Love in Theory and Practice: Chapters 1-13

Christmas with my family in Sweden is always a huge affair. There are so many of us when our extended family is included that celebrations last long into the night while cousins, aunts and uncles and brothers and sisters catch up with each other.

We always spend the holidays out on the island. My father owns a private island with many small cabins scattered over the land. My siblings and I each have our own that we received for our 20th birthdays. The rest of the family stays in the main house. All of the buildings are all different in some way but are all painted in the classic, iconic Swedish red.

The snow is thick on the ground and the sun struggles to grace the skyline. The air can be biting but the many fireplaces and many bottles of alcohol keep us warm inside. I’ve been pestered by my extended family in the last few years when I decline alcohol but Pappa gently tells them off.

“So you really love this man?” Pappa asks when I tell him about my plan to move to Finland after dinner on Christmas day.

“Yes, oh Pappa, he is wonderful.” I sigh dreamily. “He’s talented, creative, intelligent, and he’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”

“Well then,” Pappa laughs. “I can see that you like him, lilla gulla, but remember how you are when you’re in Scandinavia. I’m worried that you’ll have to go back on more medication. You don’t fair well here, just like your mother.” He says seriously. I can see the concern in his face and it warms my heart.

“I know Pappa but what if I don’t try it and regret it forever? I’ve been offered a really great position at the University of Helsinki and I really want to give it a try for him. You’ll understand when you meet him. I just know it.” I try to explain.

“Is this the guy that Nils saw you with in Helsinki? He said he looked sketchy.” He whispers with a raised eyebrow. Nils and his family are sitting just a few feet away. Our entire conversation has been in hushed voices but now his voice is even lower.

“He’s not sketchy, Pappa. Of course Nils would say that. Here,” I say and pull out my phone. I pull up a picture of Ville and I together in Los Angeles. “This is Ville.”

“Ah, well he is a handsome fellow.” He appraises me for a moment or two. “Alright, you have my blessing but I want to meet him before you do anything crazy, like having 15 children.” He winks and pulls me into a hug.

“I don’t want 15 children, Pappa.” I say with a laugh.

“Do you need any help getting ready to move?” he asks, loud enough for Nils to hear. I giggle knowing that he’s trying to rub it in Nils’ face that he blew it with me. Pappa can be vindictive like that.

“I have found a few options for apartments in Helsinki and have found all the places I’ll need such as a cleaners, tanning, hair and nail salon. I have been looking for a car and have renewed my Finnish passport.” I tell him.

“Good girl,” he says and releases me from the hug. “Have you told the lucky man yet?” he laughs his booming, hearty laugh when I shake my head. “Elin, sometimes you look just like your mother. She had that same mischievous smile.” Before I can reply, Pappa gets up to mingle among the guests.

Yes, all I have to do now is tell Ville. I had wanted to tell him on his birthday but my work schedule didn’t allow me to visit. We talked via Skype for a long while; he said he’d rather stay home and chat with me than go out.

We also had wanted to get together for Christmas but ended up with our families. But in a few hours I’ll be in Helsinki with Ville. It feels like an eternity to wait but after the weeks we’ve been apart, it’s really only a few moments.

My brothers and I are packing for Helsinki and will be leaving within the hour. Isak and Bo are bubbling with excitement and I don’t know why. They still refuse to tell me what bands we’re seeing during the festival and on New Years but right now I’m happy to just hold Astrid, Isak and Kiira’s baby girl.

The first time I held her in my arms I immediately thought about what it would have been like to hold my own child. At first I was jealous, even angry, that I didn’t have Katherine to hold but I know the time will come for me to have my own children.

“Alright,” Isak says, shutting the trunk of his car. “I hope we have everything.” Kiira straps Astrid into her seat before getting into the passenger side. Bo decides to ride with me so he jumps into the Saab I’m borrowing from Pappa.

“So,” I begin as we head off the island. “What bands are we seeing?”

“I’m not telling. But I honestly can’t believe you haven’t figured it out.” He laughs.

“Ah,” I say, suddenly piecing it together. “Is there someone in this band that I may know well?” Bo laughs and shrugs his shoulders. I just smile and pinch his cheek.

Lisbeth and her husband along with their children have already returned to New York. She didn’t want to stay with us one moment longer than she had to. She is still angry with me for siding with the boys and having Christmas in Sweden. And she became even angrier when we’d invited her to Helsinki for New Years. Her reaction had been something along the lines of “and miss Times Square?”

We make the drive into Stockholm in decent time and catch the ferry over to Helsinki. As usual, we take the late night ferry so we can have a whole day in the city.

During the trip, I sit around with warm coffee and The Girl Who Played With Fire, the second in Stieg Larsson’s series. Because I’m not used to Scandinavian winter weather, I’m wrapped in an extra layer or two just to keep the wind from biting at my skin.

