Pasi Jääskeläinen - Secret Passages in a Hillside Town

Timi?

Olli strains his memory, then gives up and turns to Greta. She’s staring blankly at her dirty feet.

Inside the house Olli fills a hot bath and they clamber into it. When they’ve stopped shaking, he asks her why she went into the secret passageway.

She answers glumly, guiltily, that she has no idea, and asks him to forgive her. “All I remember is that I went downstairs to see if I could still play. Then we were there in the garden and it was horribly cold.”

“Crazy girl,” Olli sighs.

They look at each other for a long time without speaking.

“I wish we could remember what happened down there,” Olli says. “We were there for a long time. And the M-particles were… How do you feel? Any different?”

Greta shrugs.

Silence.

Finally they get out of the bath, dry each other off, go up the stairs and climb under the covers to sleep off their weariness.

“Olli, don’t go to sleep just yet,” Greta says. “Let’s make love first.”

Olli is tired, but he nods, takes her in his arms and kisses her. Then he realizes she’s snuffling, fast asleep.

When he wakes up, it’s evening.

Greta is awake. She’s lying beside him on her back, facing the ceiling, looking at him from a strange angle, out of the corner of her eye.

“What’s wrong?” he asks with a smile from under the blanket, laying his arm across her belly. It’s warm. “Is there a spider on the ceiling?”

Greta tries to smile.

“It’s just that I…” she says in a whisper. “I don’t seem to be able to move.”

AFTER EXAMINING GRETA, Dr Oksanen gives her an injection in the arm, strokes her hair, and leads Olli out into the hallway.

Greta watches them, her face peaceful.

“The exposure to cold has worsened Miss Kara’s condition. It’s a shame that it’s come to this,” the doctor mutters. “But mental confusion is a symptom of this illness, and there’s no telling what a patient may do when a spell like this comes over her. Some of her ability to move has returned and she’s calm now, but she’s experiencing arrhythmia and difficulty breathing and her internal organs are beginning to fail. And unfortunately all of these things indicate that her central nervous system seems to be entering its final paralysis. Her condition may change for the better temporarily, but it may also collapse completely at any moment. All I can do is alleviate her pain. I just gave her some morphine. She has a few hours, perhaps a day, or two at most. I’m very sorry.”

Olli bows his head and struggles to understand. “I’m sorry,” he laughs, “but this can’t be how it goes. Why don’t I take her to a hospital? Surely they can help her there?”

Dr Oksanen lays a hand on Olli’s shoulder and looks at him closely, right in the eye, to be sure that he hears and understands.

“Mr Suominen,” he says emphatically. “Believe me when I say that nothing can be done. Nothing. The end is near, and the only thing left open is what happens before that. Yes, we could take Miss Kara to a hospital, but the strain of that would, I fear, only hasten her end. At least here the two of you can say goodbye to each other in peace. I’ll leave you now and go home. I live just fifteen minutes away, and my phone is always on. Call me if it seems necessary, and I’ll come. But I must tell you again that I can’t do anything for this patient but give her more pain medication if she needs it. There is no hope for her, but there’s enough of life left that while she is alive, something beautiful could still happen.”

When the doctor is gone, Olli goes back to Greta. She beckons him closer. “It doesn’t hurt any more,” she says quietly, and smiles.

“Good,” Olli says. “That’s very good.”

“I heard what the doctor said. We don’t have much more time.”

“No, we don’t.”

Olli can’t bear to look into her eyes.

Greta snorts, grabs his head and turns his face towards her. “My sweet fool,” she whispers. “Look at me while you still can! Let’s get all we can out of the time we have left. To start with, help me get out of this ridiculous nightgown. It’s like some sort of horrible shroud, and I don’t intend to be a corpse until the doctor pronounces me dead. Take off your clothes. Come lie beside me. Touch me. Let’s hold on to each other.”

Olli gets undressed and crawls in next to her, under the covers. Her skin feels cool.

“You’re so warm,” she whispers.

She’s pale and exhausted and her voice is like a fragile instrument, but the green in her eyes begins to burn with frightening power.

“Please kiss me, my darling. And don’t hold back. I won’t break. Kiss me for all the years we should have had together.”

Olli presses his lips against hers.

As they kiss, the M-particles in the house wrap around them, seep into their skin and flow through their veins.

Kisses are an important part of a cinematic way of life.

A kiss can be playful, light, rough, violent, stolen, gentle, cold, sensual, deceitful, treacherous, cavalier, forbidden, sinful, loving or lustful—and combinations of these can also be very interesting—but a kiss is always a kiss. The touching of lips is a basic unit of erotic contact. Like a cigarette, a kiss can be used to express thoughts and feelings too complex, or too straightforward, to put into words.

The most interesting cinematic kisses are always alive, and can contain the contextual contrasts of detachment and desire, faith and betrayal, love and hate, approach and separation. What could be more cinematic in feeling than a goodbye kiss, combining sensual joy and pleasure with the pain of renunciation?

(Kissing stills on following page: Robert Taylor and Vivien Leigh in Waterloo Bridge . Humphrey Bogart and Mary Astor in The Maltese Falcon . Errol Flynn and Olivia de Havilland in They Died with Their Boots On . Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman in Casablanca . Gary Cooper and Ingrid Bergman in For Whom the Bell Tolls . Nino Castelnuovo and Catherine Deneuve in The Umbrellas of Cherbourg . Gregory Peck and Jennifer Jones in Duel in the Sun . John Garfield and Lana Turner in The Postman Always Rings Twice . Heath Ledger and Jake Gyllenhaal in Brokeback Mountain .)

When they finish their kiss, Greta wipes the tears away, first from Olli’s face, then from her own, and smiles, and whispers, “Well, that certainly won’t kill me, now will it? And darling, I’m so glad that I still turn you on. And you do me, too. Now lie on top of me, Olli. Make love to me.”

Olli hesitates.

“I can’t.”

Greta scowls and slaps his face.

He yelps, rubs his cheek and looks at her in amazement.

“I’m sorry, darling, but don’t be an idiot. I don’t have time for it,” Greta pants, taking him in her limp arms. “It won’t hurt me. Can’t you see I’m still alive? I love you now more than I will when I’m dead. Take me now, so I can feel it… And hold me, hold me so tight that I scream… You see, there’s one thought that comforts me: that when I’m dead and cold and they come to take my body away, it will have your smell on it, and the traces of your love.”

AFTER THEY MAKE LOVE they are overcome with a weariness as big as the universe. Greta is falling asleep. Olli’s still awake.

At some point Greta lets go of his neck, turns and sighs. She is pale but calm. Her breath is fairly steady now, though shallow and quick. The marks of Olli’s teeth are distinct on her pale skin, just as she wanted. Olli, too, has deep, bloody scratches on his back and sides. I hope that at my funeral the marks of my fingernails will remind you of one thing: the most important part of our love story won’t be that I died, but that I lived, through you, and for you …