And Love Said No

Jussi laughed. “Ah, well, if only we could all be so fortunate.”

“You could.” Jyrki insisted nonchalantly, his eyes peering over his sunglasses to make the point. The dark shades had no place in the already dim bar, but he shot down Jussi earlier in the night by chalking it up to a ‘fashion statement.’

“Not a chance. For me to be as cavalier about this as you are, it would take… well, it would take a full keg!” The two friends burst out laughing, attracting the attention of the nearby patrons.

“It seems like you're already halfway there.” Mige grinned as he approached the table.

Jussi’s arm tightened when he saw Ville. Immediately, his smile disappeared. He scooted out of the booth saying, “Ah, I’m on my way out actually.”

“No, no.” Mige stopped him in his tracks and slid into the booth. Ville took the empty seat next to Jyrki and remained glum. “Why are you two avoiding each other? You didn’t come to the bar for Ville’s birthday, and he’s been ducking out of rehearsal before we can make any plans to hang out together. You can’t even look at each other right now. What's going on?”

Jyrki threw an arm over the side of the booth and braced himself. He knew what was happening between Jussi and Ville, and he was trying his best not to get caught in the middle of it. They were both his good friends, and while he understood and agreed with Jussi’s perspective, he had been friends with Ville for far too long to let it affect their relationship. Mige was left in the dark, though, and when no one at the table offered an explanation, he insisted, “Don’t play dumb.”

“Ask the guy who can’t keep his dick in his pants.” Jussi quipped bitterly and downed the rest of his beer.

“I thought I was.” he smirked and Jussi glared.

“No . . . it’s not him.” Ville finally spoke up. He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. “I, um, I didn’t exactly tell you guys everything that happened between me and Es.”

“Esme? That’s what this is about?”

“Yeah, um. . . . The breakup wasn't completely out of left field. I had, um. Where should I start? . . . Well, before we broke up, we were fighting. Not all the time, but--”

“Stop making excuses for yourself.” Jussi’s tone hardened.

“I’m not, I’m not. I know I fucked up.”

“That’s an understatement.” he murmured.

Linde approached with three beers and squeezed into the booth next to Ville, who graciously accepted the bottle and took a few gulps before continuing. “One night, things got really bad and she left. Went to her grandmother’s house, I think. Anyway, I was a wreck. We were fighting because of me--I was going mad. I thought things were going to fall apart before we even got to the altar. I was pushing her away, I knew it, but so was she. I mean, she was running. She was always a flight risk. I don’t even know how it happened--I was getting cigarettes and Jonna . . . she was there, and. . .” he sighed and looked at the table. His nerves were causing him to stumble over his words and he wasn’t sure if he was even making sense. He pursed his lips and continued, trying to avoid Mige’s glare at the sound of his ex's name. “We went back to my place and we were just talking at first about what was happening. Catching up. Then we started reminiscing, and, I don't know. I just-- um, I. Esme, she walked in the next morning to see us in bed, in our bed together.”

“Are you serious?” Mige fumed.

“She's halfway around the world because of this idiot.” Jyrki said.

“I can’t believe you. How could you do that to her?” Linde asked.

“I’ve been beating myself up over it, thanks.”

“That’s why you haven’t been speaking to one another?” Mige clarified.

“He’s lucky that I haven’t pounded his face into the wall for what he did.” Jussi offered.

Mige was shocked, and Ville couldn't offer any more of an explanation than he'd already provided. “What are you doing to get her back?”

“What do you mean? I'm not doing anything.”

“You mean you're just gonna let her walk out of your life like that?”

“I'm giving her space. I can't expect her forgiveness. This is what worried her from the beginning of our relationship.”

“I can't believe you would do that to her.” Linde repeated.

Ville hid from their judging eyes by shielding his forehead. He rolled the beer bottle by its edge and stared at the condensation, allowing it to distract him.

“How is she doing?” Linde asked Jussi.

“Well, she hasn’t lost her ability to yell.” he smiled before explaining. “She wasn’t taking my calls, and I mentioned to Bam that I was worried. He decided to whisk her off to Pennsylvania.”

“Oh, that must have been a joyous flight.” Linde laughed. Jussi and Jyrki joined in, though Mige still had his gaze on the brooding form across the table; he felt a mixture of concern and anger for his best friend, but he remained shrouded in his thoughts as he mulled over the right words.

“The flight was fine, I presume. She was upset with me, not Bam. Something about being intrusive or overprotective--I don’t know.” He tried to take a swig of his bottle and realized he’d emptied it earlier. “But she’s good.”

Ville assured. “I am sorry. I mean it.”

Jussi pursed his lips. He cleared his throat and looked at his friend. “I know. And she knows. Doesn’t change anything for her.”

“And you?”

He looked around the table. Already, the fight had gotten out of hand. There were lines drawn in the sand as bandmates took sides. Jyrki had known Esme since she sat in the back of rehearsals as a 10-year-old marveling at the teens banging on instruments; he obviously took her side. Linde and Mige stood behind Ville no matter how foolish he was; they were best friends, Jussi understood. He joked to ease the tension, “Well, you’re miserable already, I don’t think I get anything more out of torturing you.”

Linde smiled and muttered. “Glad that’s settled.”

“I’m gonna get another beer, I’m running on empty.” Mige got out of the booth to let Jussi through.

“I’ll join you.” Jyrki said and followed him up to the bar.

“How are things with you and . . . your girl?” he asked on the way, knowing that Jyrki was merely using the opportunity to debrief the conversation.

“Rosie. Her name’s Rosie.” he rolled his eyes at his bitter friend’s thinly veiled attempt to convey his dissatisfaction of Jyrki’s partner.

He muttered under his breath, “doesn’t matter.”

“Things are good. It's starting to get a little serious now… Serious enough that you should learn her name.” Jyrki dug his hands in his pockets. “She's sticking around.”

“I don't know. A grown woman should not be called Rosie.” They reached the bar and waited for the bartender to make his way to them. He leaned against the counter. “Five year old, British girl living in a posh neighborhood or something, maybe, but certainly not a respectable adult.”

“Why does she have to be British?”

Jussi rolled his eyes. “You're missing the point.”

“I was trying to evade the insult.” he explained. “It's short for Rosalie.”

“Well, consider including that extra syllable in her name if you want me to take her seriously.” He held up four fingers to the bartender to request beers for his table.

“Anything else while we're at it? Must she wear only knee-high socks and plaid clothing to match the preppy snob that you’ve deemed her to be? Or perhaps we are to adhere to the strict Puritan ideals in our relationship? Whatever pleases you, Your Highness. I insist.”

Jussi simply glared at his mocking friend who laughed at the reaction.

“So… Does that mean Ville is back in your good graces?” Jyrki asked, shrugging his shoulder in the direction of the table.

His eyes drifted to his beanie-clad friend. Ville was sitting up a little straighter now, but his hands still fidgeted from the tension and uneasiness. Jussi looked back at Jyrki. “Not exactly. That’s up to Esme.”