Heartkiller

Tuesday, December 3, 2013

It was Tuesday. It was therapy. It was monotonous.

Ville opened the door to his therapist’s office and walked into the waiting room, a square space congested by furniture. There were four or five chairs against the wall and a small table, littered with magazines for the patients to peruse, in the center of the room. A red painting hung above the chairs, and its color contrasted against the dreary taupe of the room. Against the opposite wall near the hallway leading to Dr. Ashbury’s office was the receptionist’s desk, which was a soft brown color and kept exceptionally clean. David, a bespectacled college student who was interning at the office under the doctor’s direction, sat behind the desk wearing a plaid red shirt. He was focused on some document that he typed onto the computer. When Ville dragged his feet across the carpeted floor and into the waiting room, David turned his attention away from his work and looked at him.

“Good afternoon, Ville. ” he greeted with a smile. “She’s in with another patient. She should be out in about ten minutes.”

“Alright, I’ll, uh, be back then. I’m gonna go out for a smoke.” Ville informed and walked back outside.

Squeezing past the other New Yorkers, he went to the edge of the sidewalk where he would have some space to loiter and pulled out his box of cigarettes. He slipped one of the white sticks into his mouth and lit it up, letting his lungs fill with the drug. Catching the cigarette with two fingers, he blew hard to release the smoke and returned his lighter to his pocket. The streets were abuzz with people rushing to work and handling business. The traffic was particularly dense this morning and the taxis honked away, urging the vehicles to move. Next to Ville was a hot dog stand, and he could smell the scent of grilled onions and half-cooked meat from his position a few yards away. The sidewalks were crowded, and there were times when he was almost pushed off the curb completely. He was stuck in the middle of it all as a bystander watching the cars go by while he smoked.

The bustle didn’t allow him to get lost in a reverie of memories as he usually did. He was stuck standing on the pavement hearing the car horns and the people calling to one another. There would be an ear-piercing whistle now and then as someone hailed a taxi. The voices, car horns, sizzles and smells of the city permeated his senses, overwhelming him. What a town. As he took another long drag, he felt a gentle tug at his knees; Ville looked down to see a toddler pulling his jeans. Ville’s eyebrows raised and his eyes widened. He looked around into the masses but couldn’t see any parent running towards the child. What should he do? After blowing out the smoke that remained in his system, he stomped out the cigarette and bent down so he was at eye level with the little boy, who couldn’t have been more than two years old. Ville put his hands at the child’s sides to hold him in place while he spoke.

“Where’s your mum? Hmm?” he asked the boy.

The child stared back at Ville with a blank look on his face; his big brown eyes peered cluelessly at the stranger. The little boy had pale white skin and a round chubby face. His right hand was in his mouth and he sucked on his fingers; there was slobber running down his chin and onto his Thomas the Train shirt. Ville looked behind the boy again for someone to claim him, but there was no one around; everybody was entranced by their own cellphones and newspapers as they walked down the sidewalk.

“Momma?” Ville asked again, hoping to connect with the child.

“Da.” he replied and smiled, showing off his mouth that was missing two front teeth. He took his hand out of his mouth to point at Ville and exclaimed, “Da! Da!”

At first, Ville was confused, but, once he realized that the boy was calling him dad, his face fell and his heart reached the pit of his stomach. He was never going to have someone who could call him that. Ville subconsciously sucked in a breath, capping a lid on his emotions in such a public setting. He couldn’t break down in the middle of New York City. His priority was to return the child to his parent. The child wrapped his left hand around Ville’s index finger; his hand was too small to grab more than one of Ville’s fingers. The boy pulled him, leading him towards the boutiques. Not knowing what else to do, Ville picked him up and carried him so that the boy wouldn’t get lost in the throng. The boy, with his hand still in his mouth, pointed in the direction he wanted to be taken with his other hand. Ville carried him, holding him tightly. The boy had a small frame, and Ville felt like he would crush him because the toddler was so fragile. He was careful, though, and he continued walking toward the storefronts. Once he moved past the crowd, he could see a woman frantically searching in front of a boutique.

“Justin! Justin!” she called. She had curly red hair and wore a gray cardigan over a fuschia blouse. She pulled the sides of her sweater tighter as she looked through the horde of people. Worry and concern riddled her face.