When we finally arrive in Helsinki, we continue on to Bo’s house while Isak and Kiira head home. I’m staying with Bo for the time being but before my bags are even out of the car, I call Ville.

“Hello there,” he answers with a smile that is evident in his voice.

“Hello here.” I reply. My brother watches me with a confused look when I don’t bother to take off my coat or any of my outdoor gear.

“Can I take this call to mean that you are in Finland?” he asks.

“You can.” I reply with a smile. Just hearing his voice has warmed me up and left me impervious to the cold outside.

“When can I see you?” he asks excitedly.

“Now?” I reply with a laugh. He quickly agrees and before Bo can even ask, I’m out the door and headed for the car. I take off through the light snowfall on the route to the tower I am longing to see.

There is definitely a certain beauty in the icy, snowy, dark winter of the north that I had forgotten about in my desperate attempt to flee from memories I couldn’t handle and the oppressiveness of the dark.

But something about the connection, the love, the friendship I have found with Ville has let me move past those hard times and into a new time in my life when I can be who I want and be happy.

I’d been upset before Christmas when Callie had come to me with an online rumor about Ville. She was worried that he’d actually gone off and married another woman while we’d been deliberating about our relationship.

He’d quickly dispelled this rumor with a laugh and told me that his relationship with me is the only attempt at a relationship he’s had in the last few years. While I’d known deep down that he wouldn’t just elope with some 19-year-old girl, I’d just had to make sure.

Fortunately for my sanity the gossip pages about Ville and I hadn’t made it too far out of Finland. There were only a few articles about the photos taken of Ville and I in Helsinki but they died out when we were in Los Angeles because the American tabloids don’t care about Ville and me.

In what seems like only moments, I’m pulling up outside Ville’s tower. There are lights on in the living room and a few others upstairs. He’s decorated the house with plain white Christmas lights around the archway of the front door. There’s no wreath, nothing else to give any hint at the festive time of year. I sigh and smile. It’s a beautiful home and I’m happy that I’ve made the choice to be close.

I collect my thoughts and wrap my scarf tighter around my throat before opening the car door. Before I can shut the door, Ville is bounding over the snow of the front yard towards me.

“Darling,” he says warmly and pulls me into his arms. He buries his face in the hair at my neck and breaths deeply. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“But we’ve been talking almost constantly.” I tease but grip on to him tightly. I’m enchanted by the smell of him: cigarettes, cologne and warmth.

“As if that’s good enough.” He replies with a chuckle. I notice that he’s only in a sweater and jeans with slipper shoes. We’d been standing, holding and kissing each other for a while and I feel badly for keeping him out in the cold.

“Let’s go inside. You must be freezing.” I say, grabbing my purse out of the backseat and locking the car.

“Well, Love, believe it or not, I’m used to the cold.” He wraps an arm around my shoulders and leads me off towards the house. “Where’s Baudy?” he asks, searching the ground around our feet, looking for the dog.

“He wasn’t feeling to well so I left him with Pappa.” I explain. A day or two after arriving in Sweden, Baudy began acting strange and upset. With my history of pets I am aware of what’s happening but refuse to believe it. Baudy is roughly 17 years old, and it seems as though his time is approaching. But I’ll never admit it out loud.

Later on, when we’re settled in with coffee and the blankets of his bed tangled around us both I decide to bring up my news.

“So,” I begin, placing my coffee cup on the window ledge. “I’ve been thinking about whether or not I should move.” His eyes connect with mine in a curious but intense stare. I almost choke on my words. “I’m not selling my house.” I say just to lead him in the wrong direction.

I see his face fall but he quickly recovers his composure. “Then I’ll move to LA.” He says. My heart soars at his willingness to move without hesitation. It reassures me that I’m making the right choice. He deserves it.

“Nonsense. I’m moving to Finland, I just don’t want to sell my house. I’ll need a sunny vacation now and then.” I finish and give him a wink. His face and eyes light up with happiness and he immediately envelopes me in his arms and smothers my face with kisses.

“Are you just playing with me?” he asks in between kisses.

“Oh Ville, you know I’m much too busy to play.” I laugh.

“Well this is a better present than that book you sent me for Christmas.” He says, holding me close in a death grip as if he fears that I’ll change my mind and make a run for it.

“Ah, do you not like the book?” I ask with a fake gasp. I’d sent him a book on some obscure religious order I’d found in an equally obscure bookshop in London, England.

“No, I love the book but I don’t even have words to describe this.” He says in a dreamy voice.

“It must really be something if you’re without words.” I say and nuzzle into the crook of his neck. “Or will I hear about it later in a song?” I joke. He just chuckles and squeezes me tighter.