Rakastan

The call I’ve ignored is not from Sen, Euri, or anyone from the house for that matter. It’s from Cal. He leaves me a message asking if I’d meet up with him this coming Wednesday to discuss a project he has in mind. I don’t want to wait past the weekend, so I call him, except he doesn’t answer.
I lurch the phone back onto my bed and plop down into my chair. Today was going to be a boring day. I almost think about heading back up to Sen and them, when my phone rings unexpectedly. Usually if you left Cal a message, he didn’t get back to you for awhile.
“Hello?” I ask.
“Jac, darling,” Cal says smoothly and I can tell he’s anxious about something.
“What’s up?”
“Would you want to do me a favor?”
I pause. Cal guaranteed me I wouldn’t have to promote anything, but then again coming here didn’t seem like a no string attached policy.
“I want to provide you with an opportunity to showcase your talent. You’ll be working with one of the finest lyricist this country has ever seen,”
I cut him off.
“Who am I showcasing to? Cal, I don’t write music or songs, I just write.”
“This isn’t a song, it’s going to be a poem in lyric form so to say. I want it to invigorate some holiday cheer into this country,” he says with a pleading tone.
“Cal, Finland cheers all on its own. I admire Finland, I’d be willing to write a piece for the holiday, but don’t make it the grandeur of the showcase,” I plead right back.
“This is the only piece I’m doing. I ditched the book idea, I’m inspired by you and by him. I think after you spend a few weeks here, you’ll be influenced to write. What better way to stake a name for yourself then here and now? Jac, I know you don’t seek fame or the carry ons of it, but you have a talent that can not be hidden,” Cal says breathlessly.
“Listen I will only do this on three conditions. The first being that this is soley creative, enabling me to write about the culture, etc, mood during the festive season. Second, I do not want any promotion. Third, you’ll need to fill me in on some of the traditions, so I see everything and can experience it.,” I list off to him.
“Deal,” Cal says.
“Can you meet me Wednesday? I’ll have the lyricist come by too,” Cal asks.
“Sure,” I agree and then Cal promptly hangs up before I can ask another question.
But after he does, I have a million, the forefront being, who is the lyricist?
Saturday slowly turns into Monday, and then Wednesday is at my door before I know it.
I hadn’t told anyone but Euri about my meeting. She rushes after her thesis meeting to help me get ready.
“Assuming this is a respected Fin, you must adhere to a conventional style,’ she mumbles, pulling all my clothes out of my suitcase.
She throws my black dress pants at me with my black blouse.
“Is it too much black?” I ask staring down at it.
“No, now go change,” she pushed me into the bedroom we share and shuts the door.
Once I’m done she places glasses on me.
“Euri, I don’t wear glasses,” I say and give them back to her.
“Fine,” she mumbles in defeat and stares at me.
She tries throwing jewelry on me, but I stop her.
When we’ve settled on my conservative look, I step into the parlor to go see my reflection. I am wearing the outfit and the black does look sharp. My Finnish bronze heart necklace hangs around my neck. My brown hair rests straight with a slight wave past my shoulders. The black heels are low since I’m 5’8 and I don’t want to tower over him if he’s short. I approve and so does Euri.
“How old do you suppose he is?” Euri asks and buttons up my collar all the way to my neck and buttons down my sleeves so they cuff around my wrist.
“Maybe 80s,” I reply with a nervous stare.
“You’ll be great,” Euri reassures me and pats my back.
I have to get going, and depart from campus. As soon as Euri is out of sight, I unbutton my collar and button my sleeves at the elbow, in the fashion the shirt is supposed to be worn. I know I should be conservative, but Euri’s handling of the shirt had me choking and stifled.
I realize in my hurry, that I have made two major mistakes.
I am walking so heels are not a good idea in snow.
I have no coat, not even a blazer.
I can’t turn back, I’ll be late.
The streets aren’t covered with too much snow, so I haven’t slipped yet, although it is beyond freezing and my arms are chilled.
I ‘m two blocks from the small grill&bar, but already I can see Cal’s bright blue blazer flapping in the wind. His suv lays parked on the road and he notices me in the distance.
“Jac,” he calls when I’m almost there.
I hurry myself to get there, except I stumble and fall. I pick myself up and try wiping the snow off of me. My pants are going to be soaked. My shoes are filled with ice and slush as I try clearing them. I can hear Cal’s laughter as he tries to suppress it.
“Are you alright?” he asks when I’m outside the café.
“Sure, I suppose,” I answer glaring at him.
My reflection is tinted from the restaurant windows, I look like I dumped water on myself.
“Come in, warm up,” Cal says and takes my arm.
He leads me to the back of the venue where three drinks are already laid out.
“I ordered you a cocoa,” Cal says and offers me the seat across from him.
The other two drinks look like coffee.
“Ah here he comes now, back from his call,” Cal announces and I wonder if I should get up to shake this man’s hand.
The man approaching has white hair and is dressed in black like me.
I can’t help but feel an immediate fondness for him.
Before the man comes directly into view, Cal calls him out.
“Seppo, here did you get your drink from the bar?” Cal asks.
My eyes hurt.
Seppo?
I laugh a little at my sudden conclusion. If I let myself think of what it wants, I’ll envision this man as the actual Seppo. But Seppo could be a common Finnish name.
Seppo comes and once he’s clearly into my sight, I realize this is no illusion. I suddenly want to throw up or flee, my nerves are shaking so bad.

