Rakastan
All That Lies Between is a Blur
As soon as Bam came to Finland, Ville was in more tabloids. The two were photographed having dinner, out at a club, and then wandering through Helsinki. It was like they were dating, if I didn’t feel so jilted, I would laugh. I replayed every instance in my head. We weren’t dating, we were just friends, with kissing and cuddling. He never struck me as a fling kind of man, not that I expected a relationship, but what had I expected. My separation had been 12 days, but it felt like a thousand. What had I done? The girl I knew nothing about, google was unhelpful and even the photographers hadn’t caught her name. My last two weeks had consisted of:
Day 1: Wondering what the hell had happened and writing 4000 scenarios on post its that became a bright blue wall on my apartment.
Day 2: Shopping with Taylor and Sen and not mentioning Ville.
Day 3: Cracked to both of them about the situation after my frustration with my curiosity got the best of me.
Day 4: Sen walks by his house several time while in the area on a commission. Sees nothing.
Day 5: Ice cream and sleeping consume my life.
Day 6: my 4 had habitation of my apartment begins.
Day 7: No calls, no notes, no visits.
Day 8: Cal calls, asking where the poem is.
Day 9: I finish my half of the poem and submit it.
Day 10: My reclusion ends and I wander out to get tea and a bagel.
Day 11: I’ve lost 3 pounds.
Day 12: Taylor calls worried.
Day 12 continued: Today.
Coffee calls to me, I haven’t been sleeping.
The café isn’t too far away but going there reminds me of Ville and where we first met. I decided I was going to be strong and forget him, or try to. I chanced upon a library café walking back from class and figured I would check it out. Tomorrow would be Day 1, refresh.
“Can I take your order?” the girl asks in Finnish.
“A black espresso,” I say in broken Finnish.
She smiles politely and gives the order to the servant behind her before helping the next customer.
My Finnish learning has taken a backside. My stomach growls. I physically haven’t been able to eat anything and tea and coffee are all that sustain me.
I take out my cell phone.
Taylor answers on the first ring.
“Hello?” she asks.
“Hey, what are you doing?” I ask her.
“Grabbing lunch with some co-workers,” she mutters, sounding bored.
“Me too, well coffee,” I say.
I look around the café and decide to sit upstairs near the books.
“Are you eating?” she asks.
“I suppose I could grab something,” I say to her.
“Listen it just got incredibly busy here, some ruckus. I’ll call you back in a few minutes,” she says and hangs up.
My stomach growls again.
“Black espresso for Jac,” the waitress calls from below.
I descend the stairs to grab my drink and pass the dessert display on the way.
“Oh bloody, screw it,” I mutter and grab my drink but go back to the display case.
Scones, cakes, and tarts decorate the window glass.
The waitress from before looks at me. I realize my face is pressed against the window display.
“Can I have three lemon tarts,” I order.
The tarts are miniature and not exactly fulfilling but at least it’s better than espresso. I decide to go back upstairs and situate myself in a comfortable chair. Along the way I pick up a news paper and settle into the chair with the paper on my lap. I take a sip of my espresso and a nibble of the tart. Blah! Not the best combination. A guy sitting an aisle over looks up and shakes his head. I’m so tired, and just want to sleep. Before I know it, my eyelids are fluttering and then closing. In the distance my phone goes off once, twice, three times, but I have succumbed to sleep already.
In my dreams he haunts me.
“Jaclyn,” he’s calling but I’m running away.
I’ve decided I can’t and won’t go back.
“Miss, miss,” someone breaks through my sleep barrier.
“Yeah?” I mutter opening my eyes expecting to be in my room.
“We’re closing,” she says with a smile.
I look around and notice the lights have been dimmed. I grab the tarts and duck back out into the winter snow.
I realize I’ve left my phone behind and run back to get it, but find the door locked. I start pounding on it, until an employee comes and unlocks it. I explain the situation and dash upstairs to grab my phone sitting on the table.
On the way back downstairs, the lights are completely shut off and the employee is gone. I’m about to duck back outside when the magazine rack catches my eye.
It’s that girl, she’s on a cover.
I look behind me before I pick up the magazine and head outside heading back home.
