Love in Theory and Practice: Chapters 1-13

Seattle, Washington/Portland, Oregon

“I heard he got married to some girl from Los Angeles. I bet she’s a bitch; he seems to like women who are mean.” Ville practically chokes on his coffee and I stifle a laugh.

“Don’t be like that! No one likes to be treated badly!”

“Well I just can’t wait to see him. He’s looking lovely these days with the short hair.” One girl in a small swarm says while they pass oblivious to Ville’s presence. They’re all decked out in heartagram gear and are probably headed to the signing.

But in the time before the signing, Ville and I have been exploring in city incognito. It’s amazing to me that people don’t notice him when he always seems to look the same. We didn’t bother to dress him in anything unusual just to see what would happen. It’s been a low-key day.

We’ve been to the Space Needle, Pike’s Place Market and out whale watching (we’d gotten an early start). But now I have to return him to “Ville from HIM” status and get him to the signing.

“I almost wish I could just keep looking around.” He says sadly as we pass a wonderful little bookshop.

“I am sorry my love.” I say, noticing the longing in his eyes. “Maybe we should come back here on holiday.”

“That wouldn’t be a bad idea.” He agrees and wraps his arm tightly around my shoulders before kissing my hair.

After consulting Google Maps on my phone, we finally find the mall where the signing is located. The rest of the band is hanging out on the bus and we jump on to give Ville a chance to change his clothes and prepare.

Since he cut his hair, I’ve missed the curls but it’s grown on me. It reminds me of Peter Pan, a youthful energy. He’s been happy on tour and it’s been really exciting to see the band in action. While I’ve been dipping away for work, I’ve been at almost every show.

Our relationship is pretty much perfect right now so I know a disaster is coming. I don’t know what’ll be, I just know it’s coming. Call it intuition or whatever but in my life there is always a calm before the storm. And they’re never gentle storms.

I hang around for some of the signing but I head back to the bus after about 20 minutes to work for a bit. The university has me editing some upcoming publications. It’s tedious but I enjoy it.

I work right up until the concert begins. I slip to the side of the stage to watch Dommin perform and work the merchandise booth while We Are the Fallen performs. I enjoy working at the merchandise booth more than standing on the sidelines of the stage. I prefer to watch Ville in the complete context of a concert.

While standing on the side allows me to watch Ville and focus on him, it isn’t the experience you want from a concert.

Some of the girls eye me suspiciously while I sort shirts. Eventually someone asks.

“Are you Ville’s girlfriend?” she asks quietly when I lean forward to hear her request. I just smile and wink.

“What can I get for you?” I ask. She smiles widely and asks for 3 shirts all in small. “You’re about my size so I recommend a youth large unless you want it to fit like a sack.” I say with a laugh. She agrees. She wanders away happily and rejoins her friends.

Ville jokes that I’m there best advertisement. I’ll wear HIM shirts during the shows and sometimes when I’m out and about in the city. I’ve had many people ask about the band.

When HIM takes the stage, I sing a long as best I can and sell shirts in between. And as usual, I head backstage before the set is over. The girl I met at the merchandise booth waves to me as I reach the backstage door. I smile and wave back.

As far as I can see, HIM fans are either friendly or hostile. There is no in between. They either hate you for just being close to the band or they view you as a part of their favorite band and care about you.

Even though I’m enjoying Seattle, I’m really excited for the Portland show. Callie will be joining me along with my Aston Martin from LA. I’ve missed the car so much she’s agreed to pick it up from my house and drive it up to Portland for me. Then she and I are planning to road trip to the next show in San Francisco.

After the set, I settle back into my nook on the bus and resume editing papers. The project I’m currently working on is a publication of graduate student papers. There are 15 papers ranging in length from 25 to 30 pages not including sources, image, citations, footnotes or bibliography. Checking sources, quotations, and citations along with grammatical editing is a long and pain-staking process but so far I’m enjoying it immensely.

Being Mrs. Valo is wonderful. Ville and I mix so well together sometimes I forget what I’m doing and get wrapped up in what he’s doing or he’ll end up working on my stuff without thinking about it.

We talk about everything under the sun. We watch Klaus Kinski, read Baudelaire and Bukowski, and listen to every kind of music we can find. There are several bands that we just do not agree on but for the most part we can agree to disagree. Ville leans more towards bands like Cathedral and Type O Negative while I tend toward Sisters of Mercy and Bauhaus.

We’re two peas in a very strange little pod.

When we arrive in Portland the next day, Callie is waiting for us.

“I’ve missed you!” she cries and wraps me in a hug.

“I’ve missed you too!” I laugh. After me she proceeds to hug each member of the band. I can feel her bubbling excitement leading up to the concert and it’s infectious.

