Sequel: Love in Theory and Practice: SWRMXS ›
Status: complete. sequel to come.
Love in Theory and Practice: Chapters 1-13
Chapter 7: Katherine Wheel I
Atlanta, Georgia
I gently stroke Elin’s hair while she sleeps. The motion of the bus and her exhaustion always allows her to nap between cities. We’ve been incredibly busy ever since we left Los Angeles.
We quickly moved on from our argument. We had a brief discussion about our previous partners and resolved that we would only speak of our “lists” the one time. I was both surprised and entertained to learn that Elin has had more partners than I have. She’s a beautiful woman and I can only be grateful that she chose an ugly bastard like me.
Ever since we resolved that our past relationships, both sexual and romantic, are behind us and no longer important, we have begun to plan the wedding. Well, the second wedding for us, the first wedding for everyone else.
We decided on June 24, 2010 in Stockholm. Her father offered the use of the island for the ceremony and reception. There are enough beds on the island to accommodate everyone on the guest list. We’ve decided to keep it small and invite only our closest friends and family.
We’ve gone through my clothes, on Elin’s request, and chosen clothes for the wedding from what I already own. Apparently my regular style is exactly what Elin’s always pictured for the groom on her wedding day. I don’t even need new shoes. She conceded that my converse or boots would be acceptable.
I’m thrilled and touched that Elin has included my mother in the planning. I know my mom wishes she’d had a daughter to do all those mother-daughter things with and I know that Elin misses her own mother. So it works perfectly.
Just before falling asleep, Elin informed me that my mom is coming to New York to go to the dress appointment with Elin and Callie. She’ll also be staying for a few days to see the show and hang out with Elin.
With my free hand I continue to work on my crossword puzzle. While the other band members prefer to play video games on the bus, I usually read, play guitar or do word games. Elin tends to work on her own thing, plan the wedding, or help Seppo with management work.
We enter the city limits of Atlanta, Georgia around 4:00pm and pull into the venue lot just a few minutes later. Elin is awake and ready to look around the city. It’s been really great to have a new person on tour because it reenergizes all of us. A few years ago we never would have thought to explore the city before the show. We probably would have just sat around. Or, in the past, I would have just drank.
“I can’t believe you guys just want to sit around! I mean, can you even say you’ve seen anything in Atlanta but venues?” she’d asked with her hands on her hips. We’d all conceded defeat and gone for a tour around the city.
It’d been amusing and the city turns out to be rather pretty. It’s incredibly non-European. There is little green and an incredible amount of traffic with little to no public transportation.
When we head back to get ready for the show, Elin and I briefly discuss the wedding.
“Well if we want to, we can have a party in Helsinki celebrating when we get back. That way anyone we don’t invite to the wedding still has some stake in it.” She says reasonably.
Our guest list is rather small consisting only of immediate family, first cousins, and close friends. Her father has agreed on not inviting his business associates and Elin and I have agreed that we don’t need to invite every person we’re friends with.
“If everyone stays on the island, what time will we actually have the ceremony?” I ask, toying with a guitar pick in my fingers.
“Well anytime we want, I guess. What if we have it around 4:00pm and have people arriving around 1:30-2:00 then they can stay over after the ceremony instead of before?” she suggests. She’s hand writing all the invitations and is eager to send them. We figure that because most of our guests are either wealthy or constantly traveling anyway that semi-short notice shouldn’t be a problem.
“4:00 it is.” I agree. She settles in beside me and begins making notes in her planner.
During Dommin’s set, we head into the venue and stand together on the side the stage for a while. She makes a few phone calls during We Are The Fallen and returns about 30 minutes before I have to go on stage.
“Well, it’s all finalized for you mom to come to NYC.” She smiles and allows me to wrap her in my arms. “And I took care of flowers and catering.”
There are aspects of the wedding that she let me back out of. Flowers, tables, catering, etc isn’t really anything I’m interested in.
She leaves the backstage area to go sell merchandise about 15 minutes before we’re meant to start. She kisses me goodbye, wishes me a good show and slips through the door.
Moments before we go on stage, we’re told that there’s a thunderstorm approaching the area and that the power may flicker or even go out. But I’m not really concerned about the audience. We can always bust out an acoustic set. I’m more concerned about Elin. She’d jokingly confided in me once that she’s terrified of storms.
“Hello there,” I say happily, greeting the crowd. I know Elin is in the merchandise booth. “We’ve been warned that there may be a power loss due to an incoming storm. But if that happens, we’ll just have to play an acoustic set.” The crowd cheers and we launch into the set.
The show is great; while we’ve played this venue before, it seems more intimate this time around. The entire tour as seemed more intimate. The fans really seem to be reaching to be a part of what the band is doing. They’re giving us books, handmade gifts, and other goodies. While we’ve always received gifts, they’re becoming more personal, like gifts from friends.
