Heartkiller

Tuesday, November 5, 2013

His thoughts were interrupted by a phone call. He pulled out his archaic cellphone from his pocket to answer it while he continued walking home from his first therapy appointment.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Ville. It’s Paige.”

She was Avery’s secretary at the office. She would often answer the phone when Ville tried to reach Avery to tell him where she was. Because of how often they spoke, they had grown to be good friends. Their conversations grew from a simple update on Avery to general questions about each other’s lives.

“Ah, yes.”

“I’m really sorry for your loss...how are you doing?”

“Um, I’m taking it one day at a time. All I can do, really.”

“Understandable... I don’t know -”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything to try and make me feel better. I understand.”

She sighed in relief. She didn’t have the faintest clue as to what to say to help.

“Listen, there’s some stuff here; I was wondering if I could drop it off sometime...?” she asked hesitantly.

Ville looked up at the intersection to check where he was.

“Yeah, I should be home in about 15 minutes if you want to drop by today.”

“Sounds good. I’ll see you then.”

“Alright. Bye.”

“Bye.”

He hung up and turned the corner. Having finished his cigarette, he lit another. It was only another three blocks till he reached the apartment, so it didn’t take long for him to reach his home. New York was the perfect place for him to be; it allowed for him to live in conditions similar to those of Finland without being disturbed by paparazzi, who were too busy following around Hollywood celebrities to even notice the Scandinavian rocker. When he reached his apartment building, he greeted the doorman with a solemn 'hello' before heading to the elevators. He hit the number 43 and waited for the car to reach the floor.

When he reached the apartment door, he pulled the key out of his pocket and went inside. The first room one walked into was the living room, which had large windows that let in plenty of light. Being at this height, the flat was relatively private, so the windows weren't too much of an issue. Again, the paparazzi in New York weren’t too concerned with Ville when a Jonas or Pitt was just around the corner. To the right of the doorway was the kitchen, which was relatively small. Seeing as Ville was hardly home and Avery got home at odd hours of the day, they rarely cooked and hence didn't need a big kitchen. Just past the large windows was a hallway that led to the bedrooms, bathroom, and study.

Avery had lived alone originally, and Ville moved in afterward. As a result, it was primarily tailored to Avery's liking, although she tried to bring in Ville's tastes as well. Being the old school guy Ville was, she had brought in a Victorian-like cabinet which was placed against the living room wall. Atop it was Ville’s vinyl player with its horn. She had included some odd paintings, including the David Harouni picture featured on the Venus Doom cover. The kitchen cabinets were repainted cherry mahogany to replace the cold black color.

Ville winced as he took off his coat as his shoulder was still badly bruised. Just as he set it down, the doorbell rang and he went to answer it.

"Hey," he greeted Paige.

"Hey, yourself, " she replied.

Her brown eyes peeked over the two boxes she carried. She was a rather young woman, with her reddish brown hair resting just past her shoulders.

"Let me get that for you," Ville said as he took the boxes from her. "If you had told me it was so much, I would've come by myself."

"Ever the gentleman." She noted. "It’s the least I can do."

"Well, thank you. Come on in." He smiled.

Paige sat down on the couch, and he put the boxes on the floor by the end table.

“Would you like something to drink? Juice? Wine?” He offered.

“You’re not supposed to have wine around.”

Paige was fully aware of Ville’s past experience with alcohol.

“I’m not supposed to do a lot of things.” Ville tried to keep the mood light, but she wasn’t having it. He shrugged his shoulders. “It’s Ave’s. She had a couple bottles for guests.”

“Let me have them.” Paige commanded, gesturing with her hand.

“You realize I could just as well buy some more, right? Better alcohol, even.” Ville replied as he took the two bottles out of the cabinet.

“Yeah, but at least then it wouldn’t be because you were tempted by the fact that it was around.”

She went to him, taking a corkscrew out of the kitchen drawer.

“What are you gonna do?” He asked.

“Pour it out.” She said matter-of-factly.

“And waste perfectly good wine? No, you take them home.” Seeing that she was about to object, he added: “As a thank you for bringing by the boxes. I insist.”

“Thank you. Now, go sit.”

Paige returned to the living room and sat on the couch. He took a seat on the opposite end, and the two turned to face each other. The friendly chipper demeanor dissipated.

"Surreal, isn't it?" she asked.

“Yeah.”

“How are you handling it?”

