Heaven Is

Those Pictures

The house is filled with boxes, the house isn't a mess but every two feet you run into a box. We've been packing for a couple of days now and we're nearly done. We don't have to pack up everything because we're keeping the house but pictures, clothes, and May's toys have to be packed. By the end of the week we should be done and heading back to England. I miss May and Rick. The boys hate the cold and complain about it as soon as we go outside.

It's weird to be to walk down the hall and see pictures of of my parents hung on the walls and pictures of me when I was little. Like I lived here for two years but with Sav and the boys looking at all the pictures, that's the weird part. Like when I moved to London, I tried (and failed) to push them from my mind because it killed me knowing that they were never going to be there again.

I walk down the hall to see Sav standing there looking at the pictures. I haven't packed up this hall yet. I walk up behind him and wrap my arms around him from behind. Sav grabs my hands, lacing his fringes through mine. Since he's taller than me, I look around him to see what pictures he's looking at.

Three pictures face us. The first is a picture of my parents and I when I was about five. I sit between my mum and dad on a patio swing. My mum has long dark curly hair like me with bright green eyes, my dad has blond hair and dark coffee coloured eyes, I'm a prefect mix of them.

The second picture is a picture of Rick and I sitting at his drum kit when we were about ten. We've been as close as family since we were little. I remember the day we met, we were four and I was playing in my grandparents backyard, Rick was also playing. Rick had poked his head through the fence and got it stuck. We talked until Rick's dad and my dad got his head unstuck, I sat close by and made sure he was okay. We both agreed that the other talked funny and we've been friends ever since. About a week later I had fallen off my swing and broke my arm. I bawled my eyes out and Rick went to go get my mum and waiting up until I got home from the hospital, that was the day he claimed me as his little sister.

The last is the picture of my grade eleven rugby team, we had won provincials. I had captained that team with the eight-man. The thirty of us girls are lined up, wearing our medals, the championship flag being held up. The other captain and I lay in front of the team with the trophy between our heads. That was the happiest moment I could remember just before my parents' death.

"You look a lot like your parents." Sav says after a while. "Like you must drive your grandparents mad, you're your mum with brown eyes."

"Yeah, you'd never guess how many times I was called Lucy." I half smile.

"What was your dad's name?" He wonders.

"Claude." I say simply.

"You and Rick look thick as thieves." He half laughs.

"Been best friends for the better part of twenty years, it's hard not to be." I laugh.

"Since you were like four or something, right?" Sav wonders.

"Yeah, he got that big head of his stuck in between boards of the fence of my grandparents' old house." I smile at the memory. "Never seen a three year old cuss that much."

"Not even you?" Sav pulls me around his side and smiles his prefect smile.

"I was four at the time." I shrug and he laughs.

"What about that girl? You seem close, there's a couple other pictures of you and her." Sav points at my co-captain in grade eleven.

"Missy Bates, we were close. I played hockey with her brother and dated him for a while but we obviously played rugby together. Her brother was drafted to a hockey team in the States, they packed up and moved out there while she was still in high school." I explain.

"Talk about a family unit." Sav half smiles.

"And she was pissed off. Especially when he got hurt and couldn't play, as far as I know he didn't get back on the team." I say and he laughs.

"Your folks sure loved pictures, huh?" He gestures down the hall to loads more frames just in this hall.

"Yeah, I mean they wanted to document everything. Pictures can't change. My mum would say even if I was seventeen and going to university, she'd look at a picture and I'd still be that infant that she held in her arms." I quote my mum.

"And you can go back in time, right?" Sav finishes the quote and I look at him. "You talk in your sleep, Love." He smiles. "That's why you love pictures."

"Yeah, I can be with my folks again." I admit and Sav's grip on my hand gets tighter. He kisses my forehead.

"You hate pictures of yourself though." He adds and I shrug.

"I don't know that one." I half smile. "Guess there's more important things to photograph."

I know that pisses off Sav because he frowns before knocking his forehead on mine. He wraps me up tight, like Henry Houdini would have problems getting out of this lock.  Sav kisses the bridge of my nose before looking me in the eye again.

"Don't talk about yourself like that, Love." He tells me quietly. "I mean it. I love you."

"I love you more." I tilt my head up and brush my lips on his.

"I highly doubt it." Sav smiles. "You know what I wish?" I smile.

"What do you wish?" I wonder and he kisses my cheek.

"That just for one day, you could see yourself as I see you. You'd never say those things about yourself again." Sav says and he kisses me again. "The way your eyes light up when you talk about what you love, see your smile first hand, hear your accent through my ears, you're as close to prefect that's humanly possible."

"We're in Canada, I don't have an accent here. You do though and I love it." I smile and he laughs.

"Cute, real cute, Love." Sav says and kisses my forehead again.

Sav

Molson will never see herself as I see her. She's nearly perfect and I can't tell her enough.

The way she looks down when she's embarrassed. When she laughs, the way her eyes crinkle. Her eyes double in size when she's excited. Or the face of pure comfort and satisfaction after she cracks her knuckles. The look she has in her eye while she's playing rugby, completely focused and nothing can shake it. Most are never pleased with her, she either is too cold hearted or too silly and out there. Hates with every fibre of her being or loves with every bit of her heart. Too quiet or too loud. She doesn't know what grey is and she lives in colour. She has a stiff upper lip and pretends not to have a heart to prevent getting hurt but then when she's with May, she's the most loving person on the planet. It all makes her prefect, Molson is prefect.

I love everything about her, I can't believe I got a second change with her. I'm not going to screw up this time, I can't lose her again. I refuse to lose her again. Nothing about loving her is black and white, there's no grey area. It's bright colours, those colours where you're not sure exactly what colour it is. Is it red or orange? It's not easy but if it's easy it's not worth it. I wouldn't have it any other way.