The set goes off without a hitch, the thunder doesn’t ruin our gig. As we’re heading to the bus area to get ready to go, I hear the steady rumble of thunder; it’s close and loud. The lightening is frequent and crisp on the skyline. I climb on the bus, hoping Elin is already on, to find her curled on the couch with a book. Her glasses are perched on her nose and her beautiful tan legs are bare. She’s wearing a pair of short shorts and one of her favorite sweatshirts.
“Don’t stare at me like that.” She says without looking up from Burning in Water Drowning in Flame by Bukowski. “I took a Xanax. That thunder can’t bother me.” She smiles up at me and winks.
“Ah, well as long as you’re okay.” I say with a chuckle and she waves me off the bus.
I head back out to sign autographs for the few loyal fans who stuck around despite the threat of rain. The rain begins to lightly sprinkle as we pose for the last picture. The raindrops are huge and warm. And it brings the distinct smell of wet pavement.
As we leave Atlanta, the rain begins pouring down and runs in rivets down the windows of the bus. Elin continues to read while some of the band goes to bed. I sit up with her for a while and she reads a loud. When I’m about to nod off, she gets up and pulls me along with her to the bunk we share.
“Why is it that you’re afraid of storms? Did you have a bad experience or something?” I ask in a whisper when she’s snuggled in beside me. Elin always sleeps on the outside of the bunk because she’s either up before me, or doesn’t sleep at all.
While I tend to be a bit of an insomniac, having her around helps me sleep.
“I don’t like them because I can’t control them.” She says simply and closes her eyes. She almost always sleeps on her back with her arms tucked under her pillow. Because the bunk is small, one of her legs always seems to cross over my body.
“What?”
“Well think about it. When I drive, I’m in control. When I travel, I’m able to pick and choose where I go, where I sit and what manner of transport I choose. There’s a certain element of fear because you can’t control the pilot or the machinery but you do have choice.” She says without opening her eyes.
“You can’t control other people.” I add, wondering what her response will be.
“No, but you can choose your own attitude and actions towards them which in turn usually yields the response you want.” She says and a slight smile begins to curl on her lip. “For example, I can’t control you,” she rolls onto her side and slips an arm around my waist. “But I can do this,” she kisses me roughly. “And I can usually predict your response.” She winks at me and pulls herself closer into my body.
“Sometimes you’re incredibly frightening.” I chuckle.
“Ah, because you can’t control me.” She says, kisses me softly then rolls back onto her back and goes to sleep.
I gently stroke Elin’s hair while she sleeps. The motion of the bus and her exhaustion always allows her to nap between cities. We’ve been incredibly busy ever since we left Los Angeles.
We quickly moved on from our argument. We had a brief discussion about our previous partners and resolved that we would only speak of our “lists” the one time. I was both surprised and entertained to learn that Elin has had more partners than I have. She’s a beautiful woman and I can only be grateful that she chose an ugly bastard like me.
Ever since we resolved that our past relationships, both sexual and romantic, are behind us and no longer important, we have begun to plan the wedding. Well, the second wedding for us, the first wedding for everyone else.
We decided on June 24, 2010 in Stockholm. Her father offered the use of the island for the ceremony and reception. There are enough beds on the island to accommodate everyone on the guest list. We’ve decided to keep it small and invite only our closest friends and family.
We’ve gone through my clothes, on Elin’s request, and chosen clothes for the wedding from what I already own. Apparently my regular style is exactly what Elin’s always pictured for the groom on her wedding day. I don’t even need new shoes. She conceded that my converse or boots would be acceptable.
I’m thrilled and touched that Elin has included my mother in the planning. I know my mom wishes she’d had a daughter to do all those mother-daughter things with and I know that Elin misses her own mother. So it works perfectly.
Just before falling asleep, Elin informed me that my mom is coming to New York to go to the dress appointment with Elin and Callie. She’ll also be staying for a few days to see the show and hang out with Elin.
With my free hand I continue to work on my crossword puzzle. While the other band members prefer to play video games on the bus, I usually read, play guitar or do word games. Elin tends to work on her own thing, plan the wedding, or help Seppo with management work.
We enter the city limits of Atlanta, Georgia around 4:00pm and pull into the venue lot just a few minutes later. Elin is awake and ready to look around the city. It’s been really great to have a new person on tour because it reenergizes all of us. A few years ago we never would have thought to explore the city before the show. We probably would have just sat around. Or, in the past, I would have just drank.
“I can’t believe you guys just want to sit around! I mean, can you even say you’ve seen anything in Atlanta but venues?” she’d asked with her hands on her hips. We’d all conceded defeat and gone for a tour around the city.
It’d been amusing and the city turns out to be rather pretty. It’s incredibly non-European. There is little green and an incredible amount of traffic with little to no public transportation.