“Mommy,” the little boy said, lurching forward in Ville’s arms. Hearing the call, the woman turned and made eye contact with her son; she rushed to his side.

“Thank God you’re okay. How could you run away like that?” she asked as she pulled him out of Ville’s grasp. She hugged him tightly and kissed his cheek several times. It seemed like she couldn’t believe that she was able to find him. The little boy pulled away from her and pointed to Ville.

“Da,” he said.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said graciously to Ville. “He doesn’t see his father often; he’s starting to think that every guy over six feet is his dad.” she added with a nervous laughter. “I’m really sorry if he caused you any trouble.”

“Uh, no, no he didn’t do anything of the sort.” Ville replied. “He just caught me while I was smoking by the curb.”

“He got that far? Oh my God. I’m glad he came to you and didn’t run off into the street. That would have been— I-I don’t know what I’d do.” she stuttered out. She kissed Justin again, hugging him tightly to her body.

“Yeah, um, keep an eye on him.” Ville warned.

Ville felt uneasy by the conversation; it was unsettling for the boy to call Ville his father. It was a harsh reminder of the fact that he would never have his own children now that Avery was gone. Since the child had returned to his parent, Ville wanted some privacy to deal with the unfortunate reality. It wasn’t something that he thought about often; the fact that he wasn’t going to have a family with Avery had come up in his mind a few times over the past month since she had died, but there were other things that took precedence. Usually, he was too focused on the fact that he would never see his wife again to even think about anything else. Seeing the child now and having him call Ville his father highlighted unresolved issues. He started to turn away until the mother called his attention again.

“Here, let me get you something for looking out for him. Do you, um, do you want a coffee or something?” she asked. Her voice was still uneven as she was calming down. “I don’t know if that’s even enough to compensate, but uh…”

“No, that’s quite alright.” he reassured.

“C’mon, you have to let me do something to repay you. Y-you don’t understand what you’ve done for me.” she pleaded.

Ville waved her offers away and walked back to his therapist’s office. He had lost his mood for a cigarette, but he needed something to distract his mind from the child. He walked inside the office, but it seemed like Dr. Ashbury was still with a patient, so he took a seat in the waiting room. There were a magazines on the desk, and he picked one up to flip through it. There were a few advertisements of models, some articles with the latest gossip on the hot new celebrity, and many pictures of movie stars engaged in mundane tasks. Nothing in the magazine caught his eye, so he put it back and started tapping his feet to a beat out of restlessness. He slouched in the seat and leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. He inhaled deeply and grit his teeth in frustration. He was frustrated by his realization that he couldn’t have kids. He was frustrated that he wasn’t making progress. He was frustrated that Avery was gone. Most importantly, he was frustrated that he couldn’t do anything to change that. He felt helpless. The door opened and Ville’s head perked up at the sound. Dr. Ashbury led a patient out of her office.

“I’ll see you next week,” she said and the patient waved back before walking past Ville. The therapist saw him seated on the chairs and greeted him. “Ville, nice to see you. Come on inside.”

He stood up from his seat and walked towards her office. She held the door open for him, and he brushed past her without much of a greeting. In the past, he was able to stay polite but not today. He had other things on his mind that were clouding his judgment and misconstruing his otherwise affable personality. Ville walked across the office and settled into his regular spot at the plush couch opposite from the doctor.

“How are you doing today?” she asked as she closed the door.

“Frustrated.” he replied.

Even Ville was surprised by his honesty. Dr. Ashbury raised her eyebrows at his confession; usually, he would settle for some half-empty response about being tired, unhappy, or indifferent. He’d never been frustrated, at least he’d never declared it to her. She was caught off guard but quickly recovered. In light of his previous sessions when he was unwilling to speak and bitter of the circumstances, this was a breakthrough. After grabbing his file and a pad of yellow legal paper from her desk, she took a seat across from him and masked her surprise for his candor.

“Frustrated about what?” she tried to get more information.

“I’m frustrated about the fact that my wife is gone.” he said bluntly, as though it were obvious. What else could possibly affect him so?

