They sit across from each other at one of the downstairs tables. The room is dim; just one small light shines on the wall. Wind blasts the rain against the black window. Olli lights a cigarette and offers one to Karri.
He shakes his head and says, “Thanks, but I don’t smoke. That’s Greta’s vice, not mine.”
Olli blows smoke across the table.
“I guess it doesn’t matter any more,” he says quietly. “Greta’s sick. The woman I love will live for maybe a few more days, then she’s going to die. I wish I could say I’m glad to see you, Karri, but you’re a ghost. We left you behind thirty years ago in the secret passages, me and Greta. What are you doing here now? Couldn’t you show just a little respect and let us say goodbye in peace?”
“I’m sorry,” Karri says in a conciliatory tone, with Greta’s mouth. “Greta really is dying. She’s dying tomorrow at sunrise, to be precise. She’ll take her last breath in your arms and die completely happy, because she’ll no longer have to fear living her whole life without you. A beautiful cinematic ending. It’s my gift to her.”
“How magnanimous of you,” Olli whispers, horrified. “Were you planning to give something to me, too?”
The golden-haired creature across from him smiles diffidently, seeming not to notice his hostility.
Olli tries to see Karri through Greta, and when he can’t, averts his eyes.
“Yes, I was,” Karri says. “For the sake of our old friendship, and because I respect you, I’m going to tell you what’s going to happen. I’m sure it will help you bear the sad ending more easily. There’s no reason to deceive you any longer. It was only for Greta’s sake that this whole performance was written and produced.”
Olli must not look terribly appreciative, because Karri’s eyes grow moist.
“Oh, Olli,” he sighs, pressing the back of his hand against his mouth. “You make me feel like the villain in this movie, revealing his dastardly plan to the hero just before he carries it out. Greta is very important to me. I created her, after all, from myself, for you. Luckily there was still something left of me, whispering in the background. Greta thought I was her deep cinematic self. If it weren’t for me, she would have remained just a plaything in Rio de Janeiro and eventually died on the operating table. And when she went to Anne Blomroos’s villa, I had no choice but to step out and rescue her from her impossible revenge plan.”
“Greta isn’t a murderer,” Olli says.
Karri is quiet for a moment, then turns serious. “Actually, your innocent little Greta would have shot Anne Blomroos without batting an eyelid. And she would have spared those foolish brothers, so she would have got caught. She would have been convicted of murder and sent to prison for the rest of her life. I couldn’t allow that. So I pushed her aside, shot Riku and Leo, and made a deal with Anne.”
“A deal?”
Karri nods. His eyes brighten. “For a long time I wanted to somehow make Greta’s greatest dream come true. And I saw that I had the opportunity to do it. Anne and I agreed that she would use the power she had to arrange things so that Greta could spend the end of her life with you and experience complete happiness and love. And after the beautiful cinematic ending—”
Olli doesn’t want to hear any more. “Well, thank you, Karri, for coming to prepare me for the death of the one I love,” he snarls, shaking his head, “but I’m sure you understand that right now I really want to—”
Karri leans towards him, touches his hand, and says, “Olli, you can call me Karri—I don’t mind—but Karri is no more real than Greta is. Greta was created in the secret passages to be a talented, wonderful girl that you could love. Karri, on the other hand, was the inhibited, shy boy Anna Kultanen raised for herself. Each of them is less than half of the whole truth that they both have to make way for.”
Olli looks at Karri, not able to really listen to what he’s saying. There is still some of this night left, but the morning is a bright front rolling towards them from the east. He lights another cigarette and wipes the tears from his cheeks as Karri whispers what is to come.
“So. Greta’s condition will collapse sometime in the morning, and when you’ve said your goodbyes, she’ll release her hold on life and pass away. Dr Oksanen will arrive, pronounce her dead and cover her with a sheet, like in the movies—we both know that Greta would appreciate that. Then the doctor will say his lines. They’re sentimental and corny, but let him have them. For a respected chemist he’s a surprisingly enthusiastic amateur actor, and working for Anne Blomroos, he rarely gets a shot at drama. Then you’ll leave the house, and your part of the story will be over. And while the credits are rolling—if you’ll pardon the expression—our doctor will give the patient the antidote, and—”
Olli grabs Karri’s hand and looks hard at him. “Antidote?”
Karri avoids looking him in the eye and pulls his hand away. “Yes. The shots you’ve been giving her are real compounds that weaken the nervous system and slow the functions of internal organs, until they eventually nearly cease.” He adds, almost in passing, “When the antidote has revived her system, Greta will be gone and I’ll carry on from there.”
Olli stares at him.
Karri draws himself up and continues brightly, “I’m sure you and I will see each other again, in two weeks’ time, at Greta Kara’s funeral in the old Jyväskylä cemetery. We can think of it as a sort of epilogue. I’ll look different then. I was thinking I would cut my hair and dye it black.”
“But I love Greta,” Olli murmurs.
“And Greta loves you,” Karri says, his eyes glowing. “That’s what she was created for. She loves you with more passion than you could possibly imagine. And over these past few weeks, with the shadow of separation looming, you have loved her so strongly that it was enough to make her happy. But in a year, or two at most, your feelings would inevitably start to fade, while her love would burn just as strongly as before… It would kill her spirit.”
The resolute, passionate note in Karri’s voice reminds Olli of the final scene in Casablanca, when Humphrey Bogart convinces Ingrid Bergman to give up their love and get on the plane with her husband.
Karri is silent for a moment, then says, “You must understand now why everything has to happen according to the script.”
Olli tries to think.
They look at each other. Karri is waiting for his approval.
Olli stubs out his cigarette and shakes his head.
Karri looks confused.
Olli has had enough of this unwelcome presence. He gets up, takes a breath, grabs the golden-haired creature and drags him to the piano. Karri resists, but Olli is stronger. “Play,” he growls, his hands pressed on slender shoulders.
Karri looks up at him angrily from under yellow curls. “Don’t be a fool, Olli. We still have things to talk about. I haven’t told you everything. We should let Greta sleep while we prepare for her last, great scene.”
Olli wraps his fingers around the slender neck, presses his thumbs against the vertebrae and squeezes. “Play Chopin for me,” he whispers. “Or else this whole thing will be over right now, and there won’t be anybody getting up when the credits roll.”
Karri starts striking the keys with a mocking grin, making no attempt at music.
Olli tightens his grip.
The lovely face reddens, the breath wheezing. Karri tries harder now.
With tears in his eyes, Olli squeezes still tighter.
“Play.”
Gradually the tinkling begins to sound like music. At first there are just a few notes that sound right. Then a few stuttering passages of notes.