“I’m not.” He rubbed his eyes. “I still feel like she’s around, alive and well. But I know.”

“I know what you mean. She left work on Friday evening, and when I got to the office yesterday, she was gone. It’s a strange feeling. I don’t know if you know but the firm is taking care of everything. Funeral arrangements, I mean. It’s being held on Saturday.”

“Hmm. No, I didn’t know. That’s nice of them. I certainly am in no position to handle that sort of thing.”

There was a lull in the conversation.

“She couldn’t stop talking about you, you know.”

“I’m sure.” He said sarcastically, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“No, really! She’d run through her surprises for you with me, making sure it wasn’t cheesy or anything like that. She was new to it all.”

“New? How do you mean? Ave had been with other people.”

Paige shook her head to emphasize her point.

“Not like she was with you. That girl was head over heels, hopelessly in love with you. I could see it from the beginning, too. She walked in one morning with the brightest smile on her face, giddy as hell. I wasn’t her assistant yet, but we were really good friends. I asked her what had gotten her so fired up, and Ave just said that she met someone. She said that she met you. I don’t know. Before that, she had been really reserved about guys; something happened in her past that made her distrust men, but with you, she just jumped off the deep end without a care in the world.”

Ville beamed, knowing how he had made her feel. It was nice to be reminded. He also knew what Paige meant about something having happened in Avery’s past: she had mentioned on their very first date about having been in a relationship with a married man. He tried not to fixate on that, especially since Paige had continued talking.

“You remember when you guys broke up four, almost five years, ago? The way she was then was just unbelievable. I was around for her breakup with the last boyfriend, and she kind of just shrugged it off...but with you, it was - it broke her. She fell apart and bawled her eyes out. She turned to anything to fill the void.”

“Why are you telling me this?” It pained him to hear how Avery had suffered.

“My point is, no matter how hard she tried, nothing she did could help her escape the pain. She swore she never wanted anybody, not even her worst enemy, to feel so low. To feel so incapable and helpless. So, I know this is hard, but don’t reach for the bottle. Don’t surrender your senses to some volatile substance. I know she wouldn’t want that for you.”

He stared off into the rug, unsure of what to say.

“I should go.” Paige finally spoke.

She got up and Ville followed suit, walking her to the door.

“Call me if you need anything, okay?” she said.

“I will.” He nodded.

“I’ll see you on Saturday.” She hugged him.

“See you,” he replied, and closed the door after she left.

Ville turned to look through the items Paige had brought from the office. He sat on the couch and pulled one of the boxes onto his lap. There were several photos in frames; there were a couple with her family members, but most were of the two of them.

He pulled one out of the box to examine more closely. It was of the happy couple on their wedding day; they were in the garden that surrounded the wedding hall with Ville leaning against a tree and Avery in his arms. Her dress was lovely: 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 hair in retro curls and light neutral makeup. She looked divine. In the photograph, the dress was pulled back to show it off, while the couple stared into each other’s eyes.

He smiled at the memory. It was the happiest day of his life.

Ville set the photograph aside and picked up the next one. It was a “selfie” of the two of them after their date in Helsinki inside the Finnvox studios. Ville had taken the picture causing his face to be disproportionately closer to the camera than Avery’s; they stood with her arms around his waist and goofy grins plastered across their faces. Not much of the studio was actually visible in the picture because of the couple’s proximity to the camera. Ville was dressed in a navy button-up and jeans, while she wore a white chiffon blouse and a royal blue short skirt, one which, incidentally, she could never wear again.

Sunday September 17, 2006

"So, do you bring all your dates to this fancy studio?" Avery asked playfully as she looked around.

"Just the pretty ones." Ville played along.

Avery cocked an eyebrow. It was mid-September of 2006, and Ville had finished his European Summer Festival tour. Ville had spent a week in New York and they had gone out on dates whenever her schedule permitted; the two had taken a spontaneous trip to Finland for the weekend because Avery wanted to see the studio where they recorded many of the albums, including the current one. She would be returning home the next morning, and this was the last chance for them to see each other for the next few months. She wanted to make it count.

"Hm. Have you ever...you know, gone through the bases with any of these 'pretty ones' here?"

"Bases? What do you mean?"

Her fingers were running over the soundboard as she explored the studio.

"Right, I forgot: baseball is an American sport. Um, I mean have you ever done anything intimate with any of these girls you brought?"

"In the studio? No, I haven't." He chuckled.

