"So, how does it feel?" Zuzi asks me on Monday. "To be free from Pris?"
"Hey!" Priscilla objects. Zuzi is grinning so hard, I'm worried about the state of her cheeks.
Laughing, I put my arm around Priscilla. "Ignore her. It's no fun without you."
Priscilla looks mollified, and Zuzi lets out a barking laugh.
"Seriously, though," I say, "the apartment is nice and all, just a little quiet now that I'm all alone. I've never really lived alone before."
Zuzi is agog. "Really? What about at university?"
I shrug, "I was staying at the dorms. I had the room to myself, but I shared the pantry and toilets with other students. There was always someone around." I hesitate before saying the next part, then plunge ahead anyway. "And right after that, I moved here to live with Aksel."
"And then with me!" Priscilla offers. I laugh, any awkwardness that might have cropped up from the mention of Aksel blown away by her chirpiness.
"And then with you," I agree.
"Maybe it's good that you get to live alone now," Zuzi says. "I think it's something everyone should try, before they move in with someone else."
I bite back the instinctive annoyance that sparks up at her statement. She means well, I know, but her words sound a little like criticism of me for jumping into living with Aksel right after graduation.
"I guess so," is what I finally settle on.
"Living alone is boring, though," Priscilla pipes up. "I know it's an important part of life and all, but sometimes it plain sucks."
I laugh at the way she rolls her eyes.
Zuzi shrugs, lifting and dropping a shoulder fluidly in a gesture she has perfected. "Yeah. Maybe that's why so many people can't wait to find a partner and move in with them."
As usual, everything she says about relationships and couples sounds vaguely sarcastic, but Priscilla takes her words at face value.
"Right," Priscilla nods vigorously. "Humans are community creatures. We need to be around other people. Otherwise, we get lonely."
"You know," I say, "I've read somewhere that there was a study on loneliness. It used to be nature's way of telling us that we need other people, which was essential for survival, especially in the olden days. The feeling of loneliness was a survival instinct, because it would make people seek out others, increasing their chances for survival."
As I speak, Priscilla is devouring every word with wide eyes. "That's really cool," she says.
Even Zuzi nods. "It is cool," she agrees. "I suppose human beings are quite weak individually, compared to other animals in the wild. We need to work as a group to survive."
"Even now, we're all part of a society," I say. "We are still in a group. And we still seek out connections, so that we can build our own family units and have a group of our own."
"Fascinating," Zuzi says. She isn't being sarcastic this time.
"Yeah," Priscilla agrees. "That's really interesting. Where did you read about it?"
I shrug. "One of those news articles about psychology on the Internet," I say. "I don't really remember, but you could probably find it by googling it."
I don't say that Aksel was the one who showed me that article, once upon a time.
"Psychology can be so interesting," Priscilla is saying now. "Did you know that there have been studies about how mental illnesses can show up in MRI scans?"
Zuzi frowns. "Really?"
I'm so excited, I snap my fingers. "I've read about that, too! For example, the MRI scan of a depressed brain is different from one without depression. I've seen the images too – the differences are so obvious."
Priscilla nods. "I know! It's scary, isn't it?"
"I want to see," Zuzi says.
"I'll send you the link after I find it again," Priscilla reassured her.
A thought has hit me. "Do you guys remember the culture shock syndrome that Frederik was talking about?"
Zuzi is frowning, but Priscilla understands immediately. "At the World Village Festival, right?"
I smile. "Exactly. You remember."
"Of course I do! It was the first time you hung out with us."
I try not to get distracted by the sudden surge of warmth that has enveloped my heart.
"Aw," Zuzi chuckles, reaching over to loop her arm around my shoulders. "Look, she's blushing."
"Shut up," I say, albeit half-heartedly. Doggedly, I concentrate on bringing the subject of conversation back to the thought that had popped into my head. "But listen. I just had a thought. I wonder if the Culture Shock Syndrome has any effects that can be detected on an MRI scan, the way mental illnesses can be."
"Hm." Priscilla's brow is furrowed; she seems to be thinking my words over. "I wonder..."
"It probably depends on how mental illnesses affect the brain, such that the effects show up on MRI scans," Zuzi suggests. "If the syndromes affect the brain the same way – then maybe?"
Priscilla and I both nod, because what Zuzi said makes sense to amateurs in psychology like us.
"It would probably be interesting to read up about that," I say.
"Totally," Priscilla laughs. "We could write a research paper on that – how culture shock syndrome in Finland has affected us."
I laugh as well, "You could write about it in your essay. You know – that essay competition about your experiences in Finland?"
"Shit!" Priscilla's exclamation is so loud, some of the others in the class turn to look at us. She slaps both hands over her mouth and shoots them a sheepish grin. When they've lost interest and turned back to their own pre-class catching-up, Priscilla hisses, "I completely forgot about that!"
"You shouldn't have reminded her," Zuzi says to me. "Now she's going to force us all to participate."
"I know," I say, turning the sides of my lips down in commiseration. "My bad."
"Hey," Priscilla whines, just as Elina walks in. "Come on, you know you want to do it. Wouldn't it be cool to write about everything that's happened since coming to Helsinki? So much has happened."
