Status: Live

Holding Hands Won't Be Enough

Chapter 82: Signature Red


Ville stirred to the sound of bird song, he pulled his stiff arm from his face and apprehensively opened his eyes that were sticky with sleep. He frowned realising he was outside; he could’t recall coming out to the bench, let alone laying down to sleep on it. As he moved his right arm to push himself up he knocked something to the ground, the crackling thud of hard plastic irritating to his tender brain. Groggily he sat up, the lined throw blanket from Milly’s favourite armchair falling to his lap from his chest. He pushed his hair back and looked down to see the velvet pillow from her armchair resting where his head had been - he definitely didn’t remember bringing these out, he’d never had that kind of drunken forethought for his comfort in his life. He stretched his legs out in front of him, his foot brushing on the object that had fallen, a water bottle, that he gladly picked up and emptied down his throat. He looked at his feet, stretched out and ghastly pale in the sunlight, though the rest of his body shaded - it was then he noticed the parasol, perfectly placed, hiding every inch of the bench from the sun. He stood and plodded inside, needing to piss and get more water. He was met with the mess of the night prior and the argument with Milly came flooding back like a shitty movie you don’t ever want to re-watch. “It shouldn’t be this hard to love you” haunted him. He caught sight of his reflection in the mirrored wall adjacent to the mixing desk and he looked terrible; like a husk of a person. His ribs were bruised from falling, he didn’t remember when or where or how, as he inspected the marks in the mirror he noticed a red mark on the inside of his left arm; he looked down and rubbed his finger over it, his hazy morning vision not allowing him to see it clearly - it smudged slightly as he touched it. He looked back up at himself in the mirror before turning and walking straight back outside and looking at where he had woken up. The throw tucked over him, the pillow under his head, the parasol protecting him from the sun, the delicate lipstick kiss on his arm - Milly. He struggled to understand to correlation of these kind acts to the argument they had had for a moment before finally getting it; she did love him, of course she did, this went beyond love, she didn’t like him anymore and that hit home so much harder than the thought of her finding it hard to love him, because acts like this showed him she always would. Even after being horrid to her, she still kissed him and made sure he was okay before leaving the house. He felt himself panic, like his heart was spiralling out of his arse.. He didn’t know how to fix what was happening to them, what was happening to him and why he was being like this. The only person he knew that could help was Jyrki, whom he promptly called for advise. He turned up less than an hour later, with large coffees and food to line Ville’s stomach.

“I’m fucking everything up.” Ville sighed, sitting down, his elbows on his knees with his head in his hands. Jyrki joined him on the bench Ville had woken up on, standing the pillow on it’s side against the bench arm besides him.

“What is everything?” Jyrki asked, interested in Ville’s ambiguous statement. He knew full well that they were having problems, he could see it in Milly’s eyes and hear it in Ville’s voice whenever they were out together in public view of strangers or friends, the past few months they had both become tired, short and distant to each other - he could see through their facade by the way they would longingly look at each other when the other wasn’t looking. They were both sad, scared and too pig headed to admit error on either part.

“Everything.” Ville replied seriously. “I’m a bad partner, I’m definitely not good enough for her.” he admitted, finally, more so to himself than to his friend. “I was an arsehole to her this morning.”

“Drunk arsehole, or regular arsehole?” Jyrki asked, sipping his coffee.

“You and I both know the answer to that question.”

“Drunk.” he nodded, “Well, okay.. What was it you did?”

“It’s more what I’m not doing…” he sighed, “And what I said.” he frowned and removed the lid from the coffee cup to use as a makeshift ashtray between them. “She does so much for me Jyrki, so much for us. I mean look at this house, it’s gorgeous and I treat it like a backstage tent… She works so hard and I just see it as her not being here; her choosing her work over me constantly.” he shook his head and pulled a cigarette from his pack with his teeth, “It was easier, before, when I was away on tour or in the studio. We saw each other and spent beautiful time with each other.. But since Gas, and cancelling the tour, it’s just broken.”

“Hmm.” Was all Jyrki offered as he carefully unwrapped his toasted sandwich.

“Hmm?” Ville squinted, confused and mildly annoyed that was all he had to say.

