Red is the weirdest color

I’ve never needed much insight on understanding empathy. Or telepathy. Which one was it again? She looks at me rather confused. “Sorry, could you please perhaps elaborate a bit”, says with a full poker face while adjusting her fancy glasses. I roll my eyes out loud, but inside of the calmness of my own head and take a look at the fossil clock hanging on her wall. 15 more minutes that I paid for. She doesn’t really give a crap about me or my past or my stories, she just waits for the times to pass by with each single patient so that afterwards she can go out like a lady boss and buy herself another fancy watch. Or pair of glasses. Her shoes don’t look much cheaper either. “It’s enough for today I think” and I just stand up, faking a smile and grabbing my thrift-shop-bought jacket from the chair.

On my way out the door the phone rings. Well, well, I think to myself, looks like people are even more impatient than I am. Or maybe she just has someone call around the end of each session to avoid the discomfort of having a patient linger more than paid for. Whatever, not my circus, not my monkeys. And my thoughts automatically fly out to Irish culture and writers, thinking which book I should add next to my precious collection.

“Lisa, the call is for you” she shouts after me right before I’d have taken the first step into the wicked Finnish streets. “Sorry?” “The phone call, they are looking for you”. Well, speaking of awkward interceptions, who the hell would know of my shrink meeting? I reluctantly go and say a “Hello” that perfectly describes my facial expressions of the moment. “Did you consider that maybe you made a mistake?” “Excuse me? And who is this? It’s rather rude not to introduce yourself.” “Rudeness is the least of your concerns right now. You’d better pay attention to the red river.” And he abruptly hangs up, because he was a he, like in any other perfectly decorated thriller novel.

“Who was that?” my shrink asks, rather annoyed. “It was a mistake. They confused me for somebody else” and I finally take my leave. Red river, how mystical, how metaphorical, what the hell does it stand for? I mean, Finland is the country of thousands of lakes, literally, but rivers, hmm, not so much. Perhaps he refers to my monthly bloody visitor. But what would that have to do with anything? And a voice inside my head just silently whispers “everything”. Whatever, my brain does not need more pressure than it’s already under. And did I mention how hungry I am?

I don’t usually eat junk food, but today is not one of those days when I’d like to spend hours in the kitchen working on some everlasting Pinterest recipe. I just enter the local restaurant close to my flat and hope for a quick return home where I can binge watch some useless TV series. “So what’s today’s special?” “Red river steak and some fries on the side”. Red river? You have to be kidding me. I smile and order just some fries, not much of a meat eater myself. Yes, of course, if we take things from a cultural perspective, red river is the best and most commonly used metaphor for the monthly period. But my period, well. It did absolutely no harm to nobody. Couldn’t vouch for that poor steak’s period though. And I smile again. I usually wonder how crazy people think I am when I just burst into random smiles in public spaces. Oh but you should see the inside of my head. Or rather not.

I take my comfort food and try to make my way to the flat I overpay for in the midst of Helsinki. Despite common belief, Finland is not a completely forgotten country. They do live in a certain kind of bubble, definitely, no wonder though, taking how they almost are an island. Almost I said. The plan was to spend some time in Lapland and then move further to Norway maybe. Or Russia. I didn’t get the visa for Russia and anonymity suits me far too well to renounce it. Helsinki is not precisely the place where I intended to land.

“Moi. Mitä kuuluu?” My sexy upstairs neighbor that I have to put an effort in avoiding each day. For the record, I do speak fluent Finnish and conversational Swedish and Norwegian. I always considered that speaking the local language is the perfect invisibility cap one needs to blend in. this guy is funny though, he makes me a bit confused. Finnish people are not the kind of breed that’d randomly stop you on the street and ask about your wellbeing. So hiw friendly tone always made me think he’s secretly some serial killer or psychopath. Next Ted Bundy living in the same flat with me up North in Europe. I spark a bit on conversation, for decorative purpose solely and move along to spend some quality time with my fries.

My thoughts keep flying back to the red river. You know how the moment you buy yourself a green Honda you start automatically, perhaps to a certain level even unconsciously, counting all the green Hondas that you spot on the street? Brain is a maze, I always say. The same goes for the bloody river. Now my brain tries really hard to make all possible and impossible correlations. It’s a poor metaphor, should it really refer to the period. I mean, did I have an abortion three months ago? Yes I did. Did I move cross continent in order to avoid certain repercussions of my actions? I did. Would the mafia be chasing me around for my abortion? Certainly not. Best case scenario maybe some pro-life religious bastards but that’s about it. Nobody knew, nobody knew about my red river dying that day in that clinic in Catalonia region. And it was absolutely nobody’s business but my own. Not even the dad’s. No, you see, that’s a bit of a complicated story but he’s not part of some mob or whatever. He’s a regular human being, like you and me. Maybe more like you.