When we head back to get ready for the show, Elin and I briefly discuss the wedding.
“Well if we want to, we can have a party in Helsinki celebrating when we get back. That way anyone we don’t invite to the wedding still has some stake in it.” She says reasonably.
Our guest list is rather small consisting only of immediate family, first cousins, and close friends. Her father has agreed on not inviting his business associates and Elin and I have agreed that we don’t need to invite every person we’re friends with.
“If everyone stays on the island, what time will we actually have the ceremony?” I ask, toying with a guitar pick in my fingers.
“Well anytime we want, I guess. What if we have it around 4:00pm and have people arriving around 1:30-2:00 then they can stay over after the ceremony instead of before?” she suggests. She’s hand writing all the invitations and is eager to send them. We figure that because most of our guests are either wealthy or constantly traveling anyway that semi-short notice shouldn’t be a problem.
“4:00 it is.” I agree. She settles in beside me and begins making notes in her planner.
During Dommin’s set, we head into the venue and stand together on the side the stage for a while. She makes a few phone calls during We Are The Fallen and returns about 30 minutes before I have to go on stage.
“Well, it’s all finalized for you mom to come to NYC.” She smiles and allows me to wrap her in my arms. “And I took care of flowers and catering.”
There are aspects of the wedding that she let me back out of. Flowers, tables, catering, etc isn’t really anything I’m interested in.
She leaves the backstage area to go sell merchandise about 15 minutes before we’re meant to start. She kisses me goodbye, wishes me a good show and slips through the door.
Moments before we go on stage, we’re told that there’s a thunderstorm approaching the area and that the power may flicker or even go out. But I’m not really concerned about the audience. We can always bust out an acoustic set. I’m more concerned about Elin. She’d jokingly confided in me once that she’s terrified of storms.
“Hello there,” I say happily, greeting the crowd. I know Elin is in the merchandise booth. “We’ve been warned that there may be a power loss due to an incoming storm. But if that happens, we’ll just have to play an acoustic set.” The crowd cheers and we launch into the set.
The show is great; while we’ve played this venue before, it seems more intimate this time around. The entire tour as seemed more intimate. The fans really seem to be reaching to be a part of what the band is doing. They’re giving us books, handmade gifts, and other goodies. While we’ve always received gifts, they’re becoming more personal, like gifts from friends.
The set goes off without a hitch, the thunder doesn’t ruin our gig. As we’re heading to the bus area to get ready to go, I hear the steady rumble of thunder; it’s close and loud. The lightening is frequent and crisp on the skyline. I climb on the bus, hoping Elin is already on, to find her curled on the couch with a book. Her glasses are perched on her nose and her beautiful tan legs are bare. She’s wearing a pair of short shorts and one of her favorite sweatshirts.
“Don’t stare at me like that.” She says without looking up from Burning in Water Drowning in Flame by Bukowski. “I took a Xanax. That thunder can’t bother me.” She smiles up at me and winks.
“Ah, well as long as you’re okay.” I say with a chuckle and she waves me off the bus.
I head back out to sign autographs for the few loyal fans who stuck around despite the threat of rain. The rain begins to lightly sprinkle as we pose for the last picture. The raindrops are huge and warm. And it brings the distinct smell of wet pavement.
As we leave Atlanta, the rain begins pouring down and runs in rivets down the windows of the bus. Elin continues to read while some of the band goes to bed. I sit up with her for a while and she reads a loud. When I’m about to nod off, she gets up and pulls me along with her to the bunk we share.
“Why is it that you’re afraid of storms? Did you have a bad experience or something?” I ask in a whisper when she’s snuggled in beside me. Elin always sleeps on the outside of the bunk because she’s either up before me, or doesn’t sleep at all.
While I tend to be a bit of an insomniac, having her around helps me sleep.
“I don’t like them because I can’t control them.” She says simply and closes her eyes. She almost always sleeps on her back with her arms tucked under her pillow. Because the bunk is small, one of her legs always seems to cross over my body.
“What?”
“Well think about it. When I drive, I’m in control. When I travel, I’m able to pick and choose where I go, where I sit and what manner of transport I choose. There’s a certain element of fear because you can’t control the pilot or the machinery but you do have choice.” She says without opening her eyes.
“You can’t control other people.” I add, wondering what her response will be.
“No, but you can choose your own attitude and actions towards them which in turn usually yields the response you want.” She says and a slight smile begins to curl on her lip. “For example, I can’t control you,” she rolls onto her side and slips an arm around my waist. “But I can do this,” she kisses me roughly. “And I can usually predict your response.” She winks at me and pulls herself closer into my body.
“Sometimes you’re incredibly frightening.” I chuckle.
“Ah, because you can’t control me.” She says, kisses me softly then rolls back onto her back and goes to sleep.
♠ ♠ ♠
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