Somewhere Else

Chapter 3: Teething Pains (i)

I think they've forgotten I'm with them.

I trail along behind, bringing up the rear, listening to the group laugh and joke with each other. I can't follow their conversation at all. Especially not when they're speaking in Finnish, in such short, quick bursts, sprinkled with slang words and phrases that only locals – or people who have lived here for more than a while – would know. In other words, people who are not me. I can barely even understand basic, standard Finnish.

Aksel has been speaking in Finnish to me for the past day, as we have agreed to. But it's slightly easier to understand Aksel's speech, either because he dumbs down his language for me or I'm simply more used to his speech patterns. Now, listening to his conversation with his friends, I secretly suspect it's a mixture of both. I can only catch three of every seven words he's saying.

I'm starting to regret coming. It's obvious the invitation to the movies was extended only to Aksel. The others, especially Lumi, greeted me politely enough, but there was something in Aliisa's expression that made me feel like they hadn't been expecting me.

And Aksel himself seems to have forgotten me too. He is walking in the midst of his friends, listening to the conversation around him while adding his own rejoinder every once in a while. I'm lagging behind by two, three metres – far away enough that I can look as if I'm not part of their group at all.

As it is, the passersby on the street probably think I'm walking alone. And it's making me uncomfortable, because I find myself drawing more than the usual number of glances. The streets are not that crowded today, so I stand out more. Barely any of the passersby even glance Aksel and his group of friends, walking ahead and chatting among themselves. I, on the other hand, can already feel the burn of the stares that I'm getting through the simple act of existing.

I know I'm drawing attention because I look foreign. I'm not foreign enough to be labelled clearly as a tourist – not like the Asian tourists who come in large tour groups and snap all sorts of pictures on their huge cameras – but not local enough to be mistaken for someone who belongs here.

I wrap my arms around myself, trying to shrink deeper into my winter coat. Walking here like this, trailing far behind Aksel and his group of friends, part of the group but not quite, makes me feel worse than I would have felt walking alone.

Aksel chooses this moment to turn around and I see the moment his gaze lands on me. He slows his footsteps, falling back from the group so that he can walk with me. "Hey," he says to me, reaching out to grasp my hand in his. "Are you okay?"

He's speaking to me in English, despite what he said yesterday. A little part of me is relieved. "Yeah." I nod towards the others, who are still walking ahead. Lumi has turned around to presumably check where Aksel went, but she turns back when she sees us together. "Shouldn't you be talking to your friends?"

He glances at them, then shrugs. "I'm talking to you now."

"I'm fine," I say uncomfortably, doubly conscious of the glances we're attracting. I suppose we do look a picture. He is so Finnish, so blond, so blue-eyed, while I am not.

"People are staring," I whisper, and tug my hand out of his. Couples in Helsinki, I've realised, are not very touchy-feely in public. Simply holding hands in public tends to draw stares from people. It doesn't help that I look the way I do. It's just that, now, instead of merely staring at me, Aksel is being stared at too.

I wonder what people who see us walking together think of me, and of him. Of us, together.

"Who cares?" Aksel asks softly, in response to my previous statement. He glances at my hand, then at his own. "You don't want to hold my hand anymore, just because people are staring?"