Flecks of Sun

November 2017

The festival revelry was underway. The snow was falling softly, adding to the already blanketed streets. I was here. I had been to Helsinki already but I was here for the 100th anniversary of Finnish Independence, declared in 1917 from Russia. I looked forward to the cultural celebrations and to learn about Finland. My grandfather had studied in Helsinki and growing up hearing about it, resulted in a generational affection for the country and capital. I had only visited Helsinki twice before and now here I was going to embark on a two-week adventure to see more of the country, third time was the charm and three was my lucky number. I hoped that this trip would give me more of Finland than I had before, I left previously feeling like I barely made an indent. I was also going to see one of my favorite bands in their native country. As part of the celebrations, Finnish artists internationally and domestically known from all genres were giving short performances in the capital. Helsinki was going to be burgeoning with people. Luckily I was only staying a few days to catch the show and sip in the capital before taking a train North and working my way back to the capital for my flight out. I was stoked for the adventure, something that might not have occurred had I not the nerve to invest.

August 2016

“Lis, I can not go.”

“You can goooooo,” the voice on the other end purred.

“No.”

“Yes. You already researched the hell out of it, so just book it.”

“But it’s going to be an investment of money, maybe I should save it.”

“You could die tomorrow, and you’re young. If you don’t do something like this now, you will get old and regret it. Regret not just taking an adventure when you have the chance.”

“Okay, maybe,” I said as I looked at my computer screen.

I had researched for a few weeks about Finland’s centennial celebrations for the following year and had boasted I would attend. On Facebook. But my close friend Clarissa, took it verbatim and challenged me to make it a reality. I had sent her the actual itinerary of the trip and only had to book it. Thus, our phone call. I had been to Finland twice, but this was a trip that extended two weeks into an already expensive country. Furthermore I was currently working out of South east Asia and would probably be moved by next year so I had no idea where to fly from and back to.

“Leave your ticket changeable,” Lis said as if reading my mind.

“It’s like an extra two hundred to do that,” I argued.

“Emile why do you always save, just act,” she argued back.

It was true. I travelled but cautiously, always thinking I needed to have funds on the side for an emergency. I could stand financially to do this; it would not bankrupt me or put a dent in.

“You’re supposed to be industrious. Industrious people act, be industrious, be your grandfather,” she said with encouragement.

Emile. My male name. My grandfather’s name, meant rudimentarily “industrious”. He was the one who had studied in Finland during his University years and made many trips to the country. It probably upset my grandfather that my father didn’t share the same enthusiasm, rather staying in their native France and not feeling the need to travel much. Quite different they were. My mother, American, met my father when she studied in Paris. Romance in her eyes and then her heart. They relocated back to Britain as a compromise and kept a summer home in France. My mother never did pick up French and Britain was a good compromise as it afforded her to work and have language similarities and also kept them in Europe. My grandfather loved his country, France but found something wild in Finland that became his second love. My father never saw what he saw but they were close despite this. When I was born, my grandfather was ailing and thus I was named after him. Shortly afterward my parents moved back to the US at a job offer for my mother. My grandfather recovered and took a fondness to me, calling me a good luck charm. No one thought to just feminize my name to Emily, just kept it as Emile and pronounced it “eh-meel”. I never went by Em either. Always just Emile. I figured it was already short sounding anyways. My mother never made objections. When I was nine, she passed away due to cancer and my father was never the same, moving us back to France. It’s been 17 years since then. At 26, I was ready to stop the weekend travels and delve into a full trip that would allow me the time to appreciate a country so fantastic. My grandfather now 83, e-mailed me everyday to see if I had booked the trip. Him and Lis would probably be keen. After my first trip to Finland, confirmed my affection for the country, my father comically complained I was just like his father.

“What is it about that country?” my father asked as I called to tell him I was indeed going for two weeks.

“Grandpa loved it, I love it. Let me see if I love it entirely and not just the capital,” I said imaging his thought process. My father had never been, and no amount of persuasion could get him to go.