“That’s been true for some time, but you’ve only ever expressed your hurt and resentment. What’s changed? What’s the cause for your frustration now?” she asked.

“You want a reason? Hmm, how about the fact that I’m left to— to navigate through this heartless world without the love of my life by my side?” he spoke sarcastically. In a lower voice, he muttered, “She’s supposed to be here.”

He didn’t care to conceal his emotions; he was no longer cautious about what he said to her and how he said it. All the discretion he had taken the care to have in the past didn’t matter anymore; he was simply speaking his thoughts in the moment without any filter. He was being rough and a little dramatic. Slouching in his seat, Ville picked at a loose thread in his black denim jeans, making him seem like a teenager being admonished in the principal’s office: he was unwilling to listen to her reason and impervious to her attempts to make him see the bigger picture.

Ignoring his acrid tone, she urged, “Again, this was true from the beginning of our sessions. What’s changed?”

“What’s changed? What’s changed is that nothing has changed. It’s been four weeks of the same bullshit. It’s been spent with me just sitting here telling you about the deepest relationship I’ve ever had, and we haven’t made any progress. It’s getting to me. It’s eating me alive that I don’t know what happened in that car.” Ville’s voice crescendoed to a near-scream as he stood up and paced the office. Using his hands to gesture his irritation, Ville became tense and his blood rushed to his face. “I don’t know whether we were happy or if we were upset. I don’t know if I was holding her in my arms or, or if we were sitting at opposite ends of the taxi. I don’t know anything about that night, and I’m sitting here telling you about things that happened years and years ago like it’s going to help me figure it out and it’s not! It’s clearly not working! It’s not helping! You’re—you’re not helping!”

His face, red with anger, was covered in hot tears that he hadn’t even realized were falling from his eyes. His hands were balled into fists, and a vein in his neck was popping out. He was yelling because he was fighting for some end to his misery. He needed to save himself because there would only be so much he could withstand before reaching for alternative sources of comfort. If he reached for the bottle after all these years, he wasn’t sure he would ever crawl out of the hole again. Someone needed to stop him. He needed help. He needed a quick solution, and his patience was wearing thin. Dr. Ashbury exhaled deeply before she attempted to provide an explanation.

“The work that we do here within these walls isn’t something tangible. We’re working on your memories and your thoughts and your feelings—these are all abstract things. I understand that it may be difficult to appreciate the progress we make, but the fact of the matter is that we are making progress.”

“How do you figure?” he mocked. He was still reeling from his outburst. “Because it sure doesn’t feel like we’re making progress. It feels like a waste of time.”

“Let me ask you this: would it be easier for you to be cooped up in your apartment left to your senses? Do you think it would be more helpful to be sitting by yourself with these thoughts and frustrations and feelings overwhelming your mind?”

“I think it would be more beneficial than having me sit here and talk about Ave and the way we met and when we broke up and our wedding.” he said exasperatedly. “It’s not going to do anything to explain all these things to a complete stranger.”

“Are you talking about it to anybody else?”

“No.” he admitted.

“Exactly. Whether I’m a stranger or not is beside the point. What’s important here is that you are talking to someone. You need some form of catharsis in your life during this difficult time. Within these walls you are able to release your emotions in a free, open space, and I’m not going to judge you for anything you say.”

“I beg to differ. You have indeed been judging me: you’ve been telling me that I should move on and that I shouldn’t be drinking, et cetera, like I’m a wounded animal in need of basic guidance. I know how to take care of myself. I know what I should and shouldn’t be doing.”

“I’ve been giving you advice, but I haven’t been judging you. That’s not my place.” she corrected.

“You’re steering this conversation away from what matters.” he noted with an eyeroll.

“And what’s that? What matters?”

“What matters is that being here isn’t helping. Sure, I can sit here and tell you about what happened a year ago, but that’s not going to change anything.” Although he hadn’t meant to bring it up, what had happened a year ago was present in his mind; the words had escaped his mouth before he had a chance to censor himself.

“What happened a year ago?” she deftly asked, overlooking the rest of his remark.

