Page 82 of Night and Day
Kati doubled over, grunting like an animal as Tommi rubbed her lower back.
Mia sat on the other side. “What can I do? How can I help?”
Tommi flashed her an apologetic look. “Sorry. She needs to focus. Maybe it’s best you settle in and we catch up later?”
“I’ll be in the guest room.” Mia stood up, confused, and wandered down the hallway. She was exhausted and freezing. Not having to talk to anyone felt like a gift.
The guest room hadn’t gone through much of an update, other than a new bed spread. Tommi must have gotten a big commission, she thought with relief. She’d been worried about them, always just scraping by. Kati insisted she didn’t mind. They loved each other, and that was enough. Mia sat on the bed, sighing at the familiar sight of light, wooden floors and the cream-coloured Ikea chair.
Outside, the streets were covered in a dusting of fresh snow. Finland was so dark, yet so pale and white, everything around her aspiring to brightness, reflecting even the tiniest hint of light. Anything to combat the overwhelming dark of the winter. Gone was the richness of scents and saturation of colour. The soft, humid air was replaced by the dryness of central heating that tickled her nose.
Mia took off her cold, wet shoes and socks, found another (used but dry) pair in her backpack and snuck under the covers. Curled up on the single bed, she listened to the low voices carrying from the living room. She heard Tommi’s footsteps against the parquet as he paced the floor, probably eager to leave for the hospital. First babies took ages, right, Mia thought, closing her eyes.
Images of New Zealand danced inside her eyelids, dark and intense like a feverish dream that couldn’t have been real. She’d cried the whole way here, and now felt empty and bone-tired, but oddly soothed. There was no ache or pressure in her chest. The tears had washed it all away. She felt the overwhelming sadness of her loss, the separation... but they’d only just met. It would likely go away. He’d given her the gift of tears, and now those tears would help her get over him. Hopefully. Even if she planned to go back – a stubborn part of her heart insisted – she couldn’t function in this mental state. She couldn’t go to work crying, or even thinking of Izzy. Somehow, she had to slip into her old life, into a work mode, like a shirt she’d grown out of.
Fighting sleep that tried to drag her under, Mia grabbed her phone and searched for Kati’s WIFI. Doha hadn’t been kind to her. With only a few New Zealand dollars and no credit card, she couldn’t buy herself into any of the better lounges with internet access, and the free one kept kicking her off. Thank goodness she remembered Kati’s password. Asking for something like that from a woman in labour would probably earn her a noodle bowl to the neck. As the phone connected, she checked her email. No new messages. Did Izzy even have her email address? He’d been there when she’d created the new account, but she hadn’t emailed him from it.
A cold sensation travelled up her spine. Was it possible Izzy didn’t have her contact details? They’d spent every moment together, but then, getting closer to the airport, conversation had dried up and she’d only worried about his wellbeing.
Fingers trembling, Mia googled Izzy’s business name and clicked her way to his contact page. There it was! Digital communication had given her such a headache over the last week that it felt like a miracle to be able to email anyone, especially someone she desperately wanted to connect with.
Creating a new message, Mia stalled, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. What could she say to him? Everything she wanted to communicate involved touch. Words would never suffice.
#
IZZY,
I just arrived. My sister is in labour, and it sounds like it will take all night. I really hope it goes well. God, it feels so strange to write to you! So inadequate. I feel horrible about the way I ran off at the airport. I’m not good with goodbyes and that just sucked. Not because you did anything wrong. Please know that. I know it was hard for you and you still came with me. It means so much that I’m crying just thinking about it. I’m crying all the time now, and it’s all thanks to you. It’s both good and bad, in a messy, equal measure. I don’t think I could take being apart from you without crying. My chest would explode. So it’s good. But if it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be crying. I’d just be getting on with my life in Helsinki. Now I don’t know what to do. I have to pull myself together and get to work, to make some money. It’s the only way forward, but it means I have to forget you a little bit, to be able to function.
Please wait for me.
Mia
#
MIA TOOK A BREATH,dread spreading through her chest to her fingertips. She’d told him to move on and find someone local. She couldn’t really write to him now and demand he stayed loyal to her while she sorted out her life. Her heart aching, Mia deleted the last line and pressed send, too tired to think.
She dropped the phone on the bed and dozed off. Sometime later, Tommi woke her up to let her know they were going to the hospital and would keep her updated. She turned over in bed, mumbling ‘Good luck’ before falling back to sleep.
