Page 81 of Night and Day
They’d talked about their families, but he hadn’t paid attention to place names and had no idea where Mia’s parents or even her sister lived. If Finland was the size of New Zealand, he could easily spend months scouring the land trying to find her. The only email he had for her was the work email for her old job. He could contact the company and ask for her current contact details. They might at least have Mia’s local phone number.
Izzy stood up and scooped his meal into the compost bin. “You’re right.”
Everything about this terrified him, but he’d figure it out.
Chapter 31
Helsinki-Vantaa airportwelcomed Mia with a sea of people who all looked like her cousins. She trailed through the crowd of blond hair and deep-set eyes, trying to reset her brain to being back home. Back with her own kind.
Her brain resisted so much that she couldn’t even remember where to catch the bus to town. The lady behind the info desk answered her question without a hint of a smile, staring at her computer screen. Mia followed the instructions out the door, towards the right bus stop. People moved out of her way, each avoiding eye contact. Had Helsinki always been this hostile?
A blast of freezing December air hit her face, the chill instantly penetrating her light clothing, digging through to her bones. She’d bought a scarf in duty free to lessen the blow, but she was essentially dressed for New Zealand summer. She adjusted the guitar bag on her shoulder, grateful for the way it shielded her back from the wind.
Thankfully, the bus arrived, taking her downtown, close enough to her sister’s address. It was the only place she could go. Her parents lived a three-hour drive way, and she needed somewhere to crash.
Mia scrambled out of the bus, onto the snow-covered footpath. At four pm the sun had already disappeared behind the tall buildings, having likely spent all day hiding behind a thick layer of clouds. The streetlights glowed their artificial orange light and pedestrians trotted along in their parkas and winter boots. Mia glanced at her white tennis shoes, already wet from the melting snow. She’d emailed her sister to let her know she’d arrived. Kati was having contractions again. Maybe this was real labour. Her message had been so short Mia imagined she’d dictated it to her husband in-between unbearable pain and had assured them she would make her own way from the airport.
Giving up her flat before travelling may not have been the best choice, but it had been the only way she could afford the trip. Now the cold reality hit her, along with the icy wind. She no longer had a home.
Mia tightened her woefully inadequate denim jacket around her chest and rearranged the scarf around her neck. Without much luggage, she could move fast, weaving through the foot traffic, rushing past the early 19thcentury apartment buildings with their arched doorways and gated entrances leading to exclusive inner courtyards. This was the rather fancy part of Helsinki, the part where you didn’t have to see the boxy, seventies architecture, and one where she couldn’t afford to live.
She located the building entrance and buzzed the intercom, her finger so numb she couldn’t feel the metal button against her skin. After a moment, the speaker crackled to life and someone buzzed her in. The dry, stale air in the stairwell brought back memories of Mikko’s apartment. She hadn’t messaged him yet, but noticed two meetings in her online calendar under the new email she’d opened in New Zealand.
Kati opened the door on the first ring. Mia leapt to her arms, startled by the size of her belly. Of course it was huge.
“Oh, my God! Do you need to lie down or something?” Mia followed her to the beautifully decorated lounge.
“No. All good,” Kati panted. “Sorry, I have to focus.”
Her husband, Tommi, appeared from the kitchen with a bowl of noodles. He set it on the coffee table and escorted his wife back to the couch. “She’s doing the hypnobirthing thing,” he explained Mia. “They said it’s better if you don’t try to have conversations or really pay attention to other people.”
“No problem.” Mia smiled. “I can look after myself. Don’t mind me.”
A phone screen on the table had a timer running. Kati glanced at it. “Still five minutes apart,” she whispered, glancing at the noodles. “No oranges?”
Tommi ran back to the kitchen, a harried look in his eyes. In his corduroy pants and long hair, he looked every bit the sculptor Mia remembered. She’d always thought it both cool and unsettling that her sister had fallen in love with an artist. Starving artist, they’d joked, one Kati had been supporting with her teacher’s salary. But now, walking around their three-bedroom apartment, Mia sensed a shift. Most of the old student flat furniture had been upgraded, and Tommi’s sculptures adorned every surface. The delicate figures would surely be destroyed by the baby that was making its way into the world right now.
