact that it was over rather than it being any good at all. Before I could offer any constructive, helpful criticism, they launched into another song - but wait, there’s more… I suppressed a grimace with a breath of cancer as Jyrki sang. The next song had something to do with wanting head, and the song after that something about sex - the pair together were enough to set me scowling.

“That’s really cute, Jyrki.” I commented as he came around for a kiss between a verse and a chorus.

“What? That’s all Ville’s songs are about,” He looked confused.

“He’s a little more eloquent about it.” I snapped before I clambered off the amplifier and headed outside for a bit of fresh air. It was nearly fifteen hundred hours - Jussi’s parents would be getting off work soon and the neighbors wouldn’t be too happy about the “children” playing much past sunset. I sighed and finished my cigarette - it seemed I had been doing a lot of sighing recently, everything irked me. I needed to loosen up a bit, maybe quit drinking I mused as I crushed the burning but into the grass on the side of the small driveway.

After a short while, the music inside ceased, and I could hear sounds of the men packing up as I sparked another cigarette to life. No, I didn’t like their music, but the least I could do was to be supportive of the boys in their little task. It wasn’t like Jyrki was giving up his life for the band, so it was a tolerable side-project.

“What’s all this about?” Jyrki asked as we walked back to the rail connection which would take us to Vallila. I shot him a questioning glance as I stomped out my cigarette - holding his hand far away from my body as I danced after the butt that rolled slowly down the sidewalk away from my rubber soles. “You know what I mean, Sini,” Uh-oh. No pet name. The black-haired man was angry with me, I could tell. I grasped his hand tightly as we ascended a narrow flight of stairs.

“It’s just… I dunno. It’s not conducive to my tastes.” I answered finally as we boarded the train.

“And before - before you didn’t want to be my girl at all, you ran off for weeks after that night at the tattoo parlor. You did, don’t deny it! Just listen to me!” We were very nearly alone in the train car - Jyrki sat beside me and turned so he could meet my gray eyes with his blue. I pushed the black hair that whipped at my face over his shoulder - his hair grew like a weed and he refused to cut it no matter how hard I pleaded. His speech faded into silence.

“Well then talk,”

“The music has to speak to a much larger demographic than just my girlfriend, darling.” Jyrki sounded resigned as he pulled my hand back into his lap, entangling it with both of his. “I don’t want you to be in love with it, because I’m different on stage. I just need your support.”

How did he manage to make it sound like we were getting married or something? I turned to look out the window rather than into those icy blue eyes which begged for my forgiveness, or my blessing, but Jyrki’s long fingers brushed my jaw and turned my face to his again for a long, slow kiss. Jyrki knew that stealing smooches all day long was nothing compared to having him all to myself - he had stolen my blessing by the time we reached the flat weather I had originally been willing to give it or not (couldn’t remember that verdict at all).

Jyrki and I smashed into the apartment with all the force of an oncoming train, grinding up against countertops with the force of our kisses (in the back of my head, I thanked God that Ville and Hanna were off somewhere). But when the black-haired man began to lead me back to the bedroom by my belt loops I was forced to put a stop to his fun.

“Linnankivi,” He pulled my belt, I balked like a stubborn mule, braying his name until he stopped playing the part of a cruel farmer. “Stop it and come back to the living room,” I was about to follow my own advice when his strong hands caught me by the arms.

“Why not, love?” His lusty breath caught up in my collar to tickle my neck ruthlessly. He would be the death of me, one day.

“Because.” Stubborn child syndrome infused with a modicum of embarrassment tumbled from my lips. I felt Jyrki’s hands slide from my shoulders down my arms to hang limply at his sides - he had heard the song and dance before and knew I wasn’t to be convinced once my mind was set.

“Every single time, Sinikka. Are you afraid of me or something?” Jyrki stood in front of me now, a hand on my cheek meant to guide my gaze to meet his icy blues but I couldn’t, I let my eyes slide from his face to the floor in shame. “Sini? Kulta? Fucking look at me Sinikka and tell me what’s the matter! It’s been half a goddamn year and I’m sick and tired of you shutting me down every single time I try to bring you to my bed!”

