Somewhere Else

Chapter 14: Where It All Started (ii)

Even after everything that has happened, even after the way we parted, it feels so good to see him again. To be standing here in the warmth of the apartment, talking to him like this. Just seeing his face makes me feel curiously light-headed and short of breath. But being back here, where we had been living in what I thought was my happy ending with him, is like all my dreams come true and a punch to the throat all at once. Because I have to face the truth – I am still in love with him. But, other than that, nothing is the same anymore.

Aksel, on the other hand, doesn't look like he's reminiscing about the good old times. He is staring at me, somewhat aghast, as if he's just seen a spectre he didn't quite believe existed.

"I don't understand," he says. "Why are you still here?"

This is the same question he texted back, when I sent him the message about picking up my things on Saturday. Priscilla has come stomping into the room then, dragging me out of the room to get our homework done, so I had slipped the phone into my pocket and never gotten around to replying it until I had to text him again to fix a timing for my visit.

Although – part of me admits – I hadn't replied because I had no idea what to say.

I know what he means is why haven't you gone back to Hamburg, so I shrug and give him an honest answer. "I don't know. I wanted to stay, I guess."

He stares at me. "Why? You hate it here."

"That's not true."

"Why did we break up, then?" He mutters this to himself. Maybe I wasn't meant to hear it, but I do.

"I don't know," I snap. "Why don't you tell me?"

He exhales and puts two fingers to the bridge of his nose.

I smile wryly. Barely five minutes together, and he is already exasperated with me. "Maybe this was why," I murmur.

He doesn't respond.

I do a quick sweep of the apartment. Everything looks exactly how I remember it. It's as if I never left. It's all really clean, too. I don't know what I expected – beer bottles littering the floor, clothes piled up all over? Some sign – any sign – that things are less than perfect for him.

But it looks like Aksel is doing perfectly well without me.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I half-turn towards Aksel, not exactly looking him in the eye. "I'll just get my stuff and then I'll be out of your hair."

But when I get to the bedroom, I see that Aksel has followed me. He hovers by the doorway and watched as I open the cupboard to rummage for my belongings. He hasn't touched my stacks of clothes – they are all exactly where I left them.

"Where are you living now?" Aksel asks, his voice a sudden jolt in the otherwise still air.

"With a friend."

"I didn't know you had friends here."

I want to get angry at his bald statement, but I know he has a point. Part of the problem in our relationship was that I had no support system in Helsinki outside of him.

"Well," I shrug, "I do now."

"How did that happen?"

I'm quickly getting tired of his unrelenting volley of questions. "What is this, an interrogation? Are you some sort of immigration officer or something?"

"What the fuck?" I don't bother looking back to see his expression. I can already tell, from his tone of voice, that he's offended now.

"You don't have to interrogate me. I came into your country legally."