Paper Hearts

THEN: Chapter 22

“And leafing through old book we sometimes find

A dark, oracular phrase is underlined.

You once were here, but in time out of mind” – Rainer Maria Rilke

Eden:

“Eden, can you take the rubbish out, please?”

I mumbled something in the negative from where I lay on the sofa, still trying to read ‘Frankenstein’ and just two biscuits away from finishing off the entire Fox’s tin. Mum looked confused.

“What?”

“I’m pregnant, I can’t go outside in the rain”

Both of my parents fell silent, and I looked over at them to find my Dad eyeing me narrowly. I smiled a little, shrugged, sighed.

“I didn’t think it would work. But it was worth a try, right?”

They both laughed then, clearly relieved that I wasn’t serious, and I dragged myself up from the sofa, trailing the rubbish bag along the hall and wrenching open the door. I grimaced at the pouring rain and stretched my arm reluctantly out of the door to drop the bag in the bin. As I did so, however, my foot trod on something hard that lay on the doormat, just under the little shield that prevented anyone standing on the doorstep from getting wet. I dropped the bag quickly and leaned down, a frown flashing across my face, to pick up the object.

It was a book. 'The Love Letters of Oscar Wilde' – a first edition. My fingers dug into the cover. Jack wouldn’t have bought that for me – and, if he had, he would have bragged about the fact that he’d found such a good present for me. I wasn’t even sure Jack knew that I liked Oscar Wilde. In fact, only three people truly knew the extent of my fascination with Wilde – Mum, Emma...and Ollie.

And the book had no envelope, no wrapping, no postage stamp. Mum wouldn’t have left it outside in the rain; Emma would have saved it for Christmas. Which led me to only one conclusion.

Ollie had come back for me. He’d been standing on my doorstep. And something had made him run away.

I didn’t care about the rain anymore, though it was getting heavier. I ran out onto the pavement, looking frantically up and down the street – how long had the book been there? And why had he run away?

“OLLIE!” I hollered above the sound of the water bouncing off of the tarmac, “OLLIE!”

Mum appeared in the doorway, “Eden, what the Hell are you doing?! You’ll catch your death out there!”

I hugged the book tightly to my chest, the corners digging into me, and ran up to the top of the road, still calling his name, on the verge of tears.

“PLEASE!” I screamed at last, “Please. Please come back”

Dad appeared next to me all of a sudden; he looked absolutely fuming.

“Eden, it’s freezing! I’m getting soaked here. Come inside and tell us what the fuck is going on”

I didn’t say anything; I stared at the corner of the road as though expecting him to reappear. He had to be close. He had to be. How could he be this close and not stay? How could he do that to me?!

I burst into tears; Dad, his face softening in concern, put his arms around me and turned me back towards the house. Mum was still looking anxious on the doorstep. They exchanged a glance that I took to mean they thought I had finally cracked.

Mum wrapped me in a blanket and put the kettle on as soon as Dad had forced me to sit down on the sofa. I was still cradling the book to my chest, and tears were rolling, silent and unbidden, down my cheeks. The smell of the coffee made my eyes sting all over again – because, if I let them, even the most simple, everyday things could remind me of Ollie. And they could overwhelm me.