Sisterchicks on the Loose (19 page)

Penny and I slid into the scrunchy backseat. All the doors closed. Penny reached over and squeezed my arm. Her face silently screamed, “Get me out of here!”

I took one whiff and understood.

Juhani’s fish.

The tiny car was permeated with the overwhelming stench of fish. He may have just hauled those flappers to market, but their poignant memory lingered.

Penny used the crank handle to roll down her window a few inches. She leaned over, stretched her chin up, and elevated her nose to the small opening, gulping in the icy winter air.

Juhani looked around, as if his comfort zone had experienced a breach of security. He used his large hands and punchy
Finnish words to notify Marketta of the situation. She answered in staccato words, and the two of them bantered briskly as we moved onto the main highway.

Marketta turned around and with a humoring expression said, “I am sorry for the fish. It is familiar to us. I think it might not be pleasant for you.”

I was feeling overwhelmed, not only from the fish smells but also from the damp, slick seat I had just placed my hand on. I could easily believe that a few hours earlier a rather large, dead fish had occupied the space where I now sat.

Clearly Penny was in physical agony over the stench. “I hope it’s okay if I keep the window open. I need some air.”

Juhani and Marketta conversed. I tried to take tiny breaths and joined Penny in rolling down my window a few inches. It had begun to snow, and bits of the white flakes flew at us through the open windows. Marketta said we should “make ourselves with comfort,” so we left the windows down.

We froze all the way to Hinthaara. It was either the fresh air or the warmth. We chose breathing over normal blood circulation. The noisy airflow made conversation impossible. I think Juhani and Marketta were uncomfortable. I noticed he had turned the car heater to full blast so at least their feet were warm up front.

All of us were relieved when the drive in the dark concluded at the end of a gravel road. A small cabin tucked under evergreens of primeval proportions awaited us. My dream at the hotel about the Hansel and Gretel cottage came to mind. Anni’s home certainly had all the charm and ambience of a storybook setting.

Juhani retrieved our bags from the car’s trunk and carried them to the front door for us. With a gruff kiss on the cheek for all three of us, he turned and left.

“Did we upset him?” Penny asked. “With the open windows, I mean. Did that make Juhani mad?”

“No, why should it? He is not angry. If he were angry, he would not kiss you, and he would make you carry your own bags.” Marketta turned and waved to her husband. With a twinkle she said, “Juhani is himself, and no one tries to make changes to him.”

The door of the storybook cottage opened, and Marketta’s “longest” and “closest” friend greeted us with hugs and kisses. Anni welcomed us into her small home as if we were her long-lost daughters.

Anni reminded me of a bird, even though she wasn’t small by any means. She had to be in her early seventies, like Marketta. Her quick movements, long nose, and keen, darting eyes made me think of a brilliant blue jay that visits my bird feeder every winter and upstages all the dull brown wrens.

Anni took our coats. “Please. Come. Sit. You are my guests.”

The first thing I noticed was a round table covered with a beautiful lace tablecloth and set with china and crystal. An assortment of candles glowed from the center of the table. Boughs of freshly cut evergreen hung from the rafters. Bright flute music floated around us.

The four of us gathered at the sparklingly elegant table. On each plate perched a white cloth napkin, folded in the shape of a swan. Anni nestled herself snugly into the chair to the right of me and reached for my hand. For such a large woman, she had slim, bony hands.

“I would like to pray,” Anni declared.

We all joined hands. I drew in a deep breath, as if I could absorb the meaning of Anni’s lyrical words and hold them
always in my heart. Her voice carried the same depth of sincerity and tender humility I’d heard in Marketta’s voice when she prayed. These two women, who each held one of my hands, sat up straight, like warriors awaiting their marching orders, yet they both spoke as softly as handmaidens called upon to nurse a wounded soldier back to strength.