“Yes. Hmm.” he replied simply, taking a small bite off the corner. “Do you think, maybe, that it was easier before because you made the effort to have the small amount of time with her spent well?” Ville turned his head to look into his friends eyes, just as he parted his lips to speak, Jyrki continued, “And that, perhaps, it was easier before when you were away because you weren’t constantly in the house, rendering it the same sorry state of affairs as that awful apartment of yours all those years ago? If she didn’t have to come home from work and clean, do you not think she’d be making love to you?”

“We still do that.” Ville said defensively.

“But I’ll bet you it’s not the same, is it.” he said bluntly, “And do you think that possibly, ‘it’s just broken’ because you are now the one who is always at home, ready for attention, ready to be entertained and loved; that you are now the one pining for your absent partner whilst they work? And do you think perhaps, that the resentment that is building in you for her business and her work because it is keeping her from you is because you don’t adequately know how to deal with the feeling of needing someone the way she has always needed you?”

“She’s never needed anyone. She’s strong.” Jyrki shook his head.

“Incorrect.” he picked up his coffee and took a small sip before raising his finger, “That girl pines for you when you leave the house, when she leaves the house…” he stated, gesturing to the pillow, throw and parasol. “You’ve never had to miss her because she has always been right here waiting for you to get home. Has she ever not been here, waiting for you and doting on you every second her eyes are open, when you return from work?”

“No.”

“Ville, that girl has loved you from the minute you set eyes on each other. She has weathered every storm. Don’t take this opportunity she has to shine in her own right away from her.”

“I’m not.”

“Then don’t tarnish it. Her being so consumed by how much work she has, right now, will end. She can’t be the ever present, doting, lady in waiting for you all the time.”

“I’m scared.” he offered honestly after a moment of thought. “I’m really scared.”

“Of what?”

“That I’m not enough anymore.”

“Well, you’re not.” Jyrki laughed bluntly, “I’m sorry to be abrupt, but you’re not enough. She’s a grown, smart, driven woman. She’s not a housewife. She’s always had her dream and her job. Now it’s a reality, don’t let that eclipse how you know she feels about you.”

“I don’t know how to make this better. I don’t know how to deal with needing her or missing her, I just.. I can’t stop this feeling of contempt-“

“You know when kids have toys taken off them by their parents, because it’s bed time or dinner time, or whatever shit time…” Ville nodded, “Don’t be the kid having the tantrum. Just go to fucking bed.”

“I love her.”

“I know that. You know that. Hell, the whole fucking world can play any of your songs and know that. She needs to know that because I think your tantrum is eating away at it and replacing it with fear at a terrifying rate.”

“What, what if she doesn’t love me anymore?” Jyrki let out a lone laugh and rolled his eyes.

“You smell like shit, look like hell, that room is a fucking nightmare - I’ll bet you there’s no groceries in the kitchen, your guitars and notebooks and strings and fucking whatever everywhere throughout the house; every ashtray out here is overflowing; your rib cage is a nightmare; your stubble makes you look fucking homeless-”

“Yeah, alright..” Ville grimaced, taken a back at the harsh barrage of truths.

“-Yet look at how you woke up.” he stated in disbelief. “Any other person, including me, would have left you to burn in the sun and wake up needing a chiropractor. And don’t think I didn’t notice her signature red lipstick on the inside of your arm, you bastard. I’ve toured with you enough to know how you sleep.. She gave you a fucking kiss before leaving, after everything. And I'll bet you she does that every single morning, no matter how much vomit she wipes from your face or how much she wants to slap it. Wake up. I’m not sitting here and saying she’s not got her faults either, because believe me she’s my best friend, I know what she’s like once she’s got a bee in her bonnet, but in this instance, I can see from both sides and you need to get over yourself and step up. That girl is exhausted, and she misses you. She would do anything for you, don’t be so scared of your heart being broken that you break hers in the process.”

“Th-“

“And have a fucking shower and shave before you do anything, because honestly, you’re a human bag of shit right now.” he laughed. “Then we’ll clean this bomb site up, shall we?” Ville knew this was Jyrki’s way of not allowing him to say thank you for the advice. He was funny like that, he just wanted his friends to be the best they could be and didn’t want anything attributed to him, even though he helped so much, he couldn’t bare the thought of anyone feeling indebted to him for loving them.

“You’re the best man I know, you know that.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I thought you were going for a shower?” he smiled.