Ville started laughing; he couldn’t help it. He just found himself to be so pathetic to be letting in a stranger to mend his broken heart. Was he really here? Was he really trying to give his heart and soul to another human being in an attempt to change the past? Did he really think that could help? Hopeless. It was hopeless. He was hopeless. He thought he was so pathetic for thinking he had half a chance of recovering a memory from a month ago by recounting details of things that had happened years ago. These events didn’t have any effect on what happened on November 2nd. They didn’t change the fact that Avery had died.

“What happened a year ago?” she asked again. “That seems like a very specific time to point out from the years you and Avery have been together. What happened to you a year ago?”

“It’s not what happened to me, it’s what happened to Avery.” he clarified aversely.

He had considerably calmed down since the outburst earlier, but he didn’t change his opinion. He was tired of telling Dr. Ashbury things that happened a long time ago when it wasn’t helping him. She wasn’t going to let it go, though, because of his recognition that the event was important. It meant that this mattered; whatever had happened a year ago impacted his life today, and she wanted to know what it was and why it affected him so. She was prying. He wasn’t forgiving.

“What happened to her? Was it something at work? A medical—” she speculated.

“It’s nothing.” he interrupted decisively.

“That’s not true.” she called his bluff.

The two were fairly matched, each replying to the other with a clever remark without missing a beat. They were fighting head on for what they believed to be true. Ville wanted to make her see that he was tired of these futile attempts to recover a lost memory; he knew the moment he had started the venture that there was no guarantee he would find answers, but it was still a harsh truth to swallow. Dr. Ashbury wanted to help him understand that although his goal wasn’t yet accomplished, he couldn’t give up now. It was a valiant effort considering Ville’s obstinancy.

“Look, I don’t want to talk about it.” he dismissed after a brief pause.

“Okay, we can talk about something else.”

“No, I’m not— I’m not in the talking mood today.” he said. He ran his hands through the back of his head. Ville’s eyes scanned the room trying to avoid eye contact. Without a subtle means to leave, he awkwardly walked toward the door without so much as a goodbye.

“We still have forty-five minutes of our session left.” she reminded from her seat, trying to keep him in the room.

“It doesn’t matter.” he admitted defeatedly and turned the doorknob.

The door was barely ajar and he slipped out, closing the door shut behind him and hoping she wouldn’t follow. He walked out of the main door of the therapist’s office and into the packed streets. He pulled out a cigarette from his pocket and lit it with the gun metal lighter he had. His mind was inundated by fleeting thoughts of what had happened a year ago. He had filed away the experience and struggled to forget it; it was too much to bear. In his frustration, however, the painful past crept up to him. It haunted him and tormented him. The memory felt like salt on the wounds of Ville’s heart, already plagued by Avery’s death. He didn’t know what to do; he didn’t know where to turn. No one else could even begin to understand the sorrow Avery and Ville had endured. The pain was unimaginable, and it had almost broken the couple apart in a time when they needed each other the most.

No one else knew what happened because the couple had decided to keep it a secret. It seemed rational at the time, especially since they didn’t want to deal with months and months of pity from their friends and family. Now, though, it would have helped to have someone familiar with the situation to help him cope. Dr. Ashbury seemed like a viable option; she was a stranger, meaning she wasn’t as likely to pity him as openly as a friend, and she was theoretically equipped with the emotional tools necessary to help him through this difficult time. However, he didn’t want to speak to her about it, certainly not after the conversation he had just had with her. After all this time, she still expected him to sit solemnly and recount his life with a woman whom he couldn’t accurately describe with mere words. It wasn’t possible to do that, and to confess the struggles over the past year was an immeasurably difficult task.

Ville’s mood became sour at the thought of the words he had just exchanged with his therapist. He hadn’t expected to be so angry, at least not so conspicuously. He took a long drag of the cigarette, and his body relaxed a little. His mind, however, reeled in search of something to calm him.

Only Avery could do that.