Something rapidly bursts against my window. A baby seagull must have mistaken it for water. I go and check it out, but he started flying again. Not sure why I assumed it’s a he. As I meditate about the whereabouts of the baby seagull, I notice a man in the park cross from my flat taking random photos. So it’s Northern Europe, mid-January, not exactly the kind of season you’d fancy spending outside taking random photos while your fingers suffers frostbite. He caught my eye. I have to follow his interest. But somehow, instinctively, he feels my eyes on him and starts moving along. Something inside me screams that I have to follow this little stranger. “He knows the way to the red river”.

I pick up my 10 layered clothing and start running for him, well, as much as 15 cm of snow allow you to run. I catch him up pretty fast, he doesn’t seem to be in a rush, despite the cold temperature. He moves slowly through the center of Helsinki, taking normal touristy photos of various architectural pleasures. When we get close to the central station I suddenly lose sight of him. He was just there. He didn’t even move fast. Where did he disappear just like that? Freaking thin air. I check out my clock. Half past three in the afternoon. And still didn’t eat my lunch. “Well, that’s what you get if you follow strangers across the city.” At least I have my fries waiting for me in the apartment.

“Such a weird choice, Finland after Spain. A drastic temperature change, wouldn’t you say?” I hear a voice behind me. The little photo man. “It’s not my first stay in Finland” I say, brain frozen, not finding a better answer. “I am aware.” He smirks at me, thinking “what kind of an idiot do you think I am, not knowing everything about you?” “The red river followed you here” he continues, in a plain voice.

“I keep hearing about this red river thing. I think you might confuse me. I know nothing about it, I don’t even know what it refers to.” I burst out. “But you do, don’t you? Deep down, if you really, REALLY think about it, you do.” And he smiles. Don’t smile at me you asshole. “What do you want?” “Don’t get angry, I am on your side. It’s best if I get to you before the red river does. Finland will not be enough to escape. But there is a way.”

“To escape? I was not even aware that I was on the run of anything, maybe except my own life choices.” And start laughing hysterically. This day. “You got a phone call earlier today” he goes on saying. “He was not your kindred spirit.” What, are you taken out from some 18^th century novel, I think to myself. “No, that would be too simple of an explanation don’t you think” and that smile again. “Oh I know this one, it’s like that move when the guy can read what women think, right? I’ve seen that one.”  “Listen, things are far more dangerous and complex than you want to understand right now. You have to leave Helsinki right away. Changing the latitudes slows him down, but not entirely. Go up North, as far as the busses can take you. Don’t stop in Rovaniemi. It’s too famous, too many tourists there.”

Ok, I’ve had enough of this creep. “So tell me one good reason why I should trust you” “Take a look at your right ribs.” Yes, because watching my ribs at minus 20 degrees is such an easy job. I try to undo my jacket and by the time I notice my ribs are of a weird blue color, the little photo man disappeared again. Blue ribs could be a sign of oh so many things, even serious illnesses, not necessarily paranormal activity going on around me. Ok, better get home before losing my mind entirely.

While binge watching some random series on the TV. There’s a knock on my door and I hear someone sliding in an envelope. I open it, like it would be the most natural thing on the world. “Highway of the ancient days/ Providing life in many ways/ A boon to those who go my way/ But try to cross me and you'll pay” So now I get creepy riddles. But a sudden pain in my ribs stops my train of thoughts. “You have to go now or it will be too late.” I hear the same voice in my head, a voice that is slightly different from my own subconscious that I have long conversations with on a daily basis. Ok, what the hell, what if the little man has a point that I am unaware of? I wanted to lay low in Lapland either way, why not go now?

I quickly gather my necessary stuff in a backpack and book a ticket for the next bus towards Rovaniemi. You see, the tricky thing is that if you want to cross that certain line, the famous line, you have to go through Rovaniemi. Unless you have a car, which I currently don’t. So avoiding the city is not exactly and option, dear photo man, you should have known that. Do you have a riddle on that too? When I take a final look in the mirror, to check the lack of makeup on my face, I see her. She stands right beside me. She looks exactly like me but not really. She looks sad, more serious, more damaged. “Don’t panic, don’t panic” I keep telling myself. If that is a version of me, she’d have to be on my side. “I am on your side, but you no longer are. And it is too late now for that bus.” She says in a lowered voice, takes a look behind herself and disappears. What the hell did she see? I keep looking and there is nothing, absolutely nothing. Nobody in the room.

I’ve seen all the possible scenarios in movies already. It’s not like some hand is going to come out through the mirror and grab me to some unknown world. Or maybe my makeup kit will suddenly attack me and lure me into a different dimension. I smile a little but this shit is getting really weird. I grab my jacket, my backpack and my iPod.

“So are you leaving?” my annoying hot neighbor again. “So it seem” I smile and move quickly past him. Wait, “Why are you speaking English?” and quickly turn around to ask him but he is no longer there. Ok, weird, I take out my earplugs and tuck them deep into my ears. Whichever song is fine, I trust my taste at this age. And press play while finding my way to the station through the snow.

A weird Russian song starts playing. What the hell? I take out the iPod, there is no way this is my music. All my playlist is in Russian. Very funny, I think to myself. Red river, you should have found a less common mystical language to mess with my mind. Though Russian is not one of the languages I speak. “But you do” that voice inside my head again. But now I know it’s her.