"I remember you," the girl behind the counter says, smiling at me. "You're the one from Germany, right? You came in a while back."

I blink at her, nonplussed. In Hamburg, I wouldn't have made an impression at all. It only serves to remind me, once again, of how much less diverse and crowded Helsinki is, in comparison to many other capital cities.

"Yes," I say finally, trying to smile back. The nape of my neck is prickling up. I wonder how many people she sees in a day, that she can pick me out like this.

I look around the bakery, skimming across a few customers before I can chide myself. Who's the stalker now?

I haven't been back in Töölö since last Saturday when I dropped by Aksel's apartment to pick up my belongings. Until now.

I've missed this bakery, I tell myself. I'm free to come all the way here for bread if I want to.

The cashier is still talking to me. "What would you like today?"

I hadn't actually been planning to buy anything, but now that she's asked... "What's good?"

"I recommend the rye, of course," she says with a tinkling laugh. "Or maybe the chocolate croissant, if you have more of a sweet tooth."

"Chocolate croissant," I repeat. "That sounds nice. I'll take one, please."

As she rings up my purchase, I squint at the other options on the shelves behind her. "Do you have that new cricket bread that everyone keeps talking about?" I ask half-jokingly. "I keep seeing it on the news."

"Oh, no," the cashier tells me as she bags my croissant. "That is at Fazer, if you want to try it."

I make a face. "Well... I'm not adventurous enough. I think seeing the live crickets in the jar made me lose all appetite for it. It's a good endeavour, though."

"Yes," she says. "I'm also uncomfortable about eating it, but I have heard some people who tried it and said it tastes normal, just like bread."

"Oh, well." I shrug. "Maybe someday. But I'm not ready for it yet."

She laughs. "It's okay, I understand. Me neither. But maybe in the future, we all have to be braver."

"Yeah." My mouth twists at the thought. "All our resources on Earth are depleting. It's depressing."

She nods commiseratingly. "We haven't taken good care of our planet." Then she hands over the brown paper bag, "That will be 85 cents."

I take the bag and count out the coins for her.

"Thank you!" She smiles at me. "Would you like the receipt?"

"No, thanks." I could leave now, but something makes me hover at the counter. There is no one else in the queue behind me, so I take a deep breath and ask the question that has been on my mind since walking in. "I saw the sign in the window about you hiring?"

The cashier nods. "Yes, we are."

"I'm interested in the job," I say, "but I assume I'd have to know Finnish?"

She smiles at me again, this time sheepishly. "Yes, I'm afraid... We need someone who is fluent in Finnish."

In other words – not me. It makes sense, though. I should have guessed.

Smiling stoically to hide my disappointment, I nod at her in thanks. "It's okay. Thank you."

"Wait," she calls out as I ready to walk away. "You're looking for a job?"

I nod. "Preferably a part-time job, though. I'm taking a Finnish class, so I can't work full-time." Then I roll my eyes, "Not that I'll be able to get one with my level of Finnish, anyway."

"I have an idea," she says. "Maybe you're not fluent in Finnish, but you are a native German-speaker, aren't you? You can try tutoring people in German. I have a friend who is looking for someone to teach him."

"I'm not a teacher, though," I say. "I mean, I didn't study teaching at uni. I have no idea how to teach."

"There are many Americans who come to Europe to teach English as a foreign language." She shrugs. "Why can't you teach German to Finns?"

"Don't they need a special certificate to do that, though?" This is not an area I'm well-versed in, but I would think teachers need to be certified. Otherwise, wouldn't any Tom, Dick or Harry be able to teach their native language?

"Maybe, if they want to teach officially at a school," she concurs, "but my friend doesn't care about that. He minors in German and is looking for a German to help him with his vocabulary and grammar."

"A German tutor," I repeat, trying out the idea on my tongue. "I've never thought about that."

"I can introduce you to my friend," she says, "if you want to try it out. What do you think?"

I stare at her for a long moment. Finally, I spread out my hands, palms up, in a gesture of uncertain acquiesce. "Okay. Why not?"

"He is willing to pay," she reassures me. "It won't be much, but it's something."

I wouldn't mind helping someone with their language for free, but I do need a source of income. "Thanks," I tell her. Then I stick out my hand, and she takes it automatically, giving it a couple of firm shakes as I continue.

"By the way, my name is Emilie. Emi for short."

"It's a pretty name," she says. "Elisabet Korhonen, but everyone calls me Essi." She doesn't let go of my hand until this exchange of names is over.

I still haven't gotten used to how long a Finnish handshake lasts, compared to the usual German one. I haven't caught her last name either, but I smile like I have a dictionary of Finnish last names hidden deep in my brain and know exactly which entry she's speaking of. "Nice to meet you, Essi."

As I say it, I realise that our nicknames only sound slightly different.

"Nice to meet you, too, Emi. If you give me your number, I'll tell my friend to contact you."