Once I take the stairs up to my apartment and am inside, I allow myself to read the article.
Apparently, she’s an old flame of Ville’s before he was famous and close friends with Bam and the gang.
The interview talks about her recent back to the city and how she’s finding herself getting along. My eyes scan the same line over and over again; “It’s been really great, staying with Ville definitely helps me readjust to being back home.”
My nerves are on fire as I throw the magazine against the wall and then the great plug on my emotions is released and I drop every curse word known to man. I strip off my trench coat and slide off my jeans and shoes. In my long shirt, I try to duplicate her poses all the while sarcastically mocking her. My mascara has run and black streaks glide across my face from where my fingers tried wiping the tears. My phone bizzes again but I ignore it. The doorbell rings, and without thought I march to the door.
“I’m not home and even if I were, I don’t want to be bothered. You can either leave a message or don’t come back,” I say my anger just begging to be released.
“I did call to no answer and I’m not going back to Helsinki in this weather anytime soon,” says the voice on the other side of the door.
In disbelief I unlock the latch and open the door to reveal Ville standing there. He steps back and I glance at the hall mirror. My hair is in a messy bun, my eyes have black smudges underneath, tears are still cascading down my cheeks, and my shirt comes just to my knees.
“You have really great timing,” I say to him and don’t move out of the way.
“Do you have company?” he asks.
“Yes, as you can see,” I say and look at him dead on.
“Well I’d love to let you continue your woman party by yourself cursing but I’m cold and I’m coming in,” he says and brushes past me like I weigh nothing.
He eyes sweep over my apartment. The crumbled magazine lies in the living room, two coffee mugs sit on the table, and the light and heap of clothes from my bedroom decorate the mirror.
“Fashion party?” he asks.
Before I can answer his eyes land upon the magazine and he bends over to pick it up. His eyes don’t alight to any emotion.
My stomach growls and my eyes are tired. The last thing I want to do is sit and talk with him.
While he takes a seat, I go to grab my phone.
3 missed calls from Taylor and 5 voicemails.
I decide to make Ville wait and press play.
“Jac, why aren’t you picking up? Are you okay? It’s been six hours and no word. I’ll send someone over, don’t make me,”- taylor.
“Jac, what’s going on? So Bam was here with you guessed it, Ville. I guess I looked uneasy because Ville asked what was wrong and I mentioned how I hadn’t heard from you. He’s coming over, don’t murder me,”- Taylor.
“hey, it’s me. Pick up,” –Ville
“I saw you walking down Vahla Street. I’ll be there in ten, answer,” –Ville.
“I know you’re home. Answer your phone,” – Ville.
I removed the make-up from my eyes and took a shower again. A good hour had passed so I ventured back into the living room. No one was there.
“Hah, he left,” I muttered, almost glad.
“You have little faith in me,” Ville says from behind me closing his phone.
“Where did you?” I begin to ask.
“The streets are pretty bad, I’ll have to stay the night here,” he says nonchalantly.
“Fine,” I say and disappear back into my room. I re enter the living room with blankets and a pillow and throw them on the couch.
“I already have my sleeping spot,” he says defiantly and lays down on my bed. I laugh at him and take the couch.
“You’re going to be cold. You have like zero heat in that half of your apartment,” he informs me.
He’s right. Even with a blanket I’m freezing. I begrudgingly walk back into my room and throw the blankets on the ground.
“Are you afraid to sleep in the same bed as me? We’ve done it before,” he says sarcastically.
“That’s not the point,” I say back and settle my pillow on the ground.
“You’re amusing,” he says and leans up to watch me.
I grab his arm and pull him off and make a leap for my bed, spreading my legs and arms so he can’t come back up.
Ville stands up and removes his shirt. I gasp at him.
“What are you doing?” I ask him. He’s too frighteningly gorgeous.
“Body warmth!” he exclaims with a wicked grin and plops next to me.
My arms don’t make a movement so he starts to tickle me, forcing my relentless surrender.
The next thing I know, he’s pulling me close and throwing a blanket over me.
“You’re bones,” he says poking my ribs. My stomach growls in response. My cheeks blush and I try to push Ville away but his grip is strong. It’s not fair, I won’t surrender this easily.
