by Arika Stone
I flipped open the box and saw photos of myself as a child. I quickly closed it. “Thank you, Mrs. Langone. I appreciate these. We’re heading to church. Will we see you there?”
“No, we went last night. But I won’t keep you. It was lovely to meet you, Val.” She winked at me before departing.
I smiled to myself as I pulled away and headed toward the church, which was only a few blocks away. She was always so thoughtful. Holding a box of photos for me was just like her.
“What’s inside?”
“Just some photos of when I was younger, “I said as I parked the car. I stepped out onto the grounds of the church. A chill ran up my spine. “Do me a favor?”
“Anything, Eve.”
“Hold my hand.” I stopped in front of the doors to the church. It was a beautiful old church. It was sad because the last memories I had of it were burying my parents. I took a deep breath to calm my nerves.
“We don’t have to go in if you don’t want to.” He looked at me with caring, concerned eyes.
“I don’t want to, but I have to. It’s something I need to put behind me so I can move forward.” I held his hand for dear life and began my ascent up the stairs. Once inside, I saw the priest greeting the parishioners as they entered the sacred space.
I walked past him, attempting to go unnoticed.
“Eve?” I heard him call out. I gripped Val’s hand and turned around. I didn’t want to talk about my parents.
“Hello, Father. How do you do?”
“It’s so good to see you. When I heard we were having a mass in honor of your parents, I was surprised to find out the news.”
“I’m also here because I need copies of my records, so I can get married. As I mentioned yesterday to your secretary, I need them as soon as possible as I am leaving the country tomorrow.”
“I believe she already printed them. I’ll meet you in the rectory after mass so you can pick them up.”
I did not answer. Instead, I turned abruptly and pulled Val into the last pew. “I can’t do this. I need to sit.” My head was spinning. The mass proceeded, and I remained silent for most of it, going through the motions but none of the words registering in my mind.
As we knelt for the Eucharistic Prayer, the pastor went through the names of the dearly departed.
“Remember, Lord, those who have died and have gone before us marked with the sign of faith, especially those for whom we now pray, remembering Henri and Michelle Laurikkonen, John and Sarah Smith, and Paul and Ann Fiore. May these, and all who sleep in Christ, find in your presence light, happiness, and peace. Through Christ our Lord. Amen.
I gritted my teeth and wondered why they could never pronounce the name right.
The mass proceeded without incident, and I quickly fled the church as soon as it ended. We entered into the rectory, waiting for Father John’s return.
“Ah, Eve, sorry to keep you waiting.”
“I just want my records so I may leave.”
“I understand. Let me retrieve them from her desk. It should only be a moment.”
Father John returned, records in hand, in a sealed envelope. “Here you go. I wish you both many blessings and God’s love.”
“Thank you.” I handed him a check to cover the fees.
“Which parish will you be getting married at?”
“I’m not sure if we will be getting married in the Catholic Church. But I wanted these records in case I needed them.”
“Unfortunately, I need to attend to another parishioner who needs assistance, but if you ever need anything, we are here for you. You may call me anytime. May God bless you both.” He shuffled out of the rectory past us.
We headed to the car and drove in silence to the cemetery. I didn’t know what to say. I was lost in my own world.
Val interrupted my thoughts. “I thought you said the mass was in memory of them?”
“It was.”
“But I didn’t hear your name mentioned.”
“It was. They pronounced it wrong.”
“How do you mispronounce Lauren? It’s such an easy name.”
We pulled through the gates of the cemetery and proceeded down the narrow, winding path. I ignored his question and stopped the car in front of a large oak tree.
“You can wait in the car. I’ll only be a minute.”
I stepped out and walked several rows inward to their grave. I heard the car door close in the distance, followed by footsteps. I brushed off the stone and sat down on the grass. The façade of the stone was weathered. I needed to make arrangements to get it cleaned.
“Eve?”
“Yes?” I stared at my mother’s and father’s names. I knew I would need to explain.
“Are you in the right location?” He knelt down next to me.
“Yes. These are my parents, Henri and Michelle Laurikkonen.” I looked at him. “I changed my name when I was eighteen.”
He looked at the gravestone and then at me. “You said they passed away when you were seven?”
“Yes…” My eyes welled up with tears.
He embraced me and kissed me softly on my temple. “I’m sorry, darling.” He paused, holding me tight. “Will you tell me about them?” he asked inquisitively.
I bit my lip. “I remember my father would always sing to me. I was his little girl. My mother hated his parents. She said they were too old-fashioned. But they were a hoot. Every time my grandmother would get mad, she’d yell at my father in…I don’t even know. It was a foreign language. When I was eighteen, I decided to go by the name Eve Lauren.”
Val took a seat on the grass next to me. “What was your birth name then?”
I laughed. “It sounds strange to say it now.” I shook my head and sighed. “Eveliina Saarah Laurikkonen. I cut out the middle of my last name. Eve Lauren flows much better.”
“I think your birth name is prettier.” He watched me intently, enthralled by my story.
“I like Eve Lauren better. It’s easier to pronounce.”
“You said your grandparents spoke another language? What do you know about them?”
