They went to Naantali, but it’s early in the season. Muumimaailma isn’t open for a couple weeks yet, so they couldn’t play with the trolls. Kate got her fill of handicrafts and the old town. It’s on the chilly side, so the girls thought the wise thing to do would be to start drinking early. Kate is a little bored, sitting in the bar watching the girls drink, but she says they have good senses of humor and keep her entertained. Also, she can’t quite get accustomed to the idea that it’s acceptable to bring a baby into a bar. But it’s different here than in the States, she’s come to realize. People come to bars to meet, drink coffee, read newspapers. It isn’t all about boozing. Bars are also social centers.
We’ve had quite a day and sit down for a beer—Sweetness lines three shots of kossu up at the bar and downs them one after the other—and after relaxing for a few minutes, we head out to my brother Timo’s place. Sweetness shows no sign of inebriation. It’s mostly because of his size, but I’ve never met anyone with a head for alcohol like his. It’s often considered a manly attribute, but also often leads to liver failure and early death. It concerns me.
Timo is five years older than me and the black sheep of the family. Dad always told him what a worthless piece of shit he was. Timo took it to heart and set out to prove him right. As a teenager, he was always in trouble, committed petty crimes, skipped school more than he attended it and dropped out at sixteen. At age twenty-five, Timo did a seven-month stint in prison for bootlegging. Because of this, Mom has spent years singing his praises as an angel and proclaimed him her favorite child. It’s obvious she does this because his criminal past is an embarrassment and disappointment to her, and it humiliates him when she goes on about him.
He was too much older than me for us to spend much time together or get to know each other well while we were growing up, but we’ve always gotten along. There are four of us brothers. He and I are big men. Jari and my other brother, Juha, are little guys. Juha, the oldest of us, settled in Norway years ago and I don’t even remember the last time we were in contact.
Timo is bright and foresaw the future. He drifted for a while before eventually settling in Pietarsaari, in western Finland. He got a job in a paper factory and worked there for seventeen years. It was a union job, he made a lot of money and he saved. When the plant got outsourced to India or China or somewhere, he bought this farm outright. Timo’s got the full-fledged redneck thing going on. Overalls, beer belly, full beard and baseball cap.
The place has a lot of charm. He and his common-law wife, Anni, give us a tour. They live in a rambling old farmhouse next to a lake. They’ve been together for more than twenty years, raised two kids, a boy and girl. They’ve grown up and moved out. Timo and Anni have a big barn, a sauna building with room for guests to sleep over in it, just a few steps from the lake, and a tiny house, like a dollhouse, just big enough to walk into. It’s just got a bed in it, another place for overnight guests. Jenna gets all excited. It’s like a home for Muumit and she wants to sleep in it. I read Sweetness’s face. He’s hoping he’ll spend the night in there with her.
They take us on a tour. Timo has a still in the barn. He makes pontikka—moonshine. He has a tin cup beside it and offers tastes.
“What exactly is it?” Kate asks.
“Alcohol made from malted grain,” Timo says. “I’ve infused this batch with mixed berries that we grew or picked ourselves, and I put some chocolate bars into the mash.” He turns the tap, puts a healthy measure in the cup. “Have a sip.”
“What’s the alcohol percentage?” I ask.
“A little over eighty.”
“Careful Kate,” I say. “It can burn your lungs. Put it in your mouth and sip it without inhaling.”
She tries it, her face lights up, and she declares it delicious. The girls sip too and agree it’s yummy.
Timo offers the cup to others. Milo says, “We have some shooting practice to do. I think I’ll wait until after.”
I check my watch. It’s eight. The long days are upon us. We still have plenty of time to shoot.
“Actually,” Moreau says, “a small amount of alcohol will steady your hands. If you have problems with shaking hands, I suggest you get a prescription for a beta blocker. It will steady you considerably.”
Milo sips the pontikka and also pronounces it top-notch. I skip the booze for now, as does Moreau. Sweetness takes a big mouthful, swallows, and sighs from satisfaction. He takes his flask out of his pocket. “Do you mind?”