Anni said “Amen” in English and served us a generous spread of cold meats, cheeses, meatballs, thin rye bread, and some sort of creamy pudding. I watched her movements. She was strong, like Marketta. I could picture Anni chopping all her firewood each fall and stacking it outside in the snow. She didn’t move or act like a woman in her seventies. Neither did Marketta. They were young in spirit and strong in body.

I wanted to be like them.

After we had eaten, Anni announced she had a song for us. Penny and I exchanged glances, not sure what that meant. Anni rose, went to the stereo and turned it off, then clasped her hands together. With her chin up, she sang in English a song I’d never heard before.

Her sweet voice rose passionately on the chorus. She lifted her hands, like an opera singer, palms turned up toward us, open and inviting. She was offering us her song as a special gift.

I cried.

When I tried to describe Anni’s song a few days later in my travel diary, I couldn’t find a way to convey the sense of honor I felt. I’ve heard many people sing over the years. I’ve been moved by many performances. But what made this so over-whelming was that Anni wasn’t performing. She was simply giving. Giving us a song. That’s why I cried. No one had ever given me a song before.

When Anni hit the last note, Penny rose to her feet,
applauding and shouting, “Bravo!”

I didn’t want to clap. I wanted to say thank you, the same way I would say thank you if Anni had handed me a box with my name on it, wrapped in lovely paper and tied with silver ribbon.

At that moment, I felt as if my instincts were tapping on the shell of my life, urging me to respond to what my heart was telling me to do. And so I did.

I didn’t clap along with Penny. I didn’t follow or facilitate or hang back in the shadows. Instead, I got out of my chair, with tears still wet on my cheeks, and took three giant steps over to Anni. Taking her hands in mine, I looked her in the eye and said, “
Kiitos!
” Then I kissed her on the cheek.

Anni cried. She pressed her soft cheek against mine and murmured a string of words in Finnish. Switching to English she said, “A blessing on you for your kindness, young Sharon.”

The moment ended awkwardly with my pulling away and bumping the table when I tried to sit down. Penny looked at me with both eyebrows raised as if to say, “Well, aren’t you full of surprises?”

Marketta asked if either Penny or I had a song we would like to sing, and both of us shook our heads. I felt as if we had come to a birthday party empty-handed.

“No songs,” Penny said, “but Sharon and I have a few small gifts for you.” She went into the other room where our luggage had been placed. I couldn’t imagine what Penny had in mind. I hoped it wasn’t leftover Finnish chocolate from the department store. I wasn’t sure if Penny knew that Marketta made chocolate and therefore wouldn’t be impressed with such a gift.

Penny surprised me.

Again.

She had several small, gift-wrapped boxes, which she presented to Marketta and Anni. “Just a little something sweet.”

The first gift was a package of five different Ghirardelli chocolate bars.

“From San Francisco,” Penny said. “You’ll have to tell me if you think it’s as good as your chocolate.”

The women seemed delighted. The other two small gifts turned out to be miniature-sized bottles of expensive perfume. Marketta and Anni’s appreciation was evident. Suddenly I was on the receiving end of their squishy hugs of thanks, even though I had nothing to do with the gifts.

“And now for sauna,” Anni announced. She suggested that she and Marketta clear the table while Penny and I got ready.

Penny carried in our bag, and Anni opened the door to a bathroom that didn’t seem to fit the rustic cottage because the room was large and modern with tile covering the floors and the walls. I noticed that the shower fixture came right out of the wall with no separate, enclosed area to serve as a shower. On the left side of the room was a door.

“That is the sauna.” Anni pointed to the door. “Would you wait until Marketta and I come back?”

“Yes, of course,” Penny said.

Anni left us, and I made a brave decision. As Penny opened the bag to find her bathing suit, I announced, “I’m going to wear my underwear. The black set looks like a bathing suit. You even said so. I doubt that Anni or Marketta will think I’m immodest because I don’t have a one-piece bathing suit. Besides, who cares? It’s just us girls.”