"Yes," I say, clearing my throat so that the word can come out right. I have to search in my own phone to recite my Finnish number to her, which she dutifully types onto her own screen.

"Got it," she tells me, waving her phone at me. "I'll text him right now. You shouldn't have to wait long." She laughs. "He has just done badly for a test, so he's pretty desperate."

"Thanks for your help," I say. "I really appreciate it."

"It's no trouble," she smiles. "If it works well with him, maybe you can become an official German teacher."

"Hm," I say noncommittally, but I smile at her for the optimistic suggestion. "Yes, maybe. We'll see."

***

Since moving in with Priscilla, my weekends never go by without social plans. And, as she promised – or perhaps forced me to is a better description of it – the coming weekend sees us headed for one of the house parties that Zuzi is always being invited to.

"I can't believe it!" Zuzi exclaimed, when Priscilla had brought up the idea to her. Grabbing her by the wrist, Zuzi twirled Priscilla around, the latter beginning to laugh against her will. "I've been asking you to come along forever, but you never would. I see Emi has been a good influence on you."

"Leave me out of it," I had muttered, backing away as if that will help me escape from her enthusiasm. "My partying days are over."

"Oh, no, no, no, no," Zuzi had lunged forward and grabbed hold of me too. "You're not escaping now. We're partying this Friday!"

And that is how we ended up here.

The party isn't as loud as the kind I'm used to from my university days, but it does seem a lot drunker. Standing to the side of Zuzi as she chats with a group of people she's just met, sipping the beer that has been crammed into my hand – "Even if you're not going to drink it, hold onto it," Zuzi advises me and Priscilla – I realise something.

"You know," I say to Priscilla, pitching my voice as loud as it can go while still remaining relatively unheard, "I just realised that this is the first house party I've been to since coming to Finland."

Priscilla doesn't even bother sipping her beer. She says something – I see her lips moving, but I shake my head to signify that I can't hear her over the music and chatter around us. Priscilla leans closer towards me. "I said," she says directly by my ear, "I would've thought you, out of all of us, would have had more opportunities for that."

I shrug, flicking a glance at Zuzi, who is looking over and trying to include us in the group conversation. I nod along for a moment or two, before sidling closer towards Priscilla and continuing, "Aksel and I mostly only went drinking on weekends with his friends. Neither of us are really party people."

"Me neither," Priscilla sighs. She shakes her head at Zuzi, who is starting to shoot us sharp looks.

"My dear friends here," Zuzi says loudly, clapping a hand on my shoulder and pulling me into the circle, "are also new in Helsinki."

"Maybe that's why we haven't seen you around," one of the girls in the group says.

I shrug, smiling awkwardly. "Yes. Maybe."

Zuzi laughs. "How long have you been here?"

"Two years or so," she says, then turns to her friends. "Makea here has been here the longest."

"I did my university degree here."

Makea appears to be a tall, sleepy-eyed guy standing behind the girl whose name I never caught.

"Isn't Makea a Finnish name?" Priscilla pipes up now. Of course it would take something Finnish-related to draw her interest.

"I'm a quarter Finnish, on my mother's side of the family. My maternal grandfather was the one who came up with the name."

"That's cool!" Priscilla exclaims.

"We should be friends," Zuzi says to him. "I haven't managed to befriend a Finn yet."

Makea laughs. "I'm not a real Finn, but hey. I wouldn't say no to making more friends."

Not a real Finn.

Here is someone who doesn't mind slapping that label on himself, despite the blood running in his veins. How strange.

I realise I'm staring at him when he returns my gaze a little questioningly. I look down to avoid looking into his eyes.

"Do you speak Finnish?" I hear Zuzi ask.

"Of course. I did my Bachelor's degree in Finnish."

I look up at him again, more surreptitiously this time. How strange, I think to myself again. He lives in Finland, speaks the language, and fits in totally, appearance-wise – why wouldn't he want to identify as a Finn?

If I had been in his position, maybe Aksel and I would have worked out.

"Close enough," Zuzi announces decisively. "You're my new Finnish friend now."

Makea just laughs.

"I'm getting another drink," I mumble, breaking out of the circle to head to the other side of the room. I don't stop to see if anyone has heard me, on the off chance that they will point out that my cup is still mostly full.

At the furniture that at once point was probably the dining table, I set the cup down and take a deep breath. The air is stale and stuffy – it's what happens when there are too many people in one room.

Just as I'm pondering my next move, Priscilla materialises by my elbow.

"Okay, you were right. We shouldn't have come."

I turn to her, plastering an exaggerated look of surprise across my face. "Sorry?"

"You were right, we're not party people at all." Priscilla shrugs. She looks at my cup on the table and gingerly sets down her own next to it. "If that makes us boring, then so be it. I'd prefer it if we were at home right now, watching a movie or something."

I find myself grinning now. "Okay, but I thought you seemed pretty interested in that Makea guy."

