Scintilla

2. The Art of Letting Go

                                                                                    Before

Flashing lights. A guttural scream. Blood. Silence. Only silence.

A weary face staring at the mirror. Gaunt and broken. Sleepless eyes and chapped lips. Soulless.

                                                                                     ***

I maneuver my hair so it falls effortlessly down my back. I hate long hair. It demands too much attention and care which I don't have. I keep my hair long for appearances. I had short hair for the longest time. Before the accident, it was pretty, taken care of, and not a hassle like long hair. After the accident, after many months of misery and loss, my hair was a mess. It was dull, at the worst times matted, and I was losing it at an alarming rate. People would look at me and see how I was based on the state of my hair. Now I keep my hair long, my mahogany curls bouncing and shiny, artfully swaying, dancing with the wind and with the movement of my body. My hair is part of my act, the primary star in the mask I constantly keep. Strangers and friends see my hair and think that I have everything together. That I am better than I was when everything was falling apart. It's a well-orchestrated lie, exhausting but necessary.

My hand lifts and knocks on the door. It quickly opens revealing a beautiful tall woman with long black hair.

"Hi," I whisper.

Stephanie's answering smile is soft. She sweeps her arm in a grand gesture to welcome me into her home.

"I was waiting for you to knock."

I grimace, "Sorry, I was caught up in my thoughts."

She nods, understanding. Together we walk towards her kitchen. A place of comfort with its green cabinets, sunlight, and many plants carefully arranged. We take seats at the small table to the side. Two steaming mugs of tea are already there. I curiously glance at mine.

"Lavender," Stephanie says.

Lavender is well known for its soothing and comforting properties. A laugh escapes my lips, high-pitched and a little desperate.

"So you know."

Her lips pull into a frown, "Impossible not to when it's all everyone is talking about. Gone for less than a year and only back to announce his wedding."

A sigh escapes my body. I carefully pick up my tea and take a sip before replying.

"I didn't know who Lucas had told and it wasn't my news to share."

Stephanie accepts my quiet apology with a smile, "I understand, it seems like Lucas told Gabriel and Isabell overheard, and well there's nothing that can keep Isabell quiet."

Lucas must've asked Gabriel to be one of his groomsmen at the wedding perhaps his best man.

Her eyes slowly move over my body, concentrating on my face, carefully dissecting everything.

"How are you?" Her voice is quiet.

I smile, "I'm fine."

"Don't lie."

I shake my head, "I'm not."

"Luna you did well. You came here well prepared. Your hair is as beautiful as always and your eyes are clear, there are no shadows underneath them. Everything about you screams perfectly collected and that's the problem. You just learned that the man you've been in love with for years is getting married there is no way that it hasn't affected you."