Somewhere Else

Chapter 5: Versus (ii)

"How are you feeling?" Aksel asks me, his eyes sweeping over my face, as if he's a machine scanning me for insecurities.

He has been doing this a lot since we've come back from Hamburg. I know he's worried about me, about our decision to stay in Helsinki, but it has been going on for a week now. It's like he doesn't really think I can do it and is just waiting for me to trip up again.

I feel the familiar guilt encircle my heart like a chain, and that makes me short with him. "I'm fine," I say irritably. "Stop asking."

He falls silent then. I glance at him and see that he's staring into the distance.

I suck in my bottom lip, feeling bad. It's not his fault – it's mine for being snappy. He is just looking out for me, the way he always does. And I'm being an ungrateful jerk.

I want to reach out and touch him – grab his hand, tell him I'm sorry. But I let my hand fall onto the table with a thud.

I can feel Aksel's gaze on me for a long moment. Then he pushes himself up, away from the table, snatching his empty bowl and mug off the table. I watch him walk into the kitchen.

Five minutes later, after I hear the faucet shut off but he still doesn't emerge, I get up and go in search of him. I find him hunched over the kitchen sink, his forearms leaning against the edge of the counter as he stares blankly down at the sink drain. He doesn't look up, even when I stop beside him.

I hesitate. He looks so distant.

But I eventually find the courage to slide a hand up the inner side of his arm, until my fingers are brushing his palm. He has his hands loosely clasped together, but at my touch, he pulls them apart so that my fingers can entwine with his. Then he closes the other hand over mine, too, sandwiching my hand between both of his.

He heaves a sigh in the direction of the sink.

"Sorry," I speak softly. "I didn't mean to snap."

"It's okay," he says, in a voice not any louder than mine.

I grip his hand tightly. "I'm fine, Aksel. You don't have to keep asking."

He nods, but I see the look on his face. I see the way he presses his lips together until his mouth is almost a thin line, like he's stopping himself from saying something.

"No, what?" I tug at his hand, wanting him to face me fully. Communication and compromise, Mama had said. I want to try to be better at that, too. "Tell me what you're thinking."

"I'm just worried about you," he says.

"Don't be." I shrug. "I'm changing my mindset now, see? Things will be different this time."

He stares at me for a long time, then gives a short nod.

"Hey," I change the subject, leaning the side of my head against his upper arm to take his mind off it and onto me. "Why don't we go out somewhere?"

"Yeah?" He doesn't look at me, but I feel him playing with my hand, turning it over in his grasp. His touch is gentle, explorative. "Where do you want to go?"

"I don't know." Then an idea strikes me. "Show me your favourite place in the city."

I can see the beginnings of a smile spreading across his face. I reach out with my free hand to touch the corners of his lips, feeling my own lips curve up in response.

He leans into my touch and kisses my fingers gently.

Aksel's favourite spot in the city is within walking distance of our apartment, tucked away near the pond just past a small park. He takes me there, to a bench that overlooks the pond, and we sit in silence for a while.