And Love Said No

Ville flicked the switch to illuminate his living room. He closed the front door behind him and tossed his keys on the coffee table; they landed on a stack of records he had been perusing earlier in the week. After setting his coat on its hook, he took off his beanie and tousled his hair on his way up the stairs. He was drunk, his wobbly gait signaled that much, but his mind was rather lucid.

He stumbled to his bedroom but didn’t bother lying down. Instead, he grabbed his guitar, a black Gibson L-00 that he’d lovingly named Knight Rider, and leaned against the headboard. He was sure he wouldn’t be able to sleep; his mind was fixated on Esmeralda, the beautiful Finnish-Spaniard who had stolen his heart. It had been two months since he had seen her, and a month since they’d last spoken to each other. Esme was stunning tonight. He couldn’t find his feet to approach her, and he resented that now. They hadn’t said a word to each other, but he snuck glances whenever he could. Ville saw her laugh with her cousin and crack jokes with Missy. It didn’t seem like she was avoiding him; rather, there was an awkward tension between them as they contemplated what to say to one another. Ville would have apologized, he was sure of that much. By the time he finished his set, though, she was gone.

Ville strummed the guitar mindlessly. The pasttime was calming and a bit of a distraction as he thought about her. He wanted to apologize. He so badly wanted to apologize and to kiss her and to make everything better. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, letting his fingers glide over the guitar strings to the tune of “Love Me Tender.” He smiled and closed his eyes, repeating the song once more. Ville became consumed by the melody. It was a song that he played often, probably one of the first songs he learned to play, and one that he had played through a range of emotions. At this point, it was second nature to him, and he hummed along with the music.

The doorbell woke him from his trance. He looked at the clock at his bedside, which read 3:21. At this hour?, he thought. He reluctantly set the guitar on his bed and went downstairs. It wasn’t easy to see the street from his bedroom window, but now that he was at the peephole, he looked to see who was standing at the door. He hoped it wasn’t a fan waiting for an autograph; though Finland afforded him a lot of privacy by nature, he had occasionally seen visits from enthusiastic fans crouching in the bushes for photos and the chance to meet him. He wouldn't be surprised if one such fan had the gall to approach him at this hour. However, Ville recognized the face on the other side, and he quickly unlocked the deadbolt to open the door.

Esme stood with her arms crossed over her chest to shield herself from the cold. The smile on Ville’s face disappeared when he saw her clouded eyes. Her hair was a bit disheveled, her nose was pink, and her eyes were puffy. He wanted nothing more than to envelop her in a hug, but he resisted the urge. He wasn’t sure if she was here to seek comfort or if she was upset with him.

“Can I come in?” she finally asked, hardly above a whisper.

He moved aside. “Of course.”

She took a few steps inside the familiar home, her home. Ville closed the door and paused, trying to figure out what was happening. Esme stood in the middle of the room and gnawed her lip. Her peacoat was pulled tightly to her body to ward against the early morning chill, although the alcohol coursing through her veins did most of the work. She stalled in the center of the room, unsure of her next move.

“Do you want a blanket or some tea?” he offered.

“No, no, I’m fine. It was just chilly outside.”

Ville went to the couch and patiently waited for her to explain. She sat down and relaxed in the warmth of the home. Her eyes were fixated at a spot on the floor as she thought about what to say. After leaving the club, she had roamed the city and ruminated over what Jonna had said. The accusations ate away at her, and she couldn’t bring herself to go home. Instead, she had gone to a pub and drank away her troubles until closing. Esme then let her feet wander back to Ville’s tower as she was unwilling to rest without speaking to him. She missed him.

“I don’t know what I’m doing here.” she finally broke the silence with a meager whisper. “I’m sorry for waking you.”

“Not at all. I, um, I couldn’t sleep.”

“I thought I heard your guitar.” She noted. “Working on new stuff?”

“No, Elvis.”

“Ah, the other king. Rough night?”

He hesitated. It was casual. Why was she being so casual? “Um… not any more so than any other night as of late.”