“I’m cooking in the morning,” he declares and forces me to face him. He stares at me before telling me to go to sleep. My eyes can’t fight it and I close my eyes, drifting off. The last thing I feel is Ville’s breath on my forehead.
Day 1: Wondering what the hell had happened and writing 4000 scenarios on post its that became a bright blue wall on my apartment.
Day 2: Shopping with Taylor and Sen and not mentioning Ville.
Day 3: Cracked to both of them about the situation after my frustration with my curiosity got the best of me.
Day 4: Sen walks by his house several time while in the area on a commission. Sees nothing.
Day 5: Ice cream and sleeping consume my life.
Day 6: my 4 had habitation of my apartment begins.
Day 7: No calls, no notes, no visits.
Day 8: Cal calls, asking where the poem is.
Day 9: I finish my half of the poem and submit it.
Day 10: My reclusion ends and I wander out to get tea and a bagel.
Day 11: I’ve lost 3 pounds.
Day 12: Taylor calls worried.
Day 12 continued: Today.
Coffee calls to me, I haven’t been sleeping.
The café isn’t too far away but going there reminds me of Ville and where we first met. I decided I was going to be strong and forget him, or try to. I chanced upon a library café walking back from class and figured I would check it out. Tomorrow would be Day 1, refresh.
“Can I take your order?” the girl asks in Finnish.
“A black espresso,” I say in broken Finnish.
She smiles politely and gives the order to the servant behind her before helping the next customer.
My Finnish learning has taken a backside. My stomach growls. I physically haven’t been able to eat anything and tea and coffee are all that sustain me.
I take out my cell phone.
Taylor answers on the first ring.
“Hello?” she asks.
“Hey, what are you doing?” I ask her.
“Grabbing lunch with some co-workers,” she mutters, sounding bored.
“Me too, well coffee,” I say.
I look around the café and decide to sit upstairs near the books.
“Are you eating?” she asks.
“I suppose I could grab something,” I say to her.
“Listen it just got incredibly busy here, some ruckus. I’ll call you back in a few minutes,” she says and hangs up.
My stomach growls again.
“Black espresso for Jac,” the waitress calls from below.
I descend the stairs to grab my drink and pass the dessert display on the way.
“Oh bloody, screw it,” I mutter and grab my drink but go back to the display case.
Scones, cakes, and tarts decorate the window glass.
The waitress from before looks at me. I realize my face is pressed against the window display.
“Can I have three lemon tarts,” I order.
The tarts are miniature and not exactly fulfilling but at least it’s better than espresso. I decide to go back upstairs and situate myself in a comfortable chair. Along the way I pick up a news paper and settle into the chair with the paper on my lap. I take a sip of my espresso and a nibble of the tart. Blah! Not the best combination. A guy sitting an aisle over looks up and shakes his head. I’m so tired, and just want to sleep. Before I know it, my eyelids are fluttering and then closing. In the distance my phone goes off once, twice, three times, but I have succumbed to sleep already.
In my dreams he haunts me.
“Jaclyn,” he’s calling but I’m running away.
I’ve decided I can’t and won’t go back.
“Miss, miss,” someone breaks through my sleep barrier.
“Yeah?” I mutter opening my eyes expecting to be in my room.
“We’re closing,” she says with a smile.
I look around and notice the lights have been dimmed. I grab the tarts and duck back out into the winter snow.
I realize I’ve left my phone behind and run back to get it, but find the door locked. I start pounding on it, until an employee comes and unlocks it. I explain the situation and dash upstairs to grab my phone sitting on the table.
On the way back downstairs, the lights are completely shut off and the employee is gone. I’m about to duck back outside when the magazine rack catches my eye.
It’s that girl, she’s on a cover.
I look behind me before I pick up the magazine and head outside heading back home.
Once I take the stairs up to my apartment and am inside, I allow myself to read the article.
Apparently, she’s an old flame of Ville’s before he was famous and close friends with Bam and the gang.
The interview talks about her recent back to the city and how she’s finding herself getting along. My eyes scan the same line over and over again; “It’s been really great, staying with Ville definitely helps me readjust to being back home.”
