Saving Kate

Leo + Kate

That's when I met Amelia, she was nice. Her skin was the color of warm chocolate, silky, the way her hair was soft like tresses of water; she made me happy. It was nearly enough to make me forget about you.  You would have liked her. We were good together me and Amelia, never did we argue or lie to each other. All of our friends said that we were made for each other but I didn't believe that. I felt safe with Amelia and I guess that's why I stayed for so long, you were always there though. Lingering at the back of my mind like an incomplete canvas of monochromatic hues. I always thought about us. What we could have been if I stayed.

Mum wanted me home this Christmas, she wanted to meet Amelia and it had been five years since I had been back in the city where time had destroyed us. Rumour had it that you were married now, (yeah I guess a part of me expected an invitation) I didn't know who the guy was but apparently he was great enough to make an honest woman out of you. That should have been enough for me, the fact that you were happy but I had to see it for myself. For the sake of my own sanity. For I was not brave enough to stick around, to mend what we yet had to flourish.

My boots trudged through the heaped layers of snow on the pavement, the cab had dropped the two of us right outside my old house. There was something haunting about it now, I hadn't been back in years so I just needed a moment to take it all in. Amelia squeezed my bare hand as reassurance but I couldn't feel it, the cold had numbed me.

The lights were shining from my house. Evidently my parents were suckers for the festivities, as they had been for most of their lives. That's why you spent most Christmas's with us since your parents were always working or doing something to avoid each other. Every year, we'd exchange presents. I still kept them. The paper snowflakes that you used to make me, even the stripy box you'd put it in with the same lush red ribbon tied in the most intricate of bows. I was always amazed to how you would arrange it so perfectly.

I couldn't help but let my eyes linger over to the house beside, yours. My heart felt heavy in my chest, it started to waver slightly, luckily Amelia had my hand or I swear, I would have fallen. Mum said that you didn't leave town, you moved just round the corner once your parents had sold the house. Maybe I could go see you, after so long it seemed wrong not to.

Amelia couldn't fix this. The cracks were showing in the person I had spent so long trying to create and once it broke, she'd see me for the coward I was when I left London. Smiling, she kissed my cheek before we knocked on the door and waited.

There was a descent of footsteps, hurried from the other side of the door and my stomach filled with apprehension.However, the scent of ginger bread oozed out the cracks of the house and it was slightly comforting. A wrethe was hung on my door, it had always been the number 25. Of course, I was excited to see my parents but the past wasn't something I would be glad to revisit. I brought mum a bunch of yellow tulips as it was her favourite and a bottle of mulled wine for dad which I had picked up at the Heathrow.

I heard the handle turn and once it opened, the bottle had dropped to my feet; shattering onto the welcome mat. "Leo?" Your voice was just as I remembered, it sounded like a song that I hadn't heard in forever. You were there, standing in my house after I spent almost five years away.  "You look...well." Was that truly all you could say to me?

Amelia looked from me to you and then back at the broken bottle on the floor. "Merry Christmas," she said in attempt to break any tension but it was solid as ice. "I didn't know you had a sister, Leo."

"She's not-" My eyes widen slightly as they meet yours, still silver like knives and they were stabbing me. Over and over again. There was a fire building in my chest, the more I looked at you the more it hurt. I stopped with stone cold realization when I looked down at the small child beside you, a spitting image to what you looked like when we were young. The grey eyes, full of life, the head of mousey brown hair that looked like a rusted coin. I did the maths in my head. You watched me do it too and by the look on your face, the startled worry and glossy eye of apology.