Somewhere Else

Chapter 25: The Best Part

I've arranged to meet Aksel by the southern entrance of Sibelius Park in Töölö– not because we're planning to eat at the monument, but because Aksel has suggested a café nearby.

We can walk there together from the tram stop, he had typed in his message. It's a little far in, near the water.

I haven't been there, so I acquiesced.

I spot him out the window even before I alight from the tram. He's lounging by the side of the road, glancing alternately up and then back down at his phone. He spots me as I step off and straightens, sliding his phone into his back pocket as he strides towards me.

"Hi," I say, when he's within earshot.

"Hi," he says back.

I stuff my hands into the pockets of my coat. Now that he's right in front of me, I find myself having trouble looking directly at him. We'd held hands just last week – and parted as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. But how do I greet him now?

I wonder if Aksel can feel the hesitation radiating off me in waves. At any rate, he seems to have picked up on my mood, standing aside and watching me out of somber eyes.

I laugh: a fluttering, embarrassed sound, and move towards him for a greeting hug. I don't know why I'm second-guessing myself now – I would greet an acquaintance the same way.

And no matter what, he's more than an acquaintance, isn't he?

"Is everything okay?" Aksel asks, after I have given him two quick bisous, barely touching my cheek against his before pulling away. There is the ghost of a frown creasing his brow.

"Of course," I say, a little too quickly. I swallow and look down at my shoes. "So... should we go?" I tug a hand out of my pocket to gesture down the road. According to the maps app I've looked at beforehand, the café is on the other side of the park.

Aksel pauses, and I can feel his gaze on me, but I don't look up. Eventually, he says, "Sure."

We start walking. I'm still watching my feet, moving swiftly against the pavement below. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Aksel's leather work shoes moving in a path parallel to mine.

One, two – one, two. I feel my breaths slowing to match the steady drum of his footsteps.

"So," I say, because the silence has stretched on too long. What's happened to the nice, easy camaraderie of last weekend, when we had lain in the grass and talked about everything and nothing?

I can't help but notice that his hand is mere inches away from mine.

"So," echoes Aksel.

I clear my throat, shaking my head to clear my wayward thoughts. Then, before I can think myself out of it, I launch into the topic that I've been turning over in my mind since the phone call with Mamma yesterday. "I heard you know something about Singaporean culture."

His step falters. "What?"

"I spoke with Mamma yesterday," I say, looking up now. "I wanted to ask her for some movie recommendations. Singaporean movie recommendations," I correct myself. "And she told me that you'd probably know some. Because you've asked her about them."

Aksel swipes a palm over his face, turning away so that I can't see his expression. Is he embarrassed?
His reaction soothes the prickly anxiety that has settled over me upon seeing him. Suddenly, I feel myself breathing easier. "I wish you'd told me," I say.

He mumbles something I don't catch.

"Huh?"

He's turned back; I can see his face again. He repeats his question, and I hear it come out in a low
mumble.