“Well at least you’ll be back in Europe. Are you moving back to Europe next year?” he asked hopefully.

“Dad, it depends on the job placement,” I said. I worked for a non-profit dealing with sustainable development in Asia. They had offices all over but my next placement for a more permanent fixture would be in Europe or USA. Ironically.

“Send me the details of the trip. Maybe I will join you for a day,” he entertained.

“You in Finland? Maybe when hell freezes over,” I joked.

“That country probably does freeze over,” he joked back.

“A beautiful hell,” I said as we continued the conversation.

The next order of business was to call Clarissa who rightfully squealed and then my grandfather.

“Bonjour, Emile Junior,” he said with a laugh.
Him and my father were too much alike, always joking.

I told him the plans and he listened carefully, offering suggestions. He had done a trip like this, nine times. He really loved Finland.

“Grandpa, why do you like Finland so much? Was it really just your studies or was there a special someone?” I asked.

“There was someone,” he said wistfully. My grandfather and grandmother had been sweethearts, she passed away when my father was young. “Someone so lovely standing in that beautiful Espalande park with the leaves falling around her.”

“You never told me this, did grandma know?” I asked shocked.

“It was your grandmother. I had fallen so in love with Finland, quite unexplainable. I brought her to the country and she shared my admiration, but she like your father was French through and through. I proposed to her right then and there in Helsinki. I had never seen anyone so beautiful and never have since,” he finished. He had loved her and everyday I was sure he thought about her.

“But was there a moment in Finland, or what?” I asked pushing the matter. He had picked Finland at random out of the study abroad programme.

“It was just the sheer beauty of it. The people and culture. The winters are so lovely,” he said before continuing, “One day I was strolling a walk in Helsinki and paused to collect myself. I was looking for a building and quite positive I was lost. As I stood there in the fresh fallen snow, the colored architecture looming above, and the fresh air wiping my hair into my eyes, I felt calm and at awe of such atmosphere. My further travels into Finland only cemented that feeling. I will never be able to put into words that moment or hence.”

I listened as he reflected on his time and eventually I fell asleep to his splendid tales in a voice so soft as he continued to reminisce.

Present Day (Nov. 2017)

The show was tomorrow afternoon. I had only seen HIM perform live once, many years ago in the US and I was still a fan even though they weren’t as in the news as they used to be. It almost suited them that way, though I wished them nothing but success. I was never a hyper-fan, I liked them but I didn’t know everything about the band. I had been a fan for a decade and had seen them live 9 years ago. It had been quite a time and a good bonus to the trip. I didn’t even know they were playing.

I decided to spend the day walking around Helsinki, making a note of anything I might want to see the next day and the day after before I left. When I returned to Helsinki for my flight, I would only have an afternoon. I had HIM playing in my earbuds. Though I hadn’t listened to them in a year, all the lyrics came back easily and was an appropriate tune as I meandered. I laughed to myself. Even though I was a relatively young 26, I imagined there would be younger fans screaming at the stage and felt old. If there was one thing I was gunning for, was a coffee, and why not in Finland who consumed the most in the world.

I chose a café center my grandfather said was popular with the older folk, but was quiet and offered a nice place to sit and watch the harbor.
It would give me a good hour to write out my Helsinki plan.

I ordered my standard cappuccino and took a seat around the corner in the otherwise empty café. I got to writing down some traditionally tourist things I wanted to visit again and some off the beat places I had never been to,

“Cappuccino,” the barista called out. I stood up to grab it but it was placed down on my table and I muttered “thanks” without looking up, I was invested in my planning. Lis would be proud of my industrious spirit. I had about ¾ done and figured the left could be on a whim. Mt grandfather always taught me to leave space open for wherever your feet took you, to which my father would chime in “safely.”

I decided to head back to my hotel and change into warmer clothing to match the cooler temperature I could feel in the café already. As I looked up from my paper, I saw that someone else had come in and was sitting with their profile to me, lost in a book. The person looked awfully familiar but I could not place my finger until I realized I must recognize the sleeve of his shirt for he was the one who placed my drink on my table. I contemplated to say thanks.