Priscilla rolls her eyes. "Just his name. His person doesn't interest me. Anyway, I think he is much more interested in Zuzi." She laughs then. "Can we get out of here?"

"Zuzi seems to be having the time of her life," I say, nodding in the direction of our friend. "We can't leave without her. Besides, we've only been here five minutes."

"And I'm already bored," Priscilla sighs. "I don't think Zuzi will mind if we nip out for a bit. Give me a moment, I'm going to talk to her."

"I'll come along," I tell her, but she's already weaving her way through the room.

I shrug, even though no one is watching me, and stay put.

I pick my drink back up and sip at it as I watch Priscilla lean into Zuzi and murmur something. Even from across the room, I can see the displeasure in the toss of Zuzi's head. Priscilla shakes her head and says something else, before breaking free of the group.

Zuzi turns and scowls at me. I smile sheepishly, raising my eyebrows at her in embarrassed apology, just as Priscilla barrels into me. She grabs me by the wrist and begins heading in the opposite direction where Zuzi is standing.

I don't protest, but I do ask, "Where are we going?"

"Out," is Priscilla's vague but firm reply.

A niggle of guilt pokes at me. "We're not leaving Zuzi here alone, are we?"

"We're not leaving. I told her we'll be back in a while." Priscilla waves a hand as if to clear the air. We step out the back door into the dark, and she stops to savour the brisk coolness of the night. "Okay, this feels much better."

As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I see shadowy shapes in different corners of the backyard – we are not the only ones seeking refuge outdoors. This doesn't deter Priscilla, though. She wanders deeper into the yard, turning around to beckon to me.

"Let's sit down here," she says, plonking onto the grass.

I join her. From our spot, I can barely even see the smokers congregated by the wall of the house. It is nice out here.

After a while, I giggle. It sounds loud in the silence, but nobody shushes me. "So much for partying the night up."

"If you'd prefer to be back inside, be my guest," Priscilla says. She's lying back in the grass, looking up at the night sky. I obligingly join her.

"Nah. I'm good," I say.

We lie together, enjoying the relative silence. The faint strains of music and chatter are still audible in the distance, if I listen carefully.

"Can I ask you something?"

Priscilla's sudden question, in the stillness of the night, throws me. But I say, "Go ahead."

"Why did you react so strongly that day? When Aksel came to the uni after class?"

I purse up my lips, glad that she can't see me clearly in the darkness.

"You don't have to answer if you don't want to," Priscilla says. "I was just wondering... because you seemed okay after going back to collect your stuff from him. I thought you were on good terms."

"We are," I say, even though I'm not so certain of that now. He had been texting every day before that incident, but I haven't heard from him since. "It was a shock, that's all. I didn't expect to see him there. I wasn't prepared for it."

"All right."

I can tell she's not fully satisfied with my answer, but she doesn't press the issue. It's what I like about her. She knows when to leave things alone. Not like Aksel – he was always pushing me, forcing me to confront things.

But then I have to stop and swallow, because I'm suddenly remembering how he got me to sign up for the Finnish class. If he hadn't forced the issue, I might not have gotten around to it. I might not be standing here right now with Priscilla, because I might not have met her.

Or I might still have. It's impossible to tell now. Aksel had forced my hand the day he had marched me down to the university and paid for me when I had almost backed out at the last minute.

I owe him – and not just for the money. He's done so much for me. Even though things didn't work out in the end, he hadn't deserved my reaction towards him. My hand sneaks its way to my pocket, where my phone is sticking out.

"Do you think I was too harsh?" I ask, abruptly now. "To Aksel?"

I can hear Priscilla breathing beside me. I'm tempted to repeat my question when she doesn't respond immediately, but I force it back down.

"Maybe a little," she says finally. "But it's understandable. You've broken up – you don't want him popping up wherever you go."

Despite myself, I feel a giggle rising up. "That makes it sound so creepy, like he's a stalker or something."

Priscilla laughs too. "It does. I hope he doesn't turn into one."

I snort. "That would require way too much time that he doesn't have."

The conversation trails off, and we sit in companionable silence for a while. Then I speak up again, unable to let go of the thought circling in my mind.

"Do you think I should text him? Or maybe if he texts again, I'll tell him I didn't mean to react so badly. I shouldn't have lashed out at him."

"Never mind," I dismiss myself before she can say anything in reply. "It doesn't matter. I'm probably not going to hear from him again, anyway."

Priscilla is silent again. "I don't know," she says, at a point where I've almost started to feel as if I'm speaking to myself. "But with everything that's happened... It still affects you way too much. Maybe it would be better if you don't hear from him for a while."

I run my finger over the edge of my phone, over and over.

Priscilla turns to look at me, hazel eyes bright even in the darkness. "I know it's hard, Emi, especially when you still have feelings for him. But it's probably for the best."

I don't reply.