“The only thing I remember Grandma saying was during the ’30s there was a lot of fighting. One night they escaped, and they fled to America. But that’s all I know.” I took a stick and began twirling it in my hands. “My father was their only child I believe. My grandmother mentioned a town, but I don’t remember the name, something with a V or a W. She was hard to understand sometimes.” It felt good to purge it all out of my system. I’d never told anyone about my family.
“Did you ever have any desire to find out your heritage?”
“No, my childhood wasn’t what I’d like to remember. I’d rather forget it.”
“I think you are Finnish.”
I looked at him. “What are you talking about?”
“Your surname is Finnish. It ends in a ‘nen.’ We were at war with Russia at the end of the ’30s. Does the name Viipuri ring a bell?”
“It sounds familiar.”
He nodded. “You must be Finnish. Viipuri was taken by Russia during the Winter War. Tell me again, why did you come to Finland in the first place?”
“I don’t know. I just had a desire to visit.”
Chapter 23
I plopped my bags down, tossed my jacket onto the couch, placed the box of photos on the coffee table, and headed toward the bar to pour myself a glass of wine. It was good to be back home in Finland.
“Aren’t you interested to see what’s inside the box?” Val’s gaze told me he knew my thoughts were elsewhere. I hadn’t spoken much since we’d left the cemetery the day before.
I sauntered back to the couch and stretched out. I was tired from the flight. “It’s good to be home with you. Come cuddle with me.”
He sat down and pulled me toward him. “Why are you avoiding it?”
I sighed. “Of course I’m curious, but at the same time, I don’t want to open it. I’m not ready to relive memories.”
“And if
you don’t, it will eat you up.”
He knew me better than I thought he did. I broke away from his grasp and pulled the box onto my lap. I placed my hands on either side and pressed my thumbs into the lid, slowly lifting the cover. I peeked inside. I saw a picture of my father holding me when I was a baby. The picture brought tears to my eyes. I handed the picture to Val.
“This was my dad, Henri.”
I flipped through more pictures of my grandparents, my first birthday, my parents’ wedding, and my baptism, and lastly, a picture of my parents, myself, and another couple with two young girls. “I have no idea who these people are.”
Val studied the picture. “For some reason they look familiar, or maybe it’s the buildings in the background. I can’t place my finger on it.”
I flipped the photo to the back, to see if there were any clues.
Timo (brother-in-law), Sofia (sister), Illona and Hanna, Helsinki, 1990 was written in my father’s handwriting.
I dropped the photo onto the coffee table and stepped away.
“This is good news. You probably have family here.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” I walked to the bar and pulled out our stash of weed, removing a joint and pouring another glass of Merlot.
He followed after me, removing the drugs and alcohol from my hand. “This isn’t going to solve anything.”
I took the wine from him. “No, it’s not. But it will help me sleep. Can I have that please?” I pointed to the joint he was holding. He was reluctant but handed it over anyway. I sat down on the couch and flicked on the TV, pretending the photos had never existed.
I lit the joint and took a sip of wine. It was good to be home. Relaxation at last. No parties to plan, no functions to attend to, no high-strung employees to rattle my nerves. No nothing to bother me, except those damned photos.
Over an hour past as we sat in total silence except for the drone of the television. The drugs and alcohol kicked into my system, and my mind was a mesh of thoughts I couldn’t control.
I broke the silence. “I miss my parents. I feel like I lost out on being a part of a family.”
He moved next to me, cradling me in his arms. “But you have family. Would you like to find them?”
“No. I mean, what would I say? I wouldn’t want to intrude and impose myself on someone else’s life.”
“What if they wanted to know you? They obviously knew about you. You vacationed with them at least once.”
His words made sense, but yet, I didn’t know what to do. “I wouldn’t know what to say to them. There is nothing but blood that connects us.”
“I’m sure they will have information for you. It’s your father’s sister.”
I sighed and shifted myself down, resting my head on his lap. “I don’t know.” The combination of the wine and weed was doing its job nicely. Sleep was setting in, sealing off my thoughts.
Val picked me up. “Let’s go upstairs.” He carried me to the bedroom, placing me on the bed beside him, spooning me in his arms. “Everything happens for a reason, and we’ll get through this together. I promise. You’re not alone in life anymore. You have me.”
I woke up the next day feeling revived and refreshed. I showered and decided the past was behind me and I should let sleeping dogs lie. Rehashing my past was already too painful for me to deal with, and my energies were better off spent focusing on my new life I was creating. I bounced downstairs and was greeted by comfort—Val had his paper and smokes in hand and coffee already brewed.
“Good morning, sweetheart. How did you sleep?”
I leaned in for my morning kiss before grabbing coffee. “Amazingly, I slept very soundly.” I gazed out the window. “It’s moving day, huh?” I saw men unloading his wares from the studio and loading up a large trailer headed for Paris.
“I am hoping everything will be in order by the time we arrive. I’ll have to go to the gallery to ensure everything is in place as soon as we land. By the way, I have located your family. They are living in Eira on the waterfront.”
“I don’t want to discuss them. It’s in the past.” I knew Eira was an expensive district. My father’s family must have done well for themselves here.
