Her Enemy Read Online Free

somewhat ironically. When I nodded, he led me inside. Under his dress shirt, I could feel Makke’s hard shoulder muscles. His hand was on my back, sweaty from the warm night and cognac. Makke smelled of too much aftershave, but he was the perfect-height dance partner for me. Antti and I always have trouble because he’s a full foot taller than me. Other couples slid past us: Kimmo and Armi, my boss and his wife, Antti with his mother. The cognac was pulsing from my head down to my feet as the trio turned to tango music and Makke bent me into a perfect dip.
    Dancing past the mantelpiece, I caught sight of a large graduation picture of Sanna, wearing that bored smile of hers. I’d been a freshman in high school when she graduated, and, after the ceremony, half of the school had been drinking at the only park in my little hometown. Sanna was falling-down drunk and some people were whispering that she had taken something strongertoo. I remembered how a bottle of rowanberry wine slipped from her lips and the red liquid stained her jacket. Sanna took it off, and the skimpy camisole she had underneath revealed arms adorned with cigarette burns and slashes, maybe from a razor blade. I had heard rumors about her arms before, but that was the first time I’d seen them in all their gruesome glory.
    Makke noticed the picture too.
    “I’m surprised they invited me here,” he whispered in my ear. “I guess they wanted to show that they forgive me.”
    “Sanna’s death wasn’t your fault,” I whispered back.
    “If I hadn’t been so drunk, I would have been able to stop her from going swimming,” Makke replied.
    “And if you hadn’t been drunk, Sanna wouldn’t have been either. Listen, Makke, if there’s one thing I’ve learned in life, it’s that there’s no point what-if-ing.”
    If only I could have remembered that myself the next day.
    The rest of the evening was actually fun. Perhaps I had the cognac to thank or perhaps the skill of the musicians. We headed home at around one thirty, about the same time as Armi and Kimmo. We were already down the driveway when I heard Armi yell from the Hänninens’ front gate.
    “See you tomorrow at two with your skirt! And we can talk; I have so much to ask you!”

2

    When I woke up, around noon, my mouth felt sticky, and even after my morning coffee and a long, cold shower, my temples still throbbed. As I took two ibuprofen in preparation for my ride to Armi’s house, Antti declared he was taking the day off and went out into the yard to read a collection of French poetry. I would have liked to stay and lie next to him, perhaps lazily making love under the cherry blossoms.
    “If I’m not here when you get back,” he said, “I’ll be over swimming at the breakwater.”
    “Wait for me. We’ll go together. This will only take about an hour.”
    “Don’t count on it. Armi’s quite a gossip—you’ll be stuck there forever,” Antti said.
    As I pedaled across town, I thought about how little interest I had in trading girlish secrets with Armi. It was oppressively hot, and though the bike path was relatively flat most of the way, I started sweating immediately and desperately needed something to drink by the time I made it to Armi’s street.
    Armi lived in a rented one-bedroom row house. I remembered Kimmo explaining the day before, his mildly drunk eyes amorously gazing at Armi, that she had two homes: this littleplace and a house she shared with her parents in Haukilahti, on the other side of the freeway. I hoped Kimmo would be here too; it would take some of the pressure off me.
    I rang the doorbell three times, but no one answered. Strange. Could Armi be in the shower? She didn’t seem like the type to dally in the shower in the middle of the day, but then again, it had been a late night. Just to be sure, I checked my watch. Two o’clock. That was what we’d arranged, and I didn’t think Armi had been so drunk as not to remember. Perhaps she was sitting in the