He aimlessly walked down the street, thinking about the past year of his life. He thought about how much things had changed and about the tension that remained between the couple. It was in stark contrast to the happier times, especially at the beginning of their marriage, when they would spend a lot of time together and travel the world. They would document their experiences together so that they could reflect on them in the future. Suddenly, Ville’s head perked up with an idea. He knew just what he could do to cheer himself up, but he would need to go home. Now. He dropped the cigarette to the floor. Not wanting to sit in bumper-to-bumper traffic, he walked. No, he sprinted, in fact. It was only a few blocks and within minutes, he was in front of the granite steps leading to the lobby. His asthma threatened to rear its head, evident as Ville panted in front of the entrance to the building, but he took a few deep breaths to relax his lungs. Tilting his hat in greeting, the doorman opened the door for him. Ville flew up the steps and went to the elevators. He repeatedly slammed the up arrow, beckoning for an empty car. When it finally came, he couldn’t seem to go up to the 43rd floor fast enough. The elevator doors opened and he rushed toward his apartment, fishing his keys out of his deep pockets on the way.

Once inside the apartment, he let the door close behind him and walked towards the Victorian cabinet next the couch. On its shelves, there were photo albums documenting their relationship and he pulled one out. He sat on the floor and sprawled the album in front of him to sift through the pictures. He saw her smiling face in a photo, instantly putting a childish grin on his face. It was like everything that had happened today didn’t matter, and he was only focused on her. He was almost giddy. It was working. With the snap of fingers, his mood had turned. He looked through a few of the pages before standing up; he wanted more. He needed more. He pulled out a different album from the cabinet, the one of their wedding day, along with several others and settled into a place on the floor with his legs sprawled out.

They were married on September 18, 2008, the day they had started officially dating two years prior. The wedding was held in a wedding hall in the suburbs of New York. What was supposed to be a small ceremony exploded into a lavish celebration with over 300 guests to watch Avery walk down the aisle in a Vera Wang gown. It was one of the happiest days of their lives.

September 18, 2008

“Nervous?” Grace asked.

Avery was standing in front of a full-length mirror as she smoothed her dress. It had a strapless corset top with a sweetheart neckline covered in a lacy print with a layered tulle skirt. A sheer material covered the top and formed makeshift straps, and a small rhinestone belt completed the look. Avery wore her long dirty blonde hair in retro curls and light neutral makeup. A few shimmery eyeshadows added a special touch, but it wasn’t dramatic. She admired her reflection while checking to make sure everything was done. It was wedding day. Things had to be perfect.

“No… Yeah, actually.” she admitted to her mother and bit her lip.

“Don’t be. He’s the one for you. I knew it from the moment I first met him that you two were going to end up together.” she said calmly and fixed Avery’s curls.

“It’s not about that. I know he’s the one—wait. What… what do you mean you knew?”

“You remember the day you brought him to meet us? We were out at the beachhouse in the Hamptons, and we had gone outside after lunch. You and I were near the waves, and your father pulled him aside. You remember that?” Grace spoke as she adjusted the back of her daughter’s dress. Avery nodded. “Well, you kept fidgeting around because you were so nervous about what they were talking about. You were so anxious that your father was going to scare the poor boy away. Anyway, when I turned to look back at them, I saw the look in Ville’s eyes, and it was clear to me. It was the same way your father looks at me; it’s unmistakable. He looks at you like you’re the princess of his heart; he really really loves you. That man would do anything to make sure you’re happy.”

“I love him.” Avery confirmed. “I love him with every fiber of my being, and I have no doubt in my mind that he’s the person I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

“Well then, what’s wrong?”

“I just—I’m scared I’m going to screw it all up. I don’t want to hurt him.” she admitted.

“Oh, honey.” Grace put her hand on Avery’s shoulder to comfort her and made eye contact through their reflections in the long mirror. “You’re going to be fine. Marriage is… it’s one of the most rewarding experiences you’ll ever have. You’ll learn so much about yourself, and you’ll find yourself doing things you’d never even imagined you’d do. You’ll make sacrifices because that’s how much you love your husband… And if you do make a mistake, he’ll be right there for you to forgive you and to make it all better because that’s how much he loves you. You’re going to be fine.”

Avery smiled. “Thanks, mom.”

“You’re welcome, sweetie. I have to get to my seat. Are you gonna be okay?”

“Just fine.” she reassured.

“Okay. I’ll see you out there.” Her mother said and walked out of the door, leaving Avery alone in front of the mirror.

