Love in Theory and Practice: Chapters 1-13

New York City is my least favorite city on the planet. The rush, congestion and dirt really gets to me and aggravates my already heightened anxiety.

Only a day after Ville’s departure from Los Angeles I was on a plane myself, bound for this god forsaken city. While most people argue that it is “The City” I most certainly disagree. While I have to admit that it is a hot spot and an excellent breading ground for art and artistic vision, it also seems like a superficial, money-grabbing, self-centered city. It seems to breathe all on its own.

I prefer a city that sleeps even if I can’t.

As usual, I’m missing Ville. I’ve been in meetings all day long and they managed to keep my mind from wandering to thoughts of him but now that I am alone in my hotel room and the lights of the city keep the sky lit like midday, I’m lonely.

How I ever convinced myself that a long distance relationship would be easy just because you love someone is something I’ll never figure out. We fought viciously before he left LA over whether or not I should move. His argument was that I spend so little time at home anyway, why does it matter where home is? My argument was that I am my own person and don’t want limits placed on me by other people.

I’m a liar, really. I am just too afraid of what could happen to me if he decided to leave me. Sure, in Helsinki I’d be close to my brothers and my father again but I’d also be dangerously close to memories of spirits that I am not strong enough to cope with. Not to mention I’d have to go back on my anti-depressants to live through winters in Scandinavia. Unfortunately my pride doesn’t allow me to tell Ville the truth about why I’m hesitant.

…with a hole in the heart I was forced to ride in morning traffic…somebody, somebody tell me it won’t be long, because a horse is not a home.

I’m listening to Miike Snow on my laptop. I have Skype up, hoping he’ll sign on and let me apologize. Around 2am I finally slip into sleep.

“Mama, är du hemma?” I call into the house. I’m puzzled by the fact that I am wearing my school uniform and carrying my school bag. Wasn’t I just in a hotel room in New York?

When I don’t hear a reply I move deeper in the house. I drop my school things on a chair in the kitchen and call for my Mama again. None of my siblings are home yet because they’re still at school. My teacher sent me home early because I was coming down with a temperature. I live close enough to school that I could walk home in only a matter of minutes.

I push open the door to my parents’ bedroom. I can hear the dripping faucet in the bathroom but there is a metallic smell in the air that makes me nauseous.

“Mama?” I call again before pushing open the bathroom door…

The ringing on my Skype account wakes me just before I re-experience the moment in my life that changed all my plans.

It’s Ville.

“Hello,” I say after pressing the ‘accept call’ button.

“Hello,” he says huskily. “Did I wake you?”

“Yes, but I have to thank you for it. I wasn’t having a very nice dream.” I say through a yawn.

“Were you looking for your mother again?” he asks. I can tell he’s still angry with me based on the tone of his voice but I can also hear concern.

“What are you talking about?” I ask, playing dumb.

“The other night, in your sleep, you kept calling for your mother.” He says with a shrug.

“Oh,” I say and begin toying with my hair.

“Do you want to tell me about it or would you rather tell me the real reason you won’t move to Finland?” he asks with bitterness in his voice.

I sigh. It’s now or never. For some reason I just know that if I don’t push myself out of my comfort zone right here and now, I’ll lose Ville forever.

“I don’t want to move back because I’m afraid. I’m afraid of the things I’ll have to relive and deal with and I’m afraid of you.” I say in one breath.

“First, how can you be afraid of me? And second, how can you be afraid of a place? I just can’t imagine you being afraid of anything.” He says with a smile. It’s a smile my soul had been craving since our argument.

“Well, Ville,” I begin with another sigh. “If I move back I’ll have to take on more medication. I can’t handle the winters and will have to go back on anti-depressants. If I move back my brothers and my papa will try to get me to go to our old house. And if I move back I’ll be putting a lot of faith in the fact that you won’t grow tired or resentful of me in the future.”

He sits silently, as if he knew I wasn’t finished. With yet another sigh I continue.

“Ville, my mother committed suicide and I found her with slit wrists in her bathtub when I was 17 years old. It was January and she’d been struggling with seasonal depression for years. She’d found out she had cancer and decided she couldn’t go on anymore. I haven’t been inside that house since. I moved away that summer.”

His eyes widen and he goes to speak but I motion for him to remain quiet.

“I have the same seasonal depression she did and my Papa fears for me every time I step foot in Scandinavia in the winter. I haven’t been back for longer than a week or two and am not sure how I will react to living there again. And I’m afraid of you because I’ve never done anything remotely this important for anyone other than myself in my entire life. You’d be the first person I put anything of myself aside for. That’s a big deal.”

“Elin,” he says quietly. “I can’t ask you to do that. I’m sorry I ever asked it of you. I had no idea.” My heart breaks with the sadness in his voice.

“Let’s talk about it when I’m in town for New Years, okay? Give me some time to think.” He nods slowly.

We talk casually about what we’re up to. Ville is working on interviews and album pre-release events. He’ll be traveling around Europe during the next few weeks. I tell him about my project in New York and about my paper on drapery in sculpture from Hellenistic Greece through Baroque. I notice him hastily writing something down while I’m talking but think nothing of it. He’s always scribbling down notes.

When we sign off, we say ‘I love you’ and each go on to our separate agendas. After telling him about my mama, I almost feel like a weight had lifted from my shoulders and chest. I hadn’t said it aloud since the day it happened; I hadn’t even told my Papa. All of the psychologists Papa paid for couldn’t get it out of me. Nils had never been able to get me to speak about it.

If that isn’t sign, I don’t know what is.

I sink into the sheets with my mind made up. If anyone deserves an unselfish act from me, it is Ville. I’m going to move to Finland and I’m going to be with him.

I will not and cannot live without him.

After my conversation with Elin, I feel like a ton of bricks has been laid upon my shoulders. I cannot believe not only the tragedy that she’s seen but also that I could not ask her to come here knowing about it.

I finally understand why she was looking for her mother. She must have come home, called out and when she didn’t get a response, went looking for her mother. I can’t even begin to comprehend the horror of finding a beloved family member like that.

Any anger I felt over our argument in Los Angeles has dissipated. All the things we said were just ruses to keep our true feelings hidden. She wasn’t ready to let me in and tell me what were her real motivations and I wasn’t willing to tell her just how much I need her out of fear.

I fall asleep on the sofa, still tired from the jet-lag.

“Elin?” I call, coming in through the front door. There are no sounds in the house and I call out to her again. She should be home and I’m confused. Her car is outside and her keys are on the table by the door.

I shrug off my coat and pull my hat off my head. Flurries of tiny snowflakes fall to the floor. I kick off my shoes and line them up beside her tiny little boots.

I take the stairs two at a time, thinking that maybe she’s warming up in the shower or bath. I can hear the shower running but I can smell a metallic smell that rattles my senses.

I’m roused from my dream by my cell phone. There is panic in my chest and a lump in my throat left over from the dream and I’m almost afraid I’ll need my inhaler. It’s my mom on the line and I answer with a renewed appreciation and gratitude for her.

After speaking with her, something clicks in my head and my mind is made up.

My heart and my future happiness rest in Elin’s tiny, beautiful hands. If she chooses to come here I will know how much it means and will have to live up to her expectations of me. If she does not come, at least I will know it’s not that she doesn’t care for me. If Elin decides that moving back here is too difficult, I will move to Los Angeles.

I sit back against the sofa and begin mentally cataloguing my things. What will I keep? What will not be worth the trip to California?

I will not and cannot live without her.