Penny slowly turned to me with the most wonderful expression on her face. It was a mixture of amazement and glee. Applauding, she shouted, “Bravo! Good for you!”

I felt proud of myself.

We did our customary turning of our backs to each other as Penny and I stripped down. I folded my clothes neatly and tucked them back in the bag. Ignoring the feeling that too much of my flesh was showing or that the black bra and panties did nothing to cover the lily-white rolls around my middle, I reached for a bath towel to hold in front of my stomach.

Penny pulled a shower cap from her cosmetic bag. “I hope they don’t think I’m weird. I’ve never gone in a sauna before, have you?”

“Are you kidding? No.”

“Well, I’m guessing that all the steam will make my hair frizz. I just washed it, and I don’t want to have to mess with it after the sauna. Especially if Anni doesn’t have a hair dryer.”

I reached for another white towel and wrapped it around my hair in a tightly wound turban that pulled the skin back from my eyes.

Penny tucked her hair under the plastic cap. “Does this look really dumb?”

“No, not really dumb. Just a little dumb.”

“Oh, aren’t you the punchy one tonight.” Penny checked her reflection in the mirror.

“I’m not punchy. I’m emerging,” I declared with a broad grin. I pictured a fuzzy little chick pecking out of its shell. That was me. I was almost all the way through.

“I noticed,” Penny said. “You sure surprised me when you gave Anni a kiss after her solo. I think she was surprised, too, but I could tell she liked it.”

“I wanted to do it, and so I did! I’m changing on this trip, Penny.”

“Yes, you are.”

“We both are,” I said quickly. “We’re emerging into the women we’re going to be for the next half of our lives.”

Penny dipped her chin and squinted her eyes. “The next half of our lives, huh?” Her voice carried the same somber tone it had in the hotel room the night she reminded me that her mother had died when she was forty-six.

“Hallo, ladies!” A tap on the bathroom door announced that Anni and Marketta were ready for the sauna. The door opened. Penny and I turned around, and both the older women burst out laughing. They were laughing at us.

“Look at you!” Marketta chortled. “This is a good joke! You are both wearing bathing suits!”

Penny and I immediately turned our gaze away from the obviously free-spirited women.

In unison, Penny and I said, “And you are not!”

Y
es, Marketta and Anni
had prepared for the sauna by shedding their clothing and appearing at the bathroom door wearing their seventy-year-old skin and nothing else.

And they were laughing at us!

“Did you think we would go swimming first?” Marketta asked, still laughing. “Is that why you have on your swimming cap?”

Neither of us could bring ourselves to look directly at the saggy-baggy sisters.

“We’ve never been in a sauna,” I explained.

“Oh, why did you not say this? I will tell you how this goes. One does not wear clothes in sauna. We sit. When we are warm, we go in the snow. If we had a lake, we would go in through the ice. But there is not a lake here. Only snow outside.”

“No lake, huh?” Penny pulled the shower cap off her head. “No way to cut a hole in the ice and take a dip. Isn’t that too bad?”

I subtly nudged Penny with my elbow and explained, “This is unusual for us.”

Anni placed her hand on the wooden door that opened to the sauna, as if testing the temperature. Marketta gave me a puzzled look. She didn’t seem to understand why we were hesitant.

Penny said, “Life is too short. When in Finland …” She slid out of her bathing suit and quickly wrapped herself in a bath towel. “You don’t mind if I go in with a towel, do you?”

“You will be too hot,” Marketta said. “Come. You will see.”

Anni opened the door to the sauna and stepped inside, closing the door behind her. A wave of warm air filled the tiled bathroom.

I felt paralyzed for a moment. I had thought after giving birth to four children that I was no longer modest about anything. Apparently childbirth hadn’t completely cured me, because this was definitely a stretch. It seemed to be all or nothing with these aged women, and Penny was willing to go for nothing.

Okay, this is it. I can stand here all night with my undies in a bunch, or I can be fearless and join the other flabby chicks in the Finnish sauna
.