He looked up from his book and stared at me. I felt idiotic for staring too long lost in my mental thinking of “say thank-you, don’t” debate. But it was gone as soon as I registered where I knew that face. No make-up, hair a bit shorter than usual but still had those curls, and a bit older looking now. He had to be what, almost forty? Was it even him, I was sure it had to be.
I laughed, I laughed. I had read out of curiosity fan-fiction back in the day always about meeting Ville through Bam, a bump in, or something with a twist of fate involved. Here I was quite possibly staring at the man himself, with a stare-off.

He stood up and placed his book down. “I’m glad you didn’t leave yet,” he said as he walked over. I merely had a laugh again at the absurdness of the situation.

“I’m sorry to interrupt you- but I saw you making a list of things for Helsinki and perhaps as a Native I can offer some suggestions?” he asked.

It was so normal and maybe if I registered that it was him, I’d be a bit more dumbstruck.

“I’m sorry to interrupt you- but I saw you and thought surely I was staring at the face of Ville Valo, but no it can’t be,” I said.

“I must be aging that badly,” he said with a laugh.

“No, no, no. But I really thought you were him.” I said to the man completely not taking in what he said. Comparing a stranger to an eye-liner Finnish rocker might not be the biggest compliment for some.

“I am him,” the man said staring at me with a confused but smiling expression on his face.

I looked at him with wonderment and silence.

“No really? It’s you?” I asked becoming dumbstruck and not a fan-girl but that unexpected moment he’s just standing there all casual as if you ever imagined running into him at a completely normal café.
He took my hand and I felt how warm his palms were. “Don’t tell anyone, but I am secretly not a vampire. I have a pulse and I’m not cold.” He laughed then and I did too but to stop the redness spreading across my face as he gently let my hands go.

“So your list?” he asked glancing at the paper on the table.
I explained a little about my trip – leaving out the concert- and listened to his suggestions.

“This is great. I mean a story for the grandkids- if there’s ever any. One of the lead singers of a band I liked helped me see new things in Helsinki. My grandfather would probably would love this.”

“He’s a fan too ?” Ville asked laughing and I couldn’t help laughing at the thought of my grandfather at a HIM concert.

“No, but he loves Finland after his native France. He very much loves this city.”
“So you are a fan then?” Ville asked.
“Shit, so I mentioned I was going to your show tomorrow?” I asked trying to remember if just two minutes ago I had said that or now. I was lost, I was tongue tied.

“You mentioned you were a fan, but now I know you’re going to the show too,” he said seeming to mull on a thought.

Did he think I had stalked him? He looked very serious.

“It wasn’t planned,” I blurted out.

“I wish it had been. Would have meant more,” he said with a wry smile.
What was he talking about? Stalking fans?

“You’ve experienced this before?” I said shocked.

“Well yes…. Quite frequently I should hope,” he said.

“Does that invade upon your privacy?” I asked.

“When you have this life there is not much in the way of privacy although I have been afforded a less chaotic one compared to other famous people.”

“But still- I imagine there could be some deranged whack-jobs out there just waiting for a moment,” I persisted.

He looked at me blankly and I noticed he was a little more away than he was before.

“I’m not deranged,” I said with pleading eyes completely embarrassed now.

“Deranged? Sweetheart I think you have the wrong idea,” he started to clarify.

“I had no ideas. I was just here because it was a recommendation from my grandfather for a nice scenic view and you were here and that was comical. I didn’t plan the show. It was something I discovered looking at the events. I really am not stalking you,” I huffed out. Ville stared at me in amazement.

“You are quite possibly the most interesting fan I have ever run into,” he laughed; “I was talking about you coming to the show and experiencing fans coming to a concert and you were talking about stalkers.” He laughed so hard he had a tear come down his face.
“I have had my fair share overly zealous fans, but you are quite possibly the most-“ he stopped searching for a word.

“But I’m not a zealous-“ I paused hoping for the right word. I hadn’t noticed my hands were shaking a bit out of nerves.