I'm almost glad when Elina turns to address us, because now there's no time for me to be persuaded.
"Shh," Zuzi shushes Priscilla, tossing an obvious wink in my direction. "Class is starting."
***
"It's going to take some more time for you to fully catch up," Elina sighs. She takes a sip of her coffee, looking forlornly down at the quiz I've just finished.
"Sorry," I say meekly.
"No, it's fine," she says. "Now that we know you're weak in prepositions, we can focus more on that next time."
I let out a small laugh. "I am very bad at them. The only one I remember is -ssa. Autossa. Suomessa."
In the car. In Finland.
"You already know the inessive form well. That's a good start," Elina says, smiling at me. I privately think that she really has found her vocation in teaching – I've never met someone as good at explaining the Finnish language as she is. Whenever I'm struggling with a particularly tricky bit of grammar, she doesn't just pluck new examples out of the air to elaborate, she tries to relate them to the German or English grammatical rules she's familiar with.
It's a method that works. And now, instead of only focusing on how different Finnish is to Germanic languages, I'm starting to find that there are some similarities, after all.
"All right," says Elina finally, packing away her papers. "I'll see you in class, then."
"See you," I say, just as I do every week. "I'll be staying a little longer."
After Elina has left, I sip on my tea – I've decided to try the darjeeling today – and look over the material we've just gone through. She was right. I still have a lot of catching up to do.
With a sigh, I start to gather up the sheets of paper, shuffling all of them into a messy stack. I cast my phone a glance, then shake my head. I know that Priscilla and the rest of the group are meeting for lunch near the central railway station before class, but I wouldn't have been able to make it in time because of my session with Elina. I'll just have my own lunch – perhaps a quiche from this café.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a familiar figure. I squint to make sure, because there are lots of Finns around with that style of clothing and that shade of light brown hair. But it is her.
And before I know it, I am striding briskly in her direction.
"Emi!" Lumi says, when I come to a stop right before her. In that moment, from the wide-eyed, rabbit-in-headlights look on her face, I know instantly that she had seen me but hadn't wanted to come over and say hi. Her eyes dart towards the door, almost as if she's considering making a run for it.
"Hey," I say, lifting my arm in a lame wave. Now I'm wishing I hadn't bothered. She's not the friendly Lumi I once knew. Maybe it's my own fault, for being almost hostile the last time we ran into each other. Or maybe it's because I'm no longer with Aksel and she no longer has to be nice to me.
Probably a little of both.
"I've seen you here a lot recently," she says next. I can't tell if this statement is an accusation or mere observation – or even an attempt at polite small talk. Her face, usually so expressive in the time I had known her through Aksel, gives nothing away.
"Yeah," I say, deciding to forgo the details about meeting Elina for our private Finnish lessons. "It's a nice place."
"It's my favourite," Lumi says. "They serve the best coffee. I come here all the time."
I know, I almost say, but that would bring Aksel into the conversation. I have no desire to talk to her about Aksel right now. So I say instead, "I just moved here." I jerk my thumb in the general direction of where I think my apartment is located. "This is the nearest café, so..." I trail off to let her draw her own conclusions.
"Oh!" Lumi's eyes have widened. I wonder what she's thinking – does she think I have infiltrated her neighbourhood, the way I infiltrated Aksel's life? "I didn't know that."
Of course she wouldn't, I find myself thinking. Aksel has probably given his friends the impression that I'm no longer living in Helsinki. Or maybe he hadn't needed to tell them anything. Maybe they had just assumed I stick out so much here that I ran back, tail tucked, to Hamburg.
I don't know what is showing in my expression, but there is a wary look on Lumi's face.
We stare at each other, the silence a heavy weight settling between us.
Lumi forces a smile. "I have to go now. It was nice seeing you."
"Wait." I don't know what possesses me to do it, but the words are out of my mouth before I can bite them back. "Do you want to join me for coffee?"
The look on Lumi's face is a reflection of the surprise that I feel myself.
"I mean," I start to retract my offer, waving my hands around as if the motion can scatter the words already thrown out into the air. "You don't have to. I was just thinking that it might be... nice."
"I'd love to," Lumi says, but the awkward look on her face tells me that there's a rejection following right behind. "But I have to meet a client soon. Maybe another time?"
"Sure," I say, stretching my lips into an appropriate grin. "Sure."
"No, I'm serious," Lumi says. Balancing her books and papers in the crook of one hand, she reaches into her bag. "Give me your number – I'll text you."
"Oh." I had thought she was blowing me off. "Ehm, okay."
I recite my number to her – not by heart, because I still don't remember it without checking – and she keys it into her phone.
"I'll give you a missed call, so you have my number too," she says.
"Sure."
Before she turns to leave, she smiles at me again. This time, the gesture seems to be more sincere. "See you around, Emi."
I lift my hand in a wordless goodbye. With one last look at me, she turns and heads for the exit she was eyeing so fervently just a few minutes ago. I watch the whole way, not turning away until the door swings shut in her wake, the chimes clanging noisily at the impact.