Pasi Jääskeläinen - Secret Passages in a Hillside Town

Olli’s hand is on Greta’s left breast. His index finger is laid across her nipple, his thumb gently pressing the side of her breast. He feels a scar stretching under his hand and thinks that it’s there because of him. The thought floods him with an overwhelming tenderness.

His face is pressed against Greta’s neck. He breathes through her golden hair and seems to smell the scent of a warm hillside. It fills the room and carries him back to a meadow where they had a picnic a few days after they lay together in Wivi Lönn’s house for the first time. Autumn was postponed for a day and summer blazed up one last time before the coming winter.

They sat in the tall grass to eat, and ended up having sex. It was more ritual than unbridled passion. Without a word, Greta put her half-eaten tomato sandwich back in the basket, unzipped Olli’s trousers, took her panties off under her dress and sat on his lap.

As they merged, the M-particles sang to them from deep in the earth, and for one moment Olli sensed all the secret passages in Jyväskylä, their locations, their routes, as if he were viewing a map drawn on his soul.

Naturally, their meadow is mentioned in the Magical City Guide . Olli wonders if a lot of people will go there now that the book is available and the first printing is virtually sold out. Maiju at the office has told him that next summer the Jyväskylä tourist office is planning to sell guided tours to all the magical places where his love for Greta Kara was reborn. The thought of it makes Olli sad, although it is good news for the business.

He lies at the edge of sleep and imagines them first at the meadow and then in Tourula, in the house on the bank of the river. He is startled when Greta makes a sound.

His left knee has been tucked between her thighs for a long time. His leg is starting to go to sleep, but he can’t bring himself to move it because he doesn’t want to disturb her.

Greta turns, points at the computer and breathes a request. Olli picks it up, puts it in her lap and helps her hands to the keyboard. She writes her last status update, closes the computer, and looks up at Olli.

Before she falls into another sleep, he thinks he sees the sun reflected in the green of her eyes. He turns to the window and is surprised to see that the sky is an impenetrable grey.

He puts away the computer, gets dressed and sits in the chair next to the bed, watching the life fade from the golden-haired woman. He holds her hand and looks at her red-painted fingernails. Her fingers grow cold; her face turns waxen; her breath slows and stumbles. Olli isn’t sure if he knows how to feel for a pulse, but it feels weak and irregular and sometimes disappears altogether.

Hours pass.

Olli sits, waits and makes observations. They fall like drops somewhere inside him, waiting to be pondered later.

Greta has been silent and still for a long time. Olli bends closer. Then her lips part and smile weakly.

She whispers, “Olli, ask me now…”

Her voice is like the rustle of dead leaves. It takes a moment for him to understand what she means, and another moment to collect himself.

Finally, he asks her the question. But Greta is already gone.

AFTER PRONOUNCING GRETA KARA DEAD, Dr Oksanen sighs and pulls the blanket up over the face of the deceased. The blanket is covered in white satin, and the effect is impeccably cinematic.

Olli feels cold. He and the doctor stand next to the bed in their suits, stiff and serious, their arms at their sides, both wearing ties. Greta lies naked under the blanket, the marks of Olli’s teeth still on her skin.

“My condolences,” the doctor says. “It’s obvious how much the two of you meant to each other. I sense a great love. I hope that you were able to say goodbye to each other and nothing was left unresolved between you. As a physician, I see all sorts of things. Many kinds of deaths. Sad ends. Bitterness. Inability to put away pride and ask for forgiveness even when faced with eternal separation. This is so very sad, but I hope I don’t offend you if I venture to say, Mr Suominen, that your love story had a very beautiful ending.”

Olli nods. He’s numb, and the situation is unreal, right down to the drama-reading Dr Oksanen’s brief speech.

They go downstairs and shake hands. The doctor prepares to leave. He promises to take care of the requisite notifications relevant to Greta’s death, which he says “falls to him in his role as physician”. He also says that someone will come soon for Greta’s body, and the owner of the house will come to take care of everything connected with terminating the rental contract. Olli needn’t worry about anything. He can “walk out of this house of sorrow and close the door behind him and focus on grieving”.

They look at each other. The doctor seems to remember something. “Ah, yes. I nearly forgot something in the bedroom…”

He goes upstairs and remains there for several minutes. Returning with his bag, he avoids eye contact, bows quickly and leaves.

After the doctor left, Olli packed up the things he’d brought with him to the house. There wasn’t much. He put the suitcase by the front door. Then he sat down at the dining-room table, poured himself a cup of thick, bitter coffee, turned on the computer and opened Facebook.

Greta’s last status update said:

Greta Kara is completely happy.

Olli stared at the text for a long time.

Finally, he closed the computer. He knew that he was supposed to leave so that everything could progress as it was meant to. His part of the story was over. His life would continue elsewhere, more or less attached to the slow continuum. He had many things to take care of.

But he wanted to see what happened after the credits rolled, so he stayed to watch.

SOME TIME PASSED, and then Olli heard sounds from the bedroom. First the squeak of the bed. Then coughing.

He didn’t go to look, just poured himself some more bad coffee. He could imagine what was happening upstairs. Karri had briefly described what would happen by chat, saying that he didn’t want to give Olli a scare or mislead him unnecessarily. But certain things had to happen in a preordained manner.

In spite of his curiosity, Olli didn’t think it wise to go and look as the body of the one he had loved more than he had ever loved anyone opened its eyes and emerged from under the covers as a different person.

The medicine he had given to Greta was a substance that slowed the vital functions, and the doctor had gone upstairs just before he left to give the faux deceased an antidote.

Someone opened the front door with a key. Olli heard people talking. A white coffin was carried in. Two men set it down in the middle of the floor, glanced at Olli and walked out again.

A bustling, well-groomed woman came in after them. Olli guessed that she was a beautician. She had a garment bag over one arm and some kind of tool satchel in the other. She greeted Olli and pointed at the stairway.

“Up there?”

Olli nodded.

She smiled gratefully and climbed the stairs.

About an hour passed. The woman came back downstairs, waved at Olli and left.

Olli looked up at the staircase.

On the top step stood an androgynous figure with black, shoulder-length hair, a white dress shirt, grey trousers and a black waistcoat with shiny buttons.

Karri smiled, descended the staircase, looked at the coffin with a furrowed brow and sat down across from Olli.

“My hairdresser told me that there was a stylish gentleman down here drinking coffee,” Karri said light-heartedly, in a voice only partly familiar. “The plan was for you to leave before I arrived, but I’m glad you waited. So, Greta Kara’s funeral is in three weeks. She’ll be buried—or at least her pear-print dress will—in the old Jyväskylä cemetery, near to you and to all the places where she was happy. It was her last wish. Of course, you’ll be expected at the funeral, both as a grieving lover and as a grieving publisher.”