She met his eyes and held back tears. God, she missed him. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

“I'm sorry, Es. I'm so sorry.” He blurted out.

Esme didn't say anything at first. He had apologized numerous times already, and the words didn't provide much solace. The memory still pained her. Ville didn't know what to add, he wasn't sure what she needed.

Her raspy, tired voice broke the silence. “Is she right?”

“Who? About what?”

“Jonna said that--”

“Jonna? Why are you listening to a damn thing she says?”

“Because she knows you. I saw her tonight, I was on my way to get a drink at the bar and for some reason I forgot how small this city really was. Bumped into her, as I was bound to do… she said things that I haven’t able to get out of my head. I can’t even look at us the same way anymore. She just…” Esme sniffled.

“What did she say?”

“She said that she knew that you would cheat again, the same way our entire relationship started. That I got in the way of you two, that I fucked everything up.” she brushed away a tear. “Was she right? Was I just another--another notch in your belt?”

Ville’s mouth fell agape and he furrowed his brow. “How can you even ask me that? I love you.”

“You said the same thing about her.”

“No, I was delusional. I- I couldn’t stand her.”

“Ville, you were ready to marry her.”

“I wasn’t ready to marry her. I had proposed, yes, but… I was never in the mindset to be committed to her. I was sick--you know that. Between the alcohol and the drugs, I could barely see straight. I was looking for every exit I could take to get out of that relationship.”

“Is that the only reason you got with me then? Because I was an exit? Because I was easy?”

His chest ached. It hurt him so much to hear that she thought of herself like that. He dismissed his inhibitions and pulled her into his lap, burying his head in the crook of her neck. Surprisingly, she didn’t resist.

“Listen. You are everything to me, darling.”

“And yet you still killed our relationship.” she said gravely.

The words stung him as much as it hurt her to utter them. He pulled away to look at her, and she unraveled from his grasp. “It wasn't all me. Don't crucify yourself. You left. You left in the middle of our argument without an explanation, without an inkling that you were coming back. You have just as much a hand in our breakup as I do.”

“We were fighting. I just needed space.” Esme inched away from him. “All my stuff was still here, you knew I was coming back.”

“Oh really? The same way you went back to Luka, and Katya, and Antti?”

“I broke up with them before I left.”

“Doesn't matter. You still left when things weren't going exactly your way.”

“I left because I didn't love them, not like I loved you.”

Ville sighed. “You can be scared about us. You can be scared that we’re going to fall apart before we even make it to the altar. Fuck, I am! I am scared that I’m my own enemy, that I’m going to sabotage our relationship for fear of failure… But you can't absolve yourself. I know you’re scared of the same thing.”

Esme stared at the ground. Her mind was racing, but not because of what Ville had said. She was still thinking about Jonna, about what she had said about their relationship. When she didn’t say anything, his hand inched toward hers, and she let him grasp her fingers. Ville rubbed small circles with his thumb, and she climbed into his lap. His nose grazed her cheek as she settled into the familiar position. With her arms around his neck, she didn’t hesitate to connect their lips. Three inches away from him, and she was like a moth to a flame. Ville breathed deeply, finally relaxing now that Esme was near.

Her tongue roamed and wrestled with his, but he pulled away when he felt her warm tears. His eyes searched hers for some explanation as to her erratic emotions. He smelled the alcohol on her breath and knew that he should have suspected something the minute she had shown up at the late hour. He wanted to be with her, he wanted to kiss her. But not like this. He couldn’t be sure that she wanted this or if it was just the alcohol coaxing her. Ville reluctantly scooted her off his lap.

“Come, let’s get you to bed.”

He took her hand and led her upstairs, pausing at the bedroom doorway but deciding against it; he didn’t want her to be upset to wake up in their bed, knowing who the last woman to take that place had been. Instead, he gripped her hand tightly, to remind him that she was there, that this was real, and led her to the guest bedroom. Esme settled into the bed, and she fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow; she forgot where she was or who she was with.

Ville kissed her forehead. “Good night, kulta.”