She took a deep breath and clasped her hands over her stomach to contain her nerves. She smiled when her eyes caught a glimpse of her engagement ring in the reflection. Avery still couldn’t believe it. Was this reality? Was she really standing here, about to vow to spend the rest of her life with Ville? There was a knock at the door, and her father peeked his head inside.

“Ready?” he asked.

She took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m ready.”

Avery walked out of the room and towards the hall where the ceremony would take place. The bridesmaids and groomsmen were already in line in the hallway; once Avery and her father joined them, the wedding planner gave the cue to the orchestra and the procession started. One by one, the couples went inside and took their places next to the altar.

Once the wedding party had gone inside, the doors closed to keep Avery hidden. The music changed and she heard the familiar Wedding March. Avery and Easton stood ready in front of the doors, which opened, and they saw the guests stand. The two started to walk down the aisle to the beat of the music, and tears were already running down her face. Happy tears. Avery wasn’t paying attention to the guests, most of whom were admiring her dress; she was looking straight down the center and into Ville’s eyes like he was the only person in the room. He wore a lovely suit and his hair was cut short so that it didn’t hang in his way. He looked incredible and proper, save for his sleeve tattoo peeking through from underneath his cuff.

Ville wiped away the tears slipping down his face; his knees were weak at the sight of her in the white gown. Once father and daughter reached the end, Easton pulled her in for a kiss on the cheek before handing her off. Ville kissed her cheek. His eyes were glistening from the tears but pierced right through her nonetheless, and her heart melted from his stare. All Avery wanted to do in this moment was pull Ville in for a kiss.

“You look beautiful, darling.” he whispered, and his voice broke from the overwhelming emotion.

The couple walked up the steps and stood in front of the priest. The music waned, and the guests took the cue to take their seats. Once there was a silence, the priest started the ceremony.

“Ladies and gentlemen, family and friends, we are gathered here today to witness and celebrate the joining of Ville Hermanni Valo and Avery Louise Wentworth in marriage.” the priest said. “With love and commitment, they have decided to spend their lives together as husband and wife.”

Avery squeezed his hand gently to reassure herself that this was real. She needed a sign that she wasn’t dreaming because damn, was it unbelievable. Ville intertwined his fingers with hers and kept her close as they stood side-by-side. The couple listened to the words and reveled in the moment; neither one was particularly ecstatic about the crowd of people focusing their attention on them, but they were almost able to tune them out. It felt like they were alone, just the two of them and the priest reciting the words for the ceremony. They waited for their moment when they would finally have the chance to say the words that would seal their commitment to one another. Avery shifted her weight to the balls of her feet, lurching forward. It felt like an eternity as the priest continued through the traditions of the ceremony. She concentrated on the touch of Ville’s skin and of his presence beside her to soothe her qualms. After finishing with the opening prayers and other traditions, the priest turned to the couple, who now faced each other and carefully listened to his instructions.

"Do you, Ville, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to love and to hold in sickness and in health till death do you part?"

His mind didn’t waver, but the split second delay in his response was enough to scare her. He smirked.

"I do." He said wholeheartedly, and she smiled.

"And do you, Avery Louise, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to love and to hold in sickness and in health till death do you part?" The priest asked.

Avery’s grin grew wider and she cleared her throat. “I do,” she announced. Ville’s eyes twinkled at the words.

"May I have the rings, please." The ringbearer came forward and handed the bands. The priest then gave one to Ville first. "Repeat after me: I give this ring as a symbol of my love."

"I give this ring as a symbol of my love…” Ville repeated, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“I will share my joy with you, that it be multiplied.”

“I will share my joy with you, that it be multiplied.” There were tears gathering in Ville’s eyes that he struggled to hold back; meanwhile, Avery was freely crying tears of joy. She couldn’t believe it. It felt like a dream.

“I will share your pain, that it be divided.”

“I will share your pain, that it be divided,” Ville said and took this moment to aptly wipe her cheek with his thumb.

“I will walk by your side as we travel together through life’s changes.”

“I will walk by your side as we travel together through life’s changes.”

“I will sleep in your arms and that love will be my home.”

“I will sleep in your arms and that love will be my home. With this ring, I thee wed.” He said and slipped the wedding band on her ring finger. She glanced down for a moment to see that it sat snugly next to her engagement ring but quickly returned her attention to Ville’s green eyes. The priest then gave Avery the other ring.

