Frailties of the Bond

Apricots and gods

A duo of birds chirped in animated conversation, wings aflutter, yanking Luca from his walk-down-memories-of-shame.

He shook his head and shuddered. Opening his knapsack, he pulled out his paperback of Underworld and smiled at Kate Beckinsale. Kate stared hawk-eyed into some nowhere place, both beautiful and badass. His smile faded remembering relaxed Saturday nights in the den, popcorn and Wild Cherry Pepsis in hand, watching the movie at Vivie’s house. He told her – the rare times he got Pepsi-high-brave-enough – how she and Kate could have been twins, except Vivie grew her hair down to the middle of her back and dyed it pink. Always pink. She never wore anything pink but her hair.

The memory of her smiling face lingered on. The emptiness of being without her nudged at his heart. The only angle he clung to was the realization he avoided an eventual heartbreak. They could never be more than friends. Not him and someone as gorgeous as her.

The corner of a red envelope stuck out from Underworld’s worn pages, pulling him from his reverie. He slid it free. His name covered the front in calligraphy. A wax seal, marked with the letter ‘P,’ held the back flap shut. He lifted it to his nose. It smelled like apricots, just like Vivie. A shiver worked down his spine.

Impossible. He stared at the envelope, pondering which kid had it in for him so bad they would take a prank this far. Wick came to mind, Vivie’s older brother. But Wick was a senior, not a sophomore. And they didn’t have any elective courses together. No way for Wick to sneak a note in Luca’s bag. Probably too thick in the head to come up with something so…painful – to mess with Luca’s mind.

Luca flipped the envelope around. Warmth snaked into the grooves of his fingertips.  Heat flared when Luca broke the seal and pulled out the red stationary, so hot he winced and dropped the envelope.  The moment it touched the ground, tiny flames burst to life then fizzled out just before he slapped his hand at it to put out the fire.

He glanced from the warm note in his hand to the spot on the ground where the envelope fell. Other than a bit of ash, nothing remained. That did not just happen. Glancing back to the stationary, he knew the truth.

His heart hammered inside his chest and drummed in his ears.  He had to read the note but…would it turn into another Mission Impossible self-destruct moment? With a gulp and a deep breath, he opened the letter.

L,

You know who this is.

No, you’re not dead.

Yes, I still am. Persephone was nice enough to let me do this.

So I had to tell you. It’s time to let me go.

Please.

V.

The note crumbled to pieces, literally, into a palm full of red confetti. Another breeze played beneath the bleachers, sweeping the pieces into the air, swirling them up and away. Luca stood to grab them but only managed to bump his head. He sucked in a breath at the pain while the jolt sent a shower of paint chips into his hair. He didn’t bother shaking them out. They matched his hair perfectly.