Sunflower: A Duskwood Postlude

Part 17 - Relinquish

               Your memories of her seem dull and unrefined. She glows, her body haloed by the sun, hair reaching toward you as it catches in the wind. Her delicate fingers comb the strand behind her ear. With eyes blazing, lips pull delicately into a sly smile. She moves with a purpose, never once shying away from you as she closes the distance. She takes your limp hand gently in hers, placing it against her warm cheek. Heat floods through your every sinew, giving chase to the past's terrors.

"Jessie," you whisper her name. She smiles up at you. Her hands still wrapped around yours she removes your hand from her cheek. If not for her hands touching yours the ache for her touch would have consumed you. She pulls you along the walkway, up the stairs and through the front door.

                She releases your hand once inside. Your heart cries out, bereft. She peels off her coat, turning to help you with yours. You let the layer slide from your shoulders. Her breath tickles at your neck, the little hair there standing erect, goose-bumps spreading. Jessie had stuck to her boho, decorating the main room with overgrown house plants, natural accents and comfortable looking furniture. Above the bookshelf against the far-left wall is an unframed canvas, the image of a stolen moment. In the photo her eyes are gently turned to look into yours, your bodies pressed to one another, her hands wrapped around your neck, your holding her closely to you. You refrain from looking at your goofy expression in the photo for too long.

"My brother amazes me sometimes. He had it specially printed for me. He snuck the picture while we were dancing that first night. I'm sure he wanted it to tease us, but, all things considered, it turned out to be sweet." You look at her to see her eyes also looking at the image.

"Yeah, he would do something like that." Your voice comes out quieter than anticipated. She smiles, taking your hand again and gently pulling you into the home.

                  You settle onto the sofa as she walks into the kitchen. She preps a kettle with water and places it on the stove.

"What do you think? Of the house, so far," she calls from the kitchen.

"It seems cozy. How have you been liking it?" She turns, giving you a puzzled grin. She shakes her head, as if banishing a thought away. She pulls two mugs from a cabinet, plopping a teabag in each before drowning them in steaming water.

"It was a bit unusual, moving in here without you. I've made it my own though. I hope you don't mind. It is your house after all." She hands you a teacup.

"It's technically our home. When I had it commissioned, I had it built in both our names. I..." the words drift away. You look into your own reflection inside the teacup.

"Simmons is a character. I'm glad he was there for you. He always had a lot of good things to say." You snort.

"Oh, I am sure he did." She giggles.

"He was always very kind. He probably told me more than he was supposed to, but I was glad for it." You look at her again. A tightness pulls in your chest. Her eyes, saddened and distant.

"Yeah, he is a good friend."

                 "So, got any big plans? What do you want to do now that you are free?" Her expression returns to a happier visage.

"Jess?" She looks away, focusing instead on the teabag in her mug.

"No. I know what you are going to say." She stirs the liquid in her mug, still not looking at you. Something unfamiliar and not unpleasant tugs at your insides. Something forgotten, but becoming recognizable as the moments pass.

"Jessie, we have to talk about it."

"No, we don't." The chuckle slips from beneath your breath. 'I almost forgot.' Your heart skips slightly as you slide closer to her on the sofa.

"Jess. We can't just pick up like nothing ever happened." You set down your mug.

"I know. But, things don't have to be the way they were before. We can take it as fast or as slow as you need, but...' She pauses, also placing her mug on the coffee table.

"Jessie, I need a little time. I've been through some stuff. I can only imagine what you've been through. I don't want you to jump back into a relationship with me, not knowing who I am now. You may not feel the same way for the new me."

"Q, Stop! You don't get to tell me how I feel. Or how I felt all these years you were out there, doing who knows what to keep me safe. Let me be here for you. Just let me be what you have always been for me."

                    Her words bounce about your mind, even as you stare blankly into the tv screen. Jessie had picked a movie, refilled your mug, made popcorn and nestled in under a blanket a comfortable distance away on the sofa. Her gentle breathing hinting that, despite the horror and macabre seen on the screen she is peacefully sleeping. You glance out the window to see it is already dark outside, the streetlamps casting a yellow glow. '"Let me be here for you. Just let me be what you have always been for me." Is that really what she said?'

                Carefully sliding from beneath the shared blanket, you move to the front door. The lock is fastened. Next the windows. Each is secured before blocking the outside world with the curtains. You move easily through the house, checking all other exterior doors and windows. You return to the sofa. Jessie stirs. She sits up slowly, her body stretching momentarily before she rubs her eyes. Her head turns one way then another.

"I'm here, Jess." You step back into the changing lights emitted from the television screen. Her body physically relaxes.

"I was worried you'd left." She yawns.

"C'mon, let's get you to bed." You step up beside the sofa, offering her your hand. She takes it, the blanket sliding away. Your eyes follow it to the floor. You begin to reach for it, but a tug on your hand pulls you toward the hallway on the left.

                   She doesn't release your hand, even as she crawls into the king bed. Your body feels as if it is prickling with millions of needles, your heart beating very quickly suddenly. Her eyes turn up to you.

"You don't have to sleep here, if you aren't ready yet. It's okay. Could you stay with me until I fall asleep again? Please?" 'She knows damn well what she is doing.' You smile inwardly to yourself. 'She always knows what she wants. I can't say that for most people.' You nod. She relinquishes your hand, allowing you to walk around the bed to climb on top of the comforter. The sheets are cool against your skin. She smiles at you sleepily.

"Will you be here in the morning?" Her voice trails off.

"If you want me to be." Her lips tug into a dreamy grin. She cuddles into you, her head pressed into your shoulder. Her warmth wraps around you, cradling you. Her slow breaths reveal she has already slipped into a peaceful sleep. 'I want to stay but...I should sleep in the other room. On the couch.' She nuzzles further into you. You let yourself smile.

                 You stare up into the void. It is neither light or dark, just a slow swirling cluster of gray clouds. The familiar sounds of high heels clicking on a marble floor bounces around you. You can't see her, but you know her. Her name is at the tip of your tongue, but won't come to mind. A nauseousness permeates from your stomach. The clicking stops. You tilt your head back to look up at the figure looming over you. Her silhouette blocks any chance of seeing her features, but she is painfully familiar. You sense she is smiling. Never again. Never again will I serve you. Her mouth twists into a grimace. The scent of jasmine tickles your nose as Madeline's image shimmers into a wisp then fades away.