She sells shirts with me. We dance together and sing along with the bands that open the show. Neither of us is a fan of We Are the Fallen but we still manage to enjoy the set. When HIM comes on stage Callie screams louder than any of the little fan girls in the crowd. I laugh and shake my head.

While the crowd is restless and seems too eager to hear the music rather than listen to Ville’s rambling, Callie and I smile and laugh along with his dialogue. He’s always chatting with the band while on stage. Some audiences love it but others do not.

The first few times I’d been offended and angry but I’ve learned to let Ville roll with it. He’ll handle it however he wants to. This evening, however, he gets snippy with a man who calls out “Fuck the book,” in reference to a book of poetry by Baudelaire that someone had thrown onto the stage. He simply replied with “well fuck you dude.”

After the show, we retreat to the bus so I can grab my things and head out with Callie.

“DO you remember that time we were on the bus with the 69 Eyes and Jyrki kept pissing you off?” Callie says with a laugh. I nod and laugh too but I notice a subtle change in Ville’s countenance. “God, he was a tool. Why did you ever date him?” she asks rhetorically with a faint smile and a shake of her head. I just laugh but when I turn to look at Ville, my laugh dies.

His face is a grimace. “May I talk to you, please?” he asks in Finnish and motions to the back room. I lead the way like a scolded child and wait patiently while he shuts the door.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d dated Jyrki?” he asks, or rather spits at me.

“We’ve never discussed past relationships.” I reply simply.

“I’ve never dated any of your good friends.” He bites back. He’s angry; angrier than I’ve ever seen him. The only problem is that when someone is angry with me, I react defensively.

“Technically we didn’t date and I was unaware that he is a good friend.” I say tartly. “It was a year or so before I met you. I didn’t think it was of consequence.”

“Do you just jump in bed with every Finnish singer who comes your way?” he growls. My eyes widen. And I can feel the heat of my anger rising in my skin.

“No,” I say in a cold monotone. “I do not ‘jump in bed’ with every Finnish singer who comes my way. I have also worked with The Rasmus and Negative; neither of which resulted in a intimate relationship.” He looks at me and I can see the hurt and anger in his eyes.

“I have never asked for your roster of women, Ville. I respect you enough to let any relationships of your past have little to no meaning in our life together. You have completely insulted me by insinuating that my choices at 22 should be relevant to you.” I say.

“Well, I consider it to be relevant when someone you’ve slept with is invited to our wedding.” He says angrily. “What an awkward and pitiful experience for me! You and Jyrki can reminisce.”

"You are entirely missing the point. I am here, with you, now. I do not talk to Jyrki; I do not wish to see him or 'reminisce.' You are the one who put him on the guest list." While he paces around the tiny room, I sit, stalk-still and watch.

"i wouldn't have wanted him invited if I'd known this." He says. "How could you do that do me?"

“To you? My previous relationships are an attack on you? Until you sort your priorities out, Ville, there will be no wedding ceremony and you can expect divorce papers in the mail if you don’t come to your senses within the next month. I am not a woman who will be battered around, talked down to, or made to feel guilty for decisions I made before I knew you. If it hadn’t been for his recommendation, I never would have taken the job with your band. I wouldn’t be standing here in front of you today. Perhaps that would be a blessing?” I spit harshly before grabbing my purse and exiting the room. “Let’s go Callie.” I say.

Callie and the rest of the band stare from me, back to Ville, then back to me dumbfounded. This is our first real fight, and everyone is hurt by it. I know they could not hear exactly what was said but from the look on their faces, they know what it was about.

“Should I drive, Elin?” Callie asks nervously as I approach the car.

“No, I need to focus on something else. I will drive you to San Francisco but I will not stay for the show. If the band cannot bring you back to Los Angeles, I will come back up for you.”

She doesn’t say a word; she just climbs in the passenger seat. I grip the steering wheel until my knuckles are white. Ville’s ring stands out in the light of the street lamp like a blinding reminder of what I’d just walked away from.

I do not feel guilty for having a sexual relationship with Jyrki. It was perfectly natural at the time. I’d been attracted to him and he’d been attracted to me. I was young, just started working, and he was older and seductive. There are no hard feelings between Jyrki and I; we made our peace when it ended mutually. I wouldn’t change it if I could.

When I got the call to work with HIM, I was already flooded with clients, papers, and deadlines from my other enterprises but I called Jyrki to see if the band was worth it. I knew Callie would say yes but I needed a more reasonable source.

He’d told me that they were wonderful to work with and to spend time with. He’d said all kinds of wonderful things about them and admitted he’d recommended me to the record label. So without Jyrki, Ville and I would never have met.

It’s morning by the time we cross the Oregon/California border. Callie is asleep in the passenger seat and I can see the light of my phone, blinking at me, trying to tell me to check my messages. I throw it into my purse and continue deeper into California.