His words hit home, striking a nerve somewhere between my eyes and my brain - the one that tends to make tears well up and makes me look like a sad little girl without fail. Not what I was going for, I didn‘t want his sympathy or to look like tears were the way out of this conversation (but that would be an added bonus); I brushed past Jyrki in vain hope of getting to the front door in time but he caught me by the wrist before I had gone two steps. His long arms enfolded me, we slid down the wall to the floor together in a heap of tangled limbs and hair, and too many choked sobs.

“Sweetling, please.” Strong fingers brushed back my hair, thumbs wiped the tears from beneath my eyes but they continued to fall - I was a goddamned waterfall that had to run its course before it would stop.

“I’m sorry Jyrki, so sorry.” I murmured, as if admitting my guilt in the matter would allow me to avoid the true reason why I wouldn’t allow him to simply whisk me away for a quick fuck. His lips touched my forehead and I sat enclosed in a curtain of his hair as I attempted to make the tears stop falling so I could speak coherently. He seemed to sense this (of course he did, Jyrki was the most sensitive man I knew aside from Ville who was borderline gay in his sensitivity) and remained silent, stroking my hair gently as if trying to soothe a spooked horse.

“Jyrki?” I paused, and dug my teeth into my bottom lip as I looked up at him, unsure of how to handle myself. It was a small secret - not exactly a dirty one, but a secret nonetheless - something I had kept to myself for a long, long time.

“Yes?” His hands slid to hold me by the cheeks so I could more easily gaze into his eyes - because that was exactly what I wanted to do at that moment…

“The reason I won’t - oh, God I’m so embarrassed.” Where was a goddamned cigarette when I needed one? How else was I supposed to pull off pregnant pauses while I searched for the right thing to say if I wasn’t fixating my necessity for nicotine? “Jyrki, I’m a virgin.”

For a moment, it looked as if the weight of the world had just been lifted off the black-haired man’s shoulders, his concerned frown turned into a bright smile and to my utter horror, he threw back his mane of hair and laughed. It was almost enough to start my tears again, so instead I buried my face in his chest. How could he be laughing at this - at me?

“That’s all, kultaseni? Good God, I thought you were going to tell me you had the Herpes or was using me as a cover-up for your lesbian lover, Sini. This is your bloody big secret?” His arms wrapped tightly around me, like a boa constrictor ensnaring its prey as he chuckled to himself, his chin rested on the back of my head as he spoke. “I’m sorry Sinikka, but you’ve taken this huge load off my back. I can’t believe you didn’t just tell me right off. Did you think I was going to break up with you?” I didn’t nod, but that was exactly what I had thought. Virginity was such a rare thing, I was an endangered species; but god, at twenty years old I either was destined to be a cat lady or a nun or both at the same time.

“It’s embarrassing.”

“No it’s not honey, you should be proud of yourself. Are you waiting until you’re married, like a good little Catholic girl?” I shook my head. “No? Well then -”

“It was never the right moment.” I cut him off before he could denounce himself as disgusting or worse, I would not let my gorgeous Jyrki-baby do that. Slowly, I wrapped my arms around his waist, I didn’t need to see his face to know he was plotting something.

“If I make the perfect moment, then would you?” I paused before I answered (cigarette! get me a cigarette!), entwining my fingers behind his back carefully.

“I can’t make any promises.”

“Emphasis on the perfect?”

“Emphasis on the not corny?” I giggled, and burrowed my face into the gap between his chin and collarbone.

“I just want you to be comfortable.” His hands entwined themselves in my hair once more, and he relaxed in my arms as I lay atop him.

“You just want to have sex after half a year of waiting.”

“I’m a man, what do you expect! But in my own defense, it has been longer than that.”

“Well then what’s a few more years?” I laughed uproariously as I watched his face drop.