He eyed me over his paper. “Don’t you want to know about them?”
“Not really.” I paused. “How did you locate them?”
He ignored my question. “Your aunt is an interior designer. She owns her own firm near the city center, and your uncle is an architect.”
The information began to interest me. I wondered what other similarities we shared. “What else do you know?”
He put the paper down. “I thought you didn’t want to know?” he said, teasing me.
“I’m not running to visit them. I only want to know what you know.”
He lit a cigarette. “You have already met your aunt.”
“I have? What do you mean?” I questioned him with my eyes.
“You met her at the gallery show in October. They purchased a sculpture of mine. I knew the faces in the picture were familiar.”
My mind raced. The night of his show was a blur to me, too many faces, too many names to remember. “You know them?”
“Not really. I know of them through my shows. They are art collectors.”
My emotions were mixed. “Well, I have to meet Jenni, and then I’m off to class at the university. I’ll be back this afternoon.” I gave him a quick kiss on the lips and picked up my gym bag, which was on the floor.
“I’ll be home all day if you need me.”
Chapter 24
Over the next week, our lives slowly fell back into place. The gallery show in Paris was successful, bringing in international clientele and rave reviews in the newspapers. Val was making a name for himself as an artist and secured several private commissions for his work. I fell into the role of his fiancée marvelously, redecorating and tossing more personal touches of me into our home. We complemented each other nicely, spending many late nights side by side, me with my writing and him with his art and music. Val dropped the subject about my family. He knew not to pressure me with it.
The night of the presidential ball arrived, the Linnan juhlat, “the party at the castle” it was called. It was Independence Day in Finland. It was going to be a lovely evening spent together.
I placed my earrings on, watching Val’s reflection in the mirror behind me as he dressed. I loved it when he dressed formally. There was something sensual about a man in black tie. “You look handsome tonight.”
He approached me from behind, giving me a quick kiss on the neck. “And you look beautiful as usual. How lucky am I to have such a gorgeous fiancée?”
“Oh stop with the flattery.” I laughed. “It will get you everywhere.”
His eyes twinkled. “So, what’s underneath that gown?” He eyed the deep navy dress I was wearing, trying to envision my flesh.
I giggled. “You shall find out when we get home.”
“How about now?” He attempted to ruffle the dress upward.
“Stop!” I playfully smacked his hand. “The car will be here any minute. You don’t want us to be late, do you?”
“We could make a grand entrance.” He wrapped his strong arms around me, kissing me on the weak spot on my neck. “Why don’t you remove whatever is underneath this?” His hands dug into my sides, sending shivers up my spine.
“Why don’t you do it for me if you insist on me being a whore?”
He knelt down and slid his hands up my dress. “You’re wearing a garter?” His eyes lit up.
I looked down upon him. “You’ll need to work if you want what’s underneath.”
“You tease.” His hands quickly made their way to my hosiery, unsnapping the clasps before hastily ripping off my panties. His hands spun me around, pushing my back against the vanity.
“Val, no…”
He flung the dress over him and pressed his tongue onto my lips, sliding up and down, spreading my pussy apart.
“
Stop it! You’re going to make us late.” I pressed down on his head to make him exit my dress, but he continued flicking his tongue against my clit. I backed off, moving away from him, “Stop!”
He reappeared, tossing my dress upward as he made his exit. “I guess I’ll have to find a quiet corner in the palace and have my way with you then.”
“You will do no such thing. That is so disrespectful,” I chided him.
“You have no worries about disgracing my country. Only I will be shamed.” His eyes danced.
I knew from the look on his face he was serious about fucking me during the ball. The idea of being naughty was a complete turn-on to him. His cock was bulging through his pants. He kissed me hard on the mouth, pushing me into the door of the bathroom. I could smell and taste my pussy on his beard.
“You should go wash. You wouldn’t want to greet the president with me on your lips.”
“All the better. Now everyone will be able to smell what I love.” His lips turned upward into an evil grin.
“Oh, you’re such an ass sometimes.” I hit him playfully on the chest. “Let’s go. The car is outside.”
“I can’t wait to ravage you this evening.”
I glanced over my shoulder as I made my way downstairs. He was a master of seduction and knew all the right buttons to turn me on. From the way his tuxedo fit his lithe frame to the way his hair cascaded around his face to the words he used. I couldn’t wait until our flesh became one tonight. My body tingled with desire.
“Can’t we stay home?”
“And miss out on all the fun?” He grabbed our jackets, opening the front door for me.
Twenty minutes later, we arrived, walking the red carpet, performing for the camera and press. Once inside, we were both warmly greeted by the president before heading to the cocktail hour. The presidential palace was grand and elaborate with massive columns, beautiful inlay wooden floors, gothic arches, decadent ceilings, and marvelous crystal chandeliers. It truly was a palace fit for royalty.
Val led me around the room, speaking to several people of high society whom he knew. He introduced me to various guests, all of whom made important contributions to Finnish society—heads of medicine, artists, philosophers, and politicians. His demeanor was perfect. He presented himself as a well-rounded, eloquent, and schooled artist. I didn’t know what was sexier, watching him interact with the upper class or the thought of us fornicating among them.