Copper Heart Read Online Free PDF Page A

attention. To round off the workweek, I hung the picture of President Ahtisaari, which had come in the mail that morning, above the sofa in place of Koivisto. Should I take the old portrait to my parents as a gift? Maybe they could hang him on the wall in the outhouse at the cabin. Were there official regulations for the disposing of pictures of past presidents? Koivisto seemed to frown as I hid him temporarily in the bottom drawer of my desk.
    I had biked to work that morning and planned on dropping by my parents’ house to shower and change clothes after work. I assumed I would take a taxi back to the farm from the gala. After a quick trip to the liquor store across the street, I coasted down the hill to my old house on Uncle Pena’s three-speed bicycle, which was in serious need of some chain oil.
    The door was unlocked, but no one was inside. Strange, since my parents were planning on coming to the opening too. We did still have a couple of hours though. I stuck the bottle of gin I had bought in the freezer to chill and traipsed to the shower. The water running down my sweaty shoulders felt luxurious, but I avoided getting my hair wet. I had washed it in the sauna the previous night, even taking the time to massage in a pouch of henna to amp up its natural red.
    By the time I made it out of the shower, the gin was nice and cold. I mixed it with lemon juice and had it on the rocks. The bite brought tears to my eyes, so I rummaged through my mom’s cupboard for a little powdered sugar to take the edge off the bitterness. The second sip tasted much better.
    I emptied my makeup bag onto the bathroom counter and set down my tumbler next to my lipstick. How many Friday nights had I looked at myself in this mirror while getting readyfor a party? I tried to peer through what I saw now to the old me, the round-cheeked girl of fifteen years ago with the boyish haircut. That girl didn’t have crow’s-feet or three strands of gray clearly visible in the sea of red above her forehead or such broad shoulders.
    Surrounded by all these memories, that silly, bubbly Friday feeling came over me again, reminding me of a time when anything could happen at a party. Everything was possible. What if tonight was the night Johnny noticed me? That was a thought from fifteen years ago, right?
    I needed music. Of course my sisters and I had taken all our music with us when we moved out, so all that remained was my parents’ classical and easy listening records. The radio saved me with some classic Hurriganes. “I’m a roadrunner, honey…” I took a third sip of my drink and started doing myself up. In fifteen years I’d learned a thing or two about that too.
    My parents arrived while I was pouring myself a second glass of gin. I could tell by my father’s face that something was wrong.
    “We had to go the hospital,” he explained. “Your uncle had another heart attack.”
    “Oh God! Is he alright?”
    “He’s still in pretty bad shape, but they assured us that he’d pull through. We’re supposed to call later tonight.” With a sigh, my father sat down on the living room couch, obviously lost in thought, and took a sip from my glass. My mother excused herself to start getting ready.
    “Helena was there visiting and catching him up on the news when suddenly he just went blue,” Dad said.
    “Does he know about the opening gala tonight?” I asked.
    Uncle Pena had been the vice chairman of the town council for the previous four terms. Despite his drinking problem, hewas a trusted local politician, and ten years earlier had been within spitting distance of Parliament. Reopening the mine as a tourist attraction had been an important issue for Pena for many reasons. Before taking over the family farm, he had worked in the mine himself for nearly twelve years. As the veins of ore gradually dwindled, Pena was among the first to start looking for industries to replace the jobs the mining company would no longer be able to provide.