Page 57 of Night and Day
He whispered into her mouth. “You have no idea how much I want that, but I don’t want to be the mistake you made on your travels. I need more, Mia. I need all of you.” His voice thickened, full of restraint, his hands tightening around her arms. “If you were mine, I wouldn’t just kiss you. I’d carry you out of here...” His gravelly voice sent tremors through her, pooling heat between her thighs. “I wouldn’t even wait to get home. I’d lay you on the ferns outside... I can’t even tell you what I want to do to you. We’d scare the birds.” There was a smile in his voice and his lips brushed her cheek on their way to her ear, pouring in more words with his hot breath. “I want to keep you, Mia, but I can’t take another man’s woman. I can’t choose the pleasure of being with you over the possibility of us together, for real.”
His words stole the air from her lungs and every word from her mouth. She pressed her forehead against his chest and just stood there, leaning on him like on a wall, afraid to move. Another song started in her earbud, a classical piece with violin and piano she didn’t recognise, so wistful and melancholic and perfectly in sync with her inner turmoil – or maybe it was creating the atmosphere inside her. She’d never experienced music like this, like an extension of herself, a trip to somewhere inside her own mind.
“What is this?” She asked.
She heard the bubbly warmth in his voice. “I thought you’d know. It’s Sibelius. Opus 76:2 Etyde.”
“Seriously?” Mia’s eyes widened at the name of the Finnish national composer. She hadn’t listened to classical music since her childhood and associated it with coffee and painkiller commercials, as well as those chilling music school matinees. Russian maestros who spoke in broken Finnish but played every instrument perfectly sitting in the front row, their faces contorted in pain at having to listen to the subpar renditions of their hallowed composers, counting mistakes to offer critique afterwards. They needn’t have bothered. She’d already counted each time her fingers fumbled, each time she lagged behind on the tempo. Music had been unforgiving. Terrifying.
“It’s such a beautiful piece. Nothing like Bach and Beethoven. So moody and unassuming. Did you look it up for me?” Mia lifted her head off his chest, trying to see his eyes in the dim lighting.
“No. It’s one of my favourites.” He showed her the phone screen with a playlist titled ‘Writing soundtrack vol.4’. “I had no idea why I liked it so much, but now I’m thinking it has something to do with Finland.”
Mia smiled, reluctantly detaching herself from his chest. His hands still held her arms in their warm grip and she stood still, not ready to step away. “Maybe you’re secretly Finnish! Do you like saunas?”
“I used to go to a gym that had a sauna. I liked it, especially if there was no one else yapping in there. Or... looking for a date.”
“Yes! Sauna is for silence, or maybe sharing something really deep and personal... but not for idle chitchat. And definitely not for dating. That’s sacrilege! A true Finn will keep a two-metre distance from strangers whenever possible.”
“Sounds perfect. You know I’m pretty good at keeping away from other people. Other than you, really. I can’t keep away from you.”
He circled his thumbs on her bare arms, and Mia shivered, hugging herself. Despite Izzy’s hoodie that she’d wrapped over her shoulders, the cold of the cave had begun to seep in, yet she didn’t want to leave. These confessions came so much easier in the dark. Would she have taken that step and tried to kiss him in bright daylight? And would she have received the hot, startling honesty of his response? No. This wasn’t daylight stuff.
Knowing where she stood, how much he liked her, buoyed her like a helium balloon, but it didn’t make the reality any easier. She’d have to talk to Mikko. Somehow, she had to get him on a Zoom call and tell him she couldn’t stay with him, even if she had to return to Finland. Even if there was no way she could make this longest-distance-in-the-world relationship work. The way she felt here with Izzy... He was daring her to see them as something real. All or nothing. It felt like a dream, yet part of her responded to the challenge, logic bowing to emotion more powerful than any sane argument. If she couldn’t have this, she’d have nothing.
“Are you getting cold?” Izzy rubbed her arms, pulling her closer. “One more song, then we’ll go?”
“Okay.” Mia secured the slipping earbud back into her ear and Izzy pulled her against his chest, either to keep her warm or keep her from slipping off the rock. Or maybe just to keep her. He’d made it clear, she thought, as the layers of emotions swarmed through her, carried on the tunes of an acoustic, folksy song.
The only time I ever heard the voice of God
Was in the silence of the night
In the arms of the one I love
Staring at the ceiling up above
Like it contained the secrets of the stars
She wiggled the phone from his hand to check the name of the artist: Milk Carton Kids. The song fit the moment so perfectly that she shivered against his chest, almost afraid to hear the rest of it. The chorus seized her body, bringing on a wave of emotion looking for a way out.
And to love one another helplessly
So breathing feels like putting out a fire.
Mia tilted her head to see the glow worms. Their lights seemed to twinkle like actual stars. Izzy held onto her, his arms keeping her safe, his body heat fighting the damp cold of the cave. The song wound down, and they stood in place until its faintest echo was long gone.
Mia passed the earphones back to Izzy and he took her hand, leading them up the walking bridge. “Let’s get out before the next tour.”
They navigated through a dark tunnel, then through a heavy, wooden door and more walking bridges, past the Gollum’s cave, until they arrived back at the first landing where Izzy had removed her blindfold. A loop track. Mia stared in awe at the stalactite formations and shiny pearl walls. The spotlights made them glow.
“It’s formed out of crushed seashells, from when New Zealand was under water. When Deke first got the job, he practised his spiel on me.” Izzy shot her a crooked smile and opened a heavy iron door, leading them into the entrance, the one that had sounded like a giant well. That’s what it looked like, too, but with lights lining the spiral staircase that led back to the ground level like an inside-out Christmas tree. In the middle of the space stood a large rock, tall like a tombstone, a constant drip of water hitting the middle of it, running down a path it had carved over time. Izzy stepped in to wet his hands under the drip and then shook them over his shoulders. “This is how we thank Waitomo for letting us visit. It’s a Maori custom.”
Mia followed his example, feeling oddly reverent as the cool droplets hit her skin. “Thank you,” she whispered to the rock, wondering if the cave had any idea how much she meant it.
The walk up felt lighter than she’d expected, and soon the outside air hit them like a sunshine bath, warm and vibrant. The birdsong sounded so much louder than before, and they both blinked in the bright daylight. The cave entrance had a touristy look about it, concrete shaped as fake rocks made for a showy doorway. Maybe it was good Izzy had led her in blindfolded, bypassing the manmade, taking her straight to the magical.
Mia glanced at Izzy. “I think I preferred the cave.”
