Status: Live

Holding Hands Won't Be Enough

Chapter 92: Iloinen Joulu

Ville was never one for being outwardly excited about anything to do with Christmas, but last night he barely sleep a wink. When it came to decorating or wrapping presents, he had always told himself it was a waste of time ultimately leaving Milly, or someone else, to come to the creative rescue. Yet here he was waking up on his parent’s sofa at 8am, surrounded by string lights, paper rolls, bits of tangled tape and ribbons, having fallen asleep after finally, and proudly, conquering his first ever productive Christmas Eve. He grunted and snuffled as he sat up, rubbing his hands over his rough chin, he couldn’t remember the last time he had shaved.

He had about an hour and a half until the sunrise and the house was quiet and still. He padded to the kitchen knowing he had set the timer on the coffee machine, welcoming the aroma as he poured it into the largest mug he could find in the cupboard. The fire, thankfully, was still hot and filled with red logs from last night, he stoked it diligently and built it back up to a roaring flame, setting an oak chair from the kitchen table in front of it and sitting with his legs kicked up on the stone grid. He enjoyed moment of stolen calm like this more than even he could put into words, lyrics or otherwise. Lighting a cigarette - knowing he could get away with it before his mother woke up - he thought only of Oscar and Milly and how different this Christmas might have been if they had stayed together. It saddened him to think of, but also gave him a sense of gratitude that he and Oscar were experiencing their first Christmas together, and that Oscar may well remember it, rather than being a baby with no conscious knowing of the situation - every cloud, he thought to himself. He was getting better with finding silver linings lately, but deep down knew it would never be enough when it came to them.

Minutes passed with only the sound of the crackling wood to keep him company, losing himself in the flames as he tumbled deeper and deeper into unconscious thought. A log fell of the mantle besides the fire and brought him back to earth, he tossed his now finished cigarette into the fire and again rubbed his hand over his chin, before laughing. “El Diablo…” he muttered, shaking his head amused, remembering Milly mocking his facial hair; she never did like it. Quietly he tidied his mess in the living room, as he put things away he carefully tweaked decorations and lights, an amazing sense of pride and excitement that he had done it himself for his son. As he stood in the kitchen pouring another coffee, he looked down the hall to the living room and a smile curled his lips playfully. Immediately he set the pot back in the cradle and grabbed his boots from the back door, shoving his un-socked feet into them as he pulled on his fathers coat and bumbled outside. The freezing air smacked him in the face, waking him up much more than that second cup of coffee would’ve. He looked out over the garden, blanketed in fresh powdered snow and smiled, grabbing a bucket he scooped enough to almost fill it and head back inside. He knew he would have to work quickly as it was getting warmer inside now he’d built up the fire. Quickly he slid the coat off and flung it over the back of a chair, before taking a moment to work out how he’d do it exactly. Thinking quick, he grabbed a large spoon from the oven and went to work.

His parents never lit the fire in the living room at Christmas as it was too close to where they liked to have their tree. They would tell Ville and Jesse that they left it unlit so that “Santa wouldn’t burn his bottom”, much to their amusement still to this day. This is where he started; he knocked over the candles that his mother had placed inside and kicked off his boots to place them there, carefully spooning snow over them. He then repeated this, placing the boots as if taking steps, and shaking snow over and around them, all around the living room back to the fireplace. He laughed to himself as he grabbed the carrot and chewed the end off, spitting it into the remaining snow, as well as pouring three quarters of the milk into it. He rushed and tossed the bucket outside, before placing his boots back and sneaking upstairs with every intent of waking his parents, then Oscar. Instead, he and Anita nearly scared each other to death as she swung her door open just as he was about to knock. She clutched her chest and jumped back, Ville jumped inhaling sharply. “Jesus Christ.” she scolded, hitting him with the back of her hand. “What are you doing skulking around?”

“Came to wake you all up.” he said urgently, “Santa’s been.” he nodded, eyes wide. Her face softened and she beamed.

“Let me get your father up.” she said with excitement, “You get that boy of ours.”

Quietly he pushed the door of his old bedroom open, fully expecting Oscar to still be asleep, but instead found him once again quietly doodling with his crayons in his paper book that he insisted on taking everywhere with him - much like his mother with her sketch book, and his father with his lyric book. “Iloinen joulu, pikku mies.” he grinned as he went over and sat on the bed. (Merry Christmas, little man)

“Iloinen joulu-isä!” Oscar giggled, flopping his entire body into a hug. Ville grabbed him and flipped him over, tickling his sides just like Kari used to do to him. “Has Santa been?” he asked loudly in English. (Merry Christmas dad)

“I’m not sure, we’ll have to go downstairs and look, won’t we?” Ville replied, poking Oscar’s belly. Oscar wriggled free and got himself down to the floor.

“Come on!” he instructed, grabbing his fathers hand, leading him out the room. Ville fumbled with his phone quickly opening the camera, he didn’t want Milly to miss this, so he began recording. When they got downstairs Oscar went charging into the living room, stopping short and gasping when he came across the snowy footprints - completely ignoring the presents - he crouched down and inspected the footprints, sticking his finger into the white powder and letting out an excited shriek when he felt the cold. “It’s snow! It’s snow! It’s snow, it’s snow!!” he shouted, jumping around to each footprint to make sure it was the same. Ville crouched next to him as he picked up small amounts of snow in his little hand, before passing it to his dad as proof, “Santa was here!! Daddy Santa was here!” Ville held open his hand for the snow and gasped playfully. “Mummo! Uki! Santa was here!” he squealed, jumping up and pointing at the snowy footprints as they entered the room.

“He certainly was!” Kari smiled, looking around at his now wonderfully decorated living room. When they went to bed, there was just a modestly decorated tree, now there were twinkling lights and tinsel and presents everywhere. “I wonder where Santa kept all this stuff?” he winked, looking at his son proudly.

“And look, Oscar, he drank the milk and Rudolph ate the carrot you left him!” Anita smiled, pointing at the table. Oscar ran over to the table and stared in wonder at the carrot and glass. “And look at all your presents, my goodness me!”

“I want to show Mummy!” he exclaimed, hugging the leg of his Grandmother. “When can we show Mummy the snow prints!” Anita looked at Kari and Ville, unsure of what to say to him. Kari scooped him into his arms and kissed his cheek.

“Santa footprints are very special,” Kari explained, “they won’t last very long because they are magic.”

“They are?”

“Oh yes, very magical.” he nodded, “It’s like a secret between you and Santa.”

“So Mummy can’t touch them too?”

“No, it’s just for you.” he explained, crouching down next to the melting snow, “See how it’s disappearing now that you’ve touched it?” Oscar nodded, “That’s special magic.” Oscar squeaked laughter and hugged his Ukki’s neck. Ville was so thankful that he could share this morning with his parents, more so than he ever had been thankful for them. He pulled Anita into a hug and kissed her temple, “Merry Christmas Mum.”

She wrapped her arms around his middle and patted his side, “Merry Christmas my darling.”