My nerves are on fire as I throw the magazine against the wall and then the great plug on my emotions is released and I drop every curse word known to man. I strip off my trench coat and slide off my jeans and shoes. In my long shirt, I try to duplicate her poses all the while sarcastically mocking her. My mascara has run and black streaks glide across my face from where my fingers tried wiping the tears. My phone bizzes again but I ignore it. The doorbell rings, and without thought I march to the door.
“I’m not home and even if I were, I don’t want to be bothered. You can either leave a message or don’t come back,” I say my anger just begging to be released.
“I did call to no answer and I’m not going back to Helsinki in this weather anytime soon,” says the voice on the other side of the door.
In disbelief I unlock the latch and open the door to reveal Ville standing there. He steps back and I glance at the hall mirror. My hair is in a messy bun, my eyes have black smudges underneath, tears are still cascading down my cheeks, and my shirt comes just to my knees.
“You have really great timing,” I say to him and don’t move out of the way.
“Do you have company?” he asks.
“Yes, as you can see,” I say and look at him dead on.
“Well I’d love to let you continue your woman party by yourself cursing but I’m cold and I’m coming in,” he says and brushes past me like I weigh nothing.
He eyes sweep over my apartment. The crumbled magazine lies in the living room, two coffee mugs sit on the table, and the light and heap of clothes from my bedroom decorate the mirror.
“Fashion party?” he asks.
Before I can answer his eyes land upon the magazine and he bends over to pick it up. His eyes don’t alight to any emotion.
My stomach growls and my eyes are tired. The last thing I want to do is sit and talk with him.
While he takes a seat, I go to grab my phone.
3 missed calls from Taylor and 5 voicemails.
I decide to make Ville wait and press play.
“Jac, why aren’t you picking up? Are you okay? It’s been six hours and no word. I’ll send someone over, don’t make me,”- taylor.
“Jac, what’s going on? So Bam was here with you guessed it, Ville. I guess I looked uneasy because Ville asked what was wrong and I mentioned how I hadn’t heard from you. He’s coming over, don’t murder me,”- Taylor.
“hey, it’s me. Pick up,” –Ville
“I saw you walking down Vahla Street. I’ll be there in ten, answer,” –Ville.
“I know you’re home. Answer your phone,” – Ville.
I removed the make-up from my eyes and took a shower again. A good hour had passed so I ventured back into the living room. No one was there.
“Hah, he left,” I muttered, almost glad.
“You have little faith in me,” Ville says from behind me closing his phone.
“Where did you?” I begin to ask.
“The streets are pretty bad, I’ll have to stay the night here,” he says nonchalantly.
“Fine,” I say and disappear back into my room. I re enter the living room with blankets and a pillow and throw them on the couch.
“I already have my sleeping spot,” he says defiantly and lays down on my bed. I laugh at him and take the couch.
“You’re going to be cold. You have like zero heat in that half of your apartment,” he informs me.
He’s right. Even with a blanket I’m freezing. I begrudgingly walk back into my room and throw the blankets on the ground.
“Are you afraid to sleep in the same bed as me? We’ve done it before,” he says sarcastically.
“That’s not the point,” I say back and settle my pillow on the ground.
“You’re amusing,” he says and leans up to watch me.
I grab his arm and pull him off and make a leap for my bed, spreading my legs and arms so he can’t come back up.
Ville stands up and removes his shirt. I gasp at him.
“What are you doing?” I ask him. He’s too frighteningly gorgeous.
“Body warmth!” he exclaims with a wicked grin and plops next to me.
My arms don’t make a movement so he starts to tickle me, forcing my relentless surrender.
The next thing I know, he’s pulling me close and throwing a blanket over me.
“You’re bones,” he says poking my ribs. My stomach growls in response. My cheeks blush and I try to push Ville away but his grip is strong. It’s not fair, I won’t surrender this easily.
“I’m cooking in the morning,” he declares and forces me to face him. He stares at me before telling me to go to sleep. My eyes can’t fight it and I close my eyes, drifting off. The last thing I feel is Ville’s breath on my forehead.