"Good. I wouldn't want to repeat something like that. Let's be creative now."

It was Ville's turn to be surprised. He raised his eyebrow.

"You mean you want to...?" He trailed off.

“Here’s the thing, Ville: we’ve been dating for several weeks now, and I’d have to say that I really do enjoy your company. It’s nice to talk and connect and all those other mushy things, but I’d just wish that sometimes we could do....you know, other things. Be a little raunchy. I appreciate that you’ve been quite the gentleman, but it’s getting to the point where I’m starting to doubt myself. I mean, am I not pretty enough for you? Is that it? Because honestly, I’m a little offended that you haven’t tried anything.” she said and turned around to face him, though her fingers remained on the controls.

Despite the connotation of her words, her tone was light, playful and seductive. She did not look hurt in the slightest; rather, she was teasing him. She looked at him with a smile on her face, and he was taken aback at how forward she was. Avery continued to surprise him each time they saw each other.

“That can be arranged.” he replied.

Ville took a swift step to close the space between them, and instantly his lips hungrily tugged at hers. It was the first time since meeting that they had kissed, but they had both thought about doing so before. However, their expectations didn’t come close to what it really was; it was a knees weak, face numb, hormone overload kind of kiss.

They pushed against the soundboard, and Avery spread her legs around his waist so that Ville was as close as possible to her. He lifted her to allow her to sit on the soundboard. They didn't waste any time. Avery removed his shirt in one fluid motion, and he took off her blouse. He started for her skirt, when she pulled her lips away to warn him.

"This is Armani. Careful." she enunciated her words.

"Seriously?"

"Do it, and your general is mine."

"Oh, don't threaten me so!” Ville feigned surprise and fear.

For now, he left her skirt alone. He pushed her backward against the control board and leaned against her, kissing her jawline and moving down to her bosom. He buried his head in her neck and worked her collarbone with his mouth. She had had enough.

"Don't. Tease." She said as she pushed him away and against the opposite wall.

She kept her lips on his, tongues intertwined as she removed his belt and unbuttoned his jeans. He shooed her hands away and flipped them so that she was against the wall. Without the support, his jeans fell into a pile at this ankles and he swiftly stepped out of them while his lips maintained contact with hers. He pulled her arms over her head and held them against the wall. He lifted her thighs and she wrapped her legs around him; she remained against the wall because of his weight against her body. He let go of her wrists as he moved his lips down her torso, nibbling gently every so often. Ville could feel the muscles under her skin tighten at his actions, and he was aware he was doing all the right things. She bit her lip and closed her eyes, letting him continue.

Not long after, Avery’s aggressive nature took over and vied for control. Ville was near her belly button and she pulled his face up to hers, slipping her tongue inside his mouth. As their tongues battled for dominance, Avery slyly slipped her hand into his boxers, stroking his general. He let out a muffled sound into her mouth as her actions were driving him crazy. He wasted no more time. He grabbed the sides of her skirt and intentionally ripped the material as he pulled the clothing down, provoking her. She started to protest, but he didn't give her the chance. He tugged off her panties with his teeth and removed his own boxers.



“You owe me, you know?” Avery said to him as they were putting their clothes back on. “I told you not to ruin the skirt.”

“You’re saying you didn’t enjoy that? Because we can try again...” he asked with his eyebrow cocked and a suggestive smirk playing on his lips.

“Not what I said.” she replied with a smile. No, she had definitely enjoyed that.

“Yeah, thought so.”

"Really, though, how am I supposed to walk out of here looking like this?" She asked after managing to put her skirt on.

Sort of. There was a cut down her right side, almost splitting her skirt open completely. It was a wreck. Ville became nervous at her question.

"I mean, I-I could let you borrow something. I'm sure I have spare clothing upstairs. It might be a little big, though."

"Don't even worry about it. I'll figure something out." She replied with a smile on her face.

She was amused by how skittish Ville became thinking he had upset her. She took her navy blazer off the hook in the wall and fiddled with the sleeves, debating whether or not she could put it to some use. Avery tied the jacket around her waist to support the skirt and to hide the ripped part. She burst into laughter upon examining herself.

"I look like some valley girl from the '80s." She joked.

"There's nothing wrong with the '80s, you know." Ville defended.

"Calm down, Neil Young. Maybe not musically, but fashionably? It was a disaster. I mean, who said shoulder pads, leg warmers or fingerless gloves were a good idea?"