Seppo sits opposite of me, so that he is sitting next to Cal.
I didn’t realize Seppo wrote.
I stare at the both of them waiting for discussion, but it’s silent. The other coffee on the table strikes me. I count with my fingers, one, two, three, four. Seppo notices.
“I’m sorry for his tardiness, he had to take a phone call quick,’ he announces as if I’ve met him before and we’ve built up a common acquaintance.
Seppo is sitting in front of me, this is a dream.
I realize my hands are shaking, visibly and Cal looks at me.
“Don’t be nervous, you’re the prodigy here,” he says with a smile.
“Prodigy?” I manage to ask.
“My client greatly respects your work and I must say any Finn you ask loves Northern Lights,” Seppo says.
“My poem?” I ask incredulously.
“Yeah,” Cal answers.
“Is that why I’m here?” I ask.
“Well in part how I found you, but also because I believe you have a gift that should be known,” Cal remarks and settles himself back against a chair.
“Is it really known?” I ask.
Back home, my poem hadn’t been read. I had submitted it in a Finland contest, not thinking anything, knowing my chances were slim, because I wasn’t from Finland.
“Yes. It should be released back in your country. Everyone should know, that a new writer has come upon the literary stage,” Seppo says with a smile.
Blow by blow, my mind is reeling. How can I possibly be that good?
“If you’ll excuse me a second,” I say standing. My nerves are a mix of anxiety and at the same time ready to radiate a smile.
As I slide out of the booth, Cal looks worried.
“Just a lot to take in,” I say with a smile.
I walk down the little corridor to the bathroom to splash water on my face. My smile can’t be contained now. I’m known. Finland. They love me here. I love them, I love this whole country.
I leave the bathroom to go thank Cal and Seppo, when Seppo’s comment about his client repeats in my ear. Seppo must represent other clients besides who I’m thinking of. I start to stop in my walk. The back door is just a few feet away, I could peer outside, see if it’s really him or not. I glance at the booth where Seppo and Cal are in a discussion. If it’s him, he’ll be out there. I take a deep breath in. As I approach the door, it feels like a dream. A dream where you wonder what’s behind this door, only to wake up before you can find out. I’m being quick now and rash in my actions. I open the door a tiny sliver to peek out. All I see is snow, so I open the door more, till I am outside. The door closes behind me. I look around, there is no one. This is a dream from which I will awake, I tell myself. I close my eyes and count to ten. When I open them again, I’m still here, with the snow falling onto my head.

Ville’s POV
I end my call and go see where Seppo has run to. He has gotten his drink and sits with Cal.
“is she here?” I ask.
“Yes, went out back I think to get some fresh air,” Cal replies.
He explains the scenario that has just happened.
“Do you know the door locks?” I ask.
“No,” Cal replies and gets up to go check on her.
“I’ll do it,” I say, feeling the need for a cigarette from my call.
“Alright,” Cal says and sits back down.
I find the back of the restaurant again and see the door move. She must be realizing its locked. Americans never ceased to amuse me and I’m reminded of Bam. I should call him.
I go to press on the door, as the white light of outside blinds me momentarily.

Jac’s POV
It’s cold and bitter out. I try the door but it won’t budge. I can’t go around the building as the back is fenced in.
“Fuck,” I curse and breath on my bare hands to keep them warm.
The cold water I splashed on my face, has become a tiny icicle, frozen to my skin.
As I try the door again, it budges, as if someone is pushing from the inside.
The door gives way and I collide with someone who has come out.
I’m not prepared for the collision and my heels slip on the pavement. I go to place my hand on the ground to get up, when I notice it’s snow and I’m afraid my hand might painfully stick to the pavement. Before I can think of what to do, a hand reaches down to me. I take it without hesitation and brush my hair away from my eyes.
“Thank-you,” I say to the person as I shake off the snow on my pants and lift my head.
My pupils freeze, all breathing goes out of my lungs.
Casually balancing a cigarette between his fingers and looking at me, is Ville Valo.
I pinch myself. Once, twice, three times. I close my eyes, I open them.
He has bent his head a little to stare at me.
“Did you fall too hard?” he asks and takes his free hand to brush some snow off my arm. I am literally a stone statue.
His question bears a double irony and my smile curves at the end. This is the best dream I’ve imagined.
“You should go in,” he says and goes to try the door remembering it’s locked.
I still haven’t responded. I’m waiting for my alarm to go off. He laughs then and I snap out of it.
“Great we’re both locked out,” he says.
His laugh is nothing my dreams can imitate, I’m really somehow surreally in the presence of Ville Valo.
“Do you want my coat? We might be here awhile,” he says.
“You’ll be cold then,” I unexpectedly rationalize.
“Good point. Well I suppose we both can’t freeze, so only one thing to do, I apologize,” he says.
I look at him, not hearing any of his words. I’m trying to make sense of this, but any sense goes out the window into the Turku air when Ville opens his coat and wraps myself in his embrace. My body is flooded with the warmth coming from him. I instinctively, pull myself closer, like my body has gone into survival mode. My senses are relishing this dream, and my heart is shattering with the epitome of this fantasy, it won’t ever be this real again, and it’s like I’m finally reaching that pinnacle before I have to let him go, that’s what I came here for right?
Tears start to descend from my eyes, I realize they are falling on his hands.
“Are we under rain?” he asks and moves us. He looks down at me.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“I wish I could freeze my happiness,” I say and try wiping my tears. My arms are locked in his hug, so he reaches up and wipes them away.
“Your happiness is going to get bigger, once everyone reads what else you’ve written,” he replies.
I start to think about what he’s just said. He misinterpreted my words. Like a lightning bolt, reality crashes in. This isn’t a dream, I’m not hallucinating, I can feel him.
My body jerks back and I stare at him.
“Sorry for the informality, but I’m cold,” I say and press myself right back in his arms.