“It’s okay, I am only teasing you. You don’t strike me as zealous at all. I meant before I hoped you attending the concert was planned, was going to ask you to come anyways to see your thoughts on some of the Helsinki suggestions I offered,” he said simply.

I couldn’t think of what to say next. My hands holding each other.

“Are you cold or nervous I took you as a stalker?” he asked with a laugh but turned serious.

“I thought- I thought I had you thinking I was Charles Manson or something,” I said with a weak laugh.

“From stalkers to murderers, you move fast,” he chuckled and I laughed too.

“I saw you move away a bit, so I don’t know. I sometimes talk to much when I am nervous,” I admitted.

“I get too close when I am interested, so I moved away,” he admitted and looked at me. I didn’t have a second to ask what he meant when he asked if I would be at the show.

“Yes, I will be.”

“Good. Why don’t you call this number, ask for me and we’ll arrange a brief catch up tomorrow. I know your time is limited. Helsinki tourism has asked me to write a piece about my favorite spots so it would be good to see what you think of them before I submit it,” he explained.

“Ironic that I could be the guinea pig,” I stated.

“Ironic that you are here…” Ville said with his best teasing voice. My nerves were still shot because my hands shook a little and he noticed. He looked sympathetic and grabbed them again.

“I promise you a second time, I don’t think you’re a stalker. Too bad though,” he said wistfully.

“Too bad?” I asked.

“I quite enjoy our conversations, you’re funny,” he said and squeezed my hands before letting go again.

I felt fire in my palms.

“So-tomorrow I just-I call – I call this number – and mention Helsinki tourism board- and we’ll just- we,” I stammered. Oh god, I was stammering, my hands were lightly shaky and my words were not there. I felt like I was having hot flashes. What happened? I was as cool as a cucumber in the beginning.

“I make you nervous!” Ville exclaimed. “It has nothing to do with stalking, I make you genuinely nervous.”

What was I supposed to say to that?

“I’m so sorry, I don’t mean to act like this. I suppose I just it’s all very surreal and the confusion from earlier, I can become a bit nervous easily. It’s an old habit.”

Ville smiled and shook his head in understanding,

“Okay then, tomorrow call this number and enjoy the show.”

“I will,” I said offering a smile back.

I gathered my things, cast one more friendly smile his way and made my way out of the café, Inwardly I was cringing myself for the stupidity of my words. I probably sounded like Bugs Bunny stammering I thought. The skies had turned a bit darker and it was definitely more of a chill in the air.

I had made it about two blocks from the café in a fast but careful pace to make it back to a warm hotel when I heard footsteps closing in and a “hey,” shouted in my direction.

Ville Valo was at the beginning of the block before me, running in my direction. Had I forgotten something? Was I sure I wasn’t dreaming?

I decided to jog and meet him half way when stepping onto the curb too quick I slipped and took a fall. I heard something crack and hoped it was ice. It was ice, I kept telling myself.
Nope, it was not ice, as I tried to stand again feeling my ankle weak. I felt nauseous and sick as if everything was spinning but still.

“I can’t feel my ankle,” I cried as the pain seared into my veins and I couldn’t handle it anymore.

Ville was at my side in seconds, wrapping his arms under my arms to hoist my ankle off the ground and help support me.

“I won’t be able to hike, I won’t –“ and the realization of all my travel plans gone made me cry again. I had sprained my ankle before but this was a pain a thousand times worse.

“Shhhh,” Ville breathed into my face as his thumbs wiped tears from my eyes.

“How bad does it hurt?” he asked but he sounded far away. The nauseating feeling was increasing.

“I’m going to throw up,” I whispered. “What did I forget?” I asked him staring at his face.

He didn’t register what I meant.

“You came looking for – me,” I winced in pain feeling like someone who had drank too much and not able to put together a sentence lest they completely hurl. I was not going to do that, not here, not now.

“I didn’t get your name,” he said looking concerned.

“Oh, oh, it’s –“ and everything went black.