"Repeat after me: I give this ring as a symbol of my love,"

"I give this ring as a symbol of my love… “ they started and proceeded to repeat the same vows that Ville had uttered moments ago. As she slipped the wedding band on his ring finger, she spoke, “With this ring, I thee wed."

"Then by the power vested in me, I know pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride." He directed.

They both grinned at the finality of the news. The past six months were spent waiting for this moment to sign their fate to the other; they had done it. They were married. They were husband and wife. Ville used the grip on her hands to pull her into his arms, attaching their lips. Her arms found their place behind his neck, and their heads were tilted at the perfect angle. Their lips molded together, as if they had been crafted to fit like so. Ville’s hands hugged the small of her back and held her to him, and their tongues moved together synchronously. It was a soft sweet kiss that fell to the backdrop of the applause and hoots of the crowd watching them. They paid no mind to all the noise. It was just the two of them.

After their wedding, Avery and Ville had launched into a blissful marriage. Although they had their fair share of fights, the couple spent the past five years utterly in love and at the mercy of the other’s wishes. From birthday celebrations to anniversaries to album releases to job promotions, they made time for one another. Despite how long they had been together, Ville still looked at her with an admiring glint in his eyes, and Avery fell more and more in love with him with each passing day.

Everything was going smoothly until ten months before the fatal accident when they had to endure the biggest obstacle of their relationship. It tested the strength of their love, the power of their trust. It was something that changed their lives as they knew it, and they were able to become stronger. Now, though, it may not have mattered.

Meanwhile, Dr. Ashbury decided to make a call. She wanted to find out exactly what had happened a year ago that had made Ville so upset. Why had it affected him now? What had brought the memory to light? Without knowing where to start, she called Ville’s family doctor, Dr. Moore, in New York, the same doctor she presumed Avery would have used. She had her fingers crossed that the problem had been medical because, if not, she didn’t know where she could turn in order to find the answers she needed. After finding the contact information in Ville’s file, she called the number for the doctor so that she could speak in the remainder of the hour Ville had had scheduled.

“Hello. Samson Medical Group, Michelle speaking. How may I help you?” a female voice answered.

“Hi, this is Dr. Ashbury calling from Ashbury Psychiatric Offices in Manhattan. I’m calling to speak to Dr. Moore.”

"What is this regarding?"

"I’m calling to speak about one of my patients whom Dr. Moore has also treated."

"One moment please, I’ll see if he’s available."

"Thank you."

The line went silent for a few seconds before the receptionist’s chipper voice returned. “I’ll transfer you now.”

"Hello?" Dr. Moore answered. He sounded like an older gentleman with a gruff voice.

"Hi, I’m Dr. Ashbury with Ashbury Psychiatric Offices. I’m calling on behalf of one of my patients, Ville Valo. I have here that you are his general physician. Was his wife, Avery Valo, also your patient?”

“What is this about?” he deflected.

“I am currently treating Ville, and he has been talking about some worrisome events that took place a year ago. I was wondering if there is anything you knew about that. Did something happen to Avery?”

“I’m not at liberty to discuss confidential patient information via the telephone. I do not know who you are.” he said defiantly.

“I can send you a copy of my credentials. Please, this is essential to my treatment, and there may be serious consequences if I cannot properly treat my patient.” Dr. Moore sighed, and Dr. Ashbury could tell that he wasn’t convinced. “Please.” she insisted. “If something happened, I need to know. Ville has been here under my care following his wife’s death, and he is… he’s understandably very upset. If the requested information is as serious as I think it is, I need to know what happened so that I can effectively help my patient.”

“Meet me in my office with your credentials, and we can discuss this in person.” the man said finally.

“And you’ll tell me what happened?” Dr. Ashbury asked hopefully.

“We’ll have to see.” he said. “Next Wednesday at 3pm.”

Dr. Ashbury pulled up her calendar on her computer; she was available. The appointment was a full week from today, but Dr. Ashbury had to settle with that. It was a chance to glean the truth, and that’s all she could hope for at this point.

“Okay, I’ll be there. Thank you. Bye.”

“Bye.”