Ville glanced away and slightly blushed. He was hoping she wouldn't catch it...but she did.

"Don't tell me...you own a pair of fingerless gloves?" She guessed.

He tried to fake nonchalance and shrugged his shoulders, but she didn't buy it.

"Oh my. I think that's gotta be a dealbreaker."

"Oh, please. You're telling me there isn't a picture lurking around somewhere of you rocking shoulder pads and big hair?" Ville countered.

She broke eye contact. "Well, not one that you will ever see."

Ville set the photograph with the rest of the pile in the box. Avery had left a few more odd and end items at the office, which he left alone. He was surprised, however, to find copies of DS&BH and Love Metal amongst her belongings. He imagined her rocking out to the music as she was working in the late hours of the night; the image made him smile. He ruffled through the rest of the items, and, when he was satisfied, he took the two boxes down the hallway to the last room: Avery’s study. He hardly went into the room, but he was still surprised by the changes she had made.

Her desk had been pushed to the far corner of the room, and a bookshelf was missing. The biggest difference, though, was the color of the wall. It had been repainted a warm, inviting shade of pale yellow. On the east wall was a sketch of a butterfly breaking free from its cocoon in the corner of the room. A light base coat had been applied throughout and the cocoon was starting to be painted; Avery had also signed the corner of the wall with her name and dated three weeks ago. There was a dash and a space for what Ville assumed would be the date the painting had been finished.

He was confused.

To his recollection, he didn’t remember her having mentioned the start of such a project. At the thought, he became frustrated; of course, he wouldn’t know if she had said anything because of the gap in his memory. He set the boxes down on the floor and closed the door behind him. Ville didn’t want to go back there. He didn’t want to return until he knew more about his last days with her because the painting would only remind him of his shortcomings. Till then, the door to the study would remain closed.

Saturday, November 9, 2013

Ville had begun to spend his days in the bedroom, guitar in hand. Although it failed to eradicate his woes, it still alleviated some of the pain he felt. He was a hopeless romantic of a musician, and the tunes were his only means of coping, save for the time he almost jumped off Gas’ balcony to the busy New York streets below. Yeah, there was that. He had realized, though, that that was not the most viable solution after a stern lecture from his manager. After all this time that he had worked with Seppo, Ville knew that the man was not a money-hungry businessman like the rest of the record company seemed to be composed of. He knew that the man cared, so he took his words to heart. Ville would not be so capricious again.

Lounging around the apartment had caused the days to blend together. He occasionally went to the kitchen to get a snack, but only when he could not bear the hunger anymore. Come Saturday morning, he was still in his mold on the bed when someone rang the doorbell. He dragged his feet down the hallway and across the living room to the door. He paid no mind to his disheveled appearance; he wore only pajama bottoms, his hair was tousled in random directions, and he hadn’t shaved in a week.

A thorough mess. A broken man.

He answered the door just as the person on the other end started to incessantly ring the bell. When he opened the door, Paige greeted him with a cup of coffee and words flying out of her mouth a mile a minute. She walked inside and started commanding him, leaving Ville at the door.

“I knew it. You know what? Go take a shower, shave...have you even brushed your teeth?” Without waiting for an answer, she continued. “Go do that. Drink your coffee. I’ll pick out something for you to wear. Do you have a suit ready?”

Ville didn’t realize that was a question, as he was still back at ‘I knew it.’ He stood dumbfounded. At her pause, he snapped out of it.

“Um, I’m sorry, what?” He shook his head in confusion.

“Shower. Go. Now.”

The tone of her voice clearly indicated that that was not a suggestion. He had a couple sips of his coffee on his way to the bathroom. When he reached the door, Paige took it out of his hands, allowing him to shower in peace. She then made her way to the bedroom to find him an outfit for the funeral today. She rummaged through his closet, skimming past band Tees, which actually comprised most of his closet. Finding a dark sports jacket, she threw it onto the bed behind her as she continued her search. Her fingers flew past his clothing until she found a black button-up, a pair of dark slacks, and a belt. She set them on the bed beside the other things.

Paige turned around as a dripping wet Ville walked through the doorway. He had a towel wrapped around his waist and was clean-shaven with his tattoos glistening from the water. His hair was drenched but stayed out of his face.

“Okay, put that on. I’ll wait in the living room. You have about ten minutes to get ready; the ride to the church is short, but we gotta leave soon if we’re gonna be on time.” she instructed and shut the bedroom door behind her when she left.

She paced back and forth in the living room; her phone was in her palm and her fingers flickered over the keys as she updated her boss. Minutes later, Ville emerged from the hallway, dressed and ready to go with his hair pulled back into a low ponytail at the nape of his neck. Paige handed him his coffee and fixed his collar, having to stand on her toes despite her 3-inch heels. She smoothed the sports jacket and settled her feet down.

“Alright, let’s go.”

“Thank you...for all this.”

She smiled. “Don’t mention it.”

When they reached the streets, Ville started to hail a cab. Paige only looked back at him quizzically.

“Taxi? Um, the firm sent over a car just for you.” she informed.

“Oh.” he replied.

They got in and the driver pulled out of the parking space.

“Do you have anything prepared?” Paige asked.

He stared back, confused. “What do you mean?”

“To say. Do you know what you want to say?”

“Not particularly.”

“It’s okay. You have some time; her parents are speaking first.”

The driver pulled up in front of the church and let the two leave the car. Many other guests had arrived and were making their way inside. Ville and Paige went into the hall and were solemnly greeted by Avery’s parents. He had seen them last Sunday when he went to deliver the news of their daughter’s passing, but they hadn’t spoken since then.

“Ville, I wanted to speak to you,” her mother, Grace, said with a small smile.

He nodded in response, and she pulled them aside, out of the doorway.

“I think it’s important for you to know that...you know, just because this happened...it doesn’t change anything. You’ll always be a son to us. You’re always welcome in our home and whatever you need, we’re here for you.”

“I appreciate you saying that. Really.”

“I’ll see you inside.”

He sat in the first pew near the aisle and waited, twiddling his thumbs round and round. He didn’t want to look up at the coffin and acknowledge what was before him; at this point, he had barely come to accept Avery’s death, but that didn’t make grieving any easier. Ville was afraid that looking up at her might send him over the edge, and he couldn’t break down here. Not with all of these people watching him like an animal in a zoo. Looking around, he saw some familiar faces--the band, his manager, a few of Avery’s friends--but there were other people whom Ville assumed to be coworkers or clients.

Within a few minutes, Avery’s parents and brother joined him on the bench, and the ceremony began. The priest started with a prayer, and Ville chose to tune out at this point. He couldn’t concentrate on the rites the priest was performing because he was hypnotized by the gravity of the situation--Avery was dead. Ville looked up to hear Avery’s father, Easton, speak.

“You never imagine having to bury your own daughter. It’s absolutely inconceivable. She was...”
While Easton continued on with his speech, Ville ruminated the possible things he could say. How could he possibly describe the light of his life? She was the one person who grounded him when things became uneasy and hectic. She brought him such peace and had a remarkable ability to say or to do just the right things to make things better. He couldn’t put it into words.

“...and now, my son-in-law would like to say a few things.”

He took a deep breath and got up. He walked to the podium at the front of the church and peeked at Avery in the open casket; his breath hitched in his throat. She looked as beautiful as ever; there had been some scarring from the glass as her window had broken in the accident, but makeup had covered it quite well. She wore a cherry red dress with thick straps as sleeves. Just looking at Avery made his knees weak and sent him back to his schoolboy days of crushing on girls from afar, a callow sense of nervousness at the pit of his stomach.

“Um, I don’t even - what do you -” He struggled to find a place to start. Ville settled with: “it’s hard to prepare for something like this.”

Playing in front of the largest of crowds didn't make speaking in front of these people any easier. He was still so nervous not only because of all the people but also since he couldn’t seem to find the words. He stole a glance in Avery’s direction and his mind was clear.

Don’t worry about them. Just speak from your heart, like you’re talking to me, he could hear her encourage.

“When you get married, you expect to spend the rest of your life with that person. You make plans of the dreams you share, of everything you ever want to do together. You cherish every second you have simply because it’s with the person you love. You expect a lot of things; you don’t expect to wake up one morning to find out that she’s been ripped from this world...

“I think that we all know her from different environments...I knew her to be a forgiving, kind person, who could be tenacious even in the most vulnerable of times. The person she was in the courtroom was a strong, confident woman; she may have occasionally come across as blase to those who didn’t know her, but she meant well. The Avery I knew and Ave the Attorney were two sides of the same coin. She was so caring and tender and knew just the right things to say. She was a seraph amongst peons...and I think we were all lucky to have her in our lives.”

He gave an uneasy smile and stepped down.

How about that? He could find the words.